#it’s so fitting because my last name is Adams

[madamcoheed216]

Yellowjackets Theory

THIS THEORY CONTAINS SPOILERS AND IS UPDATED AFTER EVERY EPISODE!

So my theory is that the scientists are Walters parents, this Alex is Walters birth name and he altered the birth records, and Walter is working with Melissa to blackmail Shauna and ultimately the whole team.

1. He very heavily implies that he is an orphan/doesnt have living parents after Misty questions him about Svetlana

2. He also, at multiple points, has said that he knows more about Misty and the Yellowjackets than she thinks, but only uses Adams death as an example.

3. His comment about owning a boat to leave the country by illegal means.

4. “Sherlock to my Moriarty”- Moriarty is considered to be evil/bad and Sherlock’s rival.

5. Upon meeting for the first time, Misty straight up asks if Walter stalks everyone in their Citizen Detectives group or just her.

6. Callie’s friend Ilana says that puzzles are for serial killers. Later in the season, Walter is shown putting together a giant puzzle while drinking milk (considered the trait of a psycho/serial killer in pop culture). He also sends Svetlana a puzzle in the nursing home.

7. Edwin and Hannah are a confirmed couple and Hannah admits to having a teen pregnancy. The actors are 37 and 39 IRL. Walter doesn’t have a confirmed age but could be older or younger than the girls and still fit.

I believe that Walter became obsessed with finding out what really happened to his parents because he was probably told that they were *killed by wolves* or something along those lines. That’s what leads to him getting into true crime and becoming a citizen detective. Eventually, the internet and Reddit happen and he’s able to learn more about the Yellowjackets, this team of girls who crash landed near where his parents were last seen alive. The helicopter scene is of Walter either having gone to the crash site prior to the adult timeline or going to the site here soon, given that it is roughly October in the AT, and if the helicopter was for rescue, the trees would be white or barren not changing colors. Walter targets Misty because she’s a sad individual incredibly desperate for human attention. He stole Shauna’s DNA to try and frame her for Lottie’s murder.

Walter either found the DAT tape among Natalie’s belongings in the storage unit and pocketed it before giving the keys to Misty

OR

The tape was thought to be gone, just like Jackie’s necklace, which Lottie had. Walter could’ve found the tape at Lottie’s compound at some point.

Edit: A friend on Discord mentioned that Walters last name (Tattersall) could be a reference to the Inheritance Games books. The first book was published in September of 2020 and the adult timeline starts in the fall of 2021, so it is entirely possible, especially if you are familiar with the books and the character being referenced.

[witchywithwhiskey]

like no other man

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: your situationship, bucky barnes, invites you out to the bar with him and his friends. but when he leaves you alone to talk to some other girl, you come up with a plan to get his attention—and keep it.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, dry humping, fingering (f receiving), handjob, come play/come marking, panty sniffing, bdsm elements, orgasm delay/denial, biting and marking, choking, finger sucking, some dacryphilia, referenced free use, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, some aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior, very anti-sharon carter behavior

word count: 16.8k

a/n: so, uh, this part took a little longer than i expected 🫣 and it's also longer in word count than i expected. whoops! i explained this elsewhere, but i ended up having to switch the last two parts that i had planned for the series because what i originally wrote didn't end up fitting with what the first two parts became after my editing process. so this was originally the ending, and it has some conclusion, but the next part is the proper ending. and once i'm done with that, i have plans to write a fic for the night that reader and Bucky met (and maybe more, we'll see). anyway! i hope y'all enjoy this part and that it was worth the wait!! ♡♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

Picking you up in 30, baby. Wear something slutty.

Annoyance flared, hot and sharp, in your chest as you reread the text message from Bucky Barnes. It was a reminder that it had been his idea to go out, that it had been his idea for you to wear something he liked.

Even though he was just a situationship, just another guy on your roster, you liked Bucky enough that you’d done what he asked. You’d put on your skimpiest dress, a garment that barely covered your ass and made it look like your tits were about to spill out.

And, since you didn’t want to ruin the effect of the dress, you’d gone without a coat, darting into Bucky’s car when he’d picked you up and tucking yourself into his side when he’d parked around the block from the Brooklyn dive bar he and his friends frequented. 

Bucky had kept you warm—until he hadn’t. 

A shiver worked its way down your spine and you did your best to stop your shoulders from trembling, refusing to wrap your arms around your shaking body and curl in on yourself against the chill in the bar. Instead, you huffed an annoyed sound and shoved your phone back in your bag, zipping it closed for good measure. 

There was no point in rereading the message again. It wouldn’t change how the night had turned out.

Everything had started out fine. Your heart had given an excited little flutter when you’d first read Bucky’s text earlier that evening, and you’d had to viciously stomp down on that emotion before it could bloom into something dangerous, something that came with expectations. 

You knew better than to think Bucky was taking you on a date. You and Bucky didn’t do dates.

At most, Bucky took you out to his favorite dive bar to meet up with his friends, usually on a night when John Walker—another guy on your roster—wasn’t going to be there. Since Bucky and John didn’t get along very well, and that was doubly true when you were around, it made sense.

But you knew for a fact that John would be there that night, and Bucky’s request for you to wear something slutty had you feeling some kind of way. It almost sounded like he wanted to show you off in front of his friends, in front of John Walker—which was something a boyfriend would do.

But those were dangerous thoughts. Bucky had been adamant from the start that he didn’t do relationships, and you weren’t the type to push him. So you spent the entire time getting ready working to kill off every last butterfly that tried to take flight in your belly, and refusing to acknowledge the excited pitter-pattering of your heart. 

It had been easier to ignore the emotions hovering at the periphery of your awareness when you’d hopped into Bucky’s car. Heat bloomed in your core at the wide, appreciative grin that spread across his face as his eyes raked down your body. 

And when he’d slid his big hand onto the bare skin of your leg, his fingers flirting with the hem of your dress and teasing higher on your soft thigh, it had been easy to pretend all you felt for Bucky Barnes was lust. 

When you’d gotten to the bar, Bucky had thrown his arm possessively around your shoulders, tucking you deeper into his side. You hadn’t been able to bite back the pleased smirk when you saw the smug expression on his face as you approached the table where John sat with the rest of their friends. 

Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Joaquin Torres and Lemar Hoskins had all given you a warm welcome while John choked out a bitter greeting, his jaw grinding so hard, you thought he might crack a tooth. You’d hidden a giggle in Bucky’s shoulder, then he’d pulled out a chair for you at the high top table and helped you up into it.

When you’d looked at your other situationship across the table, John’s gaze had been filled with a possessive resentment that annoyed you. 

It wasn’t like he had any claim to you—you’d told him countless times that you weren’t looking for anything more with him than the occasional hookup. But, for some reason, John always seemed to think you were playing hard to get.

So you’d tipped your face up toward Bucky when he asked you what you wanted to drink, giving him your order. Then you’d pulled him in by the sides of his canvas jacket for a loud, smacking kiss in front of all of his friends, and most importantly, John. 

Bucky’s eyes had been sparkling with mirth and his smirk had been even more smug when he’d pulled away, his hands groping your hips in full view of the entire table. 

Before he’d walked away, he’d tugged teasingly on the hem of your skirt, reminding you how little you were wearing around his friends. But Bucky didn’t seem to mind, he seemed to like showing you off. 

Then he’d shot you a wink, and between that and the kiss and the way his hands seemed perfectly at home touching you, even in front of his friends, Bucky had your body buzzing and heating with anticipation.

And then…

“Everything alright over there?” 

Steve Rogers’ voice was low and concerned in your ear, his arm nudging gently against yours and dragging you out of your thoughts. 

Just that little touch offered some semblance of warmth and you had to brace yourself against a shudder, your body needlessly reminding you of how cold you were in your skimpy dress.

But just as fast as relief flooded through you, it was replaced by renewed annoyance. 

Bucky had left to get you a drink more than 20 minutes ago, which was way more than it should have taken. And apparently you looked unhappy enough that his best friend was clearly worried about you, which only grated further on your already frayed nerves.

Bucky had invited you out, told you to dress in something slutty for him, and then he’d abandoned you all by yourself while he’d gone to who fucking knew where. He’d left you alone with his friends—and John fucking Walker, who hadn’t stopped staring at you since you sat down. 

It took every ounce of self-control not to snarl at Steve, knowing he didn’t deserve your ire. But you also didn’t want him to know how upset you were, so you sat up straight, tossing your head and giving Steve your most charming smile. Hopefully it didn’t look too much like a grimace.

“Fine,” you bit out, trying and not quite succeeding in keeping the anger from your voice. “Just thirsty.” You trilled a laugh and shrugged your shoulders, as if it didn’t bother you even a little bit that it was taking Bucky so long to get you a drink.

Steve’s lips pressed into a flat line, a furrow of concern still wedged between his brows. Then he sat up taller, looking through the weeknight crowd toward the bar. You saw the moment he spotted Bucky, the corners of his mouth turning down in a frown before he quickly wiped the expression away. 

“Looks like he got held up,” Steve said, returning his gaze to you. There was sympathy in his eyes that had your hackles rising, the urge to spit in his face clawing at your throat. “Let me go help him along.” 

Steve moved to stand up, but you reached out and curled your fingers around his bicep, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. 

“Don’t,” you hissed, the venom in your voice catching Steve’s attention. He wavered, half standing, half hovering above his seat. With a none-too-gentle shove, you pushed him back down. Your smile was flinty and brittle, your teeth clenched as you muttered, “Don��t help him with anything.”

A displeased sound rumbled in Steve’s chest and he stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At least the sympathy was gone from his eyes, and that was victory enough for you. 

Just as the silence began to grown uncomfortable, Steve let out a harsh breath and took a swig of his beer. “I hope you make him pay for it,” he grumbled, low enough for only you to hear.

A snort escaped you before you could stop it, and you caught Steve’s eye out of the corner of yours. An evil smile flickered at the edge of your mouth. 

“Oh, I will.”

With that pronouncement, you let your devious grin spread across your face and turned your back to Steve. You held your head high as you looked through the crowd, wanting to know what was holding up Bucky for so long. But what you found made the anger and annoyance in your chest erupt into white-hot fury. 

Bucky was talking to Sharon fucking Carter—and had been for damn near 25 minutes already. 

Sharon Carter worked with Bucky and his friends at Stark Industries, and every time you saw her, she was always roping one of them into a conversation that lasted a millennia. She was always whining about her boss, or one of her coworkers, and never seemed to have the self-awareness that she was monopolizing the conversation.

You’d tried to be friends with her. You really had. But she’d never once asked you about yourself. She just talked endlessly about herself and her problems. 

But what really annoyed you was the way she was always touching Bucky, always putting her hand on his arm and shoving at his shoulder when she laughed. And she’d laugh at anything he said, even if it wasn’t a joke, tossing her head back and letting her grating giggle fill the room.

That sound filtered across the dive bar, managing to be heard even above the din of other conversations and the indie rock music playing from speakers. It set your teeth on edge, a possessive fury you’d never felt before curling around your heart and urging you to act. 

You were halfway out of your seat, intent on clawing out Sharon’s eyes and then ripping off Bucky’s dick, when a large body collapsed in the empty seat beside you. The one where Bucky was supposed to be sitting. 

Before you even looked to see who it was, John’s pungent cologne filled your senses and your lip curled in disgust before you could wipe the expression off your face. Thankfully, John didn’t seem to notice, leaning too close into you and talking a little too loud, letting you know he was well on his way to being drunk. 

“Y’know, if you were my girl, you’d never catch me talking to another woman when I’m supposed to be getting a drink for you.”

The slight slur in John’s voice confirmed just how much he’d already had to drink. You couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten drunk so fast, but one look at Lemar Hoskins, who was returning to the table with a couple more beers, told you everything you needed to know. 

Stifling the urge to roll your eyes, you turned your attention back to your occasional hookup. You wouldn’t even call him a situationship, since John Walker was the guy you called when Bucky and all the rest were busy. But for some reason, he always seemed to be the neediest, the most inclined to be possessive. 

“I’m my own girl, John,” you reminded him in a sickly sweet voice, the kind that was laced with venom he wouldn’t notice until too late—especially while he was drunk. “And I’m perfectly capable of getting my own drinks if I want.” You smoothed your hands down your thighs, tugging the hem of your dress down in a feeble attempt to keep warm.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be buying her own drinks,” John scoffed, a boyish grin on his face, and for a moment, you remembered why you hooked up with him. He could be handsome, when you weren’t listening to the words coming out of his mouth. “Isn’t that right, Rogers?”

John reached around your back to clap Steve on the shoulder, the move caging you in against the table. His too spicy cologne filled your senses and made you want to sneeze or cough or do anything to get it out of your nose. Instead, you turned your head away from John and hid a grimace against your shoulder.

You suspected, based on the way Steve stifled a laugh in his beer, that he’d caught your expression. But Bucky’s golden boy best friend didn’t give you away. You knew you’d always liked Steve for a reason.

“Anyone can get their own drinks if that’s what they want,” Steve answered John’s question in an even tone, his eyes flashing with something like displeasure as he glanced at John over your head. When his gaze dropped to yours, there was a question in his eyes, but you simply shook your head. 

You didn’t need anyone fighting your battles for you, least of all Steve Rogers.

“Well, aren’t you sooo progressive,” John sneered meanly, which only made Steve bite off another laugh with a swig of his beer.

You’d had enough of John’s weight resting on your side so you huffed an annoyed sound and pushed at his broad chest, shoving him back until he sat in his own chair. Unfortunately, that meant his focus returned to you, his fingertips dragging across the bare skin of your shoulders.

“No girl of mine would ever buy her own drinks, it’s my job to take care of her,” he muttered distractedly, his eyes on the spot where is fingers were playing with the thin strap of your dress. 

John’s touch was making goosebumps rise all over your arms, but not in a good way. So you shimmied your shoulders and shrugged him off. Pinning him with a displeased look, you said flatly, “Remind me why I let you fuck me.”

At that, John chuckled good-naturedly, the rich sound rushing over your shoulders and down your spine. Despite your annoyance with the man, you found yourself enjoying the feeling of making him laugh, of the warmth sparking in your core. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself leaning into John, letting the low rumble of his laughter warm your cheek. Your arm brushed against the leather of his jacket, and you moved closer, seeking his warmth, even as a part of you recoiled at the scent of his cologne and the beer on his breath. 

“Because I take care of you,” John murmured, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek, his hand trailing along your jaw to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer to speak into your ear. “I always make you cum, don’t I, princess?”

Your lips pressed into a flat line as you thought back on all your dick appointments with John Walker. Sure, he’d made you cum—but only once each time you hooked up with him. Bucky, on the other hand, made you cum far more than that. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell John as much. You were pissed and annoyed at Bucky for leaving you alone at the table with all his friends—and John was a much more deserving punching bag than Steve—but you also didn’t want to start a bar fight between your two fuck buddies. 

And with how drunk John was, you didn’t think he’d take kindly to being told how much better Bucky could make you cum. 

So instead of answering his question, you chose a different tact. 

“You know I don’t like that infantilizing pet name,” you said to John, leaning back in your seat as you shot him an annoyed look. His hand squeezed the back of your neck again, like he wanted to stop you from pulling away, but he gave in quickly.

“But you’re my princess,” John said, pouting and dragging his fingers down your bare shoulder and trailing along your arm in a way that you knew was meant to be seductive. 

Whatever warmth you’d felt for John moments ago had been extinguished by the memory of Bucky. Cutting a glance over your shoulder, you confirmed he was still talking to Sharon fucking Carter, which renewed the anger that had been boiling in your belly.

John was still rubbing your arm in a clumsy attempt at seduction, and you barely noticed except that his fingers were warm against your chilled skin. A shiver raced down your spine that had nothing to do with John’s touch and everything to do with how cold you were in your slutty little dress, almost cursing yourself for leaving your jacket at home.

You’d planned to beg Bucky for his jacket if you’d gotten cold, maybe reward him with a bj in the bathroom if he’d let you wear it all night. But he hadn’t taken it off when you got to the table, so it was still around his shoulders while he was still talking to Sharon fucking Carter. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. An idea that was probably toxic and definitely a little mean—but when had that ever stopped you before? 

Beside you, John’s fingers were still idly stroking your arm and he was mumbling about everything he could do or give you if you’d just be his girlfriend, but you weren’t paying him any attention. You feigned interest, pretending you were listening to his old-fashioned and chauvinistic views on relationships until you could get a word in.

When he finally paused, you wrapped your arms around yourself and gave an exaggerated shudder, pouting up at John as you whined, “I’m cold, can I borrow your jacket?”

You knew it was a little forward to ask John outright for his jacket, but you didn’t have the patience to try to play it more coy. 

Besides, John was drunk enough that it would take all night for him to actually notice you were cold, and make the chivalrous move to offer his jacket—and by then, Sharon might’ve tried to shove her tongue down Bucky’s throat. Which was unacceptable. So you had no choice but to ask John directly for his jacket.

Still, John hesitated, his eyes trailing lazily down your body. You could practically feel him eye-fucking your tits, his gaze lingering for a long moment on the plush expanse of your thighs beneath the short hem of your dress. 

You had to fight not to fidget under his lascivious stare, wishing—not for the first time—that Bucky hadn’t left you alone at the table. 

“You sure, princess?” John drawled in a low, rumbling voice that sent a shiver down your spine that was almost pleasant. “And cover up all that?” He gestured vaguely to your body, and you nearly rolled your eyes at the implication that his view of your body was more important than your comfort.

“Please, Johnny,” you simpered, pressing your soft tits up against his bicep, which was admittedly very firm. You pushed your lower lip out and fluttered your lashes in the most pitiful pout in your arsenal. “I’m so cold, you can see my nipples through my dress,” you whined. “I don’t want your friends to see my nipples.”

It was a lie. You didn’t care if any of Bucky and John’s friends could see your nipples—you knew all of them were too honorable to look anyway. Steve had held a whole conversation with you without looking anywhere lower than your chin. 

But you knew the comment would irritate the possessive streak John had. Sure enough, as soon as you voiced the words, he started to shrug out of his jacket, though he grumbled while he did it.

You thanked him with a placating smile while you pulled the brown leather jacket around your shoulders and pushed your arms into the sleeves. 

It didn’t fit you well, and was a little uncomfortable. Plus, it reeked of John’s cologne, and you had to wiggle your nose against the urge to sneeze, but you endured it. You had a plan and the jacket was key, so you grinned and bore it. 

Stealing a glance over your shoulder, you had to work to keep a glare off your face as you caught sight of Bucky still talking to Sharon. They’d edged closer to the bar, and you had the venomous thought that he might be buying her a drink instead of you. 

Had he forgotten who he’d invited to the bar that night? What the fuck was he still doing talking to Sharon fucking Carter when you were sitting at the table waiting for him? You could put up with Bucky refusing to commit to you, but you drew the line at him blatantly disrespecting you. 

Any reservations you might’ve had about your idea being toxic or mean went up in smoke at that moment. Turning your attention back to the table, you pushed away from John and hopped off your chair. 

“Y’know, I think I will get that drink for myself,” you announced to no one in particular, whirling on your heel and heading off through the bar before John could even open his mouth to protest. Or offer to buy you a drink again. 

There was an open spot at the bar close to the table where you could’ve gone to order your drink, but that wouldn’t work for your plan. So instead, you opted to walk down the length of it, making sure to squeeze past Bucky and Sharon.

Sharon’s annoying, grating voice met your ears as she yammered on about something, but you didn’t spare either her or Bucky a glance. You did, however, knock into his shoulder to make sure he noticed you while you pretended to be focused on finding a clear spot in the crowd to order a drink. 

As you passed him, you heard Bucky suck in a sharp breath and you suspected he could smell John’s cologne on you. Even if he didn’t recognize whose spicy scent was clinging to you, he’d no doubt notice you were wearing another man’s jacket, and you had to duck your head to hide your smirk. 

A little further down the bar, there was a place in between two groups of people where you managed to shove in and signal the bartender. You watched him catch sight of you, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage, which was framed perfectly by John’s jacket, before nodding to let you know he’d take your order next.

You settled in against the bar to wait, wondering who would get to you first, the bartender or Bucky. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long to get your answer.

A familiar, delicious scent swirled around you, distracting you from the unpleasant smell of John’s cologne. Muscular arms slipped around your sides, hands furiously gripping the edge of the bar to cage you in.

A broad chest pressed to your back, warmth surrounding you in the chilly air of the bar. For the first time since Bucky left you alone at the table, you felt like you could take a deep breath and settle into the heat suddenly blooming between your thighs while he pressed possessively close to you.

Wildly, you wished you weren’t wearing John’s jacket. You didn’t want anything between you and Bucky, unless it was his jacket draped across your shoulders. You wanted everyone to know who you’d come with, who you belonged to. 

