#like he knows buck better than anyone but he also KNOWS that he knows him better than anyone

[loreandletters]

The most important fact is that Jake’s is fine. He is a-okay with being left in a haunted cemetery. All alone. In the middle of the night. He’s also pretty poor, and since fear is costly, being fine and being is his only option. 

Ghosts? Psha! Try looking at his bills, those are scary. Eyeless ghouls? Good thing it doesn’t cost much to scribble out a talisman or sprinkle some salt. Some wannabe witches trying to summon the devil? Not on his fucking watch! Those candles leave a mess, don’t they know that?

People look down on cleaning, but doesn’t anyone realize that the sanitation department runs the world? Garbage men keep the streets clean, ushers man the stores, and Jake weeds and washes graves. What better honor is there than guarding the deceased from moss and mold? No better money too.

Jake’s lamp flickers as he pulls up another weed. 

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, forcing himself not to rush, “must be funny, in a rich man’s world.”

The grave is illuminated poorly, the mossed over letters just barely spelling out ‘here lies Jasmine Helma, the sweetest wife a man could ask for.’ It’s also just barely enough to see the half-screaming ghostly face sticking out of the stone. Jake hums patiently, plucking more weeds that are growing at the foot of the grave.

80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year. Jake chants, the mantra beating religiously within his cranium. The numbers aren’t exactly accurate, but what rich man counts pennies? (he also heard somewhere that rhymes help ward off misfortune) 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

Yeah, he hasn’t been here more than six months, so what? He makes it a year, that’s a six figure salary! All for picking weeds and scrubbing stone (along with the occasional security). He doesn’t need a degree or some nepotism (both of which he doesn’t have), just a spine of steel. Honestly, he doesn’t have that either, but for 160k he does. He’ll fucking sprout wings and fly if they asked him to.

….Jake’s really poor.

Not for long though, he promised himself.

“I’ll kill you!” the ghoulish face shrieked, mouth cranked inhumanly wide, unmoving yet still speaking, “you cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

“I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay,” Jake sings. Ghosts like these forget they’re dead, and only repeat what the last thing they said before they died. It happens the longer they stick around. Their looks fade, their voices lose any recognizable lilt, leaving them with a dragging, wretched voice that is indistinguishable from any other ghost. 

“I’ll kill you! You cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

 “Ain’t that sad?” Jake wasn’t shivering out of fear, he was just cold. Who cared if she was screaming? That wouldn't pay his rent, picking these weeds would. 

“I’ll kill you!”

“And still there never seems to be, a single penny left for me,” Jake fixed his flickering lamp, hand dipping into the bucket of soap and water to fetch the sponge.

“You cheating manwhore!”

“That’s too bad.” Jake began to scrub. He scrubbed around the headstone, around the ghost, and when he was done, everything but that one spot was sparkling clean. The night chilled his drying hands but Jake muscled on. 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

“Cleaning again, Jacob dear?”

“If I got me a wealthy man, I wouldn’t have to work at all,” James' voice immediately became louder, singing now ringing across the graveyard, “I’d fool around and have a ball!”

The floating annoyance chuckled, “if that’s a yes to my offer, I’m afraid you’ll have to be more clear.”

It was a month ago now that he’d chased off the amateur witches. They were ambitious kids, and like all kids, stupid. Breaking into a graveyard to play with powers beyond their control, who does that? Without Jake they likely would have died. Unfortunately, they were skilled idiots. Skilled enough to summon something, just not a demon. Jake isn’t a witch so he can’t say what exactly, only that it isn’t one of hells many soldiers. That’s why the thing calls him by a fake name. He may not know much, but he isn’t stupid enough to be giving out his real name to anyone who asks. For some reason It’s stuck in the graveyard, and because Jake’s only job is to clean the graveyard not fix the graveyard, that isn’t his problem. It’s just another thing he needs to ignore.

“Money, money, money, must be funny, in a rich man’s world!” Jake has been singing this song for the past hour, stuck on a couple verses because he doesn’t actually know the whole thing, and he’s too scared right now to think of another. He’s fine though! Don’t lose it now, Jake. Remember, 80 bucks an hour, 160,000 a year - keep your eyes on the prize!

The next grave has a ghoul hiding behind it, the monstrous thing shivering as it tries to take refuge in the shadow of the headstone. They’re relatively harmless so long as you don’t start chasing them. Just to be sure, he has a shitty talisman that he’d haggaled a priest for, though to be honest he probably shouldn’t have bothered. They tend to feed on happier victims. 

It’s their form that unnerves most people; twig like limbs, far too long for the small torso they’re connected to, with muscles all distorted and twisted. Freaks folks out. Luckily, they're more shadow than physical, so he doesn't worry about stepping on them. He begins his process again, picking weeds and trashing rubbish. Must have been the teenagers again. Don’t they have anything better to do with their time?

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, loud as he can. The not-demon thing trails behind him. 

“Oh Jacob, I could give you money and so much more,” the being takes on a young man's form tonight, chest exposed by an open shirt, the body underneath toned, skin shining in the moonlight as It lays back in the air. Confident in the image It’s made, as if Jake will fall over at the sight alone. “All you have to do is ask.”

Thick manicured hands run across the shapeshifted body in a lustful fashion. Tonight, the face is sharp and beautiful, wet lips and curly hair, with green eyes as sparkling as gems. There’s a pout on his lips. Last shift the thing had taken on a woman, and before that a large wolf, and before that, a cripple - anything to pull his heartstrings. Friendship, romance, companionship - what will it take for Jake to say yes? There’s only one answer, of course.

Money. Money is why he’s here. Best part? This job will get him all his desires without asking him for his soul. He’ll pay off his debts, his rent, his brother's medical bills and he’ll get to be alive to enjoy it. 

So, Jake grits his teeth and bears it. The ghosts, the ghouls, the not-demon; just sings, scrubbing at a leisure pace so that maybe he can get an extra hour on his shift tonight. I mean, c’mon, it’s 80 an hour. Wouldn’t you? 

You've been hired to clean a graveyard every night for 80 bucks an hour. Its haunted. And by god you are going to make that 80 bucks an hour

[letbuckfuck]

i love casual smug eddie so much like he's really like "you will never know him the way i do so you might as well just stop trying"

[urfriendlywriter]

How to write smut ?

(@urfriendlywriter | req by @rbsstuff @yourlocalmerchgirl anyone under the appropriate age, please proceed with caution :') hope this helps guys! )

writing smut depends on each person's writing style but i think there's something so gut-wrenchingly beautiful about smut when it's not very graphic and vivid. like., would this turn on a reader more?

"he kissed her, pulling her body closer to him."

or this?

"His lips felt so familiar it hurt her heart. His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed. She let herself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against her spine. He drew her closer."

(Before proceeding further, these are all "in my opinion" what I think would make it better. Apply parts of the advice you like and neglect the aspects you do not agree with it. Once again I'm not saying you have to follow a certain type of style to write smut! Creative freedom exists for a reason!)

One may like either the top or the bottom one better, but it totally depends on your writing to make it work. Neither is bad, but the second example is more flattering, talking literally. (Here is me an year after writing this post, i think, either is amazing, depending on the context. the type of book you're writing, your writing style and preferences!)

express one's sensory feelings, and the readers will automatically know what's happening.

writing, "her walls clenched against him, her breath hitching with his every thrust" is better than writing, "she was about to cum".

(edit: once again, hi, it's me. Either is amazing depending on ur writing style. Everything at the end is about taste.)

here are some vocabulary you can introduce in your writing:

whimpered, whispered, breathed lightly, stuttered, groaned, grunted, yearned, whined, ached, clenched, coaxed, cried out, heaved, hissed

shivering, shuddering, curling up against one's body, squirming, squirting, touching, teasing, taunting, guiding, kneeling, begging, pining, pinching, grinding,

swallowing, panting, sucking in a sharp breath, thrusting, moving gently, gripped, biting, quivering,

nibbling, tugging, pressing, licking, flicking, sucking, panting, gritting, exhaling in short breaths,

wet kisses, brushing soft kisses across their body (yk where), licking, sucking, teasing, tracing, tickling, bucking hips, forcing one on their knees

holding hips, guiding the one on top, moving aimlessly, mindlessly, sounds they make turn insanely beautiful, sinful to listen to

some adverbs to use: desperately, hurriedly, knowingly, teasingly, tauntingly, aimlessly, shamelessly, breathlessly, passionately, delicately, hungrily

he sighed with pleasure

her skin flushed

he shuddered when her body moved against his

he planted kisses along her jawline

her lips turned red, messy, kissed and flushed.

his hands were on his hair, pulling him.

light touches traveled down his back

words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more

he arched his back, his breath quivering

her legs parted, sinking into the other's body, encircling around their waist.

+ mention the position, how they're being moved around---are they face down, kneeling, or standing, or on top or on bottom--it's really helpful to give a clear picture.

+ use lustful talk, slow seduction, teasing touches, erratic breathing, give the readers all while also giving them nothing. make them yearn but DO NOT PROLONG IT.

sources to refer to for more:

gesture that gets me on my knees !!

(more to comeee, check out my hot or kisses prompts on my master list!)

[brunchable]

The Marriage Bet

Pairings: Best Friend Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Themes: A bet. A bit of comedy but mostly fluff and Bucky treating his woman right ;)

Summary: If in three years time both of you were still single, you will marry your best friend, Bucky. That's the bet.

A/N: For those of you who voted for 'Calm Down, Dad Mode' I've added it to this story. This has got to be my favorite fluff FML. Also let me TELL YOU, the cravings in pregnancy and the emotions are real because I lived it lmao. PART 2

Three Years Ago

"You know what we should do?” Bucky said out of the blue, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that made your stomach flip. The two of you had been lounging on his couch for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It was a lazy night filled with laughter, shared memories, and the kind of comfortable silence only you and Bucky knew how to savour.

You glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“If we’re still single in three years… let’s get married,” he announced, as if it was the most logical suggestion in the world. His tone was light, but there was a quiet intensity in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t joking.

You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was serious. “Bucky, have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, his lips twitching up into that familiar smirk that made your heart skip. “But think about it. No more crappy dates, no more getting your heart broken by idiots who don’t deserve you. Just us. You and me. We already know each other’s worst habits, and we get along. It’d be a good marriage.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You make it sound like we’re signing up for a business merger.”

He laughed at that, the sound deep and genuine. “Maybe. But at least you’d know you’re stuck with someone who’s never going to walk out on you. Someone who’d fight for you.”

The way he said it made your throat tighten, and for a second, you allowed yourself to picture it. A life with Bucky, the two of you navigating the ups and downs together. No more failed relationships, no more loneliness. Just the comfort and security of someone who knew you better than anyone else.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you murmured, still stunned by the idea.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, I am. So, what do you say?”

You hesitated for just a beat, then broke into a grin. “Deal, Barnes. If we’re still single in three years, I’ll marry your crazy ass.”

He grinned back, his hand shooting out to seal the promise with a firm handshake. But as your fingers clasped around his, the energy between you shifted — playful and yet, inexplicably serious.

“Deal,” he echoed softly, a knowing look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

× × × × 

Present

You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes skimming over the city lights below as the faint notes of Taylor Swift’s break-up songs filled the air. You and Bucky had been up here for hours, talking and drinking, the night air crisp against your skin.

It had been a rough few months for you — the breakup still felt fresh, the sting of rejection and disappointment lingering. But being here with Bucky made it easier. He had a way of grounding you, of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it didn’t seem that way.

“Y’know, you’re the best,” you murmured, your words slurred slightly from the champagne. “I mean it, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled softly, his gaze warm as he watched you. “Good thing you don’t have to find out, huh?”

You nodded, letting out a sigh as you turned back to the view. “Still, I feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m destined to be alone or something.”

“That’s not true,” he said quietly, setting his glass down and turning to face you fully. “And you know it.”

You shrugged, glancing over at him. “Yeah, well, sometimes it feels like it. Everyone I’ve ever dated just—”

You stopped mid-sentence as Bucky suddenly shifted, reaching into his pocket. Your eyes widened as he pulled out a small blue velvet box and, without hesitation, flipped it open. The soft light of the rooftop glinted off the 1.5-carat diamond ring nestled inside — simple, elegant, and undeniably breathtaking. 

“What’s that?” you asked, your breath catching in your throat.

Bucky arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look. “An engagement ring, Y/N. What else?”

“Yeah, I know it’s a ring!” you sputtered, your mind reeling. “But why—how—what are you doing with it?”

Bucky sighed, muttering under his breath, “For someone so smart, she really can’t see what’s right in front of her.”

You barely had time to process the words before he got up from his sitting position and slowly knelt down on one knee. The movement made your heart jump into your throat, your breath hitching as he looked up at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I want to marry you, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm and sure. “Not because of some bet or joke we made all those years ago, but because… I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be the one you come home to. The one who makes you laugh when you’re sad. The one who fights for you.”

You felt your chest tighten as the weight of his words sank in, the sincerity in his voice making it almost impossible to breathe. “Bucky… this is—”

“I know this is crazy,” he continued, cutting you off gently, his gaze never leaving yours. “But when have we ever been normal, huh? I’m not asking you to feel something you don’t or to change anything between us. But I am a man of my word, and I’m keeping the promise we made.”

Your mind raced, memories of that night flashing through your mind — the promise, the shared laughter, the way he’d looked at you back then as if you were the only thing that mattered. And now, here he was, years later, kneeling in front of you with an engagement ring, ready to turn that promise into something real.

He took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as he held out the ring, his expression almost pleading. “So… will you marry me? Not because you feel like you have to, but because you want to?”

You stared down at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing anchoring you being his blue eyes, filled with nothing but hope and determination.

“Well? Say something, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper now. “Because I’m dying here.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over as you shook your head in disbelief. 

“You’re really going all out, huh?” you teased, “Getting down on one knee and everything… how could I say no to a man with such dedication?”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard, and then let out a soft laugh of his own. “Is that a yes, or are you just stalling to make me sweat more?”

You glanced at the ring, then back at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I guess… if I have to be stuck with someone for the rest of my life… it might as well be you.”

“Yes,” you added quickly, your smile widening as you looked at him with all the warmth and affection you felt. “Of course it’s a yes, you idiot!”

Relief washed over his face, his grin so wide it could’ve lit up the entire rooftop. “You really know how to keep a guy on edge, don’t you?”

“Gotta keep things interesting,” you replied with a laugh, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek. “I can’t make it too easy for you.”

His chuckle was deep and genuine, the tension melting from his shoulders as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can be so mean you know that?”

“Mean?” you scoffed, giving him a playful look of disbelief. “You’re proposing to me, remember? I’m just making sure you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

Bucky shook his head, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Oh, I know. And I’m still all in, even if you make me work for it.”

You grinned, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Bucky didn’t hesitate, his arms coming up to hold you close, his chin resting gently on top of your head. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

Slowly, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes locked with his. The sound of the music drifted softly through the air, wrapping around you both like an embrace.