But you shoved those thoughts aside as soon as they flitted into your mind. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and you were pissed at him. So you were going to make him pay for it. 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Bucky growled, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his deliciously deep voice filled your head. 

It took every ounce of control in your body not to lean into him, not to press your back more flush against his chest and shove your ass into his lap. It didn’t matter that his chest was heaving with angry breaths, it felt good—it felt right—to have Bucky’s attention all on you. 

Your heart was beating fast in your chest, warmth gathering between your thighs and making your slit damp with arousal. But you had a plan, and you were sticking to it. 

“A dress,” you answered innocently, tossing your head and catching Bucky’s eye over your shoulder. “My sluttiest dress, actually,” you said, giving him a wide-eyed look with your lips slightly pouted like you were put out that he hadn’t noticed. “At your request, remember?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, narrowing at your subtle dig about whether he’d remembered what he’d texted you earlier that evening. His mouth twisted into a snarl, and a dangerous look flashed in his bright blue eyes. In that moment, he looked furious and depraved, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You knew you probably shouldn’t rile him up, not when you were wearing John’s jacket even though you were meant to be with Bucky, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was too much fun, and you knew it’d end with him fucking you good and hard. 

Besides, he deserved to get riled up. Maybe then he’d understand how angry you were about how long he’d been talking to Sharon fucking Carter when he was meant to be getting you a drink. 

“That’s not what I’m talking about you know it,” Bucky growled. His breath still smelled like the mint he’d had in the car, and you realized he hadn’t had a drink yet either.

Bucky pushed against your back until your body was pinned against the hard bartop. It dug into your ribs and made it difficult to take a deep breath, but that only made your pussy pulse with desire, your hole aching with the need to be filled. 

“Whose jacket is this?” Bucky demanded, his voice dark and dangerous as it slipped into your ear.

Already, you could feel a bulge in Bucky’s jeans and an evil sense of satisfaction flooded through you at the realization he was getting as turned on by you as you were by him. You wanted to push him further, to grind your ass back into his lap and see how hard he’d get for you.

Instead you held yourself still and, in response to his question, you lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug.

“John’s.”

“John fucking Walker? You’re wearing John fucking Walker’s jacket?” Bucky snarled, pressing even closer, until you could feel every hard line of him against the soft curves of your body—the bulk of John’s leather jacket the only real barrier between you. “Why the fuck are you wearing John fucking Walker’s jacket, baby?” 

The pet name was snarled with so much ferocity, it almost made you laugh. Bucky was more furious than you’d ever seen him before. Even more than that time you’d sent him a picture of your body covered in John’s hickeys. But you weren’t worried.

In fact, his reaction was exactly what you’d been hoping for, the anger pouring off him in heated waves that warmed your chilled skin. Finally, he was feeling a fraction of the rage you’d felt being left by yourself while he’d been talking to Sharon fucking Carter.

“I was cold,” you said simply, turning your head to look at Bucky over your shoulder. You pouted up at him from under your lashes, playing innocent since you knew that would only rile up Bucky even further. “And you left me all alone, what was I supposed to do?”

If Bucky noticed the fury that was edging into your tone when you reminded him he’d abandoned you at the table, he didn’t point it out. He only bit off a frustrated growl, the sound rumbling in his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed enticingly. 

You wanted to bite him there, on his neck, and leave a mark. You wanted everyone to know he was yours. Everyone, but especially Sharon fucking Carter… 

“If my girl is cold—”

“Not your girl,” you cut in, giving him a look sharp enough to slit his throat where he stood. 

Bucky’s mouth snapped shut with an audible snap. For a long moment, his jaw worked like he was grinding his teeth, his eyes blazing with an anger that looked like it could spill over at any second. There was fury and possessiveness and frustration in his gaze. 

But somehow, he managed to keep his emotions reined in, taking a moment to collect himself before starting over. 

“You came here with me,” he said pointedly, the flash of danger in his eyes daring you to contradict him. But you kept your mouth shut and he went on. “So if you were cold, you should’ve come and asked me for my jacket.”

“You were busy,” you spit, annoyance and rage finally fully bleeding into your tone. “You were too fucking busy talking to Sharon fucking Carter.”

You knew you were showing your hand too much, being too vulnerable by showing Bucky the depth of your anger at his actions. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. You were angry, but worse than that, you were hurt. And it was making you reckless. 

“I’m not going to chase you across the bar and beg for your jacket because you’re talking to some pick-me bitch for too fucking long while you’re supposed to be getting me—the girl you came here with—a drink.”

For an excruciatingly long moment, your words hung in the space between you and Bucky. Your chest was heaving with heavy, furious breaths and you glared into the dark eyes of your situationship with all the fury and hurt in your heart. 

Then, Bucky wrapped his hand possessively around the front of your throat, collaring your neck and turning you to look at him more fully. His expression was unreadable as his gaze swept over your face, seeing far too much, and you suddenly realized what you’d done, the mistake you’d made.

Desperately, you tried to hide your emotions, to tuck them away. Emotions had no business butting into your situationship with Bucky Barnes. You’d worked so hard to keep your heart guarded from him, but it was like he’d torn down all your defenses without you knowing. 

And the most terrifying thing about that was how certain you were that he’d leave. Bucky had told you he wasn’t interested in a relationship, and you were clearly getting too attached, expecting too much of him. You were letting your heart get involved and you had no doubt he would run.

But, to your surprise, Bucky didn’t flee from you immediately after your emotional outburst.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you sounded jealous, baby,” Bucky rumbled, a smirk flirting with the edge of his mouth. His voice was entirely too pleased, and you bristled in his arms, every muscle in your body going taut with fury.

You wanted to violently slap that knowing look off Bucky’s stupidly handsome face, to rage at him some more for teasing you about being jealous when he was constantly acting jealous about you and John fucking Walker. 

But you settled for snarling, “Shut your filthy mouth, Barnes.”

Just then, the bartender you’d signaled finally approached, a charming smile on his face as he stared at your tits. It wasn’t until he looked up at your face that he finally caught sight of Bucky crowding your back, his arms caging you in possessively against the bartop. 

You didn’t know what expression was on your face, or Bucky’s for that matter, but the bartender took an instinctive step back. That was probably a good idea. Whatever was going on between you and Bucky was volatile and it made sense that anyone else would want to escape the blowback.

“She won’t be needing your help yet, man,” Bucky said good-naturedly, his tone all friendly and charming. 

It was such a contrast from the furious growl he’d used when he first found you, it made your head spin. You didn’t quite realize how effectively he’d dismissed the bartender until the man was beating a hasty retreat, quickly moving to help someone else at the other end of the bar. 

Before you could do anything more than huff an indignant sound of protest at Bucky’s heavy-handedness, your situationship’s hands were grabbing your hips and manhandling you away from the bar. He held you in front of his broad body, leading you through the crowd toward the back hallway where the bathrooms were located.

Bucky lifted a hand from your hip only long enough to shove open the door to the men’s room, then his harsh grip was right back on you, squeezing your body possessively as he guided you through the doorway. It was hotter than it had any right to be, how easily he manhandled you into the bathroom.

Like any good dive bar, the bathroom was dark and dingy, with decades of graffiti and girl’s phone numbers written on the walls, which were lit only by a blue neon light. The mirror over the sinks was covered in dozens of lipstick prints, an anonymous record of all the other girls that had been fucked bent over the counter.

But your lipstick print wouldn’t be joining collage, since there was no way you’d ever put your mouth on any surface of that bathroom.

As if to prove your point, one of the guys at the urinals zipped himself up and turned, heading toward the door without washing his hands. He paused when he caught sight of you, making a strangled kind of sound that got the attention of the others in the room.

There were a couple more guys at the urinals, and one at the counter, fixing his hair in the lipstick-covered mirror. All of them seemed to pause and look at you with varying degrees of disgruntlement and curiosity. None seemed to notice the bristling man at your back, who grew more rigid the longer the men looked at you.

“Put your dicks away and get out,” Bucky snapped, moving you out of the way to give the men a clear path to the door. He ducked his head to check inside the bathroom’s single stall, but since the door had apparently been torn off its hinges at some point, there was no one inside.

The expressions of the other men in the bathroom turned knowing, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize they’d figured out what you and Bucky were about to do. 

They all knew you were about to get fucked six ways from Sunday in the dive bar bathroom decorated in decades of graffiti, but you held your chin high, refusing to apologize for being the slut that you were.

Most of the strangers scurried out of the bathroom at Bucky’s command, but one lingered at the urinal, taking his time shaking off his dick and zipping himself up. You could feel Bucky’s fingers digging harder and harder into your hips as his patience grew thin and you tried not to squirm with your own restlessness to get railed. 

Finally, the man swaggered toward the door, his gaze wandering lecherously down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. The way he looked at you, like you were nothing more than a hole to fuck, creeped you out enough that you pressed back into Bucky, pulling John’s jacket tighter to cover yourself up as much as possible.

“Let me know when you’re done, man,” the guy said, talking to Bucky even though he was still looking at you, leaning close to peer down the front of your jacket and get a glimpse of your tits. “I don’t mind a bit of sloppy seconds, and I bet this whore’s pussy will still be tight enough—” 

Bucky moved so quickly, it took your breath away. He shoved you behind his back so he stood between you and the strange man. At the same time, he grabbed the guy by the collar of his crisp blue button-up and yanked him close so Bucky could snarl in his face.

“If you so much as fucking look at my girl again, I’ll rip your dick off and shove it so far down your throat, you’ll be choking on your own tiny sac,” Bucky threatened, a fury in his voice you’d never heard before—not even when he was talking about John Walker. “Do you fucking understand me, asshole?”

Even in the blue neon light of the bathroom, you could see the blood drain from the creep’s face, his expression contorting in fear. You couldn’t say you hated the sight—it was the least he deserved for how he’d looked at you and talked about you.

“Yeah, yeah, man, I get you,” the guy stuttered, trying to pull himself out of Bucky’s grip, but Bucky held the guy firmly as if waiting for something. “I won’t look at her, man, I promise—I promise.”

“Damn fucking right,” Bucky muttered ominously. Then he yanked the bathroom door open and shoved the guy out into the hallway so roughly, you saw him stumble and fall into the opposite wall. 

The door closed with a dull thud that echoed slightly off the tiles, and Bucky quickly flipped the lock, kicking the garbage can in front of it for good measure before he turned back to you. 

He was breathing heavily, his shoulders tight and tensed with anger and a nearly feral expression on his face. But when he caught your eye, his gaze doing a quick sweep of your body as if checking to make sure you were unharmed, you saw some of the fury drain from him.

Meanwhile, your body was a riot of emotions. The creeped out feeling the strange guy had given you was still lingering a little, but it was quickly being replaced by the heat of your arousal, and something else. Something like gratitude for Bucky for defending you. 

It all twisted together inside you until you didn’t know where your lust ended and your real feelings began. 

“Isn’t this the part where you tell me you’re not my girl?” Bucky teased, the side of his mouth lifting in a charming smirk as the rest of his anger was replaced with cocky assuredness.

It was only then, when he pointed it out, that you realized you hadn’t corrected him like you normally did. He’d called you his girl to that creep and you hadn’t butted in to remind him you weren’t his girl. 

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, you’d liked it when Bucky called you his girl. When he’d defended you and protected you, it had felt good. It had felt right. Even though those were the actions of a boyfriend, and Bucky still wasn’t your boyfriend. 

You could see your situationship with Bucky going off the rails and heading toward something else, something with a higher likelihood of getting you hurt. But you couldn’t seem to stop the emotions burning in your chest, the emotions that you had no business feeling for a guy who wouldn’t commit to you. 

The smart thing to do would be to walk away, to put some distance between you and Bucky until you got your head on straight and got your heart under control. Instead, you threw yourself at Bucky. Literally.

Launching yourself at Bucky, you wound your arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into his soft brown hair, your lips crushing to his in a fierce kiss. You needed this more than you needed anything else in that moment—more than you needed to protect yourself, more than you needed air.

Bucky caught you easily, his arms circling your waist and holding you flush against his body as he spun you around and walked you back until your ass hit the edge of the sink counter. While his mouth devoured yours, the kiss full of nipping teeth and gasping moans, he shoved John’s jacket down your shoulders and then boosted you up to sit on it on top of the counter.

Eagerly, you spread your legs for Bucky’s hips to press between your thighs, your fingers grabbing his hair, his shoulders, the lapels of his soft, black canvas jacket. You sucked on his tongue, greedy for the minty taste that lingered.

He felt so strong and familiar beneath your fingertips, and realization dawned dazedly in the back of your mind—you knew his body better than any other man in your life.

You knew the curve of his neck and the breadth of his shoulders, you knew the planes of his chest and the way his muscles shifted beneath his back when he was fucking you. You knew the taste of him, groaning when he licked into your mouth, and you knew the scent of him like it was imprinted somewhere deep in your brain.

And Bucky knew you just as well. 

He knew how to nip at your lips and fuck your mouth with his tongue to pull the dirtiest moans from you. He knew how grope your tits, shoving the front of your dress down so he could pinch your nipples and have you writhing on the counter for him. He knew the soft lines of your curves, his hands skimming all over your body and driving you wild for him. 

And it turned out, Bucky knew your heart just as well as he knew your body. He knew how to break down your defenses and get close to you in a way no other man had ever before. 

“First you’re jealous of Sharon, and now you’re not correcting me when I call you my girl,” Bucky muttered in between kisses, the scruff on his jaw dragging over your cheek and sending sparks of blistering pleasure straight to your core. “And you wore John fucking Walker’s jacket to try to make me jealous.”

Bucky’s strong fingers dug into the plush softness of your ass and he dragged you to the edge of the counter, his bulge pressing against your clothed core, your panties already damp with arousal. Your head fell back at the feel of his big cock against your pussy, a wanton moan spilling from your lips as you clung to his firm shoulders.

“Careful, baby,” Bucky warned, the warmth of a teasing smirk in his tone as he leaned forward and sank his teeth into your neck, biting at the fluttering pulse point beneath your skin. “I’m starting to think you actually want to be mine.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barnes, you’re the one who insisted you didn’t do relationships,” you growled, rocking your body against his, taking your own pleasure with a furious greed. “You won’t be my boyfriend, but you’re always calling me your girl… If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually want to be mine.”

Leaning into Bucky, you sank your teeth into his jaw, tongue licking over the roughness of his stubble, and making him groan loudly. You liked the sound so much, you dragged your mouth down to his neck, biting him again, sinful delight filling your chest when his hips thrust against your core like a reflex. 

“So what if I did?” he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking a hickey into your skin. 

The harsh, rhythmic pull of his mouth sent curls of heat licking through your body, making your clit throb between your thighs. You knew he was going to leave a mark, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be covered in his marks, you wanted him covered in your marks. 

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, laughing huskily, your fingers twisting tightly in his hair as you took out your frustration on his body, biting and sucking on Bucky’s neck to leave hickeys on his pale skin while you rocked against him. “You’re just saying that because you can’t stand the sight of me in John’s jacket.” 

Bucky sucked harder on your skin and you let out a helpless whimper, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. Despite your fury—or maybe because of it—you were nearly feral for him, curling your body around Bucky’s and clinging to him, pulling his hair as you held him close, your teeth raking over his raging pulse. 

His hips were rocking between your thighs, his denim-clad cock shoving against your soft, swollen and achingly needy pussy in a mimicry of how you wanted him to be fucking you. It felt so good, and you needed more. 

You needed him to fill you up, to bury his cock so deep in your cunt that you’d feel him for days. You needed Bucky to fuck you like he owned you. Even if he’d never be your boyfriend, he could still make you cum better than any other man you’d ever fucked, and you needed that.

But before you got there, you needed to wrap up this conversation. You knew it would end the way it always did, with Bucky refusing to budge on committing to you, and you refusing to let him treat you like his girlfriend. 

Ducking your head so your mouth was close to his ear, you kept talking. “You’re only saying that because my cunt’s the best you’ve ever had,” you hissed, an anger you didn’t fully understand dripping venomously from your voice.

But Bucky didn’t seem phased by your anger, only chuckling like he was pleased about something, though you couldn’t figure out what. 

He finally pulled away from your neck long enough to drag the line of his nose up your throat and nip at the lobe of your ear. Your pussy pulsed between your thighs and you had to bite back a moan, not wanting him to know just how much you needed him. But, of course, the bastard already knew.

“Oh c’mon, baby, don’t pretend my dick isn’t the best you’ve ever had.” 

His voice was deep and seductive as he slowly dragged the long length of his cock against your slit through your panties. He was so big and so hard and you wanted him so desperately, the neediness rushing through your body so completely that you momentarily forgot your anger. 

His cock felt so good, it wrung a filthy moan from you that made him laugh smugly again.

“Don’t tell me your cunt hasn’t been aching for my cock all night—don’t tell me that’s not why you’re really pissed about me talking to Sharon, because you were so impatient for my cock.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, Bucky pulled his hips away, and you had to bite your lip against a whine, refusing to give him the satisfaction. You felt pathetic in the best possible way, your legs splayed wide open for Bucky in the dive bar bathroom, your panties soaked with the evidence of how badly you wanted him.

In the next second, Bucky’s hand dove between your thighs and shoved your panties aside, two fingers plunging into your wet cunt and wringing a cry from your lips. You were so wet that you could hear the slick sounds of your pussy as Bucky slowly pulled his fingers out and pushed them in again, fucking you in an agonizingly slow pace. 

You groaned, clinging to Bucky’s thick biceps while you rocked your hips, trying to impale yourself faster and harder on his fingers as you stared at him through slitted eyes. You tried desperately to keep your heart out of your eyes, but it was hard to concentrate with his fingers working you so expertly.

“I’m so sorry for neglecting this pretty pussy, baby,” Bucky cooed, leaning in and brushing a kiss to your heated forehead. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender, it made your cunt clench around his fingers. 

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t comment on how your body responded to his sweetness. But he did seem to reward you, fucking you harder, his palm slapping against your clit while you moaned and whimpered mindlessly for him, hips grinding down on his fingers as you chased your release.

“But if you wanted my attention,” Bucky was saying, murmuring the words against your temple while he stared down at the place where his fingers were spearing you open. “You didn’t have to use John fucking Walker to make me jealous—you just had to ask.” 

He curled his fingers inside you and your spine arched, sparks of pleasure bursting behind your eyes. Already, you were hurtling toward your release at an alarming speed, the lewd sounds of his fingers fucking your wet hole a soundtrack to your filthy pleasure. 

“I’ll aways take care of you, baby. I’ll always take care of this pretty, perfect pussy.”

His words were too sweet, the thread of honesty in his tone too close to the surface for your sanity. Your fingers curled into claws, nails digging viciously into Bucky’s biceps through his jacket as fury swept through your body, chasing and twisting with the pleasure that swirled in your belly.

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, your voice breathless but still managing to be hard. “You were too busy with Sharon fucking Carter to notice that John fucking Walker wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.” 

You weren’t even trying to hide your fury from Bucky anymore. He was dancing too close to something real, something you’d both avoided for so long, and it was scaring you—which only made you all the more furious. How dare he do this now. 

But Bucky didn’t seem scared, or like he wanted to shy away from the commitment he’d avoided for so long. He seemed practically ecstatic as he laughed at your snarled words. 

Smoothing his free hand down the side of your face, Bucky wrapped it around the front of your throat. The tips of his fingers dug into the sides of your neck, choking you lightly and making your pussy clench around his thrusting fingers. 

He seemed determined to work you up toward a brutal release, one that would leave you forever changed, just as he seemed determined to knock your entire situationship off-kilter. All with a stupidly charming smirk on his annoyingly handsome face. The bastard.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you like this before,” Bucky purred against your cheek, slowing his fingers down and adding a third. His thumb rubbed against your clit and you were so lost to the pleasure you nearly missed his next words. “But you’re cute when you’re jealous, baby.” 

You wrenched yourself back from the depths of pleasure and huffed an annoyed sound. “I wasn’t jealous, I was pissed, you left me,” you seethed through gritted teeth. 

Your angry tirade was cut off in a screech of protest when Bucky suddenly pulled his fingers from your pussy, leaving you pulsing, dripping and bereft. It was the most delicious kind of agony to have your orgasm denied so brutally, and it brought tears to your eyes. 

Bucky tutted and shoved his fingers, slick with your arousal, into your mouth before you could give voice to all the vicious thoughts running through your mind. Even still, you narrowed your eyes at your situationship, glaring at him even as you licked your wetness from his fingers until you felt your eyes go hazy with desire. 

“Uh uh, only good girls get to cum,” Bucky purred, a note of condescension in his tone as he pulled you close by the throat, watching as you sucked on his fingers. “And you’re not being very good, are you, baby?”

Your expletive-ridden response was muffled by Bucky’s fingers, but the message was clear—he could go to hell. 

A storm raged in Bucky’s eyes, the blue darkening to a deep midnight a moment before he pushed his fingers deeper in your mouth, making you choke and gag. Tears gathered in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks but you didn’t relent, and neither did he.

“Stop lying, baby,” Bucky growled, a note of desperate pleading in his tone that you’d never heard before. “Admit you were jealous, or I’ll… I’ll leave you empty and wanting right here in the men’s room. Is that what you want?”

Anger surged in your blood, until the riot in your chest matched the storm in Bucky’s furious gaze. Of course you didn’t want him to leave you unfulfilled in the bathroom, but you weren’t going to give in so easily—not when giving in felt so dangerous, like you were admitting to more than just lying, more than just being jealous. 

So instead of responding, you pressed your lips into a firm, stubborn line and slipped your own hand between your thighs. Your fingers had barely brushed against your soaked panties before Bucky was grabbing your wrist and batting your hand away, his mouth twisted in a scowl.

“Don’t touch what’s mine without permission, baby,” he snarled, cupping your pussy possessively. 

His fingers dug into the fabric of your panties, pushing the soaking wet fabric into your sopping hole. He was fucking you too shallowly to be anywhere near satisfying, but it was so filthy that you couldn’t stop your hips from squirming on the counter, a helpless moan spilling from your mouth around his fingers. 

“This cunt belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

Your hands lay limply at your sides for a moment, but at Bucky’s demanding question, they slid up his chest, diving beneath the edges of his jacket and fisted in the soft t-shirt he wore beneath. Your eyes were watery with tears of need, your pussy throbbing greedily and urging you to give in, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t. 

You shook your head wildly, Bucky’s fingers falling from your lips.

A frustrated sound tore free from Bucky’s mouth, and his face pressed close to yours, your noses nearly bumping as he stared deep into your eyes, fury and something like hurt swirling in the depths of his gaze. 

“Why do you always do this?” Bucky demanded, his voice harsh and his chest heaving. You could taste the mint on his breath and hear the little cracks in his voice. “Why can’t you just admit that you’re mine?” 

“Because you won’t commit!” The words burst from your lips before you could even think about biting them back. Then, to your horror, more spilled out of you. “I won’t belong to someone who won’t even call me their girlfriend, who won’t be my boyfriend. I won’t—I can’t.” 

Your voice broke on that last word and you had to swallow down a sob. Lowering your eyes, you refused to look at Bucky, feeling raw and exposed in a way you hadn’t in a long, long time. You’d said too much, and you couldn’t bear to watch when it turned your situationship against you.

You flinched in surprise when Bucky’s fingers brushed against your cheek, even though his touch was torturously gentle. You’d expected him to pull away, to retreat from the bathroom entirely, or, at the very least, to move past your desperation for commitment like it was nothing. 

Instead, he lifted your chin until he could meet your eyes. His blue gaze was calm, his expression open and soft, and the way he looked at you settled something deep in your chest. 

“Ok,” Bucky said, before dropping a sweet kiss to your lips. “Ok.” 

Your heart was doing something…concerning in your chest. There was a fluttering feeling in your sternum and a swooping sensation in your belly that felt too much like hope. Meanwhile, your mind warred with itself, a part of you certain you hadn’t heard or understood Bucky correctly. 

For a long moment, you were silent, simply staring at Bucky in the neon blue light of the dive bar bathroom, trying to determine if he was serious. You were sure that if you waited long enough, a smirk would break across Bucky’s face and he’d tease you for thinking he would actually commit to you. 

But the seconds dragged on, and Bucky simply stared back at you, as if waiting patiently for your response. 

“What?” The question was all you could muster, but it seemed to be what Bucky expected because he grinned then, the expression blooming across his face and nearly stealing your breath. 

“I’ll be your boyfriend, baby,” Bucky purred, ducking forward and pressing a playful kiss to the corner of your lips, which were still parted in shock. 

Your heart fluttered at the kiss, hope taking flight in your chest before you could stop it. Still, you forced yourself to press your mouth closed, firming your lips into an unamused line. 

“Be serious, Bucky,” you said, an embarrassing note of pleading in your tone that you worked to cover up with anger. “You were clear from the start that you don’t do relationships.”

“I changed my mind,” he said, shrugging his shoulders easily, as if it was as simple as that. And maybe it was, but you still weren’t buying it.

“Men like you don’t change their minds,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes at Bucky, looking for the lie in his face, but finding none. He looked perfectly genuine, which worried you even more. 

“I’ll go out there right now and tell the whole bar you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky said, ducking close and pressing a kiss to your cheek as if he couldn’t stop himself. His next words brushed against your soft, tingling skin. “The look on John fucking Walker’s face will be satisfying, don’t you think?”

At that comment, a sharp, caustic laugh fell from your lips and you shook your head as realization dawned over you. 

“Oh, I get it now,” you scoffed, shoving at Bucky’s shoulders until he leaned back enough to see the unamused glare on your face. “This is all because you don’t want me fucking John anymore, isn’t it? You don’t actually want me, you just don’t want me fucking him.”

Bucky planted his hands on the sink counter on either side of your hips, ducking down so he was at eye level with you and he tried to hold your gaze, but you refused. 

You were terrified he might see right through you—see that you were fucking terrified he was serious because it meant opening yourself up in a way you hadn’t in a very long time. 

“Hey—hey,” he murmured, chasing your gaze until he caught your eye. His expression was serious, more serious than you’d ever seen him, with emotions churning in his darkened gaze that had your heart fluttering in response. “This isn’t about John, or Sharon, this is about us. We have fun together, don’t we?” 

It was on the tip of your tongue to protest. There was no way this conversation could lead to anything but you getting your heart broken. Even if it turned out that Bucky was serious, and he was ready to commit, all relationships ended eventually. It was just a matter of hurting now versus hurting later.

But as you parted your lips to make a mean comment about how Bucky was nothing more than a bit of fun, he quirked his brow at you, giving you a stern look like he knew what you were going to say. 

You huffed an annoyed sound, rolling your eyes at how easily he could read you even as your heart warmed in your chest. Bucky knew you, and he still wanted you. Reluctantly, you gave your honest answer.

“Yeah, we have fun together.” 

“Thought so,” Bucky teased lightly. 

He ducked forward and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, a reward for your honesty, which made the corners of your mouth flicker in a smile. 

“When I met you, I didn’t think I’d ever meet anyone I’d want to be in a relationship with, but you proved me wrong, baby.”

Bucky’s words were soft and sweet, such a contrast to the dirty dive bar bathroom you sat in. But somehow, the moment felt perfect in its imperfections. Because it was Bucky, and it was you. 

Against your better judgement, your hands slid cautiously up Bucky’s hard chest, skimming up the sides of his neck so your palms cupped his handsome face. You stared into his blue gaze, watching the emotions flicker across the raging sea of his eyes—sincerity, affection and hope were all on display for you to see.

Your careful touch seemed to affect him, and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat in such a way that you wanted to bite him, to show your own affection and fondness for him through a gentle act of violence. But you held still, holding your breath has he continued speaking. 

“I want you to be mine—all mine, only mine,” Bucky murmured, his voice low and pleading and so seductive, it almost felt like he was casting some sort of spell over you. “And I want to be yours—all yours, only yours.” 

Bucky wrapped his fingers loosely around one of your wrists, dragging your hand down from his face until your palm was pressed over the center of his chest. 

Beneath your fingertips, you could feel his heart beating fast, a little unsteady, and you realized he was just as nervous as you were.

“Whaddya say, baby? Be my girlfriend and let me be your boyfriend.”

The feeling of Bucky’s heart beating hard beneath his sternum, matching the panicked and excited thrumming in your chest, was the only thing keeping you grounded and reminding you this moment was real. It felt too good to be true.

Ever since you met Bucky and he’d been clear about his intentions to never commit, you’d kept a tight leash on your emotions. You hadn’t allowed him to act too possessive over you, to say things a situationship had no right saying, because you knew you could fall for him. 

Hell, a part of you already had, despite your best efforts. 

And now Bucky was willingly standing in front of you, offering to be your boyfriend, to catch you if you fell in love with him. You knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you would be an idiot to say no to him. 

You were still scared, of course, and you were still certain you’d get your heart broken eventually. But looking at Bucky, at the handsome face that was so familiar and steadying, and seeing the hopeful curve of his smile, you couldn’t help but think it’d be worth it.

“Ok,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. 

Bucky went still, his breath catching like he barely dared to hope he’d heard you right. 

Swallowing against the fear still churning weakly in your gut, you tried again, your voice louder, stronger. “Ok, I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

A smile broke across Bucky’s face, as bright as the dawning sun, and your heart clenched at how handsome he looked. 

Had he always been so goddamned handsome? His blue eyes bright even in the neon light of the bathroom, crinkling at the sides from the sheer force of his happiness. His mouth looked far too enticing as he beamed at you.

A strangled sound, something between a huff and a groan, rumbled in Bucky’s throat, and then his hands were on you, cupping your face and dragging you in for a filthy, possessive kiss. 

You could feel his smile against your lips before he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth and stealing the breath straight from you lungs until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you kissed him back just as hard.

The kiss was overwhelming and wonderful and so fucking good that you couldn’t get enough. Your hands fisted in Bucky’s t-shirt, pulling him closer until there was barely any space between your bodies. It wasn’t close enough.

Shimmying to the edge of the counter, you wrapped your legs around Bucky’s hips, holding him between your thighs with his bulge pressed to your center, right where he belonged. 

Except, not really, because he belonged inside you.

Wrenching your lips from Bucky’s, you gasped for breath while he trailed nipping, hungry kisses down your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the taste of mint from his mouth lingering on your tongue. 

Suddenly, you realized there was something you still needed to settle with your boyfriend before you could start begging for his cock.

“Now that you’re my boyfriend…” you began, panting as you were distracted by Bucky.

He was sucking on your skin, and his hips were thrusting into the cradle of your thighs, grinding his bulge against your pussy like he couldn’t get enough of you—couldn’t get enough of you calling him your boyfriend. You moaned helplessly, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before you continued. 

“No more saying you’re going to get me a drink,” you said, trying to sound stern despite how breathless you were. “And then leaving me all alone while you talk to Sharon fucking Carter.”

“Deal,” Bucky responded without hesitation, lifting his head and looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire. It only made him look hotter, and you had the wild impulse to take a picture of him just like this.

A smirk curled the edge of Bucky’s mouth like he knew exactly what you were thinking, then he ducked forward and sank his teeth into your plush lower lip, drawing a whimper from you. His big body shuddered at the sound, his cock twitching against your core.

“And now that you’re my girlfriend,” he rumbled against your lips, his words spilling directly onto your tongue. “If you’re cold, you ask me for my jacket—no more going to John fucking Walker just to make me jealous.”

You were nodding before he’d even finished his sentence, but at his final words, you huffed a pleased sound and licked teasingly into Bucky’s mouth. “So you were jealous,” you murmured, smugness clear in your voice and in the vicious smile on your face.

“Of course I was fucking jealous,” Bucky muttered, his hands skimming up your bare thighs and pushing beneath the hem of your dress to grope your hips, holding you in place while he rubbed against your drenched core. “But you were jealous, too, weren’t you, baby?” 

Leaning back on the sink counter until your shoulders nearly hit the mirror behind you, you stared into Bucky’s handsome face. His mouth was curved into a devastatingly self-satisfied smirk, like he already knew the answer to your question. 

It occurred to you to keep denying it, to tell Bucky that you weren’t jealous, but the truth was you were. You’d been jealous of how much of Bucky’s night Sharon was taking up, and you’d asked John for his jacket to make him feel a fraction of how you felt. 

“Fine, yes, I was jealous,” you admitted, rolling your eyes at Bucky. Then you turned a glare on him, your eyes narrowing at the victorious expression on his face. “But I was also furious that you were neglecting me, especially when I dressed up all slutty for you.” 

Your words prompted Bucky to rake his eyes appreciatively down your body. His heated gaze lingered on the way your tits bounced lightly with your breaths, then on the juncture of your thighs, your soaked panties on full display with the way your dress was rucked up. 

“You’re right, baby, that was fucking shitty of me,” Bucky rasped, his voice drenched in arousal as his gaze slowly made its way back up your body. “It won’t happen again,” he promised, staring into your eyes so you could see the honesty in his words.

“It better not,” you murmured, pouting up at him and making Bucky chuckle. He nipped your lip, making you moan, then soothed the sting away while you writhed against him.

“Good girl,” he purred against your mouth. “Now tell your boyfriend, is your pretty pussy feeling neglected, too? D’you need daddy to take care of you?”

Your clit throbbed and your pussy pulsed at the deep rumble of Bucky’s voice and you mewled pitifully, dragging Bucky even closer and nipping at his stubbled jaw. 

“Yes, daddy, my pussy is feeling sooo neglected,” you simpered. Lifting your legs and hooking them around Bucky’s waist, you crossed your ankles behind his back and held him trapped against your body. “I need your cock, Bucky, I need it so fucking bad, please.” 

“Baby, baby, baby,” Bucky crooned against your lips, his strong fingers digging into your hips possessively and toying with the edge of your panties. “It’s all yours. Take it out, stroke it, show my cock how much you want it inside you, splitting you open.”

“Fuck, Bucky,” you groaned, your pussy getting even wetter at his filthy words.

With one hand, you pulled him in for a deep, messy kiss while the other fumbled with his belt. It took you a moment to remember how belts work, then you were undoing it quickly and slipping the button of his jeans before pulling the zipper down. 

“Oh god, I’ve missed this cock,” you moaned, wrapping your fingers around Bucky’s stiff length and giving him an affectionate stroke. “Are you gonna fuck me with this cock, daddy? Gonna fill up your girlfriend’s pussy with every inch of this dick?”

“Fuck, yes, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his fingers hooking in the hem of your panties and yanking them down. 

You had to lift yourself up so he could drag them over your ass, and when he stepped back to pull them off your legs entirely, you whimpered at the loss of his cock against your pussy. 

Bucky chuckled as he stepped back between your legs, one hand stroking the soft skin of your thigh while the other held your panties up to is face. He took a deep inhale of your scent while you stroked his cock reverently, your slit dripping with desire as you watched his eyes go even more hazy at the smell of you.

“Fuck, somehow your pussy smells even sweeter now that you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky groaned, fixing a playful glare on you that had your heart beating a little harder in your chest. “Why is that?”

A sultry smirk spread across your face and you squeezed his cock affectionately, drawing a grunt from your boyfriend. “Because it’s yours now, daddy,” you purred, “all yours.”

“That’s right, it is.” Bucky shoved your panties into the back pocket of his jeans, a feral look in his eye as he grinned and spread your thighs even wider with his big hands. His fingers shamelessly groped your soft flesh while you gripped his cock and pressed the tip to your drenched pussy.

“Bucky,” you whined when he held himself back from thrusting forward. “Need you inside me, now.” 

Instead of indulging you, Bucky grabbed your wrist, pinning your hand down on John’s jacket beside your hip. Before you could even think, he’d done the same with your other hand, leaning close until your chests brushed, your nipples dragging against his soft t-shirt in a way that was both teasing and torturous, and his forehead dropped to yours.

“Is my girlfriend feeling needy?” he teased, his hips working between your spread thighs so his cock dragged against your sopping wet folds. You could feel every ridge, every vein of him, and it had you panting for him. “Is this pussy—my girlfriend’s pussy—craving my cock, huh?”

His voice was deep and patronizing, sending tingles of anticipation flooding through your body. A soft whine slipped from your lips, and you lifted your hips from the counter to grind against Bucky’s cock, but he only kept up his maddeningly slow thrusts against your wet, swollen cunt.

“It doesn’t matter that we’re in a dirty dive bar bathroom and your ex-fuck buddy’s jacket is under your ass, you’re a needy, cock-craving slut for daddy, aren’t you, baby?” 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned at Bucky’s filthy words. “Yes, yes, daddy, all for you, only a slut for you. Please, Bucky, gimme your cock, I need it, I need it so bad,” you babbled, trying to angle your hips to take him inside your clenching hole. 

Bucky’s fingers tangled with yours, curling in the soft leather of John’s jacket, which was getting damp from the arousal dripping from your hole. Precum was leaking from Bucky’s tip, joining the mess of juices slipping down your slit to your ass.

But you didn’t have the space in your mind to care or even think about how you were ruining John’s jacket, not when Bucky’s cock was wedged between your thighs, the hard length of him teasing your clit and wet hole. 

“Tell me this pussy belongs to me,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, his jaw flexing with his effort to hold back. When you looked up at him, his eyes flashed with a possessiveness that was so greedy and hot, it took your breath away. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“It’s your pussy, daddy,” you cooed, pressing your body closer to his until your mouth brushed against the shell of his ear. You felt a shudder wrack through his body at just that gentle touch and couldn’t help but smirk even as you kept your voice soft and sweet. “I’m yours, Bucky, all yours.”

“Fuck yeah you are,” Bucky growled, untangling his fingers from yours to grab your hips as he pulled back and notched the tip of his cock at your entrance.

He gave you only the briefest of seconds to brace yourself, but you were more than wet and ready enough for him. In the next breath, Bucky slammed forward with a bitten off curse, burying the full length of his cock in your tight hole with one thrust. 

A loud, obscene moan spilled from your lips, your head tipping back as you reveled in the delicious stretch of Bucky’s cock filling you up. You were plenty wet, so he’d met no resistence when he’d pushed inside, but it still punched the air from your lungs to be filled so quickly and thoroughly. You could swear you could feel him in your guts. 

Your breaths were coming in gasps while Bucky’s hands on your hips pulled you closer, fitting your bodies together perfectly, his cock exactly where it belonged—inside you.

It felt so good, so right, that you couldn’t hold your tongue. 

“How’s it feel, Buck?” you asked, your words breathy and drenched in pleasure. “To be buried balls-deep in a cunt that belongs to you? Does it feel better, hotter, when your cock is being milked by the pussy of your girlfriend?”

“Fuck, it does,” Bucky groaned loudly, his head dropping to your shoulder as his hips jerked reflexively between your thighs, like he was trying to bury himself even deeper inside you. But he was already pressed against the very end of you, filling you up completely with his thick cock. 

You laughed at the tortured sounds Bucky was trying to muffle in your neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers carding through his soft hair as you cooed patronizing sounds of sympathy in his ear. 

At the same time, you hitched your legs up and draped your thighs around his waist, heels dinging into his ass as you held him flush against your body.  

“That’s it, daddy, stay deep in your girlfriend’s cunt,” you murmured in his ear, pressing wet, suckling kisses to his neck and stubbled jaw, enjoying the little tremors of pleasure that reverberated through his big, strong body. “This is where you belong, Bucky, buried in my pussy, being such a good boyfriend and filling me up sooo perfectly.”

“Fuck, this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Bucky growled accusingly, more defeat than anger in his voice.

Before you could ask him what he was talking about, he began rocking his hips in little movements, grinding into you and stealing your breath from the pleasure that sparkled through your body. Desperate whimpers and soft moans fell from your lips as you clung to Bucky, trying to meet his thrusts but having to little leverage to do more than writhe. 

“You made me crave this cunt so much,” Bucky went on, fury seeping into his tone as his movements grew more brutal. 

His fingers dug harshly into your hips as he dragged you back and forth on the counter, like your pussy was nothing more than his personal fuck toy. It was hot and perfect and you never wanted him to stop. 

“You drove me fucking wild with how good you feel, just so I’d claim you and make you my girlfriend—that was your plan, wasn’t it, baby?”

There was something in Bucky’s voice, some raw emotion that had worry breaking through the pleasure coursing through your body. Leaning back, you grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands and held him still so you could look at him properly.

There was a guarded look in his eye, but the longer you stared, the more you saw what he was hiding—devastation, masked thinly with accusation. It was the only thing that kept you from laughing at his preposterous accusation.

“Bucky,” you said seriously, and his hips paused, his eyes staring at your mouth like he was hanging on your every word. “I may have worn John’s jacket to make you jealous, but I haven’t been…” You trailed off, trying to think of the right word, but only one seemed right. “Conspiring to get you to be my boyfriend.”

You stared at him, willing him to hear what you were saying. You knew Bucky had some trust issues—you didn’t need a psych degree to figure out that was the root of him not wanting to commit to one person—but he knew you and you hoped that meant he trusted you.

“You know me, Bucky,” you said softly, using your hands on his face to tilt it up until his eyes met yours. “You know I was fine with our arrangement. You know I like you, but I’m not going to conspire or beg you to be my boyfriend—I don’t beg like that.”

For a long moment, Bucky only stared back at you, his eyes skimming your face as if searching for the lie in the curve of your lips. You let him look, because you knew there was nothing for him to find, only your genuine, open honesty.

He must’ve figured that out, because he softened little by little, until a smirk slowly curled the edges of his mouth. 

“No, you don’t beg like that—you aren’t like that,” Bucky agreed, his voice low and rough. The guarded look was crumbling from his eyes, his blue gaze sparking with desire and need and something deeper than affection. 