You could see the tenderness in his gaze, the way his eyes softened as he looked down at you. There was something indescribable in the way he held you, his hands warm and secure against your back, as if he never wanted to let go.

“You know,” you murmured softly, a small smile playing on your lips, “I completely forgot about that bet.”

Bucky’s lips quirked up at the corners as he started to sway gently, rocking you both back and forth in time with the music. 

“Yeah? Good thing I haven’t.” he agreed quietly, his voice low and filled with something that made your heart flutter.

You let out a content sigh, closing your eyes for a moment as you swayed together under the soft glow of the rooftop lights, the melody of the song weaving its way into your soul. There was a peace, a sense of rightness in the way his hands rested on your waist, the way your fingers curled into his shirt.

Opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly, the corners of your lips curving up into a playful smile. “I’m really going to make you regret this, you know.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your side as he gazed down at you. “Doubt it. But you’re welcome to try, sweetheart—I mean what else could I possibly not know about you?”

Your smile widened as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. “Oh, you’ll find out. Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean I’m not full of surprises.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. “Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Just remember you asked for it,” you teased, your voice soft as your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. “You’re the one who’s committing to a lifetime of never quite knowing what I’ll do next.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again, a smile playing on his own. “I guess I like keeping things interesting, too.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, and you felt the tension melt away as you both swayed gently to the music. It felt like a new beginning — a promise that whatever came next, you’d be facing it together.

× × × ×

A few months later.

The garden was alive with soft laughter and murmurs as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves. The air was filled with the delicate scent of roses and jasmine, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided the perfect backdrop for the small, intimate gathering of friends.

Bucky stood under the floral archway, his suit somehow both perfectly fitted and slightly askew in that way only Bucky could pull off. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers drumming absently on his thigh. When you turned the corner, your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help but smile at the exaggerated sigh of relief he let out.

“Thank God you showed up,” he teased, his voice carrying over the gentle breeze. “Thought I’d have to marry Sam instead.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you made your way down the short aisle, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah, yeah, keep it up, Barnes. He’d leave you at the altar, you know.”

Bucky grinned, his shoulders relaxing as you stepped up to him. “True. He couldn’t handle my morning breath.”

The officiant cleared his throat gently, drawing soft chuckles from your friends. Bucky’s gaze stayed locked on yours, a playful twinkle in his eyes as if you were sharing a private joke no one else could understand.

“You ready for this?” he murmured softly, his tone light but his smile genuine.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, giving him a small nod.

The ceremony was simple and sweet, with your closest friends standing in a loose circle around you, their smiles reflecting the joy and camaraderie that had always defined your relationship with Bucky. 

When it came time for the vows, Bucky cleared his throat dramatically, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.

“I’m not good at this stuff,” he began, waving the paper around, “so I wrote it down. Just so I don’t forget the important parts. Like promising I won’t eat your fries without asking.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “So that’s why you’re marrying me? For my fries?”

“Partly,” Bucky said with a wink, earning a few laughs from your friends. “But seriously… I promise to always be your partner in crime. To watch bad movies with you, to be your go-to plus-one for all those events you hate, and to be the one you can call at 3 a.m. when the world feels like too much.”

His voice softened slightly, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I promise to be your best friend, to listen, and to support you. And yeah, to not eat your fries — unless you’re not looking.”

You chuckled, blinking back the unexpected prickle of tears. “Damn, Barnes. Setting the bar high for husband material, aren’t you?”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he replied with a smirk.

When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, glancing down at your own slightly crumpled paper. “Bucky, I promise to keep being your reality check, to make sure you don’t take yourself too seriously. I promise to help you with your crazy woodworking projects, even when you refuse to read the instructions. And I promise to be your partner in all things — the weird, the good, and the unpredictable.”

Bucky’s grin softened into a small, genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think we’re gonna be pretty good at this whole marriage thing.”

“I think so too,” you murmured back.

The officiant’s voice broke through the quiet moment, his smile warm. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Bucky, you may now—”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupted, holding up a hand as he turned to you, his expression half-serious, half-teasing. “Can I kiss you?”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“You know,” he said, shrugging a shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “This is technically our first kiss. I want to get it right. So… how do you like it?”

A burst of laughter escaped you, the tension in your shoulders melting away as the sheer Bucky-ness of the question made you grin. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Come on, humor me,” he pressed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Slow? Gentle? Or should I just go for it?”

You shook your head, still laughing softly. “Just… kiss me, you goof.”

Bucky grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Alright, Mrs. Barnes,” he said softly, leaning in. “I’ll make it good.”

His grin widened and shifts a little closer to you, Bucky dipped his head and you felt your noses brush. His breath is on your lips, and you quiver a bit at the odd sensation. Without another moment to spare you realise that he's pressing his lips to yours—it was nothing like you’d expected. His hand slipped to the small of your back, drawing you closer, his eyes fully closed. Bucky was concentrating on the kiss, and you realised that your eyes were wide open. Slowly you close them, hiding away your brilliant orbs. 

Bucky’s lips are oddly doft in this kiss and it stays slow and sweet. He wrapped his arm around you more, lifting you slightly off your feet. The veil fluttered around you like a soft cocoon, and then everything disappeared as his mouth moved insync with you, his kiss remained slowly, his mouth molding against yours in a way that made your knees weak.

His fingers gently tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

But then he shifted, tilting your head just slightly as he deepened the kiss, his hold around you tightening. It was then that you felt him let go completely — every barrier, every wall he’d kept up around himself crumbling as he poured everything into that kiss. 

Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint cheers and whistles of your friends—Sam being the most obnoxious—but it all felt like background noise. It was just you and Bucky, wrapped up in this kiss that felt like it had been building up for years. His lips slid over yours with a kind of sweet intensity, a silent confession of everything he hadn’t said — of everything he didn’t know how to say.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding in unison. He didn’t let go, his arms still wrapped around you as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

A soft cheer went up from your friends—Sam being the most obvious— and Bucky’s grin turned almost smug. “How was that?”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. “Yeah, Buck. I think you got it just right.”

“Good,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for a long, lingering moment before his smile widened into something boyish and relieved. “Just wanted to make sure.”

“Don’t worry,” you teased gently, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of me after a kiss like that.”

Bucky’s laugh was soft, his nose brushing against yours. “Guess I should keep practicing, huh?”

You nodded, your grin matching his. “Yeah. Keep practicing, Barnes.”

And as he pulled you in for another kiss, slower and just as sweet as the first, you knew that this — all of this — was exactly how it was meant to be.

× × × ×

1.5 years later

You were pacing back and forth in the bathroom, your heart hammering in your chest. Every few seconds, your eyes would dart to the three little sticks sitting ominously on the edge of the sink — three white, plastic harbingers of potential chaos.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you whispered frantically to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if willing the tests to disappear — or at least show some clarity.

How did it come to this? You were supposed to be life partners — partners in crime, best friends — no strings attached, no expectations. Just two people who promised to be there for each other. Sure, you got married, but it was all because of the bet. A way to keep each other from loneliness, you both said. Nothing more, right?

Except somewhere along the line, late-night talks had turned into stolen kisses. Comforting hugs had turned into tangled limbs. And now… this.

“Oh my god, he’s going to flip,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the still-blank screens on the tests. “This isn’t how we were supposed to—”

“Supposed to what?”

You jumped about a foot in the air, letting out a small squeak of surprise as Bucky’s voice filled the bathroom. You whipped around, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, an amused smirk on his lips.

“Bucky! Don’t—don’t just sneak up on people like that!” you stammered, instinctively shuffling over to the sink to block his view.

His smirk widened. “I didn’t sneak. You’re just too distracted, sweetheart.” He pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. “What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing!” you squeaked, your voice a little too high-pitched.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh-huh. So, you’re just hanging out in the bathroom, talking to yourself?”

“Yes!” you answered quickly, nodding like a bobblehead. “Yep, just a totally normal conversation with… myself. Very productive.”

He eyed you, suspicion etched all over his face. “Uh-huh. And why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“I don’t!” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest as if that could somehow shield you from his scrutiny.

Bucky took another step closer, his gaze flicking over your shoulder. “Then why are you standing like that?”

You moved subtly, trying to casually scoot to the left, but your back hit the edge of the sink. “Like what?”

“Like you’re hiding something,” he said, leaning down slightly to look your directly in the eyes. “What’s behind you, Y/N?”

“Nothing!” you insisted, but your hand twitched involuntarily, knocking into one of the sticks. It clattered onto the counter, bouncing once before rolling to a stop right at Bucky’s feet.

You froze.

Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the test, and his entire expression shifted — from curiosity to confusion to wide-eyed realization.

“Wait… is that a—?”

“No!” you yelped, diving forward to snatch up the stick and hide it behind your back. You stood there, breathing heavily, your face flushed with a mix of panic and embarrassment.

Bucky’s gaze slid back to you, his lips quirking into an incredulous smile. “Y/N, are those… pregnancy tests?”

You glanced around desperately, as if you could conjure up some kind of diversion to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Uh… no? Maybe?”

“Sweetheart…” Bucky stepped around your easily, and in one quick motion, he plucked the other two tests off the sink. He held them up, his eyes wide and eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “There are three.”

“Yeah, well… you know, the first one could be a fluke, and the second one too, and…” you trailed off, wincing at how ridiculous you sounded.

Bucky blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “Three tests, huh? You’re nothing if not thorough.”

“Bucky!” you hissed, mortification washing over you. “This isn’t funny!”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, though his lips were still twitching with amusement. “But you’re freaking out over here, hiding them like I wasn’t gonna notice.”

“I wasn’t freaking out!” you lied, folding your arms across your chest again. “I was just… assessing the situation.”

He raised an eyebrow, waving one of the tests in front of your face. “Assessing, huh? And what’s the situation, then?”

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know, okay? I haven’t looked at them yet!”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

“Wait, you haven’t looked?” Bucky’s voice was filled with genuine disbelief. “You’ve been pacing around in here, stressing yourself out, and you haven’t even checked?”

“I’m not ready!” you snapped defensively. “I mean… what if they’re positive?”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more genuine, and he stepped forward, gently cupping your cheek. “Then they’re positive.”

Your eyes met his, the sincerity and calmness in his gaze making some of your panic ebb away. “But we’re not even— I mean, this was supposed to be—”

“A bet?” he finished softly, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah. I remember. But bets don’t always go the way you plan.”

You swallowed hard, your heart still hammering wildly. “You’re not… mad?”

“Mad?” he repeated, his expression incredulous. “Why the hell would I be mad? I mean, sure, this is unexpected. But mad?” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “C’mon, Y/N. You really think I’d be mad about having a family with you?”

The words made your heart stutter, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Bucky…”

“Let’s just see what they say, alright?” he murmured gently, stepping back and nodding toward the tests. “No more freaking out until we know.”

With trembling hands, you turned each test over, your breath hitching as you looked at the results.

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

Bucky’s grin had barely faded before the reality of the situation seemed to really hit him this time. His gaze drifted back to the three tests lined up on the sink, and you watched as his face slowly drained of colour.

“Bucky?” you asked cautiously, noticing the way his grip on your arm loosened slightly.

He blinked, his eyes darting between you and the tests like he was trying to solve some impossible puzzle. “So, uh… positive. All three?”

You nodded slowly, worry beginning to creep back in. “Yeah, Buck. All three.”

“Oh… Oh, wow,” he muttered, his eyes widening. “That’s… that’s a lot of positive.”

“Bucky—”

“I mean, I knew one was a lot, but three—positives?” he rambled, swaying slightly on his feet. “That’s… that’s a whole lot of… baby.”

“Bucky, are you okay?” you asked, reaching out to steady him as his face turned even paler.

“I’m—yeah, I just—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes rolling back slightly as his knees buckled.

“Bucky!” you shouted, grabbing for him as he crumpled to the floor in a faint.

You managed to catch his weight just enough to keep him from completely knocking his head on the tiles, though it took every ounce of strength you had to keep him semi-upright.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” you huffed, looking down at his unconscious form with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “You’re the one who said you’d be fine with this!”

He let out a soft, incoherent groan, his head lolling to the side as you carefully lowered him all the way to the ground and raised his legs above his head for bloodflow.

“Of course you’d faint, you big drama queen,” you muttered, crouching down beside him and lightly patting his cheeks. “Come on, Buck. Wake up. I’m not doing this alone, you hear me?”

After a few more pats and murmured reassurances, his eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked up at you, dazed and confused.

“Y/N?” he mumbled, his voice slurred. “What… what happened?”

“You fainted, you big idiot,” you said, the frustration in your tone softened by the overwhelming relief that he was okay. “Over three little tests.”

Bucky stared at you blankly, then his gaze drifted back to the sink where the tests still sat in a neat row, mocking him with their tiny positive signs.

“Oh… right,” he murmured, his face scrunching up as he tried to process it all again. “So it wasn’t a dream?”

“Nope.” You shook your head, giving him a half-smile. “Definitely not a dream.”

“Damn,” he breathed, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I really fainted, huh?”

“Yeah, you did,” you replied, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice. “And you’re lucky I didn’t let you hit your head.”

He chuckled weakly, his gaze still lingering on the tests. Then, slowly, he reached up, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently.

“I love you, Y/N, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice soft and a little slurred as he still looked dazed. “Not like a friend, but y’know… like, love love.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden confession. A laugh bubbled up in your throat, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting you all over again. “Bucky, you’re still out of it.”

“Yeah, probably,” he murmured, blinking up at you with a lopsided grin. “But doesn’t make it any less true.”

Shaking your head, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, your smile softening. “I know, Buck. We’ll talk about that later when you’re not busy fainting over pregnancy tests, okay?”

“’Kay,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping slightly. “But just… so you know.”

“I know,” you repeated gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Just rest for a second, and then we’ll figure this all out together.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he opened them again, looking at you with a sleepy smile. “We’re really gonna be parents, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. “We really are.”

“Cool,” he murmured, his head lolling back against the bathroom tiles. “Love you, Y/N… love love.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you sat beside him, holding his hand. “Love you too, Bucky. Now, no more fainting, okay?”

“No promises,” he mumbled, but his grip tightened around your hand, as if even in his half-conscious state, he didn’t want to let go.

And as you sat there on the bathroom floor, Bucky still looking a little woozy but smiling up at you with that goofy, endearing grin, you couldn’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — everything was going to be just fine.

× × × ×

First Trimester.

The clock on the kitchen wall glowed a soft, accusatory 2:37 a.m. as Bucky shuffled groggily into the dimly lit space, scratching at his head. He was half-asleep, dressed in rumpled sweatpants and a t-shirt that had seen better days, and still trying to figure out why he’d been dragged from his warm bed.