Ducking forward, Bucky captured your lips in a brief, scorching kiss that left you breathless. You wanted to keep him close, but Bucky stood up straight, his fingers digging beneath your ass to hold you firmly on the edge of the counter, then pulled out until on the tip remained inside.

“You just beg for my cock, don’t you, baby,” he crooned in a teasing voice, his smirk blooming into a wide grin when you whimpered and squirmed, your heels digging into his ass as you tried to pull him back inside you. “You beg me to fuck you like no other man can, beg me to fill you up with my cum—that’s how you beg, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m a greedy little slut and I need your cock, Bucky, please,” you whined, squeezing your thighs around Bucky’s waist and trying to pull him closer, wailing softly when he wouldn’t budge. 

Bucky chuckled, dropping his head to your shoulder and latching his mouth onto the swell of your breast. He sucked on your skin so hard, you half expected him to leave a huge mark on your body. And you liked it. 

He was no doubt leaving a hickey behind while his breath ghosted across your tits, making your nipples pucker and ache for attention. And all you could do was moan and writhe in pleasure, your fingers twisted in his soft hair as you clung to his strong, steady form.

“That’s a good start, baby,” Bucky rumbled condescendingly into your skin, moving to your other breast and beginning to suck a mark into your skin there. Then, he was slamming inside you again, sheathing his cock deep in your tight cunt.

A pleasured scream tore from your lips, bouncing off the tiled walls of the dive bar bathroom, and your thoughts scattered across the dingy floor. It felt so good, and you were so full, stretched around his fat cock, that all you could do was cry and whimper, your hands clinging to Bucky wherever you could reach while he fucked you on the counter. 

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you—let me hear how good your boyfriend fucks you,” Bucky growled into your tits, one of his hands leaving your ass to grope your soft mounds, fingers pinching your nipples harshly and turning you into a sobbing mess. “Fuck, you feel so good, you feel so much better now that you’re all fucking mine.”

“All yours,” you moaned mindlessly, rocking your hips on the counter to meet his thrusts, delighting in the perfect way he fucked you—hard and fast. Blistering pleasure was coursing through your body, sending you careening toward your release even as you whimpered pitifully, hoping the ecstasy you felt would never end. 

Your fingers curled in Bucky’s soft brown hair and you dragged him to your mouth for a messy, filthy kiss filled with possessiveness and affection and so much more emotion that it made your head spin. When your lips parted, you held Bucky close, your heavy breaths spilling into the minuscule space between your bodies.

“You feel better, too,” you admitted in a panting, breathless voice. Your pussy clenched around Bucky’s cock and he grunted, rutting into you even harder. “You feel so big, daddy, so perfect filling me up. Fuck, I can’t get enough of your cock, Bucky.”

A ruthless slash of a smirk spread across Bucky’s face and his hands dug beneath your ass to hold you right where he wanted you, fucking into your tight hole with a purposeful brutality as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge of your release.

“Now that you’re mine, and this pussy belongs to me, I’m gonna keep you on my cock all the time, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his words filthy and intense in a way that made your pleasure surge higher as he continued.

“I’m gonna make you my perfect little cock sleeve, use your slutty cunt and mouth to keep me warm and get me off whenever I want, and you’re gonna be a good slut for me, aren’t you? Because you’re my girlfriend, huh?”

“Oh fuck, yes, Bucky, use me, use my holes to make you feel good—any time, anywhere. I’ll do anything for you, daddy,” you babbled, the words spilling from your lips as easy as the arousal leaking from your pussy. “Please, Bucky, I’m your girlfriend, I’m your slut, I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Bucky growled, rutting into you, his cock spearing deep into your cunt and hitting a spot that had you seeing stars. You were so far gone, you nearly missed his next words. “And I’m yours, baby, all yours.”

His voice was soft and sweet and your pussy throbbed at the affection in his tone. He hadn’t said the ‘L’ word, but based on the way your body reacted, he might as well have. 

Your heart surged with the same emotion, the one you weren’t ready to name, but you could show him and say it another way. Wrapping your hands around the back of Bucky’s neck, you dragged him close for a messy, perfect kiss.

“Mine,” you echoed, claiming him as yours. “You’re all mine, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky slammed deep inside you, his cock twitching at your words and he groaned, clenching his jaw through a bitten off curse. 

“Fuck, ya gotta cum for me, baby,” Bucky rasped, a thread of desperation in his tone. 

His thrusts grew more frenzied, grinding his hips into your soft, swollen pussy so your clit rubbed against the base of his cock while he fucked you in short strokes, barely pulling out.

“Cum on your boyfriend’s cock,” he urged, his hand sliding around your body so his thumb could slip between your soaked folds and rub your clit. “Show me how much you love getting fucked by your boyfriend, baby, c’mon, cum on daddy’s cock.”

“Fuck, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” you cried, chanting his name as he sent you flailing over the edge. Pleasure crashed over your body, a scream of bliss tearing from your lips. You trembled and shook in Bucky’s arms as you came on his cock, your pussy squeezing tight around his stiff length while your legs hugged his waist desperately.

“Good girl, baby, good girl—such a good girlfriend, cumming so hard on your boyfriend’s cock,” Bucky mumbled, burying himself to the hilt in your pussy and moaning into your neck while he followed you over the edge. His teeth raked over your skin, sinking in briefly as he grunted his pleasure against your throat.

You felt him twitch and throb inside you as he pumped you full of cum, but after just a few strokes, Bucky was pulling out and fisting the base of his cock. The rest of his cum spilled across your swollen, aching pussy, his eyes going dark and possessive as he watched his creamy seed make a mess of you.

It was enough to make your pussy pulse greedily, some of his cum leaking from your hole. Watching Bucky mark you with his cum was hot as hell and you were suddenly craving another round of his cock filling you up, fucking his cum deeper into you.

Bucky groaned as he milked the last drop from his cock and then he was using his hands to rub his cum into your skin, making an even bigger mess as he spread your combined juices around your cunt. 

Then he was tucking himself away and zipping up his jeans, pulling out his phone. He took a few photos of your body splayed out on top of John’s jacket on the sinks in the dive bar bathroom, Bucky’s cum and your own wetness glistening between your spread thighs. A lazy smile curled your lips and you grinned up at the camera for Bucky.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby,” Bucky murmured once he was satisfied, a devious smirk on his face. 

Before you could figure out what he was doing, Bucky grabbed the bottom of John’s jacket and he used the soft leather to clean his cum and your wetness from your well-used pussy. A shiver raced down your spine at the feel of it.

It was so filthy, and so fucking toxic for your boyfriend to use your ex-situationship’s jacket to clean you up, but that only turned you on even more. Renewed desire leaked from your slit, ruining John’s jacket even more.

Moaning while Bucky cleaned you up, you rocked your hips against his hand through the jacket, rubbing your messy pussy against the leather and helping your boyfriend ruin it with your juices. It might’ve been the worst thing you’d ever done to a guy, but you couldn’t stop yourself. 

Bucky chuckled, catching your eye and the two of you shared an evil smile. No words needed to be said, both of you were getting off on ruining the leather jacket that belonged to John fucking Walker, and your heart fluttered in your chest at just how perfect Bucky was for you.

Curling your fingers around the back of his neck, you dragged Bucky in for a messy, filthy kiss that was all nipping teeth and searching tongues. But as the kiss went on, it turned soft and sweet. By the time you pulled away, you and Bucky were both grinning at each other, your hearts in your eyes.

In that moment, you really, finally believed that a relationship between the two of you could actually work. Bucky Barnes was like no other man you’d ever met, and you had a sneaking suspicion that was exactly what you needed, just like you were exactly what he needed. 

Before Bucky helped you right yourself, he snapped a few more photos of you on top of John’s ruined leather jacket. A deeply satisfied smile curved your lips as you lay back on the counter, your thighs splayed open, your dress pushed up down and pulled down so your tits and cunt were on full display. 

When he was satisfied, he passed the phone to you so you could see the photos. 

While you looked hot in all of them, you couldn’t help but stare at the expression on Bucky’s face in the mirror. His blue eyes were bright and possessive even in the dim neon light of the bathroom, his mouth curved into a greedy, hungry grin. 

You sent your favorites to yourself, then gave the phone back to Bucky, who dropped a kiss to your lips that sent a delightful little spark of excitement through your heart. 

Bucky helped you down from the sink counter and tugged off his jacket while you righted your dress. Then he draped the canvas jacket around your shoulders and you slit your arms in the sleeves and hugged it close as he redid his belt. It was so much more comfortable and better fitting than John’s jacket.

Turning your face into the collar, you breathed deeply. Bucky’s scent filled your senses and settled something deep inside you. Your exhale was a sigh of relief. With Bucky’s cum still leaking out of your pussy and his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, everything felt right. 

Your eyes fluttered open and you caught Bucky watching you, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth, and a not-so-small amount of affection burning in his gaze. You had half a mind to throw yourself at your boyfriend and fuck him again in the dirty dive bar bathroom—but the unhappy knocking on the door stopped you.

Bucky wrapped his arm possessively around your waist, his other hand grabbing John’s jacket before unlocking the bathroom door and kicking the trash can out of the way.

The two of you strode out into the hallway with your heads held high. Neither of you were ashamed that it was clear what you’d been doing in the bathroom. After all, you were just having some fun with your boyfriend, and Bucky had been having some fun with his girlfriend.

When you approached the table filled with Bucky’s friends, he tossed the leather jacket to John in such a way that the ruined part of the leather wasn’t immediately obvious. 

John seemed a bit more sober as he caught the jacket, a confused frown pulling at the edges of his mouth. He looked up to find you tucked into Bucky’s side, wearing Bucky’s jacket, and his face immediately soured. 

The look in John’s eyes only grew more mutinous when he noticed the freshly fucked, very satisfied smile on your face. 

Idly, you wondered if John noticed that the expression on your face was nothing like how you looked after he’d fucked you. But then you remembered it didn’t matter. 

John Walker would never fuck you again—and you didn’t want or need him to. Not when Bucky Barnes was your boyfriend.

Suddenly, it dawned on you that Bucky could go back on his word. 

He’d said he was willing to tell all his friends that you were his girlfriend, but that had been while you’d been alone and he’d been trying to get into your pussy. Would he keep his word now that he was faced with all his friends?

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t leave you hanging in uncertainty for very long.

“You’re gonna wanna get that dry-cleaned, Walker,” Bucky said casually, tugging you even closer to his side, his hand splaying wide and possessively over your hip. 

Everyone else at the table was silent, shamelessly watching the interaction between Bucky and John. Meanwhile, John’s eyes bounced between you and his so-called friend, confusion creasing his brow. But before he could speak, Bucky was clapping his free hand on John’s shoulder, shooting him an arrogant smirk.

“You can send me the bill.” Then Bucky leaned into John, as if to tell him something in confidence, but kept his voice loud so the whole table could hear. “And I want you to be the first to know, my girl’s officially done with you.”

Bucky pulled you around to his front, and you tipped your head back so he could press a kiss to your lips. In front of all his friends, Bucky slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you deeply, possessively, before turning back to John.

“She’s my girlfriend now, so lose her fucking number.”

At Bucky’s declaration, John’s face crumpled in disappointment and devastation. A very small part of you felt bad for him, but then you remembered how he’d treated you earlier that evening, how he was a little too pushy, and even that small bit of pity evaporated. 

When John looked at you, you gave him a remorseless shrug and turned your attention to Bucky, effectively dismissing your ex-fuck buddy. Looking at Bucky, you couldn’t help but smile at how much happier you were with him than you’d ever been in John’s presence. 

“You still owe me a drink, boyfriend,” you murmured teasingly, reaching up and raking your nails over his scruffy jaw, turning his face to look at you.

A huge grin spread across Bucky’s face and he tugged you impossibly closer, until your body was plastered against his and wrapped around him to a nearly obscene extent. 

“You’re right, baby, let’s go,” he murmured, kissing you again with an indecent amount of tongue, before tugging you away from the table and leading you to the bar. 

You practically collapsed against Bucky’s chest as you walked, snickering at the look on John’s face while Bucky muffled his own laughter in your hair. It was only his arm wrapped firmly around your waist that kept you upright as you maneuvered through the other tables and chairs.

Halfway to the bar, you heard a disgusted shout behind you. Both you and Bucky stopped to look back at the table you’d just left.

John was standing up, holding his jacket at arm’s length, his eyes staring at the parts of the garment that Bucky had used to clean you up. John held his hand to his mouth, pressing against his lips like he was trying to stop himself from being sick.

It took every ounce of your self-control not to tip your head back and cackle your amusement for the entire bar to hear. Instead, you buried your face in Bucky’s shoulder, and let your mirth spill out of you in muffled snorts and giggles. 

For his part, your boyfriend was doing his best to stifle his laughter as well, his fist pressed to his mouth and his teeth sinking into his finger to bite back his evil amusement. Together, you held each other up as your bodies shook with your barely restrained laughter. 

“Did that make you feel better?” you asked, your voice still shaking with mirth as you collected yourself and began heading toward the bar again, Bucky’s hand never leaving your waist as he trailed behind you. 

You found an open spot between a couple groups and leaned a hip against the sturdy bartop, facing Bucky as he slid in beside you.

Before responding, Bucky flagged down the bartender, a different one from earlier, who made quick work of taking his order. Bucky asked for a beer for himself, and the drink you’d asked him for when you’d first gotten to the dive bar. Then he waited until the bartender moved away before answering your question. 

“It did,” Bucky said smugly, his hands falling to your hips and pulling your soft body flush against his hard chest. His arms wrapped around your waist beneath his jacket, fingers idly stroking your spine through your dress.

You’d just circled your arms around Bucky’s shoulders and were leaning in for a kiss when movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

John Walker stormed past, throwing a glare at Bucky before making a show of forcing his jacket into the garbage can by the door and shoving outside. He left in a huff, Lemar Hoskins following on his heels to make sure he got home safe. 

Once they were gone, you tipped your head back and finally let out your evil cackle, tears gathering in your eyes while Bucky laughed just as loudly. 

The sound of his callous triumph reverberated through you everywhere you were pressed together, and it sent tingles of pleasure spiraling through your body. 

Suddenly, you were very aware that you were no longer wearing panties—since they were still tucked into Bucky’s back pocket—and you could feel your desire leaking from your slit. You pressed your thighs together to try to stop it from dripping any further. 

Bucky caught your eye as you both calmed down, and something seemed to pass between the two of you—an understanding, an acceptance of even the worst parts of yourselves. Not for the first time, you thought that Bucky was like no other man you’d ever met, and you were excited to see what havoc you could wreak on the world. Together.

The meaningful moment you were sharing with Bucky was cut too short when Sharon fucking Carter appeared at your boyfriend’s shoulder, her fingers curling around his bare bicep to get his attention. 

Your gaze zeroed in on where Sharon was touching your man, a red haze of fury falling over your vision as you tensed, your arms wrapping more tightly around Bucky’s neck. 

“Hey Buck, we got cut off earlier. I didn’t get to finish telling you about the ridiculous project Ross has me working on,” Sharon said, seemingly oblivious of the way you and Bucky were wrapped around each other. 

Just then, the bartender returned with your drinks, and Bucky used the opportunity to shake off Sharon’s hand. Turning to the bar, he slid some bills across the hardwood then grabbed your drink and handed it to you before picking up his beer.

“Not now, Sharon, I’m with my girlfriend,” Bucky said dismissively, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched you take a sip of your drink. “And for future reference, I don’t give a shit about any projects Ross has you working on, or whether Nat’s giving you a hard time. Bother Sam with your bullshit.” 

You took another sip of your drink, that time hiding your evil smile as Sharon huffed in annoyance. But when Bucky only kept his attention fixed firmly on you, she whirled around and walked away, taking her annoying, grating voice with her. 

A sense of satisfaction spread warmly in your chest and you moved your drink out of the way so you could grin up at your boyfriend. Pushing yourself against his chest, you captured his lips in a kiss, licking into his mouth in reward for sending Sharon Carter away.

“How about you, baby, did that make you feel better?” Bucky murmured in your ear before pulling away to take a sip of his beer, watching you the whole time. 

It was intoxicating to have Bucky’s full attention, to know that he was your boyfriend and you were his girlfriend, and you didn’t need to suffer through the company of John Walker or Sharon Carter anymore. That realization was so delightful, you almost forgot to answer Bucky’s question.

“It did,” you said, letting Bucky see your evil smirk before you leaned in and pressed another kiss to his mouth. You trailed kisses along his jaw until your lips were close to his ear. “Finish your drink fast, I want you to take me home and fuck me like no other man can, Bucky.”

You could feel Bucky’s bulge grow against your soft belly, but he only chuckled at your words. Then he led you back to the table and sat down with his friends, holding you close with his arm around your shoulders and his legs tangled with yours as you enjoyed the company of his friends for a little while.

When he finished his beer and you’d downed the last of your drink, you and Bucky said goodbye to his friends and he took you back to his place. There, he fucked you again, like no other man ever had, claiming you as his girlfriend while you claimed him as your boyfriend. Finally.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids, to give him a chance to find deviancy on his own terms. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar (there's something there, I think), but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Summary: new job, old friends , and memories your tried to forget. Will you be able to dodge the past as you navigate your new job?

“ More news arrived from the RFEF who have promised that they were going through a systematic change after the Luis Rubiales scandal. They have announced this morning the arrival of a new head coach to lead the women’s team in the upcoming euro cup which will be held in switzerland. The 33 years old coach came from the united states where she led her team to victory in the nwsl. Her name may sound familiar to you because she was a part of Vilda's coaching staff until she decided to step away for unknown reasons. Although she has never coached a national team before, the new RFEF president is confident she will heal wounds left by her predecessor mostré tomé and restore the team to its winning ways.” says the reporter on the TV. you were sitting on your couch listening to her talking about your new job with player’s files in your lap. The international break was in 7 days and you needed to get familiar with everyone and have a clear plan of your strategy. 

Being back in Spain brought back so many memories. You haven't come back since everything went down and you quit your job. You swore you would never come back to work with the RFEF however seeing everything unfold in the news you knew that agreeing to come back was more of a necessity than a choice. You loved the girls very much and you knew that they deserved better than what they got and you were adamant on giving them the best. Moreover, the new president was a woman you knew and was friends with. You trusted her and agreed to give her a chance. Besides Barcelona was the best city in the world, you couldn't pass up the chance to come back home. 

As soon as you accepted your position, you contacted old colleagues, ones that you knew you could trust,  and combined them with some of the existing staff that you were 100 percent sure were a safe fit for the new environment you were hoping to achieve and formed your new staff and announced it to the media. The fans were shocked at the amount of changes you made and their comments were very supportive of your decision which gave you a boost of confidence. 

All you were thinking about was this team. You held and attended meetings all day long. You practically lived on your desk but it was all worth it because it all led to this phone call you were pursuing since the day you got to barcelona. You waited in front of your laptop anxiously waiting for your star player to join the zoom call. Shortly after you see her face pop on your screen. 

“ hola.” you say enthusiastically. “ hola.” she replies. She looked much older since the last time you saw her, which was 4 years ago. 

“ Thanks for agreeing to this call. It  truly means a lot.” you say playing with a pen in your hands. 

“ yeah it wasn't easy but i thought why not hear you out.” she replied. 

“ So I am gonna get right to it. I want you to be back in the national team. You are the best center back i know, i want you to be in the te am, and you deserve to have a place in this team.” 

“ I see you haven't changed, you are still as honest as you were but I would have to decline.” responded mapi. 

 “ I am turning things around maria. You know me, you know my story, you know everything. This time is different. I came back to make things different. You watched everything happen in front of your eyes. Do you truly think I could make someone feel the way I felt back then?” 

Mapi stayed quiet, she was perhaps thinking about that night you decided to leave everything behind. The night the idea of las 15 was created. 

“ okay.” you hear her say. “ I will come to this camp.” you are overjoyed “ you wont regret it leon.” 

 Your happiness was cut short because you remembered that you had to do this 2 more times with pina and leila. After 2 very long phone calls you got them to trust you and to agree to the return to the national team. You then drafted the call up list and sent it to your assistant. 

The days leading up to camp went by quickly as your plans of the first steps towards rebuilding were coming to fruition. 

You were sitting in your office when  you heard a knock on the door, it was your assistant coach informing you that the players began   to arrive. A wave of nerves watched over you but that was to be expected. You were a part of this team before and you hoped they would welcome you back with open arms. You were wearing casual clothes so that you won't be seen as authoritarian. You settled for a white t-shirt, black pants and shoes, and you wore your hair down. Your objective was to appear normal and friendly to the members of the team you weren't familiar with. You headed straight for the conference room and waited for the first people to arrive. Shortly after that Irene walked through the door. You were instantly transported back to 4 years ago which is the last time you and the captain have spoken. You closed your eyes briefly to try and get the bad memories away and open a new chapter with the captain. You shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with her and the rest of the barca group but quickly moved on to the other members that had joined. After they were all settled in their chairs you noticed the absence of the person you were most afraid to see, alexia putellas. Before you accepted the job you wrote down a pros and cons list. The first reason you put on the pros was the paycheck and the glory. However for the cons the first thing you wrote down was alexia putellas’s name. Seconds after you thought about her she appeared. She was just as beautiful and charming as you remembered. She immediately came to you but without sharing eye contact with you. She went in to kiss your cheek as a way to say hello and you did too. She still smelled like before and her smell still had a magnetic power over you. She then took a seat next to Irene and you pulled yourself together again and started your presentation. 

“ Hello everybody and welcome. You all heard of me, some of you even were a part of my team when I was working here which feels like a lifetime ago. But in that lifetime this team has risen from the underdog to the most favored and feared team in the world. I am here to continue that legacy and help the team strengthen its roster. But I am also here to create an environment, a culture, and a safe space for you all.  You all are the best in Spain and you deserve to be treated like it. This culture I am trying to create involves no tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, or sexism. I urge you to report any case of abuse or mistreatment from my staff or your teammates. I tried my best to employ people I trust and are advised to report anything that made you uncomfortable.  So Without further or do let's talk strategy.” 

You go over everything you expect from the team and how the strategy is going to change. You then instruct your team to go rest so that training may begin tomorrow at 9 am. 

On their way out you called for the captain to have a word with them. Once the room is empty you quickly say ” so you heard everything i said, i just want to make sure that you two know that i mean Plus the captaincy is going to change. Obviously, you two are the captain and vice. You can come with me with any concern or question about anything.my door is always open.  I am appointing jenni as the 3rd captain.” 

“ That wouldn't go over well with the federation,” said irene. 

“ Well, I don't care. They knew who they hired. Plus I don't play by their rules.” you respond. The captains share a satisfactory look with you although you haven't looked at either of their eyes, then leave. 

Your transition to head coach seemed to be seamless. The players were responding to your advice and strategies. The media seemed to be happy with the changes you made and especially with the arrival of mapi leon. The vibe of the club overall was great, and you were getting comfortable in your new spot. However, it was all about to change at the pro match press conference. The conference itself went great. You and the vice captain answered all the questions given to you without any mishaps. But once the media left and you were left alone with alexia,  you felt yourself suffocating so you quickly got up to leave.  

“ You can't avoid me forever,” said Alexia calmly. 

“ Who said anything about avoiding you?  The conference is done, so I am leaving. If you want to talk to me about anything, my office door is always open.” you say with a cold tone not bothering to look at her. 

“ You don't talk to me like you never do. Besides you won't even look at me." Alexia sounded sad. All you wanted was to take away all her pain but you couldn't. 

“ I talk like this to everybody.” you hear her get up and see her in front of you. Not looking her in her eyes  would prove her point, and doing it would rip you to shreds. You suck it up and look at her hazel captivating eyes. “ Happy now?” you respond. “ We can't continue like this, we have to talk about that night.” 

“ alexia there is nothing to talk about. I forgot everything that happened ,I moved on. I am your coach right now. If you have a concern about anything football related, come to my office.” you were lying straight to her face. You didn't move on or forget what happened. You just hoped your tough girl act would hold with her. 

Game Day was always fun for you but this time around it had a little nervousness attached to it since it was your introduction as the new coach. You started your day witha call from the RFEF board wishing you good luck and re-stating their confidence in you. You revised your strategy, confirmed you starting 11, and headed to the bus so that you would head to the stadium. You decided on a blue suit and let your hair down. You looked both masculine and feminine   which summed up your personality perfectly. 

Once you arrived at the stadium you gave the girls a motivational speech, headed to your seat in the sidelines and waited for the game to begin. You weren't a loud manager. You just sat there, observed the play and took notes. You trusted the girl’s judgment and gave them some autonomy when it came to the style of play which rewarded you with a goal in the 8th minute by aitana bonmati. The 1-0 unset turned into 6-0 by the 76th minute which made you proud of your debut. However it all turned into chaos when alexia putellas fell on the field. You panicked as the paramedics ran to her. You watched  intensely as they examined her and waited for the signal that informed you that you needed a substitution which you got almost immediately. Your heart broke for the recently healed midfielder but you had other things in mind. You called for Teresa Abelleira and subbed her in. The game ended in a 7-0 win. You shook hands with everybody, did an interview but the thought of alexia didn't leave your mind.  As soon as you were done you semi sprinted to the locker room. Once you got there you found irene. 

“ Is it the acl again?” you ask worryingly. 

“ No, it's just a muscle strain and her knee is acting up again.”  you breathe for the first time in an hour. 

“ This is happening because of you.” she says harshly.

“ Excuse me.” you couldnt believe what you heard. 

“ You shouldn't have come back here. You taking this job was a mistake. You have opened up an old wound and this is just the beginning.”

“ I am going to have to stop you right here. First,  I am your boss not your buddy from back in the day so you are going to have to take a step back and show some respect. Second, you have the nerve to talk to me about making mistakes  knowing that you ruined my life not too long ago.

“ She didn't sleep last night. That's why she got injured today. I am worried about my friend.” 

“ You should have thought about your friend 4 years ago.” you say as you enter the medic’s room leaving her behind. 

You found alexia with tape on her knee and achilles. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see you come in and sit next to her. 

“ I am willing to talk about that night this time only. Say everything you need but once I leave this room you are never going to bring it up again.” 

The only way to make it out is through. You thought.

[simpjaes]

Pomellato Jay giving me brothers bff thoughts😮‍💨

1:27 a.m.

You all just came home from a party. Jay saw you shivering bc your skimpy little dress was perfect to tease him, but didn’t help with the weather outside. So him, being the sweet gentlemen he is, gave you his black blazer. It covered you completely, and it made you look as if you had nothing beneath it; which was driving Jay insane…

Your phone started to ping next to you:

1:27 a.m - Jay:

- Could you please go change your clothes

1:27 a.m - You:

- why? I feel cozy with your blazer on..

1:29 a.m - Jay:

- That’s not it

- I can’t control myself in front of your brother

1:31 a.m - Jay:

- please baby

- Or go wait for me upstairs

HELPPPPPPPP

i hope you don't mind me changing the text string. wc: 833 ~

1:27 a.m - Jay: you're home now, can i please have my blazer back?

1:27 a.m - You: but whyyyyyy, its so comfy

1:29 a.m - Jay: just....please You glance at him, noting how stiff he appears compared to his usual, relaxed and casual self. Your brother, sitting on the other side of him flipping through some streaming app with a bored sigh. Now, you look down at yourself, back to Jay, back down at yourself, then you curl up on the couch. Smirking a little bit because you're well aware that the blazer rides up, dragging your skirt with it.

1:34 a.m - Jay: fucking stop doing that

1:35 a.m - You: getting excited? 1:35 a.m - Jay: what do you think? You watch him closer, seeing the way he looks at you before glancing towards Jake nervously. "Jake?" You suddenly say, breaking the silence in the room [bc jake still hasn't landed on a fucking show.] "Hm?" He pays no mind, still focused on the tv. "Where is your watch? Weren't you wearing it earlier?" He wasn't. You know he wasn't, but sometimes gaslighting is okay. "Was I?" He says, now sitting up. "Fuck, where did it go?" "I think you left it at Heeseung's place. Might wanna go get it before someone steals it." Jake doesn't even question it, hopping up with a muttered curse under his breath and heading out the door without even looking back at you or his best friend. Silence fills the room, except now...it's loud. "You want me to give you your blazer back?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at him with a cheeky smirk. "You know what you're doing." He groans, finally relaxing his body and sinking into the couch. His legs spread out wide when he throws his head back in that same groan, and you can't help but stare at the way his adam's apple bobs through a swallow. "It's been a couple of weeks, you know-" You start, slipping the blazer off of you and making sure the straps of your tank top slide down with it. "Was starting to think you really didn't want me anymore." Jay grimaces. He feels guilty for so many things. One, you're his best friend's sister. Two, he knows if Jake found out, the friendship would sour. Three, he still wants you so fucking bad he could genuinely cum right fucking now if you so much as say his name. After seeing you like that in his clothes, arguably better when you're entirely naked? His kind gesture backfired so goddamn fast. He remembered instantly the last time you were on top of him, missing the feeling of you so badly. The way his blazer fits you now, the way you swim in the fabric, the way you refuse to take it off. He knows you still want him too. And, well, Jake's not here. "You clever little-" He pauses, seeing your bare shoulders as his blazer slides down. Your thighs still bare and exposed from under it. "Fuck." You stand now, fully removing his blazer and revealing the same slutty outfit you wore tonight. Was it to get on his nerves? Yes. Was it to get on his cock? Yes. Jake wasn't too fond of you dressed like this, but who fucking cares about what he thinks anyway? "Just one more time?" You ask now, more innocently. All while rubbing your thighs together and using one hand to slide up your shirt. "We can make it fast." Jay rolls his eyes, the twitch in his pants growing thicker and thicker, to the point he cant help but grab at himself now. Another groan, and his eyes narrow at you. "You want it fast?" He asks now, the same sultry tone you had grown to miss so much. "And hard." You add, throwing yourself back on the couch and making sure your legs are spread. Wide. It's not long before you feel his familiar hands pressing your wrists into the cushions, hovering over you and blatantly pressing himself between your thighs. "You miss it that much?" He asks in a raspy whisper, smirking only slightly at the face you make in response. Only because he's fucked his fist to that same face so many goddamn times. "Mhm." You hum, wiggling a bit under him. "Don't you?" He breaks at that point, releasing one of your wrists and shoving it down his pants, all so he can bury himself into you without fuss. No foreplay, no teasing, no grinding. Just pure penetration. There's a moan from him that fills your ears, one that sounds more desperate than he would normally sound. Just a few weeks ago it was you sounding like that. Whiny, needy. "Fuck, yeah I do." He breathes this time, holding his breath as he does as he promised. Fast. hard. So fast, and so hard, that neither of you hear the door unlocking and Jake prancing in before freezing on the spot. "You motherfucker." ~

[sorchathered]

Let’s do IT for our country

Pairing- President!Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- smut smut and more smut, breeding kink, language, mentions of pregnancy, us politics, I think that’s it?

Summary- Robert Floyd had never wanted to be the president, but here in the Oval Office on inauguration night with his First Lady? He could get used to nights like this.

A/N- It’s that time again! Another IBFFM, but this time with an older version of our sexy WSO. Mr. President is about 45 here, his First Lady is in her mid 30’s.

Also it’s @bobgasm ‘s birthday present!! Happy birthday to my precious Steph, love you so much baby!!

For as long as he could remember, Robert Floyd had been told he would be great.

His family name was synonymous with the likes of Kennedy and Roosevelt, the Floyd’s were some of the most influential in political history, and with that came high expectations. You must go to a prestigious college, you must serve your country (whether that be as a civil servant or military member), and you must marry the right kind of person. They talked about it as if they were breeding horses, and it never made any sense to him, so long as he found someone kind and supportive all of the bullshit that his family expected mattered very little to him. He would tick off whatever boxes they wanted, but it would be on his own terms.

He went to the US Naval Academy after high school, refusing to hop onto the Ivy League lifestyle his grandfather so desperately cherished. Moving on to aviation as a WSO and then becoming one of the top 1% in the country in his field. It was a distinguished career to be sure, but he’d been adamant that he had no interest in pursuing a political career, and certainly not the presidency.

He still wasn’t sure what had brought him to this point, or how he’d somehow managed to bag his dream girl in the process. A feisty junior senator from Delaware, good family, strong morals and drop dead gorgeous to boot, you’d been his match in every way. Sure you had hated his guts, he was the golden boy and you had dealt with his kind your whole life. But after a particularly long day in the senate he’d asked you to dinner, and while you’d had half a mind to tell him no the prospect of a free meal wasn’t worth passing up. So in a dingy dive bar with greasy burgers and cheap beer, you took a chance on him and fell ridiculously in love.

Four years had passed since you’d both sat in the creeky wooden booths of that shitty bar, and it felt simultaneously like yesterday and a lifetime ago. His family had pushed him into politics and while he had been adamant in the beginning that he would never pursue the presidency, the world had changed dramatically since he first refused the mantle. He may have hated the pageantry of it all, but at his core he truly did want to help people, and they certainly took notice. He’d run a clean and honest campaign with his best girl by his side, and won in a landslide. Everything moved very quickly from Election Day to Inauguration Day, it almost felt like he had blinked and he was here, wandering the halls of the west wing after skipping out on the last two of 10 gaudy inaugural balls he’d been forced to attend. He’d been going since sunrise and still couldn’t seem to get the jitters under control so he could rest; he suspected it would be quite a while before that feeling went away. Shaky hands moved to open the door to the Oval Office, completely renovated and designed by his beautiful wife to fit his style and personality, you’d made sure he would want for nothing, he’d be spending so much time in this room and it seemed only logical to make it a calm and safe space for him and his thoughts. It felt so much like his office at home, even down to the worn leather chair and the soft scent of sandalwood and tobacco from the candles you bought because it reminded you of him. You had told him you’d be heading to change and wouldn’t be gone long, he had plans to unwind with a bottle of bourbon and maybe a game or three of checkers, but as you slipped into the spacious and hallowed room belonging to the commander in chief, he nearly jolted out of his skin. There you were, his First Lady, in a skimpy little silk robe, intricate updo long gone in favor of soft curls, and the adorable little fuzzy cat slippers that he’d bought you for Christmas.

“Good evening Mr. President” you said with a smirk as you locked the door and padded over to his desk. You’d chosen well, the beautiful mahogany writing table had belonged to Theodore Roosevelt, and while it hadn’t been used in many a president’s term, you had made sure it was painstakingly restored and ready for his first day. Now that you were here, all he could seem to think of is how much fun it might be to test the sturdiness of the surface, perhaps he did need to blow off a little steam after such a stressful day…

“Sweet girl, you do realize there’s cameras everywhere right?” He said as you pushed his chair back just enough to fit between his thighs, very gently sitting on the edge of the antique escritoire. This desk had seen many a scandal, so many historical events, and you were quite sure she should handle the weight of what you had planned next.

“Already got that covered, Phoenix is on surveillance right now, you can go ahead and go dark Nat!” You said in the general direction of where they’d mentioned cameras were placed, a notification on your phone let you know she’d confirmed that the two of you had thirty minutes all to yourselves and you broke out in a blinding grin as you leaned forward to press a kiss to Bob’s jawline. The sharp intake of breath and his hands immediately going to your hips let you know he’d need this just as much as you, it had been embarrassingly long since the two of you had been together, and you filed away the notion that you would need to make sure you had the right security in play to make quickies like this a regular occurrence, policy be damned.

You’d drawn his lips to yours as you untied his tie and began unbuttoning the front of his dress shirt, his hands had drifted to palming your ass as he licked the seam of your mouth, a gasp from you was all he needed to slide his tongue against yours, squeezing you a little more roughly and all but pulling you into the plush office chair.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathed into your mouth, you’d nearly gotten his dress shirt removed when he slotted his knee between your legs, large hands gripping the back of your thighs as he placed you back on the desk, this time swiping whatever loose papers off the top and sending them cascading across the plush carpet that held the presidential seal. You squealed and giggled, watching with rapt attention as he removed his dress shirt and exposed the defined freckled skin of his arms, pulling his undershirt off with less finesse as it joined the pile of papers on the floor. “I’ve never found a president to be sexy until just this moment, I have to admit, you look damn good in this office, sir” you said as you leaned back on your palms and ogled him, heat crept up his cheeks and chest at your praise, but his eyes had darkened at the honorific, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he could feel his dress slacks getting uncomfortably tight as you ran your bare feet up and down the back of his legs.

“You wanna be a good girl for me Madame First Lady? Let me lay you out and devour you where anyone could walk in?” His voice grew impossibly deeper and you let out a whimper in response, shifting to try and get some relief. You did want that, you wanted it so badly you could scream, it was the very thought of being dirty and unladylike for the man you loved that had you so hot and bothered, and he trailed one long finger down your sternum to remove your robe, fire in his eyes as he opened the sash and found you completely bare for him.

“Goddamn it, should have known you’d do this, you know exactly how to wind me up don’t ya? Whole world wants to know how to bring me to my knees and all they’d have to do is weaponize you and this perfect pussy.” He was completely fixated on your arousal glistening between your legs, and while normally you’d let him take his time, you knew it wouldn’t be long before some aid or agent came by to make sure he had everything he needed for the evening. If they only knew.

“Bobby, please? Don’t have a lot of time baby” you said as you squirmed on the polished wood and searched for some kind of relief. He seemed to snap out of his haze as lust clouded eyes fixed on yours, letting his index finger trail down your stomach and through your folds, watching your head fall back and chest heave at his teasing.

“Need to hear you say it sweet girl, you know what I want.” You blushed in earnest, he loved how dirty you could get, but that had always been behind closed doors in the comfort of your own home, you’d be mortified if anyone heard some of the things you’d said in the throes of pleasure; but it was his big day after all. If he wanted it, you’d give him the moon.

“Need your mouth on me Daddy, want you to make me cum and then fuck me with your big dick. Please? Please give it to me, ‘s been too long, fuck - I-“ you babbled at him as he continued to rub that one long finger up and down, it was maddening and had you choking on your words, thankfully he didn’t make you wait, spreading you open and pressing two fingers into you as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your clit. The relief was immediate, you moaned out into the empty room as he went to work on your aching pussy, drawing tight circles with this tongue as he scissored his fingers inside you. It had been weeks and he knew he’d need to get you ready, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was going insane over the little noises you made and the iron grip you had on his hair, tugging at his scalp as you bucked up into his pretty face to search for your release.

It was startling how fast he got you there, you were certain you were dripping down onto the desk now, wet smacks and moans coming from between your thighs as you peeked down to look at his deep cerulean eyes. He was too damn good at this and he knew it, had the audacity to wink at you as he nibbled on your clit and with a gasp you came all over his face, watching as he wiped his mouth with his arm and smirking like the cocky bastard he was. He controlled the entire free world now, but he would still consider it his greatest accomplishment that he could render his pretty wife to a babbling needy mess with his tongue. Disheveled looked good on you, blush spread across your cheeks and chest, hair a mess, and your release all over your thighs from what he intended to be one of at least three mind blowing orgasms.

You looped your heavy arms around his neck and kissed him languidly, you didn’t seem to be as worried about the time anymore and for that he was thankful. He wanted to take his time, and if somebody walked in they would find out very quickly to knock, he couldn’t give a shit about anything other than getting his cock inside you.

You knew the rule all too well; no visible marks. It had been that way from the very beginning, which was unfortunate because you wanted so badly to mark his pretty neck up and make sure everyone knew he was yours, but the compromise was that you could leave them anywhere below the collarbone, so as he fished for the condom he’d stashed in his pocket (hoping to end the night just like this), you licked down his neck and began nibbling on the flesh of his pecks, sucking a nipple into your mouth and looking up at him as his jaw went slack. “Oh Christ, you gotta stop that baby or we’ll be finished before we even get started” he panted out and tried not to buck up into you, the hand gripping your thigh was sure to leave a mark but you couldn’t give a shit, there was something so powerful in being able to bring the most powerful man on earth to his knees, and even better knowing that he was insatiable for you.

“Then fuck me Mr. President, and you don’t need that condom either. I think you should put a baby in me, fill me up so good that I’m dripping with you all day tomorrow.” You grinned at him but he looked completely debauched, he ran a hand through his graying sandy locks and blinked down at you, almost at a loss for words.

“You little minx, you’ve been just waiting all day to drop that on me haven’t you? Need me to cum in that pretty pussy and get you good and knocked up? Fuck you’d think it was my birthday or something, I don’t know how I got it so good.” He said as he spread you out and ran his hands all over you, you were whimpering and grinding into him and he was sure he’d pass out if he was any harder, slipping himself out of his briefs and sliding his length through your slick. You were trying hard to be quiet, sure it was late but there was bound to be someone on watch, Bob gripped your chin as he slid into you and kissed you sloppily, all teeth and tongue and moans, shallow thrusts to get you ready turned rough when you sucked his bottom lip and pushed your hips up to take him to the hilt. You gripped the front of the desk behind your head and let him pound you into it, the need for quiet long forgotten as you alternated between crying out and calling him daddy.

It didn’t take him long before he was close, the aftershocks of your second orgasm seemed to keep him gripped so tight that he could barely think straight, he was furiously rubbing your clit to get you there again as he watched tears drip down your flushed cheeks, he’d never forget tonight for the rest of his life. Not all the fanfare, not even the immense weight of the mantle he was about to take, but this moment right here, wrapped up in his gorgeous wife as he fucked her silly in the Oval Office. You wailed out “I’m cumming” as you gripped him tight with your pulsing heat and he tumbled over the edge right along with you, warming you from the inside out as he filled you up.