He paused mid-step when he spotted you sitting at the kitchen table, your shoulders hunched, face buried in your hands. He blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation. “Uh, sweetheart… what’s going on?”

Your only response was a pitiful sniffle, followed by another one. Bucky’s brows shot up in alarm, and he quickly moved to your side, crouching down in front of you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, peering up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head, letting out a small, hiccuping sob. “I… I really wanted… chocolate chip pancakes… with whipped cream and strawberries…”

Bucky blinked again, glancing around the empty kitchen as if he expected a stack of pancakes to magically appear on the counter. “Okay… uh… we don’t have any of that stuff right now, but I can go to the store—”

“Everything’s closed!” you wailed, cutting him off with a fresh wave of tears. “And I really wanted it now!”

The sheer devastation in your voice made Bucky’s heart clench in sympathy — but a very tiny, very unhelpful part of him also found it hilariously absurd. He had fought aliens, Hydra agents, and all manner of nightmares… but he’d never faced down a pregnant wife in the throes of a pancake craving at nearly 3 a.m.

“Oh,” he said lamely, scratching his head again as he tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve breaking into the nearest IHOP. “Okay, um… we can make pancakes without chocolate chips, right?”

“But I don’t want plain pancakes!” you cried, your voice wobbling dangerously. “I want chocolate chip pancakes! And… and I want whipped cream on top, but we don’t have any!”

Bucky swallowed, his panic rising as you continued to cry. He was the Winter Soldier, damn it. He could handle this. There had to be a way out of this. “Okay, alright. Just breathe, okay? How about… uh… what if I make you some toast? I’ll put some Nutella on it? It’s kind of like chocolate.”

“It’s not the same!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands again. “I want… pancakes…”

Bucky let out a helpless laugh, running a hand down his face as he glanced at the empty fridge like it was somehow betraying him. “Baby, you’re killing me here.”

You sniffled, peeking out from between your fingers with watery eyes. “You don’t understand, Buck. I can taste the pancakes. I can taste the strawberries… I can feel the whipped cream…”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, at a complete loss for words. “Yeah, uh, I can’t pull that out of thin air. But…” He glanced around, his gaze falling on a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. “What if I make you a sundae? It’s kinda like a pancake… just cold.”

“No…” You shook your head, another tear rolling down your cheek. “It’s not pancakes…”

Bucky let out a long, dramatic sigh, his hands resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Here’s the deal. Tomorrow morning, I’m gonna wake up, and I’m going to go get you all the chocolate chips and whipped cream and strawberries you want, alright? I’ll make a pancake buffet.”

“But I want it now,” you murmured miserably, rubbing at your eyes.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he cooed gently, reaching out to pat your head awkwardly. “But unless you want me to bust into some diner and get myself arrested, I’m gonna need you to hang in there for a few more hours.”

Your lips trembled, and you nodded reluctantly, sniffling again. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

Bucky smiled softly, his heart melting a little. “Nah. You’re growing a tiny human.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, “Although, I gotta say, if I can handle your craving meltdowns, I think I deserve some kind of medal. Or at least, like… superhero husband status.”

A small, watery laugh escaped you despite yourself, and Bucky’s smile widened triumphantly.

“There she is,” he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your temple. “Look, we can’t have pancakes right now, but how about we get creative? Maybe I can whip something up with what we do have? I’m talking PB&J sandwich sculptures. Or,” he gasped dramatically, “a waffle made out of popcorn!”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but the corners of your mouth twitched. “Popcorn waffles?”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he said with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “This could be a revolutionary invention, Y/N. We could change the breakfast game forever.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, wiping at your tears as Bucky’s ridiculousness slowly chased away the lingering sadness. “You’re such a weirdo, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you married me,” he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. “So who’s the real weirdo?”

“Still you,” you teased softly, shaking your head.

Bucky let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow, so rude. No respect for the man who’s about to go MacGyver your snack cravings at 3 a.m.”

You smiled despite yourself, reaching out to take his hand. “Thank you, Buck.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. “Now, what do you say we get a little creative in this kitchen and see if we can’t make something that’ll make these pancake cravings shut up for a bit?”

“Okay,” you agreed, the warmth of his hand in yours grounding you. “But I’m holding you to that pancake buffet tomorrow morning.”

“Pancake buffet with extra chocolate chips, whipped cream, and strawberries,” he promised with a mock salute. “You’ve got my word.”

And as Bucky scoured the pantry for the weirdest possible combinations — “How do you feel about a peanut butter, banana, and potato chip sandwich?” — you couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of your cravings lightening in the face of his relentless optimism and willingness to do whatever it took to make you smile.

“World’s best husband,” you murmured fondly as he started arranging sandwich slices into a goofy face.

“Damn right,” he replied with a wink, holding up the plate proudly. “And this? This is my masterpiece.”

You took one look at the ridiculous sandwich sculpture — a lopsided smile made from pickle slices and a beard of crumbled crackers — and the tears came flooding back, but this time they were unstoppable.

“Bucky… you’re… you’re the best husband… in the world!” you sobbed, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.

“Whoa, whoa, wait—hold on!” Bucky stammered, his eyes widening in alarm as he quickly set the plate down and moved back to your side. “What… why are you crying? Sweetheart, it’s just a sandwich! A really ugly sandwich, but—”

You let out another wail, shaking your head as more tears spilled over. “No, it’s not that! It’s you! You’re just so—so good, and sweet, and—and I don’t deserve you!”

Bucky froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

“Wait, what? Where did that come from?” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if he expected someone to pop out with a manual for how to handle this. “Hey, you deserve everything, okay? Even pancakes at 3 a.m. if I could make it happen.”

“I just… you’re always trying so hard, and you’re just… you’re amazing,” you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand like it was a lifeline. “And I’m crying because I can’t have pancakes, and I’m a mess, and you’re making me a weird pickle-beard sandwich…”

Bucky stared at you, completely lost, before he finally let out a helpless, incredulous laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m officially out of my depth here,” he muttered, gently pulling you into his arms and patting your back awkwardly. “But hey, let’s save the compliments for when I’m not half-asleep, yeah?”

You nodded miserably against his chest, your sobs starting to subside as his steady heartbeat grounded you.

“Good, because you’re gonna make me cry if you keep this up,” he joked softly, running a soothing hand through your hair. “And no one wants to see the Winter Soldier ugly-cry over a pancake buffet.”

You let out a watery giggle at that, sniffling as you pulled back to look up at him. “You’re really gonna get me all the pancakes tomorrow?”

“Every last one,” he promised, his smile gentle and reassuring. “Now come on, let’s see if we can make this popcorn waffle thing work. You’ll need to tell our kid one day that their mom ate the weirdest thing ever while pregnant,” Bucky finished with a grin, his hand sliding down to gently cup your cheek as he wiped away the lingering tears with his thumb. “That way, when they give us a hard time as teenagers, I can say, ‘Hey, kid, I made your mom a popcorn waffle at 3 a.m. She bettered have loved me.’”

You laughed again, hiccupping through the tears as you tried to calm yourself. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Bucky shrugged, his lips twitching up into a lopsided smile. “Maybe. But you married me, so what does that say about you?”

“That I’m a glutton for punishment,” you teased softly, feeling some of the tension start to ease as his thumb continued its gentle, comforting strokes on your cheek.

“Or just smart enough to know when you’ve got a good thing,” he murmured back, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “And I’m gonna keep being that good thing — even when it means making bizarre snacks and wrangling your tears at stupid o’clock in the morning.”

You let out a shaky breath, smiling up at him as you looped your arms around his neck. “I love you, Bucky.”

His eyes softened, his gaze locking onto yours as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “I love you too, sweetheart. And we’re gonna figure out this whole craving thing. Even if it means starting a midnight pancake truck or something.”

The image of Bucky in an apron, serving pancakes from a food truck, was so ridiculous that you let out a genuine, hearty laugh. “A pancake truck?”

“Why not?” He smirked, his fingers playing with a lock of your hair. “I’d be the hottest pancake chef around. We’d have a line out the door.”

“Because everyone’s desperate for pancakes at three in the morning?” you asked, still smiling.

“Exactly,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “They’d be calling me the Pancake Soldier instead of the Winter Soldier.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter again, your earlier tears completely forgotten. “I swear, you’re impossible, Bucky Barnes.”

“Impossible and all yours,” he said with a wink, then glanced at the kitchen. “Now, how about we whip up some sort of Frankenstein snack to tide you over until the morning, huh?”

With another sniffle and a smile, you nodded. “Alright. But I’m still holding you to that pancake buffet.”

“Wouldn’t dream of backing out,” he promised, kissing your forehead again before guiding you to a chair. “You sit right here, and let Chef Barnes work his magic.”

You watched as Bucky moved around the kitchen, his clumsy efforts at ‘creative’ snack-making bringing a smile to your face despite the ridiculousness of it all. He muttered under his breath, concocting weird combinations — “What if we crush some pretzels on top?” — and talking to the food like it would reveal some hidden trick.

Eventually, he managed to cobble together another makeshift treat: a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich with a few random M&Ms sprinkled on top for good measure. It looked as chaotic as you felt, but the effort and love behind it made your heart swell.

You stared at the messy sandwich, your lips trembling again — but this time with a whole different set of emotions.

“Hey, no more tears,” Bucky said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m running out of ideas here, babe.”

“I’m not crying,” you sniffed, reaching out to take a bite. “It’s just… you’re really, really sweet, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to give your knee a gentle squeeze. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, your heart feeling lighter than it had all night.

“Good.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair as he watched you take another bite. “Now eat up, because come morning, I’m getting up at dawn to get everything we need for that pancake buffet. You’re gonna be the happiest pancake-eating pregnant lady in the world.”

“And you’re gonna be the best pancake-making husband in the world,” you replied with a soft smile, warmth spreading through your chest.

“Damn right,” Bucky murmured, his voice filled with so much affection it made your heart skip a beat.

As you finished the bizarre snack and Bucky continued to ramble on about potential pancake flavors and topping combinations, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly grateful.

Because, bizarre cravings and all, there was no one else you’d rather navigate the chaos with than him — your best friend, your partner, your ridiculous, wonderful Bucky Barnes.

× × × ×

Third Trimester

Bucky’s overprotectiveness had started out in small, endearing ways—like lingering in doorways or making sure you had an extra pillow at night. But as your pregnancy progressed, so did his paranoia, turning him into an almost comical shadow of your once-confident, battle-hardened husband.

It began with the shoelaces.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He practically skidded across the living room to kneel at your feet just as you were about to bend down to tie your sneakers. You straightened up, raising a brow, watching him fumble with the laces like it was a complex puzzle rather than a simple bow.

“Bucky, it’s just tying my shoes. I can do that,” you pointed out gently, but he shook his head fervently.

“Not risking it. What if you lose your balance?” His words were muffled as he double-knotted the laces, his shoulders hunched like he was shielding you from some invisible force.

“I’m not gonna lose my balance,” you murmured, amused. “I’ve been tying my own shoes for decades.”

“There’s a first for everything.” He tightened the bow a little too firmly, making you flinch. He winced in apology and adjusted it again, softer this time, before peering up at you with those intense blue eyes, a mix of worry and resolve. “Humor me, okay?”

You sighed, relenting with a small nod. “Okay. But just so you know, you’re not going to be doing this every single time.”

He grinned—victorious, as if you hadn’t noticed how he conveniently “lost” all your slip-ons just last week.

Then there was the laundry basket incident.

It happened when you were carrying a half-full basket of towels from the dryer. You’d barely made it halfway down the hall when Bucky materialized out of nowhere, intercepting you like you were carrying live explosives.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—what do you think you’re doing?” His voice was all mock-seriousness, but there was genuine concern underlining it as he gently pried the basket from your hands.

“Laundry?” you deadpanned, trying to tug it back, but he held firm.

“Not anymore, you’re not.” He shot you a look that dared you to argue as he held the basket up high, well out of your reach. “You don’t need to be lugging this around.”

“It’s not even heavy!” you protested, exasperation seeping into your tone.

He scoffed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it. Just point me to where you want it.”

Grumbling, you pointed down the hallway. “Our bedroom.”

“See?” he said with a self-satisfied smile, striding down the hall like he was conquering new territory. “No big deal.”

You had to fight back an eye roll. “You’re gonna be like this until the baby is born, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” he called over his shoulder, unashamed.

It didn’t stop there, of course. In the kitchen, he’d barely let you near the sink.

One morning, you’d decided to tackle the breakfast dishes—something you could usually manage without too much hassle. But as soon as you set the first dish into the soapy water, Bucky’s hand appeared out of nowhere, lightly shoving you to the side.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t asking for permission. “Your belly’s gonna bump into the counter. Let me do it.”

“Bucky—”

“Let. Me. Do it,” he insisted, holding a soapy plate hostage as he gazed at you, lips set in a stubborn line.

With a sigh, you threw your hands up in surrender. “Fine. But I’m not a porcelain doll, okay? I can do dishes just fine.”

“Sure,” he replied, but he was already washing the dishes with focused precision, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you hadn’t slipped or stumbled in the two feet he’d moved you back.

It was both infuriating and endearing, and it made you love him even more—though you’d never admit it when he was acting like a hovering mother hen.

The grocery trips were almost unbearable. He’d insisted on coming along, despite your reassurances that you were perfectly capable of picking up a few items.

“We need milk,” you pointed out, motioning toward the far end of the aisle.

“Got it,” he said immediately, guiding the cart forward with one hand and slipping his other arm around your waist as if to support your entire body weight.

You shot him a look. “I can still walk, you know.”

“Of course you can,” he agreed with a grin. “I’m just… helping you waddle.”

“Waddle?” You narrowed your eyes, smacking his arm lightly. “Did you just call me a waddler?”

“Um…” He glanced at you sheepishly, realizing his mistake a second too late. “No?”

“Yeah, nice try.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Alright, alright, bad choice of words. I’m just keeping pace with you,” he corrected, slowing his stride even more so that the two of you were practically moving in slow motion down the aisle.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all. “If we go any slower, we’ll start moving backwards.”

Bucky just chuckled, his arm tightening around you protectively. “I’ll take my chances.”

By the time you reached the milk, you were almost tempted to ask him to sprint the rest of the way just to get it over with. But the truth was, there was something undeniably sweet about having Bucky hover around like this.

“Let me guess,” you teased as you plucked a carton of milk off the shelf. “You want to carry this too?”

“Of course,” he said, already reaching for it, his expression deadly serious.

You held on to the carton just long enough to make him sweat before handing it over. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” he replied easily, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“Smooth,” you muttered, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

With Bucky being his overprotective self, you had no doubt that he’d be like this for the next few months—and likely long after the baby was born. But as much as you complained, deep down, you knew you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

× × × ×

“Bucky, for the last time, it’s just a shoe box,” you emphasise, glancing at your husband as he carefully hoists the empty box off the couch like it’s made of glass.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, eyes darting suspiciously to the plain cardboard. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything in your condition.”