You cradled his sweaty form in your arms as you both came down from your high, giggles erupting from him as it really set in what you two had done.

“Ah shit, well everyone’s gonna know that we can’t keep our hands to ourselves after this, I imagine the press will have a field day.” He kissed your nose as you grinned at him, both of you still joined together but neither of you ready to separate.

A loud ring came from his phone and it sent a jolt through both of you, wide eyes trained on his as he leaned forward and grabbed it off the hook. His eyes were full of mirth as he nodded his head once, twice and bid them goodnight, pinching your cheek with his free hand before hanging up.

“What was that all about?” You said, trying to push him up so you could get decent and off his desk.

“That was Nat, she said we need to hurry the hell up before me going MIA causes a national emergency.” He was joking of course, but the secret service agents at the door couldn’t look either of you in the eye as you shuffled down the hallway with Bob’s hand in yours, and it was no surprise to anyone when you turned up pregnant by the state of the union.

Tagging- @bobgasm @attapullman @bobfloydsbabe @floydsglasses @sebsxphia @roosterforme @sunsetsimpsblog @seitmai @auroralightsthesky @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist

[alienpossession]

The Shell: The Landing Part 2

Part 1

"Come on dude, you've been helping us tremendously, at least grab a beer or something," insisted Colin as he tried to persuade the Forest Ranger to take a sip of the cold beer

"Heh, sure, not like my boss is around or something," said the Forest Ranger as he loosened himself up and grab the tempting cold beer from Colin's hands. Colin grinned with malice as the first sip of the beer instantly froze the ranger, the bottle shattered to the forest ground as venom already spread all over his system. Colin then easily opened the Ranger's mouth and then the alien starts to climb out from his throat and then traveled upwards to enter the ranger's nose. When it finished wrapping itself around the ranger's brain and then absorbed the memories, it oozes out from the ranger's ear and then flopped to the forest ground where it started to expand itself as the shell's creation process started. Minutes later, the perfect replica of the ranger, albeit naked, stand up with a smug grin next to the ranger.

"Guess I need to take what's mine, Ranger," said the replica with an eerie smile plastered on his face as he started to undress the real Ranger from his uniform. The boots with the lengthy, damp black socks, the pants that framed the ranger's hairy muscle ass so well alongside the sweaty white briefs, the wifebeater underneath the worn out uniform shirt and jacket and at last the musky hat that once adorned the Ranger head is now in the possession of the shell that wears it with pride and smugness that's never been seen before from the usually stoic and stern Ranger

"Ranger Stephen Henderson at your service. Ohhh......I love how knowledgeable he is about this forest. Lots of delicious bodies for our pack scattered in places I, as the Ranger, fully aware of if you want to explore the woods now. What do you think, Colin? Should we tell Ryle about this?"

"Oh we definitely should, Ranger Henderson. I know Ryle will be elated if you can show us where to find the next bodies,"

"Well, what if we bring one more body to him? There's this jogger watching us as we're speaking now looking all horrified right there," the Ranger pointed out to the person around 300 meters behind Colin that has witnessed everything

The jogger tried his best to outrun the youthful Colin and the street-smart (or forest-smart) Ranger Henderson, but he eventually succumbed to the same fate as the real Ranger and the real Colin when this alien replica of himself eventually snapped his neck in the final act of taking over his identity

"Let's head back to meet Ryle and strategize which folks we should convert before we head back to the city," advised the Ranger to both Colin and the recently-added Marco, the town's bartender that just wanted to get some fresh air but unfortunately took his final drag of fresh air witnessing an impostor stealing his identity and life

With the help of the Ranger's knowledge of the forest, the takeover turned out to be even much more efficient and rewarding as the Ranger directed them to the more fit and powerful human to be disposed of and cloned as shell into. As it stands, the pack led by Ryle Adams leave the forest in three differing cars, the first one filled by Ryle, Colin and the two local college jocks named Austin and Wes

Then, the second car, a huge pickup truck is filled by Ranger Henderson, Marco the bartender, Paulie the town cabin-builder and the owner of the truck alongside his buddy and recently turned in-law as their kids married each other, Sheriff Jeff Wilcox.

The final car, and quite an unexpected yet very much welcomed outcome, filled by 4 soldiers from the military base in the opposite town of the other 8 shells. The soldiers were on a quick unathourized trip out from the base to enjoy the pristine wildlife outside of their base. They managed to do so because the most senior one among them is the nephew of the Major and while the trip has been fun and stress-relieving for them, they certainly would never expect that it would be their last trip, ever. When the Ranger came out to the soldiers camping ground asking for help, they walked into a trap without knowing as they found themselves paralyzed from head to toe all in a sudden. They did not realize that they stepped on aliens on the forest ground that soon slithered themselves stealthily to numb their bodies to the point of paralysis. Then, the ranger wickedly shoved four slithering alien right to their ear canals and soon, they experienced what could only be described as progressive amnesia as their memories absorbed by the alien presence in their brain. As soon as they sucked the memories dry, the alien slithered out with pink-ish glow from the soldiers ear and flopped to the ground where it started to replicate the soldiers and that's when the soldiers also encountered their final fate soon after the replica reached its full state of replication, resembling perfectly the 4 unfortunate soldiers not only physically, but also mentally

So, while the 8 shells will get back to the town and inform the motherships of the town exact coordinate for a more precise landing of the next batches, it will also inform of another coordinates which is the military base that didn't even appear in the mothership detection. One reckless trip of the 4 soldiers will become a heavy price to pay by humanity as when the landing reached its full-scale, that entire base will be turned upside down and will become the base of the invading enemy without anyone knowing

[laseracronym]

hi there this is my first ever request and i'm kinda nervous lol

but i was wondering if the nsfw alphabet could be requested? if so could i request it with iida/chubby fem reader? & if not that's totally okay!

or if not maybe a smutty lil drabble where he's completely feral for chubby reader (i know he's very prim & proper, but just something about him going crazy/being a whiny mess for reader's pussy does something for my little goblin brain)

thank you & i hope you have a good day! 🍄

(Laser: omg I'm so honored to be your first request! I decided to do the drabble for now, but I'll definitely do the NSFW alphabet as well one of these days. Though, it's no longer a drabble, I really got into it. Iida really needs more love!

I hope you enjoy!)

Iida/Chubby!Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Dating a high-profile hero like Tenya meant that at least once a month, you were dressing up in something fancy and spending the evening at his side as you attended some important dinner or event involving other important figures in the industry. You didn't mind it, not at all. You were a sociable type, and you also worked with heroes because of your career in the hero support field. Half of the time, these events felt less like business and more like catching up with friends and interesting acquaintances.

Besides, you really liked dressing up. It wasn't often you got to feel glamorous, holed up in your workshop sweating over prototypes and making repairs. Sometimes it was nice to set the work gloves aside, wash off the grease, and get all dolled up.

Tonight was a charity gala hosted by Commission President Takami, and you were at Tenya's side like always. You were particularly happy with tonight's outfit. You bought a new dress that was a deep dark blue, almost black, form fitting, and when you moved, the light would catch on some subtle gold detailing in the fabric. You matched it with some killer heels and jewelry Tenya had gifted you over the years. Your hair and makeup was perfect, and you'd even gotten your nails done (a rare treat because of your work) which you had to stop from admiring every time they caught your eye.

You felt so pretty, and Tenya thought so, too.

You had to arrive separately that evening, Tenya getting held up with an incident that needed his last-minute assistance. When he saw you waiting for him out in front of the venue, he nearly tripped over his own feet. He had that tell-tale blush up his neck and to his ears and you watched his Adam's apple bob as his eyes flitted up and down your figure in your tight dress.

He cleared his throat, tugging at the tie around his neck as he took a moment to compose himself. "(Name)! You look...splendid," he said as he approached you, his eyes full of admiration. It was obvious he was struggling to put all his thoughts into one simple word. You'd clearly wowed him tonight.

You smiled wide, pleased that you’d blown him away. "Thank you! You look good, too," as he came to a stop before you, you could appreciate just how amazing he looked in a suit. It was a sight you would never tire of, how his broad shouldered, muscular body seemed to be made for formal wear. He'd coordinated his suit to match your outfit, and it made you even more excited to be dressed up tonight.

"Thanks, honey," he pressed a kiss to your temple, the contact brief and chaste. He often kept PDA to a minimum, it was just the way he was. You didn't mind, you understood there was a time and place for everything, and he was plenty affectionate in private.

When he pulled back, he took another moment to look at you, and his glasses did little to hide the desire in his red eyes. It made your heart skip a beat. He gave a little sigh, lifting his hand to brush the back of his knuckles along your cheek, "honestly, I don't know how I'm going to be able to focus tonight with you next to me, looking like this," he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

You felt your face heat up, suddenly bashful at the admission. But before you could reply, Tenya had his hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades and he was guiding you inside.

The rest of the night went as expected. Lots of listening to speeches and mingling, some catching up with the people you knew. All the while, Tenya was his polite, proper self. He kept you close, but his hands never strayed anywhere inappropriate, he lavished you with compliments and fond smiles but nothing too heated.

To anyone else, Tenya might not have seemed very affected, but you knew him, and you knew he was enamored by your appearance tonight.

There was a tension to him in the set of his shoulders, and a restlessness belied by the tapping of his finger against his champagne glass. His eyes lingered on you just a tad too long before he seemed to catch himself and look away. By the end of the night, you could tell he was eager to leave.

You two said your goodbyes and exited the venue, entering an elevator to get back to the ground floor.

As the doors of the elevator closed, leaving the two of you alone for the first time that evening, you felt Tenya's strong arms wrap around you from behind, the hard line of his body pressing against your back. His hands pressed to your stomach, giving a light squeeze.

You blinked, feeling his face press into the top of your head, his shuddering breath soaking into your body, "...Tenya?"

"Sorry, (Name), I'm just..." he took in another deep breath, pulling you even closer to him, his hands kneading your stomach almost absently, "I've been thinking about you all evening. It feels rude, but I'm not sure if I heard a word anyone said. All I could think about was how you look in this dress, all I wanted was to take you back home and do things I shouldn't think about in public."

You could feel a light thrumming from his body, a result of his engine quirk, a sign of his excitement. He grew semi-hard as he spoke, his arousal pressing against your back. His voice had a growing neediness to it, and in response, heat pooled, slow and sweet, between your legs. You licked your lips, resting your hands atop his, your thumbs brushing along his knuckles.

"Let's go home, Tenya," you said, hot desire coating your voice. You tilted your head up, back against his chest, and smiled up at him, "and we'll take care of you."

Getting home was sweet agony. Despite the promise of what awaited him at home, Tenya would not drive above the speed limit, ever the rule-follower. He didn't seem particularly happy about it, either, which made it even funnier to you despite your own impatience.

Eventually, blessedly, you made it home. As soon as you stepped through the front door, Tenya was sweeping you off your feet.

You gasped, your arms going around his strong shoulders as he held you bridal style and all but marched towards the bedroom. It never failed to turn you on, just how easily he could pick you up and carry you around. You were by no means petite, but that didn't pose a problem to Tenya. In fact, he seemed to prefer it in a lot of ways.

He laid you down on your bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you immediately. Neither of you had even had the chance to remove your shoes, that was how impatient he was to taste you. He covered you with his body, slotting himself between your legs. One hand cradled your face, the other wandered your plush curves. As his hips pressed against yours, you could feel his hardening length nudge up against your core.

“I’m sorry, (Name),” he murmured between his insistent kisses. His face was flushed, his glasses askew, “I don’t know what’s come over me.” His hand slid under your dress, caressing and squeezing your soft skin.

You giggled softly, returning his kisses, “you have nothing to apologize for…” He made it seem as though this was unusual for him to get this worked up, but it wasn’t. When he got in a particular mood, Tenya could become quite needy, and you loved him for it. You carefully removed his glasses, twisting and trying to reach the nightstand so you could safely set them aside, but he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second, catching your wrist and drawing your attention back to him. You released his glasses, letting them get lost somewhere on the bed.

“I need you,” he said, such desperation in his voice, kissing from your lips down to your neck and cleavage, smudging your lipstick all the way. He pushed the hem of your dress, up, up, up, until it bunched beneath your breasts. His hands smoothed over your stomach, one of his favorite features of yours, and his hips rutted against you.

“Mmm…” you squirmed beneath him, your eyes fluttering as his hips pushed against your clit, stimulating you through all the layers of clothing. He was so perfect like this, so hot when he lost his composure. Such a sight was just for you, and you would hoard it greedily.

“Tenya, love, get those clothes off,” you ordered breathlessly, and he was eager to obey, hurriedly ridding himself of his clothing with your help. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, hard and weeping pre-cum for you, the way it begged for your attention just like the rest of him. You reached out, wrapping your hand around it, and Tenya whined so sweetly.

You smiled at him, stroking slowly, twisting your wrist just so, and he responded with a throaty groan. His engines revved, and he moved to hover over you, gently guiding you back.

“I need you,” he kept saying, your dress was bunched up even further, exposing your breasts, he palmed at one, “I need inside of you, need to feel you,” he reached down, giving the waist of your panties a questioning, pleading tug, “please, (Name)?”

You nodded, “yes, Tenya, of course, sweetheart,” you lifted your hips slightly and he removed your underwear while you removed your dress, peeling it up over your head without bothering to unzip it.

It felt so good to feel him without any barriers, and he pressed into you. A wet, delicious glide that had you both moaning.

“(Name), (Name)… you feel so good…” Tenya murmured, his face nuzzling into the side of your head. He had a firm grip on your outer thigh, keeping your leg secure over his hip. His other hand braced against the mattress as he began to thrust into you at a hurried pace, pushing sweet sounds out of you as your normally patient lover gave in to his pent up lust.

“Mm, Tenya,” you gasped out, holding onto him, panting into his ear, “yes, love, yes…!” Your body bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, your head tossed back against the mattress, and you could do little more than let him do what he wanted.

His hands began wandering your body, worshiping your curves with his touch. He babbled nonsense into your skin as he pressed distracted kisses wherever he could reach. Sweat coated his body, and you marveled at each flex of gorgeous muscle beneath his skin.

His thrusts became more insistent, his hold on you tightening, it wasn’t a surprise to you when he came with one final thrust, filling you to the brim. Tenya held you in place, his own body still, as he panted against your sweat-slick shoulder. You panted beneath him, hands restlessly stroking his biceps, your pussy stuffed but still craving release.

With a long, slow breath, he relaxed, the frenetic energy from before finally soothed. He lifted his head, a painfully tender smile on his face as he kissed your cheek, “that was...perfect, honey,” his voice was warm, his hand drifting up and down your side.

“I’m glad, sweetheart,” you said fondly, letting out a soft noise of surprise as he lifted your lower body, arranging you effortlessly into an angle that you knew would have you seeing stars. You could already feel him growing hard again inside of you, his stamina like nothing else.

He looked down at you with a heated grin that made your heart flutter, “now allow me to return the favor.” He leaned down, folding himself over you, “let me take care of you, (Name).”

(Requests)

[starlightsuffered]

Needy Boy Tries No Nut November (the end)

Info - challenge, nnn, needy Timothée, thigh riding, thigh job, thigh fuck

“It didn’t count,” he said with his arms crossed.

“What!” I asked in utter disbelief.

“It didn’t count, I didn’t mean to cum, it was a ruined orgasm, like having a wet dream, I couldn’t help it,” he said.

“Timothée Hal Chalamet, you weren’t sleeping, you were actively fucking me. You kept giving yourself little short cuts, just one thrust, then just three, then just trying to feel good.”

“Exactly, just those things, not cumming,” he said with his infuriating logic.

“Okay, say the first one isn’t legit, what about the next three rounds?”

“Ummmmmm, it was all one session technically so it’s under one umbrella,” he tried.

“Timothée,” I stamped.

“What?” He whined.

“I didn’t agree to a month without sex, I get needy too,” I said with my arms crossed.

“I can help you out, I can eat you out, help you with sex toys, you can ride my thigh,” he suggested.

“Arrrggg,” I screamed. “THOSE THINGS MAKE YOU CUM!”

“Well I just won’t this time,” he shrugged.

“Yeah because that worked soooooo well last time,” I said sarcastically. I stamped away.

“Mon amour,” he whined in my ear, circling his arms around me.

“Most people who try No nut November are trying to stop masturbating, not stop making love with their girlfriend,” I said, mad that I felt weepy.

“Baby, sweetie, lovely girl, I just want to try to push myself, you know I like to try new things,” he said, kissing up my neck.

“I’m just worried,” I whispered.

“About what?”

“If you are so adamant to spend a month without sex, then maybe you can do other things like……break up with me,” I mumbled the last bit. He turned me around and grabbed the front of my shirt. He kissed me fiercely.

“Never, never ever,” he gasped into my mouth. “You’re the love of my life.”

“Timmy, I love you so much,” I said, my hands running up his body and into his hair. I massaged his scalp as he kissed me. He moaned into my mouth.

“Let me take care of you, ride my thigh, I’ve got on the jeans you love,” he said temptingly.

“Oh okay, but you can’t cum Timmy, if this is something you really want, I’ll help you, but it’ll be nice to be taken care of, I’ve been horny since we woke up,” I said, hands going under his shirt.

“Saying things like that does NOT help,” he growled. Timothée led me over to the couch, he sat down. I pulled off my pants so I was only in my thong.

“Is that,” Timothée gulped. “Is that a new th-thong?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I wanted to see if it fit,” I said sheepishly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, it doesn’t bother me,” he said shakily. I began to move, rubbing myself on his thigh.

“Ohhhh, Timmy, fuck, feels so dirty to do this. We’ve never done this before,” I shuddered. It was a bit sexy, him getting creative for me because he wasn’t allowed to cum.

I ran my hands up my body, lost in the feeling of his thigh. My clit being so intensely massaged made me insanely wet. I shut my eyes as I reimagined our best sessions. I grabbed my breasts and massaged them. I felt Timothée jiggle his leg. I didn’t know if he was needy or trying to help me or both.

“I’m gonna come, gonna come on your fucking jeans baby, you’re so sexy,” I cried out. I exploded with bliss. I screamed his name throughout our house. Finally, I opened my eyes.

Timothée looked at me with the darkest look of lust. He was ravenous. He was still for a second and then he dumped me on the couch, leaving me. I was so confused, until he was back, still dangerous looking. He ripped down his pants and poured lube on his cock.

“Stand up,” he said. I did as he said, though he wasn’t usually so demanding. He grabbed my hips roughly. He stuck his slick cock between my thighs. He was rutting like wild.

“Timmy, No nut November,” I reminded him.

“I’m not going to to!” He nearly screamed but he didn’t seem mad at me.

“It isn’t your cunt, so I’m fine,” he lied to himself.

“Baby, common,” I said trying weakly to push him away.

“I want it,” he whined.

“Sweetheart,” I said desperately.

“M’not gonna, not gonna I swear, just need a little pleasure, you’re so sexy,” he whimpered. However, I could tell he was needy from his other actions. He nuzzled his face into my neck. Then he was licking my face and neck all over.

“Shouldn’t you stop baby?”

“I’m okay,” he lied as he sucked on my collar bones. He pulled on my hair, and even his nails raked down my back, but my shirt was saving me from pain.

“I can’t, I don’t want to,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, nearly praying he wouldn’t cum.

“Timmy, stop, if you don’t want to cum-“ I was stopped by him ripping my thong apart and shoving his cock inside me.

“Timothée,” I gulped.

“Oh I love your cuuuuunt. I swear I’ll die with my cock inside you because you’re so sexy. Baby, never leave me, I couldn’t live without you. My cock will shrivel up and die without your sweet, tender, beautiful pussy to take it over and over,” he wailed.

“You take my breath away!” I cried.

“Get ready, you’re gonna come so hard,” he tried to flip the script and I giggled. That ended up being what made him cum. He screamed as he came intensely. I also fell over the edge again. We panted together, gasping for air as we took in what happened.

“See, your cock needs me,” I purred.

“I, I just wanna be good,” he whined.

“You are good, who cares what your friends think about No nut November, I adore you, and I want you all the time like we usually do,” I said caressing his face.

“You mean it?” He asked.

“Of course, you’re more vocal about it, but my body is just as needy as you. I desperately want you all the time Angel.”

“We’re perfect together,” he sighed.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker

[gardenofhearts]

Headcanon - Love and Deepspace boys as Disney Princes

This came to me out of nowhere but was also quite fun and challenging to write, since the boys are such interesting characters. Do note that not all the "princes" are official princes, I just used that term because it's quick and easy. I hope you'll enjoy this and if you have other opinions, please let me know! I would love to hear your thoughts on this

English is not my first language, apologies in advance. The gradient banners are made by me as a bit of try out to see how they look. If you wish to use them you can do so if you credit me. Thank you and happy reading <3

Xavier

Xavier was a bit of a hard one to really pin down. So, I would say a part of him reminds me of Shang Li. Both are trained in combat, and take time to warm up to you, both are also quite loyal to you.

Due to Xavier’s strength and from what I have seen in his memories sort of boy next door vibes and cuteness I will also say he reminds me of Hercules. Hercules has that sort off cute awkwardness to him that I feel sometimes Xavier also has. In addition to that, Hercules would and has almost sacrificed himself to save Megara which in my opinion is similar to Xavier’s decision to leave his home, not knowing what could happen, to save his love.

Zayne

For the most part he gives me Robert from Enchanted vibes, a bit more reserved and a tad cynical while also being frank. However, I also think Zayne is partly Prince Philip, brave and loyal; a prince who charges into battle to save his love which I think fits Zayne. Also fun fact Robert’s last name is Philip! Both also fought dragons lol, something Zayne would definitely also do to save you.

I also believe there is a hint of general Shang Li within him, both incredibly devoted to their work and also very good in their respective areas. Also, just like Zayne, Shang Li at first seems a bit cold but once you get to know him better you’ll see just how soft and sweet they truly are even if it’s not always immediately noticeable.

Rafayel

Sylus

Hear me out, prince Edward from Enchanted. I know, another character from Enchanted -sue me- but I do think he has similarities to prince Edward. They both lean on the dramatic side and I don’t doubt for a second that Rafayel would also sing ‘A true love’s kiss’ in public. Edward converses with a chipmunk, Rafayel converses with sea animals. They're practically twins.

The other prince I think Rafayel resembles is Cinderella’s prince, prince Henri, but the version from the third movie. A believer in true love and also a tad dramatic, Rafayel would also jump out a window to go after his one true love. He also, just like Prince Henri, searched quite some time for his love and had to go through quite some trouble to find you.

This might be unpopular but he reminds me of Dimitri from Anastasia: witty, sarcastic, smart and from my pov both in a way underestimate their love interests. Just like with Dimitri does is take some time for Sylus to ‘soften’ a bit, in the beginning he was a lot harsher yet from more recent memories we see a very different side to him.

I also think he has a touch of prince Naveen, with how they’re both a bit reckless and love to spend money. Unlike Naveen though I don’t believe Sylus’ is much of a ladies man, in my opinion he would dislike such superficial relationships.

Lastly, I think he also has a touch of prince Adam/the Beast, both a bit coarse in the beginning yet just like the other princes Adam softens up and becomes a big supporter of Belle similar to Sylus with you.

Caleb

Caleb gives me a mix of prince Eric and Phoebus. Eric because both are in a way adventurous, Eric more so I’d say and also both are big time romantics. Eric believes in true love and Caleb believes you are his true love. Both are also very kind, Eric takes in a complete stranger and allows Ariel to stay in his castle while providing her all she could need without asking anything in return and Caleb similarly looks out for you, cooks for you and tries his best to make you happy. He wants to make sure you want for nothing.

I think Caleb also resembles Phoebus because both are able to keep a straight face but also quick to crack a joke. Also both are soldiers, al be it both aren’t exactly doing it super willingly. Phoebus does it to survive and Caleb had no say at all. I also think he has hints of Kristoff, although both are kind I do get the vibe that Caleb can come across as very cold just like Kristoff in the beginning. With Caleb this is most noticeable when he’s a colonel and the person that helps warm him up is obviously you.

Next headcannon: lads as the different types of Kens?

[sweetiewrites]

𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙞 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧

𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎: no plot just smut of you and hobie

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: afab reader !!! smut !!! face sitting !!! dick riding !!! finishing inside !!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) !!! dom reader !!! sub hobie (because you sickos eat it up) !!!

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏: 1840

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀: let's just pretend the reader has an iud in or something. also my 100 follower special is coming up and im so fucking excited for it yall, i hope you guys will love it.

It was as if the gods crafted your bodies to meld together just perfectly.

His large hands settled on your hips, gently guiding your body against his every time you pulled back a little. Your hands settled on the sides of his face, your fingers caressing his jawline and ushering his face closer to yours.

Hobie's lips fit perfectly on your own, even his lip ring found an excellent divet in your own lip making it so with each passing kiss you could play with the metal ring with your teeth or tongue. Each time you paid extra attention to the jewel you could hear a chuckle come from his lips, his hands gripping the sides of your hips as if encouraging you to keep teasing him.

You pulled away from the kiss, but your lips quickly found a home in his jawline and neck. Your hands glided down from his cheeks to press firmly against his chest keeping him against the wall, and you stood on the tips of your toes so your lips could reach each part they wanted to. A few sighs of pleasure escaped his lips, and he tilted his head so you could reach every untraversed part of his neck. You could feel Hobie's hands move from your waist to your stomach, but you quickly snatched his wrist leaving him there.

"I never said you could move."

"I didn't know I needed permission." You could hear the edge in his voice, one you were familiar with because of how sassy he was on an everyday basis. You grabbed his wrist, pulling him through the small houseboat eventually getting to the bed. "Eagar are we?"

There it was again.

"Shut up, Hobie."

When you felt your ankles hit the back of the bed you grabbed the fabric of his shirt to spin you two around; switching your places. With his back now facing the bed you pushed him onto the bed, not giving him a chance to react before you crawled on top of him straddling his hips. He did try to get up by propping his elbows up and reaching towards you, but you pressed your palm against his chest and pushed him back into the bed below.

"Am I allowed to do anything without your permission?"

"Absolutely not."

"Fascist."

A smile played on your lips as you looked down on him, your thumb moving to gently swipe against his lips. "We're name-calling now? Now you aren't allowed to speak." Your lips pressed against his again this time more forceful, pushing his head back into the pillow. Your hands danced around his body, the tips of your fingers gliding up to tug at the fabric of his shirt. There was a brief pause in the kisses only for you to grab the hem of his shirt and throw it over his head, it getting lost in the corners of his small room.

You smooched his lips one last time before you kissed his chin then his Adam's apple that bobbed with every slight touch and then down to his chest. Your fingers danced on his studded belt, it didn't take long for you to undo it, snapping the belt off the loop in one swift motion.

You pulled back, grabbing his hands that were still placed on your hips and pulling his wrists together. You tied the belt around his wrist and then tied the belt to his headboard, then pulled back to admire your handiwork.

Hobie's chest raised up and down in time with his breathing. You could feel how flushed his skin was as you ran the tips of your fingers along his muscles, feeling every scar and mole that littered his body. Those gorgeous dark brown eyes looked up at you with anticipation and in that moment you could see there was nothing in his mind but you.

"Cat got your tongue, Hobie?"

His eyes softened, eyebrows knitting together and for a moment you felt almost bad for him. He was tied up under you with no way to move, not allowed to speak less he incur your wrath; he looked so pathetic beneath you, however, he looked so cute like this and you weren't stopping now.

A smile spread across your face as you made quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside to the other hidden corner of the room. The only thing left on your person was Hobie's t-shirt that you frequently took from him.

The moment of stillness was short-lived, but in the process, you could feel Hobie's hard-on poking your thigh through his jeans. You could feel your pussy juices dripping onto his jeans making a small wet patch where you sat. "Should I sit on your face?" The suggestion came out in a tease but his eyes widened and all he could do was nod. "You can speak now, as long as it's only sweet things. No calling me a fascist."

A smirk spread across his lips, a chuckle rumbling from his chest as he clenched his fist. "Please do."

"Daw, I can't make you beg for it?"

"Please, please sit on my face."

"Good boy!"

Hobie could only express his disapproval through a glare, but from the way his cock twitched at the nickname you knew it was all for show. You crawled over to him, hovering above his face for a few moments to hear another whiny, "please", escape his lips. Once fulfilled you lower yourself down, letting yourself completely sit down on his face.

One thing about Hobie that you've learned from years of dating him; his tongue was magic. While you've had people try to eat you out before it's all been clumsy and uncoordinated; Hobie's tongue, however, fills your pussy just right. His tongue flicks over your clit, licking your entrance and spreading it apart very softly nibbling on the lips. Your fingers gripped the headboard and while moans threatened to slip out of your mouth you kept quiet if only to hear Hobie's groans and whines that were muffled by your pussy.

Your hips moved in time with his tongue, feeling the piercing dance along your clit and flick it back and forth. "You're doing so well, baby, don't stop." The words fell off your words in a hushed sigh, you arched your back letting the silver ball flick against your clit, but before you could do anything you quickly moved off his face, your juices dripping down his chin.

"What did you do that for?"

"Hush."

You unzipped his pants, pulling his jeans and boxers down just enough to let his cock spring up. Your fingers wrapped around the base giving it a few strokes. "I want you to beg for it, Hobie, come on." At first, he gave you a look as if he weren't hanging onto your every word, but the facade crumbled away as soon as you started stroking him off. A few throaty whines left his mouth and his eyebrows knit together again as if pleading for mercy.

"Please," his hips moved to match the pace of your hand stroking him off. "Come on, I think I deserve it."

"Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"I didn't speak a word because you told me to. I ate you out, happily, may I add, and I stopped calling you a fascist." As he spoke your strokes slowed down to the point where you were just holding his dick in your hands. A whine left his lips, his wrist tugging at the leather restraints of the belt and his hips jerked once again. "Come on, please, I'll do anything."

Those were the magic words. You lifted yourself up and slowly lowered yourself back down onto his cock. His girth stretched you out and for a moment you had to catch your breath as Hobie freely let out moans that filled each room of the houseboat, drowning out your sounds of pleasure.

You fully sat down on his cock, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being filled up before you started bouncing on top of him, your hands firmly planted in your chest to steady yourself.

Hobie stared up at you, mouth slightly agape as sounds of pleasure unabashedly fell from his mouth, his hands gripped the leather belt tying his wrist to the headboard and his eyes still giving you that pleading look as if daring for you to go rougher. Once you got used to the feeling of taking him all in you freely bounced on his cock, your hands moving up to wrap around his neck instead of steadying yourself on his chest.

"Please, please, please…" The words fell out of his mouth as if he were praying for mercy from a god. Your squeeze on his throat was light enough for him to talk but the pressure was leaving imprints on his neck. "Oh fuck, oh shit, you feel so fucking amazing." You could tell there was nothing in his mind except for you as you continued fucking down onto him. "Please, I'll do anything!"

"Anything for what?"

"Please let me cum."

God, it would be so easy for you to deny him and make him beg for it, but just looking at him like this was enough to send you over the edge. You could feel yourself chasing that high, your head getting fuzzy as you found your bounces getting harder and less controlled. "Yes, yes, you're allowed to cum right inside of me."

As soon as you said it you could feel his muscles relax from underneath you; his eyes drifted closed and his head hit the pillow as you continued to bounce on top of him. The only sounds you could focus on were skin slapping against skin and the sounds of his moans and whines. A sigh of pleasure left your lips, you felt your breathing begin to labour as you felt yourself tightened around his cock. His breath pitched and a few pleas left his lips before everything cascaded down.

"Oh fuck, please!" Were the words that left his lips before he lifted his hips up, pumping his semen deep inside of you. You felt your own high wash over you, your legs tensing up at the feeling and your head tossing back as you rocked against him.

"Fuck," a breathy sigh left your lips before you lifted yourself up and untied his hands from the headboard; the two of you collapsing side by side in a mess of sweaty limbs and panting.

Your head rested on his chest and your arms slowly came down to wrap around you. There were a few moments of steady silence with the only sound being the waves gently hitting the sides of the boat and heavy breathing shared between you two. You knew that soon your legs were going to ache and your thighs were going to hurt, but for now, you could just enjoy being in his presence.

"Wanna take a bath with me, Hobie?"

"Sure."

[amorisxx]

Dad’s Day with Donuts 🍩

Pairings: Patrick x Tashi x Art, dad!Patrick x Lily Summary: Patrick wonders how he fits into the Donaldson family. a/n: I randomly had this idea and just had to write it down.

After Patrick has moved out of the guesthouse and into the main house, he still struggles to feel like he actually belongs there. Though he, Tashi, and Art have started to figure their shit out, it still feels a bit awkward when he’s sitting at the dinner table with them and Lily. He can’t help the feeling that he might be encroaching on the Duncan-Donaldson family.

He offers to clean up after dinner, taking his time to wash each dish in order to avoid waiting while Lily’s parents tuck her in. Because that’s who Tashi and Art are—her parents. Patrick’s not sure who or what he is.

He knows that Lily calls him Uncle Patrick now, and that she likes to watch Spider-verse with him. She thinks it’s funny when Patrick makes faces behind Tashi’s back or sticks out his tongue when she corrects his tennis. She likes that he remembers her stuffed animals’ names, even though she’s only told him once. He refers to each one by name.

Earlier that day, he’d reminded her to go get “Octavia” so that she wouldn’t miss this scene in the movie they’re watching. She giggled and ran to her room to get the stuffed octopus while Patrick offered to pause the TV. Tashi shook her head as she walked by on her way to the kitchen, but there’s a small smile on her face.

Lily falls asleep halfway through the movie. She wakes up wondering where Uncle Patrick went when she doesn’t see him. Art tells her that he had to go practice with mommy but reassures her that he’ll be back for dinner.

Now, Patrick stands at the kitchen sink, drying ceramic plates and wondering where he fits in. Does Lily see him as a fun live-in uncle? Or does she see him as another parent figure? Is that even what he wants to be? He knew it would be difficult to join a couple who had their own child, but he wasn’t prepared for how much this would worry him.

The sound of soft footsteps pulls him from his mind. He looks over to see Tashi leaning against the doorway expectantly.

Patrick tosses her a questioning look and she sighs before saying, “Lily wants to ask you something.”

Patrick isn’t sure what to think about this, but he finds himself dropping the kitchen towel onto the counter and following Tashi up the stairs anyway. Once they’re at Lily’s room, Patrick stops in the doorway.

Art is propped against Lily’s headboard and pillows, legs crossed at the ankles, as Lily bounces on her knees, rambling about what she wants to do tomorrow.

Tashi’s knuckle comes up to nudge him in the back lightly, and Patrick makes his way inside the room. Art’s eyes flicker up to his face with a smile that’s very similar to the one Lily is wearing.

He clears his throat, “so Lily’s school has this thing called Dad’s Day with Donuts.”

Patrick furrows his eyebrows. So, Art continues, “most of the kids bring their dads, but sometimes, for one reason or another, someone’s grand dad or uncle shows up—”

“One kid had both his dads there last year. His dad and step-dad” Tashi adds. “Oh, and the Alexanders too.”

Art nods and glances over at Lily. “So, that’s coming up, and Lily here thinks that we should extend the invitation to you.”

Patrick is taken aback. He opens his mouth to speak but all that tumbles out is a weak “huh?”

Lily crawls forward on her bed. “Well,” she starts. “You always say you like donuts…they have donuts at my school.”

“You—you think I should come to Dad’s Day with Donuts? Isn’t Art going?” Patrick asks looking over at Art for an answer.

Lily is adamant. “Duh! But I want you to come too. That way we can all eat donuts. Just like we have pancakes together when mommy lets you.”

Patrick lets out a laugh as he leans down and swoops Lily up and over the bed. “Of course I’ll go have donuts with you Lils,” he says as he places a peck on the top of her head.

Lily starts to giggle louder as Patrick lifts her up and swings her around. “Alright, alright. Time for bed,” Tashi reaches over to grab Patrick’s arm. “We gotta go to bed for real this time.”

Lily pouts but allows Tashi to tuck her in.

•••

Later that night, Patrick can’t stop smiling to himself. Art notices the grin that hasn’t left his face since Lily’s room. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s torso and places his chin on his shoulder. Patrick is still grinning when their eyes meet in the bathroom mirror. “Don’t think this means you’re replacing me,” Art teases.

Patrick smirks at him. “Of course not, I would never do anything to come in between you and your daughter…I’m just there for the donuts, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Art laughs, leaning down to lightly bite Patrick’s bare shoulder.

A/n: aww!! Thanks for all the warm comments guys! I haven’t written anything in ages.

Also, I can’t be the only one who thinks Patrick in that navy pullover was giving dilf…

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Heya! If you are doing requests then may I request Nagito x Junko's little sister reader? I think it'd be fun!

This sounds a lot like a series I started last month so I'll just continue with the same story line 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Third Enoshima | Yandere Nagito Komaeda

“What an honor! To be in the presence of such overwhelming hope!’

Before the killing game, you float around between the classes 

Considering most if not all of your education was condensed into a single-person course

Somehow organized by your guardians

One of the many students you got to know was Nagito

The wide-eyed oddly degrading friend who seemed to put everyone on a pedestal

Especially you

His behavior reminds you far too often of your sisters 

Only his obsession doesn’t even pretend to be platonic

“Oh my ultimate hope! Would you like to join me for lunch today? I happen to be graced with the perfect table for us to sit at!”

“This…just looks like a candle lit dinner.”

“My luck is is as unpredictable as ever.”

And always for his benefit

You don’t mind since your used to obsessive people your sisters

You do not condone the way he treats the honor students

Often scolding you when he interrupts you trying to hang out with them

“Not cool Nagito! You can’t just say that to people!”

“Forgive me for being so forward but would you put a deity on the level of maggots?”

When he’s finally effected by despair

It doesn’t get much better

On the command of Kamakura and Junko’s final message he’s one of your most adamant pursuers

“Oh (Y/n) the Seed of Despair! The silent flame of the fire that will bring despair to all! I will do right by Junko’s name and make sure you breed the Despair you were born to!”

It’s likely Munakata and the Hope Foundation uses you as bait to lure him

And he’s absolutely insane 

Losing his composure at the mere sight of you

Drooling

Scratching at the glass and metal crate

Smooching his face against the class

Humping the glass

Granted it’s just a hologram because according to Munakata–”Filth doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near diamonds even if for the fate of the world.”

After his treatment though, it’s believed that you because you’re now closely affiliated with the Hope Foundation will never see or hear from him again

You quickly proved wrong when a secret message and video file pops up on your private tablet

“I’m wishing you the best with your new life, (Y/n). I know those days we used to know each other are long since past and you are happily settled with the Future foundation. But as I’m learning to value myself more I’m also paying heed to what I want and what my friends want–”

You immediately try to record 

Pressing frantically as the button doesn’t seem to work

You go for your phone

“Don’t try to record this. It won’t actually compute the image on your screen. That being said I mean no harm, when I say we think you belong with us. We know how much pain we’ve brought the world. But I see no problem with preserving hope and if the Foundation can’t keep us away then they clearly aren’t the best fit for the job."

You get up, planning to run directly to Munakata

Only to find your tablet begin to overheat as the video message fizzles out

“My hope! My (Y/n)! We’ll be reunited soon. I can only count the minutes before we can spend our days together! Forever!”

[procyonloser]

Pt 4

"Papa, I wanna go see animals again..." Charlie told him, poking around at the smiley face on her omelet. Lucifer paused from sipping his herbal tea, to look at her in excitement; sure, they'd just gone last weekend, but Lucifer was more than ready to go back to the aquarium again. More than ready to see someone again.

"Sure, sweetie, we can go to the aquarium." Lucifer beamed at her, holding up an orange slice off his plate to make a fake smile in front of his face. Charlie giggled, but she was already getting to that age where she was laughing because he was being silly, not because she found it actually funny.

"No, I want to go to the zoo!" Charlie said with a big grin, unaware that she made Lucifer's heart plunge slightly.

"Oh. Yeah, uh, of course! That'll be fun too." Lucifer answered, faking his enthusiasm. Maybe he shouldn't be this hard up for a guy he'd barely spoken to, especially since the man's job was to interact with aquarium goers. But, he felt like they had... you know, a little spark.

The local zoo was bigger than the aquarium, they lived in a big city, and it got a lot of traffic. Not a ton at 2pm on a Tuesday during the school year, but enough other people were around that they didn't feel alone. They wove through the zoo, until they reached an amphitheatre in the kid's area. It looked like a show was about to start, and Lucifer was getting tired after so much walking and pulling the wagon along with him.

"Hey, Charlie, let's watch the show! That'll be fun, won't it? They'll probably have animals come out!" Lucifer said, trying to encourage his daughter, who thought about it, before nodding and running down the steps at a speed that legitimately worried him that she could fall - then again, he'd seen Charlie jump on a trampoline, launch herself into the side of the house, then get back up laughing.

They found a seat up near the front with a few other parents and kids, including one peacefully sleeping baby in one woman's arms. Lucifer smiled at the infant, wistfully missing those days - just not the diaper duty.

Suddenly fog blasted out of the stage, and confetti cannons went off, promptly scaring the baby into a fit of screaming. Music began to play, and an announcers voice came flooding around them from large speakers.