“Condition? Bucky, I’m pregnant, not broken.” You cross your arms, watching as he tucks the box under his arm like it’s a rare artefact. The man is a walking, talking fortress of muscle, but right now, his overprotectiveness is reaching absurd levels.

“And nearly at your due date,” he points out, placing the box on the counter with a sigh of relief as if he’s saved you from imminent danger. “I’ve read all the books. I know how this goes.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, yeah? So what’s the worst that could happen if I pick up a shoe box?”

Bucky turns to you with a dead-serious expression. 

“It’s not about the weight. It’s about…” he falters, eyes scanning your swollen belly, “…stability. Your centre of gravity is off right now. A box could trip you.”

“A box could trip me?” You arch a brow, incredulous. “Really?”

“Yes!” His tone is insistent, and you have to bite back a laugh. This is the same man who once told a pack of HYDRA agents they were outnumbered—just because it was him and Steve versus a dozen of them. But now, he’s reduced to eyeing an empty cardboard box like it’s a mortal enemy.

Sighing, you sit back on the couch, deciding it’s not worth the argument. Besides, there’s a certain charm in seeing the Winter Soldier so worked up over an inanimate object. You lean back, letting out a small groan as you shift your weight.

Bucky’s been hovering around you all day like a lost puppy, eyes following your every move. The moment you make the slightest sound, his head whips around, concern flickering in his eyes. So when you groan, immediately, he’s by your side, eyes wide, hands hovering over your belly.

“What? What’s wrong? Is it time? Should I get the bag?”

“Calm down, Dad-mode. I’m just stretching.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve gotta stop panicking every time I make a sound.”

“Every time you make a sound, it could be something serious!” Bucky exclaims, sounding almost affronted. “Do you know what it’s like hearing you groan and not knowing if it’s ‘I want ice cream’ or ‘I’m about to go into labor’?”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” you tease.

He huffs, muttering something about ‘pregnancy hormones,’ and kneels down in front of you. Strong hands lift your foot gently, and he starts massaging your arch. You sigh, instantly melting under his touch.

“Better?” His voice is softer now, concern etched in every syllable.

“Much better,” you mumble, letting out a little moan as he presses down on a particularly tight knot.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bucky freezes, eyes wide again. “What’s that? Pain?”

“Relax,” you say, though your voice is slightly breathless. “It’s the good kind of pain. Keep going.”

You lean your head back, closing your eyes as Bucky continues the foot massage. The man has hands that could crush stone, but right now, he’s so gentle you almost feel like you’re floating. It’s hard not to feel a little spoiled under his doting care.

But just when you’re getting lost in the bliss of his hands working away the tension, you catch his face out of the corner of your eye. Bucky’s brow is furrowed, and his expression is one of fierce concentration, like he’s facing down a particularly difficult opponent. You stifle a giggle—only Bucky could make a foot massage seem like a high-stakes mission.

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” you say, reaching down to tug on his hand. “If you keep looking at my foot like that, you might set it on fire.”

Bucky blinks up at you, clearly having forgotten where he was. He chuckles, the sound low and almost shy. “Can’t help it. I just… I want to make sure I’m doing it right.”

“Bucky, it’s a foot massage, not defusing a bomb.” You roll your eyes again, but your heart swells at his concern. “You’re doing it perfectly.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks, but he lets out a small huff, pretending to be grumpy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Then, without warning, he shifts beside you on the couch, a determined look settling on his face. “Now, hold still.”

Before you can ask what he’s up to, Bucky leans down, pressing his ear gently against your belly. You’re about to ask him if he’s comfortable, but the sheer look of wonder on his face stops you short. His eyes close, and he inhales deeply, as if trying to capture every little movement your baby girl makes.

“Hey, there, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs softly, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. His fingers splay across your belly, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles. “It’s your dad. Just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re being good for your mama.”

You bite your lip, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight. The fierce Winter Soldier, the man with a list of enemies longer than most people’s grocery lists, reduced to talking softly to your baby girl like she’s the most delicate thing in the world.

“She’s probably plotting her escape already,” you joke quietly, and Bucky grins up at you.

“Nah,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners. “She’s too busy practicing her karate kicks. Isn’t that right, little one?”

Right on cue, a small flutter against your belly answers him, and Bucky’s eyes light up like fireworks. He leans down again, pressing his lips gently against the spot where your baby kicked.

“Whoa, easy there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Save the punches for when you’re out here. We’ve got plenty of training sessions ahead of us.”

You snort, shaking your head at his words. “Bucky, she’s not even born yet, and you’re already planning training sessions?”

“Gotta start ‘em young,” he says seriously, but the way he softens his voice when he turns back to your belly is anything but tough. “But don’t worry, we’ll take it easy. I’ll make sure you get to be a kid and have fun first. No one’s gonna mess with you. Not when I’m around.”

He pauses, his eyes misting over for a brief moment, and you know he’s thinking about everything he’s been through—everything he wants to shield your daughter from. Slowly, he rubs his thumb along your belly again, his touch featherlight.

“And you’re gonna love your mama,” Bucky continues softly. “She’s strong, and she’s funny, and—” He glances up at you, his smile turning mischievous. “She’s a little bit stubborn sometimes. But you’re gonna be just like her, I bet.”

“Great,” you mutter, faking a groan. “Two of you plotting against me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bucky promises, but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s already imagining all the ways he’ll spoil his little girl.

He shifts again, his head still resting on your belly, and you have to stifle another laugh as he starts a running commentary, complete with exaggerated gestures.

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” he whispers conspiratorially to your baby. “When you get here, you’re gonna kick a lot. Cry a lot. But not too much. Your mama needs her sleep. Then, we’ll team up to get you extra dessert when she’s not looking.”

“Bucky!” You can’t help it—you burst out laughing. “You can’t be plotting behind my back already!”

He grins, looking up at you with mock innocence. “Hey, it’s not my fault if she wants ice cream. Right, sweetheart?”

A few more soft kicks seem to echo his words, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I’m doomed,” you say, shaking your head fondly.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softening again. He presses one more kiss against your belly before shifting to sit up beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you gently against his side. “You’re gonna be the best mom. And I’m gonna be right here, making sure you both have everything you need.”

You lean into his warmth, smiling as his hand drifts back to your belly, tracing idle patterns.

“I love you,” you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.

“And I love you,” he replies, voice deep and steady. He leans down, kissing the top of your head. “Both of you.”

With Bucky holding you close and whispering to your daughter, you feel your heart swell with a contentment so strong it almost aches. It’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have this overprotective, sweet man by your side.

Even if he does go overboard sometimes.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

favorite girl to see

words: 700

warnings: implied sex, cart girl!reader, soft!rafe, fluffy

“hey boys.” you grin as you greet them all, but your eye is on one boy in particular.

“there's my favorite girl to see.” rafe smiles, quickly putting his putter back in his golf bag.

you roll your eyes despite your cheeks blushing. “you just like me because i bring you drinks.”

“nope.” rafe shakes his head, walking closer to you as you stay sat in the cart, worried your knees would buckle if you tried to stand up with his full attention on you. “otherwise id say that to all the cart girls.”

“mmm, and you don't?” you raise your eyebrows.

“absolutely not.” rafe scoffs like it's a ridiculous notion.

“what'll it be for you today?” you ask rafe, standing carefully and rounding the golf cart to the drinks area, opening up the cooler, expecting to grab him a high noon or white claw like usual.

“just a water, actually.” rafe turns to look at his friend he's golfing with. you don't even glance away from rafes perfectly chiseled features. “anything for you top?”

“im good.”

“one water it is.” you dig out a bottle from the melting ice, taking a towel and drying off the sides so you don't have a wet drink to rafe.

“so kind.” he coos, reaching into his wallet.

“rafe-” you sigh, already knowing what is coming as he pulls out a hundred dollar bill.

“nope.” rafe says, stuffing the bill into your hand. “take it. a tip for my favorite girl to see.”

“the water is like five bucks, this is a ridiculous tip.” you state, always trying to argue against the way rafe tips you, knowing you'll end up conceding and taking it. 

“well, if it makes you feel better about it, there is something else you can do for me.”

“hm?” you question as rafe pulls out his phone, taps a few buttons, and then hands it to you.

“put your number in.”

-- 6 months later --

you look around the golf course, having taken a later shift instead of the early one you're used to. you're getting out on the green much later than normal, trying to spot your regulars, one in particular.

you put your cart into drive the moment you see him, skipping by any other groups who may be trying to buy something. you'll loop back later to get their orders, but your sole focus is on one man.

“rafe.” you hop out your cart, giving a quick look around before jumping into his open arms, knowing while employee member relationships are technically against the rules, rafe could pull a few strings if anyone ever tattled on you.

“my girl.” rafes smile is infectious, especially as his hands drop down to squeeze your ass over your skirt, pulling your hips right up against his. “you're here late.”

“let's just say someone kept me up late last night.” you giggle, pressing a kiss to rafes lips, knowing he's the reason you had to switch shifts this morning.

rafe deepens the kiss, one hand coming to the back of your neck to keep you close as his mouth covers yours, lips and tongue gliding against each other.

“babe-” you sigh, pulling away.

“yeah, i know.” rafe steps away, knowing you only allow so much pda when you're at work.

it's one of the reasons rafe tried to convince you to quit many times, insisting you didn't need to work now that you had him, but you like picking up a few hours every week.

“what can i get you?” you ask, taking his hand in yours and tugging him towards the cart.

“another kiss.” rafe smiles. you roll your eyes and press a quick peck to his lips.

“and to drink?”

“gatorade, i guess.” rafe shrugs. “im also kinda tired from last night.”

you don't miss the wink that he gives you as you fish out his drink.

rafe grabs his wallet from his back pocket as you let out a groan, knowing what is to come, his tipping habits not changing one bit despite being together.

“what?” rafe says, handing you the large bill, knowing he'll take you shopping later to spend it. “i want to make sure you give better service to me than any of these old bastards.”

“speaking of service-” you get on your tiptoes and whisper into rafes ear. “meet me in the employee break room in 30?”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[loulovingho]

Fell asleep then woke back up still pissed, because:

Tim was clear when he decided on bi buck, Tommy was chosen on purpose. Someone who fit in with the team already and could fit in Buck’s life. It solved the outsider problem.

They wrote Chimney talking about how cool he was, made him and Eddie friends, had Eddie invite him to a virtual bday party, had Bobby give a huge stamp of approval saying Tommy was good for Buck, that he was good people. Made a big deal of the wedding/coming out scene.

They could have made this an off screen breakup at the beginning of season 8. Honestly, I would have accepted it better. But they brought Tommy back, showed again how he fit with Buck’s world. Showed there was no hostility between him and Eddie. They showed Tommy going above and beyond for Buck, sleeping on a couch with too small of a blanket, doting on him, staring at him with so much love, “breaking the curse,” etc.

I don’t buy Tommy’s lame excuse for breaking it off. That’s such crappy, high school writing. This man is 40 fucking years old, he’s six months into this relationship, and I’m supposed to believe he just suddenly decides he and Buck aren’t made to last? That Buck needs other partners? Please!

It also pisses me off that they had him get Buck basketball game tickets for their anniversary. He has got to know by now that Buck doesn’t actually like basketball. And why even have Abby be part of it at all? That was all part of the red string of fate theory, so it felt like an extra slap in the face to include it in their breakup.

The whole thing was so poorly executed, and it seems wrong that they had Oliver and Lou do a whole ass interview at the end of 7 to just… go nowhere in 8. Then have Lou do two exit interviews when he’s not a main anyway, so it feels worse to actually hear from him (especially when he seems as genuinely confused as we do).

They should have had it be some random guy. They shouldn’t have made the effort to include Tommy as much as they did. They shouldn’t have mentioned wanting bucktommy to be like tarlos. Shouldn’t have mentioned getting Buck off his hamster wheel. They gave fucking Taylor more time than this, and she spent the majority of her screen time using Buck to further her career.

And someone, somewhere down the line could have made a statement to stop fucking harassing Lou, seeing as they’ve known for at least a few months that he was no “threat” to anyone or anything.

[notafunkiller]

she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

*

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

*

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

*

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

[verstappen-cult]

PETNAMES, M. VERSTAPPEN.

CONTENT WARNINGS. female reader, explicit content.

Max likes to call you schat or mijn liefje because you get all flustered every time he speaks Dutch. And says it with a playful smile on his face because he knows the effect that is going to have on you.

Max calls you sweatheart — this is probably the one he uses the most — when he’s teasing you or trying to make you forgive him for something he definitely didn’t do but you’re accusing him of nonetheless; of course he’s not going to ask, he will simply ask for your forgiveness. Also when he’s addressing you and asking something simple as “What would you like for dinner, sweetheart?” or something else like “I think you should use the green dress because it really brings out your eyes, sweetheart.”

Max calls you sweetie to annoy you — you don’t like it, so he makes sure to call you sweetie in front of your friends knowing that you would never call him out for it. But he likes seeing you plaster on a smile while leaning against him, your hand sneaking from behind to pinch him on the side. It hurts, but he likes riling you up too much to care.

Max calls you princess when feeling extra attentive and wants to give you everything. You could ask him to give you the moon and he will find a way to make that possible. It happens when you’re out in Monaco or exploring the different cities he has to travel to for work, most of the time. If he sees you looking at a purse for longer than a minute, he won’t hesitate to ask “Do you want that purse, princess?” and even when he’s carrying so many shopping bags that you think he will complain (he never does), Max still asks “You got everything you wanted, princess? We can keep looking if you want.”

Max calls you love or babe when you’re arguing and he’s stressed and tired and doesn’t want to keep fighting. He will try to calm you both down by saying something like “I’m going for a walk, love. Because I can’t keep doing this.” and he’d grab his keys and go for a walk until it’s safe enough to go back home. The first thing leaving his lips will be a “Hey, babe. Can we talk now?” and then you’d spend the whole night trying to make things right, making promises of communicate better.

Max calls you doll when he feels smitten and wants attention but doesn’t know how to ask for it. But you know what he wants because it is the only occasion he really uses it. It is said with a head held low and blushed cheeks “What you doing, doll?” and you’ll stop what you’re doing immediately, if it’s important you will move things aside to make room for him to cuddle next to you. Other times the word rolls from his mouth like a purr “You look pretty today, doll.” while rubbing his head against your arm like a cat.

Max calls you baby when he’s buried deep inside of you, feeling so good that the only words falling from his lips are praises followed by a baby, baby, baby. He says it desperate, when you are riding him and he wants to buck his hips up, but you told him to be a good boy and wait, and he wants to be good for you so badly. He says it breathless when your walls are squeezing the life out of his cock and your climax is approaching. He says it roughly, demanding, while pushing your head against the pillows and thrusting as deep as he can because “You will take what I give you, baby. If I say you can’t come, then you won’t, you understand?” He says it in a whisper when he’s making love to you, rolling his hips slowly as you feel tears streaming down your face because of how intense everything is, “You’re doing so good for me, baby. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Max Verstappen is an avid petname user, but would most definitely deny it if anyone were to ask him.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Gift from Madam Sylvi

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond wants to be a good husband. So he goes to the only person he can trust for education on the topic.

tags: heterosexual sex, cunnilingus (f!oral), readers first time for that, antiquated medieval views on sex & relationship styles, platonic Sylvi/Aemond relationship, he's a good man savannah

words: 2.4K

Ao3

-------------------------------⚔️-------------------------------

“I want to make her happy.”

Aemond rested with his head on Sylvi’s breast. The madam’s fingers combing through his long silver tresses. Lulling him to just the borderline of sleep, and this heart felt confession.

“Your lady wife?” He hummed in acknowledgement. His marriage to the lady had been recent and tactical. It was a marriage for allies, not love. Still, his chosen spouse was a much better candidate than that moon eyed doe from the braying buck they had originally tried to bind him too. His now wife was much prettier, sharper, sweeter. She didn’t seem afraid of him, although cautious like any two people amongst strangers. They were trying to get to know each other. But with a war going on there was not much time for long strolls or quite evenings of conversation. Or whatever it was that newlyweds did.

“Well, I think, the fact that you want to make her happy is an excellent start your grace.” Sylvi told him. “Most women don’t even get that much effort in a lifetime.”

“I do not want an ‘effort’. I want to do it.” Aemond had always been a man of results. She should know that by now.

He curled further down to rest his head in her lap now. Fully clothed, and him with his breeches still on. Since his marriage, his visit to the Street of Silk had been infrequent and always like this. He felt…wrong laying with another woman when he had a sweet wife at home in his chambers waiting for him. Aemond wasn’t sure how his brother or other men did it. How cheap was their cost of loyalty if it could be swayed with just a little cunny?

No, he came to Sylvi for something else. Comfort. And advice. He certainly couldn’t ask anyone else on how to be a good husband. His brother would laugh at him, and also was probably only a good candidate on what to not do as a husband. His mother would tell him something about duty. Criston hadn’t and couldn’t take a wife. So, who was he to ask, except the woman who traded in love for a living?

“Well, listening to them helps. Finding out what they like. What they don’t like.” The madam’s fingers in the prince’s hair stop. “Your grace…do you mean to make your wife happy…entirely.” The prince’s long body curled up further into itself. Small as it would go. “Is that what this is about then? You want to make her happy that way.”

“I don’t think she likes it.”

Sylvi chuckled softly. “Most first timers do not. I’m sure you were gentle with her. You were always gentle with me.” Her hands resume stroking his hair. “But you’re worried she won’t like you if she doesn’t like it.” He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders make some manner of motion next to her knee stating the affirmative.

“Does she say no when you ask her?”

Aemond shook his head.

“Does she fight you?”

Aemond shook his head again.

“Why do you think she doesn’t like it?”

He paused, then finally answered. “She does not make the noises like they do.” ‘They’ being Sylvi’s girls. ‘The noises’ being the faint orchestra of pleasure heard just outside the curtain and over the music.

The madam laughed. “Yes, well, they are paid to make the noises, my prince. Just because a woman makes those noises does not always mean she is truly feeling them.” Aemond’s head turned up towards her. His good eye glittering daggers up at her as much as his sapphire. Clearly contemplating if all his sexual experiences in the past had also been a lie for coin. “But that does not mean you can’t make them real.” Sylvi added quickly. “A woman’s body and pleasure is more complex than that of a man. It takes a skilled hand and sharp mind to master it properly.”

The prince sat up from her lap. Sylvi’s heartbeat quickened as she wondered if perhaps her gambit to his ego hadn’t worked and she had suddenly, finally, crossed the line with him. “Show me.”

The fire hearth crackled a sweet tune in the background as you read for a bit before bed. A gift from Aemond.

You had been cautious in telling him you enjoyed reading, as not all men & lords liked their women educated, but he had taken the news quite well. Or you assumed well, as you were not beaten and instead presented with books.

Your new husband was much harder to read than these books, however. He was an enigma. Besides not being able to read his facial expression like most, due to his eye patch and also the fact that he hardly had any tell at all, he wasn’t the best conversationalist. You carried most of them between you, but the parts you could glean from what he offered back was that he was very smart, very dedicated, and that he liked apples. You made sure to have them in your shared quarters now at all times.

You wanted to be a good wife for your husband. It was all your life had been leading up to. As a lady, your duty was to marry well, give your husband children, and serve his house well with your talents for the next generation to past the torch. You never imagined that torch might be one made of dragon fire. Nor that the children you raised might be the crown jewel of the realm.

Your head perked up and your book closed when you heard the door open, and the sound of heavy boots follow in. You stand up to greet your husband, knowing it was him before you turned around and saw him. “Hello husband. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

He hummed in acknowledgement of your question. You do not ask where he has been. “Have you eaten?”

“I did.” You told him. “I had dinner with your mother.” The dowager queen seemed committed to making you feel welcome since your arrival and marriage. Perhaps it was because she was fond of you. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that she remembered what it was like to be a young woman alone in a strange place. In any event, you were glad for her company. “But if you haven’t eaten, I can call for something and sit with you?” Though you appreciated the former queen’s company, you suddenly wondered if you were supposed to wait for your husband.

Aemond shook his head. Then reached out to cup your cheek and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were cool from being outside, but quickly warm against yours. You moan a little. Still a bit shy in kissing a man when it had been forbidden to you for a long time, but unable to deny that you found great pleasure in Aemond. “I am not hungry for food.”

Your cheeks flush. Your eyes cascade down shyly. But you cannot help the smile that pursed against your lips. “Alright. Shall I call my maid to get me ready for bed?”

“I think I can manage.”

He took your hand and led you from the sitting room into the inner chambers of your bedroom. The torches unlit. Aemond preferred it that way as he liked to sleep in complete dark. The moonlight flickering through the curtains your only guide.

He does more than manage as he was able to get you out of your lacings and ties rather quickly. The fragile garment pieces are no match for those nimble fingers trained for years to peak dexterity. “Lay on the bed.” He told you. You were a little confused, as that was your intention, but you realized he meant on top of the bed. So, you did just that.

Feeling a little exposed, you watch Aemond undress as well; then feeling a little embarrassed at ogling but then realized if there was anyone you should ogle it was your husband. He climbed onto the bed and on top of you once he was naked. Your legs spread open for him. To give him space and access. You were familiar with this part by now, so knew the part you were expected to play by heart. But you were surprised when Aemond’s lips left from kissing you to down your neck, over your breasts, down your stomach…. “What are you doing?”

The prince stopped to look up at you. His chin hovering over your navel. “Just trust me.”

You did trust him. However, this was not how you were instructed on how love making was supposed to go. How was he to give you children when his thing was all the way down there? You were suddenly a little nervous, remembering some of the stories, not fit for virgin ears that had still made their way to you, of husbands who humiliated their wives in all manner of ways in the bedroom. You didn’t think Aemond would that too you, but you hadn’t known each other that long. Still, you lay prone and let him go on with whatever he was doing.

His kisses continue. Down your stomach to the seam where it met your maidenhood. Your whole body flushed when he kissed your mound. Squirming at the feel of hot breath on your most sensitive parts. This was….odd. This was wrong.

Aemond seemed to sense your distress and held your legs still & open for him. He looked up your body at you, not saying anything, before he dipped his head down again and licked at your center. A jolt shot through your body, and you could see now why he was holding you. It felt odd. Wrong. His tongue brushed against you again and this time it tickled. A giggle bubble out of your mouth at the feeling before you tried to squirm out from under him again, before the ticklish feeling gave way to something more.

Your body felt warm as his tongue continued to lap at your core. As if his tongue were actual tongues of fire, licking white hot heat in little pin pricks and cracks of flame over your skin. “A-Aemond..s-stop…this isn’t…this isn’t….hn!” Your back bent unbeckoned as his tongue slithered inside you. Where his cock should be. That was the only suitable thing that was supposed to be inside you. Or at least that was what you were taught.

You began to pant as Aemond’s tongue lashing continued. Coiling inside you. Slinking back out to tease just your entrance. Toying with your nub like it was a marble or piece of hard candy in his mouth.

Your fists grip the fine bedding under you. White knuckled to match the white-hot heat inside of you. “A-Aemond….Aemond stop! S-Something is happening…!” Something felt like it was building inside you. It felt similar to the feeling of you were about to fall, and you were scared that you were going to fall off the bed, or fall through it, or…something! You didn’t know what was going to happen but you knew it was going to happen if Aemond kept going.

“Aemond please…please….mmmhm…I can’t…I’m scared…Aemond I….Aemond!”

The feeling of falling consumes you. Your body still while your mind tumbled through the darkness to a bright white light before landing in stars. When it fell back into your head, in the space fit for it in your body, your limbs felt heavy and weak. Your mind supple. What just happened?

The prince lifted from his position between your legs. Politely closed them for you. Then came to the head of the bed to lay beside you amongst the pillows. His hand wiping at his mouth along the way. “What was that?”

“A gift for you.” His eye watched you. Looking at you in a way as if for some kind of tell. “Did you not like it?”

“No. I mean….yes. I don’t know…” The experience had left your world much changed. You didn’t like it at first, but you didn’t not like it. You were confused yet enamored and still a bit tingly all over. “Where did you learn that from?”

“A friend.” That was his only answer, before he reached out and touched your cheek.

You know enough about men to not ask where they get their sordid information from. Men liked to pretend they didn’t gossip as much as ladies, but that wasn’t true. Instead, you just coiled your cheek into his hand affectionately and turned to face him side-by-side. “Shall we…I mean…did you want to…the regular way?”

“Hmm…not tonight.”

He leaned in and kissed the top of your forehead. You were surprised. You thought all men wanted to lay with their women once the sun went down. But perhaps that was another assumption you had been told. You could feel Aemond’s persistence against your thigh, however, when he wrapped himself around you under the covers. You asked him again, but again he said not tonight and seemed to fall asleep behind you not long after that.

You stayed awake a little longer. Focused on making out the cracks in the stone through the dark as your mind was reeling. Trying to make sense of what happened.

On the one hand it had been…wonderful. Confusing to be sure, but now that the shock was wearing off you realized how incredible of a feeling it had been. But why didn’t Aemond want anything in return? Why give you a ‘gift’ if he didn’t want anything in return? When he didn’t have to give you anything in the first place? You were his wife. It was your wifely duty to lie with your husband. And it wasn’t as if it was a chore like other ladies described. Did he not find you satisfactory? Surely not. Otherwise, why give you a ‘gift’?

Your mind kept reeling, until eventually the carousel in your mind slowed down as it refocused not on the stone but the breathing at your back, and you eventually fell asleep. Perhaps it was just best not to question a gift when offered. You were just happy you had a husband who was interested in making you happy. Most women don’t even get that much effort in a lifetime.

[tpwk-formula1]

Hiii, can I please order a Thin Crust with red sauce, olives, salami, kielbasa. As for drink, I would have a pink lemonade, and truly, I also want desserts. With Franco Colapinto (hope it isn't too much)

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" salami "Such a little cum slut" kielbasa "A preschooler is better behaved than you are" pink lemonade degrading kink truly belly bulge served by Franco Colapinto

Franco x Albon! reader

TW - rough sex, belly bulge, riding cock, face fucking, squirting, cum swallowing

WC 785

Y/N POV

"Franco," I hiss when he was finally able to get me into his driver's room.

"Stop fucking talking to the other drivers," Franco snaps after having caught me talking to Lando and George after quilifying had finished.

"Franco I have know those guys since I was a child. They've been there for my brother for as long as I can remember," I hiss before France is pushing me against the wall behind me and pulling me in for a rough kiss.

"Stop being so insecure. Carmen and I are friends I would never fucking do that to her and quite frankly Lando is like another brother to me," I snap at Franco when he doesn't say anything but still doesn't let me up from the wall.

"A preschooler is better behaved than you are," Franco snaps clearly pissed off at me calling him out.

"Shut up Franco," I snap back at him which had him quickly pushing me down on my knees where he's yanking down his fireproofs that were already sitting on his hips while making sure to drag his briefs with them.

"Suck it now," Franco snapped making me whimper before I open my mouth and let Franco shove his cock down my throat.

I gag around his cock trying to push his hips back but with my head against the wall, there's not much room for me to move.

"Fuck, I love watching you cry when my cock is buried in your throat," Franco groans making me whimper and close my eyes submitting to the face fucking.

"Get up," Franco snaps while pulling my hair and leading me to the couch in the corner of his room where he sits down and starts stripping off the little summer dress I had thrown on.

He roughly starts rubbing his fingers through my folds feeling all over wetness that has been dripping drop my pussy.

"Fucking whore," Franco laughs before pulling me into his lap and pushing my hips down filling my pussy with his thick cock.

"Franco," I moan when I'm fully seated on his cock. I let Franco grip onto my hips and bounce me on my cock using my pussy like I was just another toy for him to use.

"Look," Franco says while pushing my head down letting me see the bulge he had created in my tummy from his thick cock.

"Franco," I gasp when my mind finally processes that Franco is so big that he can leave a small bulge in my tummy.

I can see the cocky smirk written across Franco's face making me whine.

"I fucking love destroying you for anyone else," Franco tells me when I throw my head back feeling the fast-approaching orgasm.

"Go on, cum for me," Franco says when he feels me clenching around his cock. I instantly start cumming all over Franco even squirting a bit of my pleasure onto his stomach.

"Such a good little cum slut," Franco says while helping ride out my orgasm before he roughly pulls me off his cock and shoves me back onto my knees where he roughly takes my messy hair into his hands and pushes his cock into my mouth.

While I'm bobbing my head on Franco's cock I can feel him bucking up into my throat to match my strokes before he starts cumming down my throat in a loud shout.

"Fuck, swallow every last bit. NOW!" Franco says roughly while holding my head down to make sure I swallow everything before he's softly slipping out of my throat, and pulling me back into his lap.

"Fuck you did so good for me," Franco says still out of breath from his orgasm.

"So good," I mumble softly not wanting to talk too loud since my throat was quite sore.

"But Franco, you have to realize I grew up around a lot of these guys, I promise nothing will ever happen between me and any of them," I tell him softly while stroking his hair in a calming manner.

"I know, it's just hard knowing I came in mid-season and you've grown up with some of them meaning they know you more than I do," Franco replies making me smile.

"Well they've had years to try and win me over, you came in a month ago and managed to wiggle your way into my life, nothing to be worried about," I tell him softly before kissing his lips again.

"But if you're gonna be fucking me that good every time I talk to another driver, I might just start having to flirt around a bit more," I tell Franco with a smirk making him slap my ass as a warning.

[alchemistc]

There's been something about the woobification of Buck that's been sitting on the tip of my tongue for weeks now, and I think I've finally figured it out.

This is, of course, mostly in reference to the moral outrage about a decade-ish (give or take) age gap between two adult men and the infantalization of one said grown man, so all the puritanism isn't really coming from a place of good faith anyway, but here's the thing that's been bugging me that I couldn't quite put a finger on until now.

Buck has people he goes to for certain things. He has, what are in his mind, experts in the field for most of the things he can't think through on his own, that he goes to for a sounding board.

He went to Hen to talk through the sperm donor dilemma for a few reasons that made sense to him. 1) She's a mom. She has very much had to deal with the reality of 'giving up' children she considered her own. Buck is aware that he would be giving up something that could mean something to him, and he wants to talk to someone who has some insight into that. 2) She's dealt with IVF. She knows the risks, she knows the trials and tribulations, she knows about this thing that he is thinking about agreeing to be a part of so she's going to have a fuller grasp on the enormity of everything this process entails.

And they drink about it. Hen gives him what she can and cautions him where she thinks she should and they continue to talk about it and regardless of what SHE thinks, he makes his mind up in part because he got to talk to his Expert.

Bobby is often his go to when he feels like he's losing his grip on things. He's seen Bobby staring down the bottom of the bottle. He's seen the work he's done to pull himself back into the world, and he's seen the way he fights for his family, his people. Buck leans on him in times of questioning himself because he knows Bobby has pulled himself off the ledge with bleeding hands and a bleeding heart.

He reaches out to Maddie about interpersonal shit constantly. We see it all the way back in S2 when he's starting to question what the hell he's still doing in Abby's apartment, and that never really changes. She's the one with advice for him when he's angry with his parents, upset with the firefam, worried about his friends, or just generally concerned with the way he's perceived by people or how he perceives the world. He goes to her when he's embarrassed, ashamed, because he knows she won't judge him for it. She'll call him out, for sure, but she's not going to look at him differently when she knows he's done something he considers bad behavior.

When he goes to her during the Tommy arc, he's there for one reason he'll admit, and another she has to ferret out. 1) He lied to his best friend and he doesn't know why. 2) Oh yeah he went on a date with a dude that's not strange WHY IS THAT STRANGE I'VE ALWAYS BEEN AN ALLY PLEASE DON'T PULL BACK THE CURTAIN - and Maddie is there with two things: 1) It's not weird but it IS new and something you clearly haven't worked through all the way which is why 2) you'll tell Eddie when you're ready

And Eddie is sort of his go-to to bounce ideas off of. Eddie is his Buck expert. Eddie is the guy who can sort through all the bullshit and who sees Buck for exactly who he is, every time, regardless of what Buck himself is thinking. Eddie is his best friend, and he knows the good the bad and the ugly better than anyone else. He is also, quite frankly, the one Buck seeks out to help him contextualize all of his romantic feelings for people. Eddie's the guy he talks to when he's interested in someone, when he's falling for someone, he's the guy through which Buck filters his love interests into the firefam. I do the same shit with my best friend. It's instinct to want the person you consider the expert on you to meet the person you are interested in, it's instinct to want them to like each other, to get along. Buck knows Eddie loves him (in whatever way you see that love, Buck knows Eddie loves him) and he wants this person who loves him to be at least an active listener as he talks himself through the minefield of relationships. I do also think that up until the events of season seven, Buck considers Eddie sort of an expert on that traditional love-marriage-kids-white-picket-fence relationship Buck thinks he's striving for - in a very naive way, because obviously the wasn't what Eddie and Shannon had and Buck knows that, but he's probably fed some of Eddie's rose colored reminiscences back into that notion.

When he comes out to Eddie he's got two worries. 1) I lied to you and I figured out why but I'm still a little worried you think it's weird and 2) I screwed it up with someone I really like and I don't know where to go from here.

And Eddie (Buck expert) reassures him that just because it's new and unexpected doesn't make it strange, that it doesn't change anything in their friendship. And then he gets right to the heart of it - if you like him you should reach out and tell him that. He doesn't know you like we do but if you give him the chance to, he'll love you as much as we do. If he doesn't give it the same shot you want to he's the idiot.

With all that context in mind, Buck isn't seeking out Tommy's attention because he wants an authority figure, or someone to take care of him, someone to guide him through sex or love or relationship dynamics or any of the other random shit I've seen ppl infantalizing Buck about.

What he's looking for, and what he ultimately tells Tommy he'd like to pursue, is a partnership. Someone to walk (or more likely for Buck, speedrun) through experiences together. The Athena to his Bobby, the Chim to his Maddie, the Karen to his Hen.

So every time I see someone infantalizing Buck for seeking out a relationship with an older man for X or Y reason, I'm just like - no. He has Bobby, Hen, Maddie, Eddie, Chim etc for that. He doesn't want or need Tommy for that. He is a grown ass man who has built these strong relationships with his peers and his mentors and he is so fucking aware of that because he reaches for their help any time he feels the urge for a helping hand.

So yeah, Tommy's older. Yes, Tommy has more experience with his sexuality than Buck. And that - that's really it. Buck's been in the same career for more than half a decade. He's lived on his own since he was no older than 19/20. He's had serious relationships, he has a rich and fulfilling life. There is no power imbalance in the relationship between Buck and Tommy.

And while the age gap may be a bit of a draw for Buck, it's not WHY he's attracted to Tommy. We know because he's told Maddie. He's cool. He's interesting. He's confident. He has a cleft.

Buck isn't going into this waiting for someone older and more experienced to take the fucking reins. He felt like he clicked with Tommy, like there was an immediate connection, and yes, Tommy had to kiss him about it for Buck to actually figure out what it was he was experiencing, but from that point on it was all on Buck (and the people he leans on for advice) to help him sort through.

Tommy didn't do shit other than pump the brakes and try to give Buck the space he thought he needed to decide what he was ready for. Buck (again, with the help of his experts - Maddie for the emotional piece of it, Eddie for the Buck of it all) did the work on his own. Tommy didn't swoop in and overbearingly hold his hand through a sexual awakening. He kissed him, asked him out, realized he wasn't ready, stepped back and then checked in multiple times when Buck came back at it going 120 miles an hour.

And then he did everything he could to prove to Buck he wanted the same thing - a partner, someone to talk to, and lean on, and flirt with and rely on to show up whenever they could feasibly manage it (and sometimes when it's a little unfeasible too).

The narrative even acknowledges that Buck had no reason to go to Bobby in this scenario, when he often would, and lays out exactly why.

Within the canon of this particular arc, we're meant to see this as Buck realizing he has the experience necessary to think these things through on his own. This is Buck finally taking control of something that's always felt like it fell into his lap a bit. This is Buck doing more than treading water until his legs give out.

And minimizing that growth bc you personally don't like the LI he's pursuing is gross at best. At worst it's something much more insidious.

[0-therw-0-rldly]

I’ll preface this by saying I’m not really a shipper. I just enjoy canon couples on TV Series/films.

Terms I’d like B*ddies to remove from their vocabulary because they don’t know how to use them correctly:

Media literacy: For a group that uses this term a lot you sure do misinterpret everything in this show.

Queerbaiting: Going to expand on this one. A show that’s already been pre established for having queer characters simply cannot queerbait.

Ship baiting: While sometimes you can argue that they could be doing that, that’s only if you look at the show in a very biased manner. You might think this is the case but the general audience doesn’t think the way you do.

Ship war: This isn’t a one tree hill situation where there was Team Brooke Vs. Team Peyton where the middle guy (Lucas Scott) had canonically been with both women. This is people not understanding fanon vs. canon and not being able to just watch the show. It’s like playing quarterback on Madden and thinking you could be better than Patrick Mahomes.

Plot device: everything’s a plot device. Move tf on.

Predator: You sound like crazy MAGA supporters calling everything regarding the LGBTQIA+ community as predatory. Sit down.

Co-parenting: I know this is a big one and discourse was brought up during the hiatus. Oliver and Ryan have loosely mentioned this years ago but it was never to be taken this seriously. Do y’all even know what co-parenting is or are you that big of a donut? Buck is someone who loves his best friend deeply and by extension, his kid too. Him taking care of him frequently does not make him a co-parent. Maybe he is a parental or uncle figure, but he isn’t a co-parent. Also, I swear y’all need to learn how a will works. He is a GODPARENT, not a GUARDIAN. Stfu.

Hag: This especially applies to women, but to say that someone 25-30+ is a hag for still being in fandoms or enjoying tv shows/films is inherently misogynistic. Men are never held to this much criticism for enjoying fictional media, but women aren’t allowed to?

Queer Coding: people of the same sex “looking at each other”, hugging, or having intimate moments all together doesn’t make them queer coded. It could mean that they just love each other that deeply platonically. While representation is amazing and just because you interpret a character as queer coded (just like my ship baiting comment) doesn’t mean others interpret it that way as well. In addition, network TV has stipulations, and also actors are allowed to decline storylines. Ryan has mentioned his character is heterosexual an abundance of times which means (at least for now) that he isn’t willing to go for this storyline.

Dead naming: Y’all construing the fact that Buck wants people like coworkers and some of his former love interests, to saying Evan is his dead name is inherently transphobic because do you even understand what a dead name is? Evan Buckley is shown as being fine with being called Evan by both Tommy and his sister. I’m pretty sure some of his love interests have called him Evan as well.

Fetishizing: You guys saw two hot guys who “looked at each other” and for 6 seasons have wanted nothing but to see those two make out with each other. Those of us who enjoy Tevan saw Buck giddy at the thought of Tommy and have wanted domestic fluff for them since.

Anything to do with racism, homophobia, and misogyny: I’ve seen the way you guys have conveniently weaponized Henren and by extension Aisha/Tracie when you didn’t get the Ryan/Oliver interview, don’t try to act like you’re morally superior. Not to mention wanting a canonically gay man to die in a show and not even holding those who use your ship name to write CSA fics accountable because you’re petty and want to throw hissy fits. Anyone looking at your comments as an outsider would think you’re homophobes and yes queer people can be homophobic.

I do hope you can expand your vocabulary. 🤍

[momotonescreaming]

Buck’s schedule hadn’t lined up with Tommy’s in weeks, and he was slowly giving up all pretences about pretending he didn’t miss his boyfriend as much as he did.

They texted and called when they could, stealing away moments of time, but it never felt like enough. Their phone calls always cut short by the ringing of the station’s alarms, texts going unanswered for hours as one of them sleeps off a shift shift, or is stuck on shift while the other’s finally on a 48 off. Orbiting around each other without ever coming closer. Magnets being held apart.

As much as it sucked — Tommy got it. He understood the job, the shift work, the fact that there’s not much they can do until their shifts line up better. It’s not something either of them can control, even as much as they want to. They can’t redo both their stations entire schedules, just so they have a day off to finally spend time together. There’s no passive aggressive comments, no simmering resentment. Tommy knows how much this job means to Buck, and Buck knows how much it means to his boyfriend in return.

It just sucks.

So when Buck knew Tommy was sleeping, or on shift up in the skies — he decided to leave him a voice message. Propping his phone up on the bench next to him as he cooked or did the dishes. Resting next to him while he folded his laundry. Pressing record, and then just talking.

Telling Tommy about anything and everything. What sort of calls they went on, how Eddie and Hen and Chimney are going, what his latest research deep dive is. What he’s planning to cook for dinner and how badly he wishes Tommy was there for it. He’d gotten used to cooking for two. Buck enjoys cooking for those he loves — and despite the fact that he and Tommy haven’t said that word to each other yet, love — he finds he enjoys cooking for Tommy most of all.

He tells Tommy how he misses cooking for him, misses him always, but even more so now. He misses spending time with him, whether they go out on a date or back to one of their places. Misses his crinkly smile and warm gaze as he looks at Buck, the way it takes over his whole face. His thick hands and calloused fingers, the way he holds his hand. Unabashed and unashamed as they walk together, gently squeezing Buck’s hand to show he’s listening. He misses being able to hold him, to kiss him, sweet and slow.

The recording ends up being a lot longer than Buck thought it would, having a lot to say once he opened the floodgates — but he’s not nervous as he sends it to Tommy. To his boyfriend, whom he knows misses him just as much. He likes it when Buck talks, likes listening to him — he’s told him as much — and encourages him with questions and thoughtful hums when Buck really gets going. Why would it be any different when it’s Tommy he’s talking about?

Buck’s in the middle of shift when he gets a response, feeling his phone vibrate in his uniform pocket.  It’s a voice message.

He hesitates, blood thrumming in his veins, vibrating under his skin. He’s still not nervous. Buck just doesn’t know if he wants to sneak away, find a quiet corner to pull his phone out and listen right then and there — or if he wants to wait until he’s back at the loft. Alone, in the quiet, where no one can interrupt. Just him, and the sound of Tommy’s voice.

Tommy’s voice would be a balm on his aching heart, something to soothe just how much he misses him. He wants it now, wants it immediately, but he also wants to keep it to himself. Something just for the two of them. Buck’s complained about how much it sucks, to Eddie, and Hen, and to everyone around the station table as they eat. He just didn’t tell anyone about his sappy message.

So he waits. Finds himself almost shaking with anticipation the whole drive home, vibrating in the driver’s seat of the Jeep. Practically sprints the way up to his apartment. Shuts the front door behind him, drops his bag, and pulls out his phone. Puts it on full volume and presses play.

“Evan,” Tommy’s voice greets him, soft and sweet and Buck feels himself melt at the sound of his voice. At the sound of him saying his name. “What a surprise, although I can’t say I’m complaining hearing your voice like that. It’s been far too long.”

A pause, and Buck sits down on the couch as he listens to Tommy take a breath. Soften his voice even further, drop it down an octave and lower in volume. “I miss you too. So much.”

And Tommy talks. His own voice memo is shorter than Buck’s, but it doesn’t bother him any. He likes that about Tommy, how considerate he is with his words. The way he pauses before he speaks, really taking in his thoughts and the best way to get them out of his mouth. It’s another way he’s taking care of Buck.

Buck, who lays on the couch, horrifically smitten smile on his face, listening to the rest of Tommy’s message.

He asks questions about some of the things Buck told him in his previous message, makes comments and a couple of jokes. That achingly familiar dry humour. Buck’s heart squeezes at the proof that Tommy had in fact, listened to the whole thing. Focused enough to have questions to ask.

Tommy tells him about Harbour, about the work he’s been doing on the chopper and how he’s been thinking of refreshing his plane pilot training. How studying would be so much easier with him there, soaking up knowledge and fun facts up like a sponge.

Tommy goes quiet again, in the recording, and all he can hear is the sound of faint rustling. He takes a breath, and speaks again. A little nervous, a little unsure, voice soft as he speaks directly to Buck.

And so Buck listens to his boyfriend say how much he notices his absence, how his weeks just aren’t the same anymore, even after so little time dating. How his house feels so much emptier with just him in it. How his heart aches for him.

Tommy misses him.

How maybe, after his next shift, does he want to head over to Tommy’s house instead? If they can steal away an hour or two in the other’s arms, why wouldn’t they take it? If they both miss each other enough that their hearts are aching, why the hell are they keeping themselves apart?

So Buck decides, right then and there, that he’s finally going to use that key Tommy gave him. When his next shift is over, instead of dragging himself into the cold emptiness of his loft — he’s going to Tommy’s.

[highvern]

The Boy is Mine

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings:  weed/alcohol consumption, exhibitionism, marking, oral sex, creampie, cum eating, jealous!reader, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, pussy whipped hoshi

Length: ~ 5.5k

Note: dedicated to @the-boy-meets-evil bc she likes to yell at me about this couple. also @gyuswhore beta reading this despite our divorce

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f], Talk [a, f, s], Casual [a, s, f], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

You won’t admit it under anything short of waterboarding but sometimes there’s a sharp sense of worry Soonyoung will inevitably ditch you for someone that shits rainbows like he does. The type of girl that probably deserves the infinite patience he treats you with because she can use big girl words to communicate her feelings rather than pretend they don’t exist or allude to them in vague shows of affection you pretend aren’t happening.

Weeks of exclusivity and you still don’t let him kiss you in public because the thought of anyone seeing those feelings you can’t name play out is terrifying. You aren’t embarrassed of him, he touches you plenty, hangs around like a shadow following your every move. You like him, he likes you. Even with the mess of your brain he’s made it clear you have nothing to worry about but that ounce of doubt always lingers.

The girl attempting to chat Soonyoung up against the wall sparks that feeling. 

He looks fine as you left him. Nodding to her questions, no rush to be anywhere else. He isn’t rude without provision, and to expect it from him is asking for a change to the core of his being. But it’s times like these you wish you liked him less so you wouldn’t worry more.

But you don’t have anything to worry about. Soonyoung asked for exclusivity weeks ago. He isn’t your boyfriend, the word physically makes your skin crawl to think about, but the expectation is there. You’re exclusive. It wasn’t an explicit directive for himself but it’s physically impossible for him to even be entertaining anyone else. There isn’t enough time in the day unless a high quality clone is running around somewhere out there. Soonyoung spends more time at your apartment than his own and when he’s not at your place he’s working. And even then, he’s texting you how much he loves the after school kids at the dance studio.

So you keep silently repeating the affirmations that there's nothing for you to worry about while pouring another drink. It’d be better to look away and not subject yourself to torture but then you’d miss little miss sunshine closing the space between them and signing her own death warrant. 

You know the dance well. Pretend to be coy, maintain a step too close to be polite, try to sneak in a casual touch and read the vibe from there. Blondie barely manages to lift a hand before you drop the half full cup of ice and liquor in favor of shouldering through whoever blindly wanders into your war path. 

Soonyoung catches your approach, smiling over the stranger's head like he’s missed you for longer than the five minutes you’ve been absent for another drink. You’d warm under it like a flower in the sun if murder wasn’t such a tempting thought. 

He catches your waist the second you’re in his orbit, a reflex. But what he isn’t ready for is your mouth on his with such unprecedented vigor for a public setting. 

The kiss tastes like cheap beer and his weed pen but you don’t care. Your only concern is making sure whatever-her-name is has a front row seat to how much he wants you, and how bad her odds are at convincing him otherwise. You don’t tease for access to his mouth, prefering to licking against his bottom lip with enough tongue to make his hips buck like he’s in the privacy of your room and not pinned to the wall during a house party.

With a steel willpower, you manage to pull away; if only to smirk at the disgust on her face at the vulgarity. But not before biting at his lower lip, pulling until it pops out from between your teeth. Soonyoung might pass out from that alone.

"Oh,” you announce like you had no idea someone was watching from only a foot away. She’s red in the face, shocked and horrored as you bare your teeth and push your cheek up to Soonyoung’s mouth for a series of wandering kisses. “And you are?"

An indignant hmph! and whirl of blonde hair announces her retreat.

"Who was she?" you ask, dodging his attempt for a repeat.

He takes it in stride, tongue tracing across your pulse like no one is watching. "Who?" 

"That girl,” you sigh. 

"What girl?” 

"Don't play stupid, she was flirting with you." 

“Didn’t notice," he mumbles into your jaw.

It isn’t much but the words bubble across your skin. The tightness in your jaw melts a fraction, allowing you to indulge in more touching. More of him. Soonyoung is always ready to play where you’re concerned; a weight on your thigh proves it. You press into it in hopes she is still watching from across the room.

Serves her right if she is. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

“Wait.” Sooyoung pulls back, mouth agape. “Is that why you kissed me? You were jealous?”

He reads you too easily for comfort. “Shut up.”

“Oh my god,” he squeals. You’re tangled in his arms, suctioned to his chest while he rubs the tip of his nose across yours. “You are.”

“Don’t make it weird.” 

You’re pouting but Soonyoung is weak for it and lets you go without interrogation because his next kiss lands right on the curve of your lower lip. “You just stuck your hand down my pants because some girl breathed in my direction and I’m making it weird?”

“I’m leaving.”

You barely manage to turn away before he’s got you in his arms. “No, you’re not. Come here.” 

He drags you over to the table his friends managed to snag, planting you firmly in his lap without a care. An invitation you couldn’t refuse if you tried. It’s not unusual for you two to be attached at the hip. But the difference this time is that Soonyoung keeps kissing you. Your skin burns under his lips, mouth finding whatever part of you he can reach; shoulder, cheek, the back of your hand. Nothing can stop him now that he’s got permission, not even his friends watching in disgust over a game of cards.

It’s nicer than anticipated.

“Three fours.”

A few shifts across Soonyoung’s crotch under the guise of getting more comfortable is all it takes for a firm pressure to rise against your ass once again. He has no shame in how easy he folds; likes you knowing what you do to him with some PG grinding in front of an audience; what you can anticipate later away from prying eyes. 

“Bullshit,” you argue, eying the stack of fours in your hand.

Wonwoo picks up the pile, grumbling the entire time. 

The hand on your thigh flies a little too close to the sun as you continue playing, the others unaware that you're naked under your skirt and Soonyoung just figured it out. 

The ghost of his fingertips through your folds shivers up your spine. He inhales sharply. “Babe.”

“Hmmm?” you smile, nipping at his ear. Another press and he’s teasing your entrance like no one's watching. You clamp your thighs to stop him from mindlessly starting something neither of you are strong enough to stop. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re—”

“I’m?” you trail off, looking back to your hand and throwing more cards down. “Two nines.”

“Bullshit,” Jun calls.

“Suck it.” You flip over the same two cards, a pair of nines greeting everyone’s view. It’s a good distraction from what Soonyoung is doing under the edge of the table. How he sweats around his collar and goes pink.

He doesn’t shy away from your clit swelling under weak circles. The brief thought of him fingering you to a boneless end right here crosses your mind, both of you fighting to keep quiet. But you’re sober enough to see the downfall of that particular idea.

As Jun collects the new stack of cards, you lean closer to Soonyoung’s ear. “Tell them you aren’t feeling well.”

“I’m not feeling well,” he parrots immediately. Curious glances shoot his way, estimating if he’s that drunk or if it’s something else. More likely calculating how far they can run before he starts planting drunk kisses on their cheeks.

Knowing looks from around the table watch you slap a hand to his forehead. “Oh no, baby, you’re heating up. Let’s get you some air.”

No one will believe it, not with the way his fingers shine in the dim light when they surface from under your skirt. But none are brave enough to say anything to your face. 

You usher Soonyoung away from the table and towards the hallway where you can hide away for his sake. His friends don’t need to know what you look like when he fingers you into gooey submission.

Wonwoo’s voice hits your back, not even pretending to whisper. “Thirty bucks they fuck in the bathroom.”

“Dude come on,” Jun responds. “Fifty bucks they fuck in someone’s room.”

“Thank fucking god its not one of ours this time.”

“At least you don’t share a wall with him. Did you know he lets her—”

You’re well out of earshot for the rest of their not so secret conversation. Soonyoung latches to your back without concern, eager to find out whatever you have planned.

You peek into a few rooms, distracted by a pair of lips following the slope of your shoulder. A bathroom won’t do and the next room is already occupied, door locked tight. Just as you fear your options are running out, the final door at the end of the hall reveals an empty bed. When you spot the framed photo on the dresser, you realize it's too perfect to go to waste.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Sooyoung groans, knee parting your legs as he forces you back against the door. “Should make you jealous more often.”

A hand up your skirt sets to work immediately, taking advantage of the lack of undergarments and teasing your entrance. He’s good at quick fucks where you’re not supposed to. Knows exactly how to work you into a panting mess with embarrassing ease.

"If you ever,” you gasp from a delicious scissor of his fingers. “Try to make me jealous, I will rip your balls off.”

He presses in a third finger like a branding iron. “Hot.” 

You snake your own grip over his zipper to provide something better than your thigh for him to grind against. Fucking against the door for anyone happening to stumble is alluring. But for what you have planned, the bed is a more convenient option. 

“Bed,” you demand. Soonyoung goes with a gentle shove, tripping over his own feet to keep you in his hold. His hand stays attached, fingers curling inside you without missing a beat.

You suck at his pulse, teeth razing against the skin with the sole purpose of marking him as yours. His hips kick enthusiastically in response. “Fuck, babe.”

He likes when you bite him; when you bruise a mark into his skin to find later. Enjoys the sting of your nails across his back when he fucks you limp into the mattress and vice versa. Soonyoung’s favorite thing to wear is evidence of you on his body. Even if he blushes when you point it out, he never complains. 

A swatch of red and purple framed by teeth marks blooms after you lean away and your insides throb at the sight. It’ll be a pain come tomorrow when he needs to go into the sweltering heat of the studio. But you want it to serve as a warning to anyone who takes a second glance in his direction. 

He’s yours.

Soonyoung wouldn’t splinter away so easily but it’s the first time you’ve felt anything like this. The nagging voice in the back of your head: jealous and possessive. Because now you’ve got something you’d care to lose.

“Want you,” you groan, forcing him onto the edge of the mattress and commanding his lap like a throne. Another bite at his neck, hard enough he winces and shutters through the initial sting but doesn’t shy away. “Wanna ride you.”

You clench around his fingers, the wet noise of your arousal a disgusting backing track to your kissing. This might be enough to make you cum but it isn’t the point. 

“You wanna fuck me?”

His forehead sweats. The initial evidence of a blush spreads across his neck, probably from booze but also the way you rock into his fingers like they’re soaking his cock. “God, yes. But here?”

“Yeah, here.” One hand abandons the grip you have on his shirt, aiming straight for his zipper and slipping beneath the fabric for a teasing squeeze. The fist in his hair is less forgiving when he doesn’t answer. 

“What if we get caught?”

“We won’t,” you coo. Soonyoung knows that tone. It’s the one you use when your sadistic streak is running hot and he can’t fathom refusing whatever you’ve got planned. “I want you.”

Dropping further in his lap, you guide the ridge of his cock to your clit, a messy mix of precum and your essence that makes you both blush brighter. 

“Does that feel good?”

He responds with a shaky “yeah.” His other hand, the one not knuckle deep in your pussy, gropes your ass, forcing your skirt further up your waist so he can watch himself stain the pink of your folds white. The good thing about fucking Soonyoung is he’s too weak not to give into whatever you want.

It’s good for you too. The press of his dick where it technically shouldn’t be; not without a condom. You’ve got half a mind to fuck him like this, using his cock to play with yourself until the sick feeling of his cum between your legs follows you out the door.

“Shit,” Soonyoung grunts.

Your teeth tease along his neck, another mark he’ll need to cover up rising to the surface.“What?” 

“Feels good,” he gasps, rolling into the firmness of your core with untamed need.

“Can you come like this? Cover my pussy in cum?” 

You struggle to stay even for the same reasons he does: you really want to feel him on your skin. 

“Fuck, yes.” He goes taunt, the pace of your fist growing rabid. His voice is broken, a rough edge under your mercy. “Gonna come.”

“Don’t.” You rut into him again; the slippery feel more tempting than you’d admit. 

“Please—” he whines at the next upstroke of your fist. “I’ll get you off too. I promise. Then we can fuck at home.”

“Or…you can fuck me now.”

Soonyoung cries at the offer. “I don’t have a condom.”

“That’s okay.”

“You mean…” Soonyoung eyes you with something like wonder. As if you’re a living goddess sitting in his lap and he has no idea how you got there. “Seriously?”

“I wanna feel you come inside me, baby.”

“Don’t tease me right now.”

“I mean, unless you don’t want—”

He doesn’t let you finish, flipping you on your back and shouldering between your legs without a word. Rough hands force your skirt up around your waist so he can taste you.

“Oh my god.” You roll into his eager tongue, fingers twisting into the short strands of hair to guide him just right. As if Soonyoung needs it after so many months of dedication to your pleasure. 

Your own fingers pinch across your chest, sharp pain you arch into for more. Soonyoung’s rubs you until your back stiffens; a harsh suck of his mouth making you warm all over.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to come inside you,” he grunts with a wet slide against your clit.

“Yeah?” you goad. “Want everyone to see it drip down my leg? Let ‘em know who fucks me this good?”

He responds with a pained groan, a telltale sign he’s touching himself to the thought. 

You're running on borrowed time in someone else’s room and can’t remember if either of you thought to lock the door. If you’re caught, you might as well make the shame worth it.

“Come here,” you beck, catching your own taste on his mouth. 

He rolls to the side without much direction, eager to have you back on top. “Take your shirt off.”

“No. I’m not getting caught with my tits out.” He humps between your legs, shoving his pants down far enough they’re a nonissue. “Is that really what gets you off?”

“You’ve got nice tits. Everyone should know.”

“Perv.” You suck at his earlobe.

“You’re the one that never wears panties but a little bit of nipple is a problem?”

You abandoned the grip in his hair to pinch his cheeks tight, lips puckered for your next kiss. “Yeah, at least you’re friends don’t have to see you sucking on my tits at the table.”

Soonyoung lurches again, nestled tight at your entrance. A simple tease, the head of his cock and nothing more. 

“Oh fuck,” he grunts. 

It’s pathetic to moan with such little contact but you can’t help it. He’s fucking hot. You fumble for his face, bringing him back into a kiss as he presses through the initial stretch. It’s a snug fit even with his fingers earlier.

There’s no time to play with him; torture him with slow descent, taking inch by inch. Instead, you bottom out with a silent promise that next time you’ll take all the time in the world.

He’s flush between your thighs with a little more movement; a sensation you’re accustomed to except now there’s nothing in between. It’s a good feeling. A great feeling. You’ve never let anyone have you like this; unabashedly bare, only for him. Soonyoung doesn’t have many of your firsts but he’s got the ones that carry the most weight. 

You sink a little deeper, gut caving. “Holy shit.”

Soonyoung’s head rolls back. “Stop that.”

“What?” Another squeeze, mold your insides to his shape, makes him whine.

You can see it. In the furrow of his brow. The twitch of his jaw. How frantic he is to stop you from dragging across his lap. Soonyoung could spend forever in your pussy and never grow accustomed to it. There’s no shame in his adoration either. If you don't want him to cum for hours then he’ll go insane to feed that hunger. You love it; revel in the flattery. But tonight, you crave to reap the benefits of his short fuse.

“Gimme a second,” he pleads. 

You give him exactly one and then grab for his hand, forcing it to rub at your clit as you start a shaky cadence in his lap. There’s a glow where his cock rests; nestled deeper after he starts thrusting up inside you on every downstroke.

Defiance floods to replace the desperation you felt before. Defying who is the real question. Soonyoung who’s begging for an inch of relief? Or defying the girl who started this whole thing out in the living room? Maybe it's less about ignoring rules and more about proving a point. 

You’re the one that gets to have him like this, you’re the one that gets to sit in his lap whenever you please, the person he cuddles up to at night and whispers secrets that will fade to dust come morning. It’s you at the beginning of the day and way past when the moon rises over the horizon. And he’s that for you. Now it’s time to prove it to an invisible audience who’ll never know.

“Tell me how it feels,” you demand, nails biting into his wrist.

He watches the contact with glassy eyes, refusing to blink lest he miss a single second.  “Tight. Wet. Oh my god. Wanna feel you come on me.”

You whine into the next upstroke, muscles shaking. Your insides feel used and dirty already. Back arching, Soonyoung mouths at your chest over the fabric over top as you focus on the sweet grind.

Soonyoung isn’t a cocky lover, he’s a submissive one. Likes to be taken care of; directed and praised for being a good boy who knows how to treat you well.

But you want him to be. Maybe it’s toxic but the itch to make him just as insane as you felt seeing that girl flirt with him is too hard to ignore.

A hand on his throat is what finally makes him look away from where he disappears inside you. Breathing hitching when you provide a gentle squeeze before asking, “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“Me,” he pants without missing a beat. 

“That's right. So fuck it like you own it.”

Soonyoung flips you underneath him, hips driving with unrestrained force at your command. He pulls you down to the edge of the bed, thrusting back inside without hesitation; forcing your ankles on his shoulders, flexibility stretched to the limit when he leans down to suck at your tongue.

“Fuck me, god yes,” you keen. You lay pliant; eager to take whatever Soonyoung will give when he’s a slave to his own pleasure. “You’re so big, might—ugh—break me in half.”

“So fucking tight,” he moans. His thrusts are sloppy, lost of the thought of your heat dragging against his cock. The fact he’s not just fucking you raw but gets to fuck his cum into you too makes anything beyond release an afterthought. 

“Fuck me harder,” you demand with your nails in his chest.

He drops a knee on the bed, using the leverage to press deeper; verging on that sweeter pain you crave.

“Oh—fuck. I’m cumming,” he groans into your neck. 

“Give it to me, wanna feel it,” you beg, nails scratching down his spine. “Please.” 

His warmth floods your insides and you clench tight around the feeling. Worn, used. Stretched out perfectly from Soonyoung’s cock. You feel like jelly even without the buzz of your own orgasm.

Soonyoung lands a sweet kiss to your pulse. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was hot,” you pant. “God.”

“Soonyoung, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“Nope. Get off me.” You pretend to struggle underneath his weight, not enough for him to actually go anywhere but he flattens you into the mattress until you give up. “You’re so gross.”

“Babe,” he coos. “Be nice to me.”

“Be nice to me,” you mock. “I let you come inside me, how much nicer can I get?”

He kisses you, hips giving a languid roll to remind you he’s a dancer and can fuck like one even after spilling his load inside you. You shiver from the thought of another round with his spend as lube.

It’s a short lived fantasy. 

Soonyoung slips down your front, mouth cataloging your skin in sweltering passes. As his fingers replace his cock to prevent leaking onto the blanket neither of you are responsible for cleaning. Even worn from a hard fuck, you suck his fingers in, ready for more.

“Gonna keep it all right here for me, yeah?” He gawks at the reveal of his fingers, rapt attention on the lewd sheen.

You ignore the question in favor of goading him. “Take a picture.”

“What?” 

“I said take a picture,” you tempt him again, legs spreading wider, presenting the blush of your cunt for his inspection.

He eyes it wonder, fingers tracing through without concern for your sanity. “Seriously?” 

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” He’s got his phone in hand in a flash, recording the streaks of white staining your folds. “Now that is a pretty pussy.”

“Wow, it’s only pretty now because you came in it?”

Soonyoung ignores the dig. His fingers glide through the mess, fingering it back inside. “Push it out for me.”

He snaps a few more pictures for you both to drool over later before abandoning his phone on the floor and getting his mouth back on you. His tongue circles your clit, groaning at the combination of fluids. No one has ever come inside you, which means no one has ever eaten their cum out of you. The deprived flare in your gut is one you’ll always associate with him.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, breaking under the curve of his digits between your worn walls. More violent shudders under the gentle passes of his mouth against your clit. Hopefully he’ll do this again next time in the privacy of your room; where he can lick you clean and spit the mess in your mouth for your own taste. “If you keep fingering me like that you’ll need to fuck me again.”

He takes the challenge for what it is, rubbing harshly on your inner walls, monitoring for tell tale signs. Sweat at your thighs, stomach dipping deep. The warmth in your veins flares dangerously.

“Stop that,” you grunt. He stops under the squeeze of your pussy, and has the nerve to pout.

“What?” he asks. The innocence is fake. Soonyoung found that spot long ago and it’s his favorite plaything when neither of you have a place to be and dirty sex is on the table.

“I’m not squirting in some strangers room, you freak.”

More firm grinds of his fingers against your g-spot, reveling in the clench of your jaw and how you get wetter. “Getting cummed in is better?”

“Keep doing that and you’ll never do it again.”

“You wouldn’t.” He knows you would. First hand experience when you locked him out of his own bathroom and moaned from the heavy flow of the faucet over your clit while he cried at the door after tried his hand at edging you. Or the times you’ve called him just to moan in his ear at the most inappropriate times because you felt like it.

“Try me. Don’t think I forgot about those cuffs in your dresser.” You force the hem of your top out of the way, tits on display just to torture him. “Now hurry up before someone catches us.”

Soonyoung wants to talk back but he won’t threaten his new privileges for some short lived satisfaction. He’s smart like that.

Tight suction on your clit has your eyes rolling, vision flared white. “F-fuck. That’s so good, baby. Just like that.”

You moan loud enough someone has definitely deduced what's happening in this corner of the house but you don’t care. Not with the laps at your core, or how he leans back to spit on it, adding to the mess. 

With a firm tongue, he rockets you into the abyss.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you chant.

He doesn’t stop. Not until your thighs tighten and hips buck into his waiting mouth, fingers deep to the hilt. You coil around the sparks in your veins. A gut punch to your nerves that’s more vicious thanks to the sick slide of his cum still lubing your insides.

“Oh my god, you’re a freak,” you mutter. Soonyoung already back to kissing, heady with your taste.

He indulges you with more touching, soft massaging up the back of your legs as you melt into the mattress. “Where are your panties?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Because,” he mumbles into your thigh. “I’m not paying the fine from Uber for getting cum on the seat. Now hand them over.” 

You pull them from your pocket with an eye roll and force them into his chest. You weren’t kidding about walking outside with his cum dripping down your leg but Soonyoung’s need for a modicum of public decency wins.

He shimmies the fabric up your legs before landing a kiss right over the crotch. “I will be back for you later.”

“You’re so lame,” you laugh. 

He sits up, chasing the sound until it fizzes across his tongue. A lazy makeout blooms between you. Even after everything, you still want each other. 

Cock soaked in his lap, it’s presented like a gift for you and you only. You slip down to the carpet, on your knees as he stands over you.  “Can you cum again? For me?”

“I think so y-yeah—shit.” He chokes on another moan when you squeeze him in a tight hold.

The wet suck of your mouth on his cock is close to torture, nerves fried from all you’ve put him through tonight. The familiar taste of cum and your pussy, two things you’ve licked from his skin frequently but never together, greets you. Makes sense why he’d want more of it.

You don’t ease him into anything. Grip tight, you jerk him into the bobbing rhythm of your head, curving him down the back of your throat with ease. 

“Fuuuck,” he grunts. A hand comes to the back of your head, forcing you down until you choke. Soonyoung is more than familiar with your limits. Challenges them frequently but this isn’t one of those times. He’s giving you the exact treatment you love: fucking your throat raw.

His cum leaks across your tongue, growing thicker until he throbs with a weak spurt. 

Leaning back, you suck down air greedily. “Good?”

Soonyoung bends at the waist to savor the warmth of your lips against his. He pulls you back on the mattress for cuddling without concern for his cock laying out in the open.

Typical. 

“I can’t feel my legs,” he says. 

“Wow, twins,” you jest. “C’mon lets get out of here before someone comes looking.”

As soon as you say it someone knocks at the door like the police, thunderous raps against the wood that dislodges you from his hold and onto the floor.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!” a shrill voice calls from behind the door coupled with a jiggle of the doorknob.

At least it’s locked.

“Uh oh,” you laugh. “Times up.”

Rushing to right your clothes, your thighs stick together from the tacky mess Soonyoung’s worked between them. Looks like everyone might see his cum on your leg after all.

Soonyoung is in shambles. A blushing sweating sight with a throat covered in bruises and lips swollen. There's a wet stain on his crotch from who knows what. You can’t possibly look any better but there’s nowhere to hide. Not with the subject of your revenge waiting.

When you open the door Blondie fumes on the other side. “Why the fuck—”

“My boyfriend wasn’t feeling well,” you smile. There’s cum at the corner of your mouth, thick and drying. You swipe a finger through it suck it away just to fuck with her. “Sorry.”

She gapes over your shoulder, finding your newly minted boyfriend she’d been flirting with thirty minutes earlier staring like a deer in headlights. Serves her right.  

Before she can rip your throat out, you snatch Soonyoung’s hand and pull him towards the exit.

“Oh my god,” you pant in the cool air of the street. “I thought she was gonna kill me.”

It’s quieter out here. The gentle woosh of the city takes over, tires rushing over raid soaked pavement and drunk laughter further up the road. 

Soonyoung is quiet next to you. Appraising you with hesitant curiosity as he speaks. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, preparing for rejection. “Got a problem with it?”

“No,” Soonyoung shakes his head with a squeeze to your fingers interlaced with his. “Just…gimme a second.”

“Oka—”

He turns around, arms thrown wide before bellowing, “YESSSSSSSSSS.”

A few lights come on, windows filled with the silhouettes of angry neighbors yelling back their discontent at the noise of Soonyoung’s cheers. 

He turns around with a proud smile you can’t help mimic.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m cool.”

“Mmmm,” you hum in agreement, next thought silenced by a sweet kiss from your boyfriend.

It’s a short trip home. The silence of the car provides room to dwell on the new developments of the night.

If Sooyoung is your boyfriend, then, by default, you’re his girlfriend. The idea is foreign and still makes your skin crawl but when you work through that layer of instinctual rejection, it’s actually nice. 

Soonyoung tugs you into his orbit before you can get your keys out. "Just so you know, you really don’t have anything to be jealous about. I haven’t looked at another woman since the day we met." 

"Thank you?" 

"I'm just saying, I really like you. Like, really like you.” he pauses to tangle his arms around your waist so you can’t shy away from the confession. “But if this is how you act everytime you're jealous I wouldn't be mad." 

“Awwww,” you gush, booping him on the noise with a smile like knives. “Make me jealous again and I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“Let's go upstairs and you can smother me with something else.”

“Freak.”

“Be nice to your boyfriend,” he chastises.

“My freak?”

His face softens, still glowing at the corners but something like fondness shines through. “Much better.”

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[holylulusworld]

Their girl

Summary: Your boss doesn’t even know your name. This doesn’t keep his guests from finding interest in you.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Shy!Reader x Mobster!Steve Rogers

Warnings: shy reader, tension, awkwardness, fluff, polyamory, love-struck mobsters

A/N: The sequel no one expected to get.

Catch up here: The nameless girl

True to their words, Steve and Bucky stood in front of your apartment the next evening.

They prepared everything for your date while you spent the better part of the day looking for a new job.

This couldn’t be real. And you believed they wanted to make fun of you by inviting you for dinner like one of the beautiful girls from the club. 

“Hello doll,” Bucky lazily leaned in your door frame. He offered a bouquet of daisies to you and called you a pretty mouse.

“Sweet mouse,” Steve grinned and offered a single red rose to you, “you look…stunning.” They both looked dashing in their expensive suits, and polished shoes. 

“I-sorry. I’m not ready yet and…” you nervously babbled. Still, in your oversized Peanuts shirt and sweatpants, you looked ridiculous next to them. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Why?” Bucky furrowed his brows. He looked a little hurt at your words. “Why’d you think we would not keep our word and come here to court you.”

“I,” you dropped your gaze, afraid you angered the two of them. “Men like you don’t usually pay attention to someone like me. I’m shy, meek, and a grey mouse in contrast to the dancers at the club.”

“Doll,” Bucky pushed the flowers in Steve’s hands so he could cup your face with both hands. “If we say we want to take you out,” he leaned closer to look you deep in the eyes. “We mean what we say. We want to take you out. Not one of the girls at the club nor anyone else.”

You sniffled and murmured an apology. It was strange to you that two men tried to get your attention. Life taught you that most men only like a pretty façade.

Many guys you met didn’t care if a girl was selfish, dumb, or had the worst character as long as they were pretty enough to get their attention. 

“Y/N don’t apologize. I know we can be a bit overwhelming and intense,” Steve smirked when your eyes darted toward him. “Buck, tell her how much we like her.”

“Very much,” Bucky purred your name. He swiped his thumb over your lower lip only to groan deeply when you licked over his thumb and lightly sucked on it. “Fuck, Stevie. We got a dirty little mouse here.”

“Oh?” Steve watched you look at his friend like you were in a trance. “She’s such a cute surprise. Who would've thought we’d find our queen among all those boring girls.”

Bucky pecked your temple, making you sigh at the slightest touch of his lips. “We got lucky,” he said. “She’s one in a million.”

Steve chuckled at his friend’s eagerness. “How about we invite you for dinner at our home, Y/N. You can wear your cute shirt and sweatpants. We can have a sleepover and have dinner at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“We also got a job offer for you, doll,” Bucky whispered against your temple. “We got a free position in our organization.”

“Buck, that was a surprise!” Steve tutted but smirked when your eyes lit up. Losing your job at Clint’s club got you into trouble. Your landlord wants his money on time, not weeks or months later. “What