"Hello, hello, hello and welcome to The Garden! We're going to introduce you to some totally awesome creatures, and some spooky ones too! So, I want every boy, girl, and squirrel, to pop on their adventurer hat and come with me on trip across the wild world!" A tall figure emerged from the fog, clearly wearing an Indiana Jones type hat. Charlie was slack jawed and mystified by what was going on, which was enough of a distraction that Lucifer didn't stop to think the man sounded familiar.

"My name is Captain Adam, and my partner here is Lieutenant Lute!"

Lucifer's head snapped back to the stage, stunned to see Adam, his Adam (his Adam?), walk out from the fog, and out onto the main stage. Their eyes met briefly, and Adam raised an amused eyebrow at him, but he clearly had other concerns - Adam had a full ass eagle on his arm. Then he noticed the pretty, yet very serious looking, girl walk out on stage beside Adam in khaki shorts and a bandana on her head. She was holding an owl, that was looking around curiously at the audience.

Charlie bounced in her seat, clearly recognizing Adam from the aquarium, and looking at Lucifer excitedly. "Look, look! Papa!"

"I see, sweetie." Lucifer said with a nervous laugh. God, Adam was going to think he was a stalker.

"For the beginning of our show, I'm going to need a volunteer from the audience." Adam said, a microphone clipped onto his khaki shirt. "How about you? The short blond man in the audience, who looks like he has a fondness for Clownfish. Come on up to the stage." Adam sent him a come hither motion, which did things to him emotionally.

Everyone turned to look at him, and Lucifer turned beet red.

What had he gotten himself into?

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 10.1 * mv1

you take a deep breath, bottom lip quivering as another lump forms in your throat again. “max,” your voice wavers as you close your eyes, “come on, don’t do this to me.”

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” max sounds sadder than he did. disappointed, even. his voice is low as he squeezes your hand with all that he’s got. “i just- i-“ he clears his throat, “i don’t want you to go.”

you shake your head, squeaking. you lift up both of your hands and press your lips to his knuckle. you open your eyes and let the tears flow out.

“it’s so risky for us to do that,” you frown. “getting over you is the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do. i felt like i was going to go crazy watching my phone for a text that never came.”

he nods, resting his head on the wall again. “it’s okay.”

“i want to remember you as a good person,” you whisper. you rest your forehead on his hands. “i’m sorry, max. i love you but i don’t want to hate you if all this spirals where we’d ended up in the first place.”

you breathe out shakily. “i can’t do that to you, max.”

you feel him move, taking his hand out of your grasp. he inches towards you and pulls you into his body, an arm around your shoulders and rubbing your arms.

“i get it,” he agrees, pressing his lips to the back of your shoulder. “i had the time of my life with you. thank you so much for loving me the way that you did.”

all you can do is choke out his name in a sob. you always imagined this moment, and never did you expect yourself to refrain a second chance at what you consider happiness. especially not from max.

the max that you’d fallen in love with years ago. the max that used to be yours.

“and i’m sorry if i didn’t love you the way you deserved months leading up to this,” he shakes his head, “there’s no excuse. but i hope you never doubted for a second that i did.”

you drop your head into your hands. “i love you, max. i really… i could never hate you.”

you feel him nod into your skin, cherishing whatever he could of the moment. so you lean into his hug, clinging onto the arm strewn over your torso for dear life.

max doesn’t move. it’s not often he hears you so adamant about a decision. this is something he simply has to let happen.

all he can think is how he never wants this moment to end. you have a point about getting back together, of course, but it doesn’t hurt any less. now he has to think of a future without you in it — after spending the longest time fitting you in every scenario.

there will be no more giggles in the dark during a thunderstorm, or waking up with you in his bed. no more reasons to buy unique scrunchies to add to your bowl or walking the paddocks hand-in-hand.

no more race weekends where he would rip off his helmet to see you waiting for him at parc ferme with a proud smile and open arms.

he will no longer have a reason to request for cocktail stock ups for every flight he will be taking.

even then, max knows that he will simply never be able to love anybody the way he loved you. it just feels like there’s no more moving on from this.

“thank you for letting me be a part of your family,” you hum, basking in the security of his arms one last time. “and i’m so so proud of the person you’ve become now. you’ve come so far.”

max smiles. “i was only able to do it all because you were always there.”

but you shake your head. you pat his knee, “you did it all on your own. i’m just glad i was here to see it firsthand.”

“for the record,” he whispers, “if it doesn’t work out with any other loser out there, my arms are always open for you.”

“don’t forget me, ‘kay?”

“i couldn’t even if i tried.”

you smile and glance at the wall clock. you sigh and pull away. “i’ve got an early morning with my colleagues. i have to go.”

“stay.” max keeps thinking he can bear to watch you walk out of that door again, but he just can’t. “just don’t go.”

“i have to. i don’t want to hurt you,” you frown, trying to rid his arms from your skin. when he finally pulls away, it leaves an empty feeling in your stomach. “trust that you’ll find someone again. i’m not the only girl in the world.”

he just frowns, refusing to meet your eyes. “i want you to be the only one.”

“max.”

“i know.”

he straightens his back, wiping his face roughly. “let me walk you out, at least?”

you smile with a small nod. you grab your purse on the floor next to you, accepting the hand max has extended to help you off the floor.

you huff, dusting off his shoulder. “we’ll be okay.”

max nods. he walks to you the door with his hand on the small of your back. it’s a good thing he doesn’t live here because he personally would feel sick watching the love of his life bid her final goodbye.

he counts his footsteps to the door. it feels like forever, everything happening so clearly right before his eyes.

he opens the door for you, leaning on the doorframe with his head hung low. hollow eyes bore into your teary eyes. “i guess this is goodbye.”

“i guess it is,” you say shakily, tears still rolling down your eyes. you heave a sob and reach out for his hands. “this is for the best. you know that, right?”

“i know,” max nods. “i wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

“me too.” your hands lift to cup his cheeks, wiping away the tears that fall endlessly. “don’t lose your spark, okay? i’m still a red bull fan.”

he smiles with a nod. “i’ll see you around.”

“i’ll see you on tv.”

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever @lokigoeschoki @cherry-piee @telengraph @eviethetheatrefreak @hrlzy

[freedomfireflies]

iFall for Harry pt. 8

Summary: The eighth part to iFall for Harry

You and Harry have your final phone call.

And you tell him the truth you've been avoiding since that fateful day in the diner.

Word Count: 3.2k

“So…what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you mean since I fled from the diner in a fit of dramatic rage? Not much. Just…picking up the pieces of my pathetic excuse for a life. The usual. You?”

“Honestly? Pretty much the same.”

You feel your heart flutter as you flop down onto your bed, phone still pressed tightly to your ear. “Yes, I’m sure your fabulous, glorious, and very expensive life is quite pathetic.”

“Maybe not that. But the diner wasn’t my proudest moment. Been picking up those pieces since you left.”

Shit. There's not enough alcohol in the world to soften that blow. “Harry…I’m so sorry—”

“No. Don’t be,” he interjects through a bit of static. “Seriously. I get it. I thought about it a lot after you left, and you were right. I mean, you were right to be…wary. I guess.”

You swallow thickly. “Still…I should have heard you out—”

“Wouldn’t have changed anything,” he says, once again cutting your response short. “Really, it’s fine. I’ve made peace with it. Or…I’m making peace with it. Right now. Talking to you. For the last time.”

Shit, shit, shit. The tears are already working their way back up your throat as you roll over onto your back and stare up and the ceiling. “I like the idea of us being friends. And I appreciate you for…offering to make space for me. I just…I can’t—”

“Really, you don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“No, I know, I just…I know you’re probably a good guy, and you’re trying to…make this work—”

“No, you said no, and I pushed you anyway. I even did it again, like…five minutes ago. Tried to make you do something you didn’t want to—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I don’t think it would work—”

“Right, and I can’t change your mind about that—”

“It’s not that you need to change my mind, it’s just…I wouldn’t want to hurt you—”

“I’m telling you, you don’t have to explain. I get it—”

You huff. “Harry, would you please just let me apologize—”

“No.” His reply is resolute. Slicing through the phone until you bite your lip and swallow the rest of your argument. “No, you don’t have to apologize. It’s…a weird situation. You had every right to be wary and I jumped the gun. You don’t know me. You have no reason to trust me. We’re good, Cheese Girl. Seriously.”

Even still, your eyes flutter shut. “You being so nice and understanding is not helping me let you go.”

You hear a gentle chuckle. “Oops?”

 “Did you decide all this in the past five minutes, then? Because you were pretty adamant when I first called.”

“Kind of, yeah.” Some rustling. You imagine him sitting down. Because you can actually imagine him now. Put a face to the voice. To the name. The idea. “If I have to say goodbye, I don’t want our last conversation to be me trying to convince you to do something you don’t want to do.”

Your stomach wrenches. “Again, it’s not that I don’t want to…I just…I don’t…”

You can’t seem to force the explanation free, but your silence seems to tell him what he needs to know.

He sighs. “I get it. Really. Like I said, this is…a strange thing. It’s not a fairytale. We can’t make something work just because we want it.”

You bite the inside of your lip. “But you still think I should have given it more of a chance.”

A beat.

“Maybe,” he admits, and a tear slips from your eye. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe this saves us some heartache.”

Tell him.

The command rings between your ears as you suck in a sharp breath. It’s not the first time you’ve contemplated telling him the truth. Telling him why you’re so hesitant. Why you’re so nervous.

But even with all this wine…you can’t make the story come out.

After all…it wouldn’t change anything.

It’s too late.

“Tell me something good,” you whisper. “Tell me…tell me what the best part of your day was.”

He hums, and you wait. Changing the subject is the only way you’ll get through this phone call. Creating some final memories before you go.

“Saw a ladybug on my hat,” he tells you, sounding rather excited. “It was really cute. It rode with me all the way through town. We became buddies.”

You laugh through the desolation. “How sweet. I love ladybugs.”

“Yeah? Me, too. I named him Francis.”

“Francis?”

“Yeah. Like the ladybug in A Bug’s Life.”

“Oh…you a big Bug’s Life fan?”

“Yeah, why not? Pixar is great.”

“Pixar is great. That’s cute you’re such a Disney follower.”

“What can I say? I have taste.”

“I bet your millions of Twitter followers would absolutely love to know that.”

There’s another moment of silence before he snorts to himself. “I think they know a little too much about me already.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Just…because,” he replies coyly, and you smirk, “I might have…accidentally…liked some porn on there and everybody saw.”

You gasp so hard, you nearly choke. “You’re kidding. Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You think you hear him grin. “God, I was so fucking embarrassed. I didn’t realize you could see what somebody liked on Twitter. Nobody ever told me.”

“So…you liked the porn and then what?”

“I…okay, don’t fucking laugh,” he begins hesitantly, and you feel yourself smile. “I thought if I just…liked a bunch of other stuff immediately after, like pictures of cute kittens…people would think it was a glitch.”

You bite back a laugh. “And did they?”

“What do you think?” he snorts. “My pussy plan was a complete and utter failure and to this day, my sister still makes fun of me for it.”

You slap a palm over your mouth to hide your laughter as Harry groans from his side of the phone. “Okay, then what did you do?”

“Well, what else could I do? I said, ‘So…the weather?’ and that was that,” he replies, and you can hear his amusement. “My mum threatened to ground me.”

“Oh, as she should.”

“Not for the first time, either. Apparently, I have a problem.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There was this TV thing…I don’t know, basically I said pussy on national television, and she was pissed.”

“Oh…my god.”

“Okay, in my defense…I was being a good friend. I was telling him how much tail he was gonna get, and I think that was a very nice thing for me to say.”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done anything like that?”

“Like responding to porn on twitter and saying pussy on TV? No. No, I can’t quite say that I have.”

“Shame,” he retorts, and you hear his gentle chuckle. “It’s quite liberating.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The conversation lulls then, leaving you to listen to the soft breaths in your ear.

And you listen for quite some time, overwhelmed by the comfort you feel in knowing he’s there.

And overwhelmed by the fear that comes with it.

“His name was Nico.”

“What?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. “The guy I was being catfished with. A few years ago. His name was Nico.”

Silence settles between you as Harry seems to await the rest of the story.

“It was….god, it was so dumb,” you begin, waves of remorse washing over you. “It was back in college. There was this guy in my class that was kind of cute. I really liked him, and my friends and I used to…you know, giggle about it all the time.”

You hesitate, fingers curling even tighter around the small device against your cheek.

“Anyway, one day my friend told me that he wanted my number and had given it to her to give to me. So, I started texting him. And we texted for…shit, for months. All the time. Like…all the time. From the moment we got up to the moment we went to bed.”

 You hear some static from his end and feel slightly calmed by knowing he’s still there.

“I told him…everything. Everything. I mean, things I had never told anyone else. Not even my therapist,” you admit, voice dissipating into a whisper. “And…and we sexted a bunch, and he asked for nudes, and I sent them because I’m an idiot.”

You take a deep breath.

“And for some reason, it never struck me as odd that he never actually talked to me in person,” you continue. “Or that he told me he was too busy to hang out. Or that he couldn’t call and actually talk. Or that whenever we were in class, he wouldn’t even look at me. I just thought…you know, he’s popular, he’s a good student…at least he texts me. And I felt so lucky.”

Harry inhales quietly as well, almost as if he knows where this is going, and you feel your skin grow hot.

“Then one day…he ghosted me. Just completely stopped replying. Wouldn’t answer a single text that I sent, and whenever I called, it went straight to voicemail,” you recall. “And I cried about it to my friends, and I tried really hard to get over it, but eventually, I got so pissed…I went up to him in class.”

“Shit,” Harry murmurs, and your heart lurches.

“Yeah. He had no idea who I was,” you snort bitterly. “Introduced himself and everything. And I explained about the messages, and he was so confused. And then he took out his phone to show me that it wasn’t him. Even showed me his number. Which was not at all the number I had been texting.”

Another quiet stillness as this sinks in.

“Long story short, it had been my friend,” you reveal, the admission nearly catching in your throat on the way out. “Actually, it was a few of my friends. They thought it would be funny, and apparently, they didn’t expect it to get so far. But then it did, and they couldn’t back out. So, they went with it. For months. Through the sexting, and the pictures, and all the secrets.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, and you nod to yourself.

“Yeah. So…Nico was really sympathetic when I found out. He apologized on their behalf and said he hoped there were no hard feelings. Which was nice, but…you know, I didn’t know what to do,” you breathe. “The rest of the year, I just kept waiting for the girls to do something with everything I had said and sent. Waited for all the things I had told them to get posted on a blog or for the pictures to get leaked.”

“Did they?” There’s a certain apprehension to his question. Almost as if he’s nervous to hear the answer.

“No,” you say, rather relieved. Even after all this time. “No, they just never talked to me again. And I spent a long time learning to be okay with what happened.”

“But it wasn’t okay,” he argues, and you can almost hear the frown he must be wearing. “And you don’t have to be okay with it. I…that’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well…I can’t do anything about it now,” you sigh, reaching over to absentmindedly fiddle with a loose string on your duvet. “Anyway. Then I started texting you. And it was great because I didn’t know you from Adam. And it was never gonna go past a few cheese puns. And I had told myself that this is where I get over what happened. I make a better memory. I let the past go.”

He's quiet.

“And then you wanted to call,” you mumble. “And I figured, what the hell. Because if you were someone I knew, I’d recognize the voice. But I didn’t. And you sounded really nice. And hot. And for just a minute, talking to you…I forgot. I forgot why I was so scared. I forgot what had happened…and I had fun.”

He takes another breath, and you sink further into your mattress.

“And then you wanted to meet,” you whisper. “And I almost didn’t come, but then I decided that if this was another joke…I’d stand up for myself this time. I’d tell you off. I’d give myself a better ending. And then…I saw you.”

Another beat before you hear him murmur, “Shit.”

“And I know it wasn’t fair of me to assume the worst,” you tell him. “But I did. I saw you, and I saw a hundred and one opportunities for you to humiliate me. And I saw Nico, and I saw those girls, and I realized…I couldn’t trust you.”

You’re not sure when, but the tears you had been trying so hard to swallow are now streaming down your face.

“Not that I didn’t want to trust you,” you blubber. “But that I couldn’t. I couldn’t—can’t—trust anybody. I don’t know how anymore. And…and I don’t think that’s gonna change. I don’t know how to make it change, and that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to put this on you when all you’ve done is try…try—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupts, attempting to soothe you through a softer tone. “It’s all right. You’re okay, yeah? You’re okay. You don’t have to explain, okay? I understand. I understand, ladybug, and I’m so sorry.”

This new nickname brings your soft sniffles to a halt as your lips tug up in a smile.

“I’m…shit,” he exhales. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m…I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through that. And I’m so sorry that meeting me brought it all back up—”

“No. No, it wasn’t you, I just—”

“Still, it was probably way too close to home—”

“Maybe, but I know you were just being nice, and—"

“Can you let me finish?” he snaps but you can hear the playful undertone. “I understand why you don’t feel ready to give your trust away again. Believe me. I understand. And I would never want you to do something before you were ready. Ever. So…thank you for telling me. And I’m so…so sorry.”

You swipe your knuckles across your cheek as you work to steady your breathing. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Don’t care. I am anyway.”

A steady calm echoes between you.

“Harry?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“…thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not hanging up.”

You hear him sigh, and it sounds heavy. “I won’t hang up until you’re ready.”

Another beat.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

Your heart pounds.

“I’m really gonna miss you.”

He takes another breath, and you feel the hole in your stomach grow a bit wider.

“Yeah. I’m really gonna miss you, too.”

 You spend the rest of the night exchanging stories about your lives. He tells you about his X-Factor audition and his family. You tell him about your dog and your weird fascination with Back to the Future.

He makes you promise that one day, you’ll watch the movie together.

And despite the fact that you both know it’ll never happen…you agree with a giant smile on your face.

Hours go by. Until the sun is beginning to come up and your eyelids are beginning to go down.

You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to let him go or say goodbye.

But the longer you talk, the more stories he tells, the more little quirks you become enamored by…the more you realize you’re beginning to really like him.

And the more you realize that losing him…just might kill you.

You’d wanted a happier ending than the one you got before. And perhaps this is your happier ending. Even if it ends in a dial tone.

Either way, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ll never be able to give Harry the kind of partner he needs. Or the kind of friend or confidant. Your trust in the smallest of things has been shattered, and with his life…you never know what might come out of the woodwork. 

You don’t know if those girls would come back to claim their five minutes of fame. If they’d attempt to blackmail you, or even worse…him.

You don’t know if you’d ever feel safe with cameras following you around or if you’d ever be able to trust that he wasn’t using this situation for personal gain.

And you hate that you wouldn’t. You hate that you can’t just believe him. You hate that your own mind is working against you.

But you especially hate that he’s been nothing but great cheese puns and amazing phone sex. That there’s so much more to discover about him. That he’s so kind.

And that you’re so…broken.

The soft golden streams of light slip through your curtains and offer you their morning greeting. It’s a new day. 

For both of you.

It hits you then. Letting him go—actually having to press the button—might ruin you. You aren’t sure you have the strength. You aren’t sure you can let these few wonderful things go and block him out of your life for good.

No matter if it’s the right or wrong thing. It’s the only thing you can do.

You haven’t spoken in a few minutes. Instead, listening to him recall his favorite spots in London. The soft, silky sound of his voice luring you deeper into your infatuation.

 You realize you can’t do it. You can’t be the one to hang up the phone. To tell him goodbye.

You can’t. Your tongue physically won’t let you.

So…you devise a plan.

“Ladybug?” he calls after his story has finished. “You there?”

Silence.

You are here. You are, and you don’t plan to go until he hangs up. Because that’s the only way you’ll ever do this.

You have to force his hand.

“Cheese Girl?” he teases before you can practically hear the smile slip from his face. “Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Your pulse bounces against your ribcage like a basketball as you hear him sigh.

“I think you’re asleep,” he decides. Softly. As if speaking to himself. “And I think that means it’s time to go.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. No…

“In case you aren’t asleep…and you can hear me…” he begins as your throat constricts, “…I want you to know how happy I am that I met you. That you got my number instead of his. And that you gave me some of the best cheese puns I’ll ever hear.”

I’m happy I met you, too.

“I’m so fucking sorry for what happened,” he sighs. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t have…fixed it for you.”

Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.

“You deserve so much better than what happened.”

You deserve better than me.

“And I know you’ll find someone who can help you rebuild your trust.”

It should have been you. It should be you.

“Please take care of yourself, Ladybug.”

I don’t think I know how.

“And please remember me in a better light than the I-Liked-Porn-On-Twitter light,” he chuckles.

You smile.

“I will always…brie here…if you need anything,” he finishes, and your grin gets a bit wider, forcing a tear from your eye.

Don’t say goodbye.

“Goodbye, Cheese Girl.”

With that…the phone beeps three times.

And the call goes quiet.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

Dedicated to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Next Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 9

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 7

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist (if I'm doing this right, and if you'd rather be taken off, just let me know!!):

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter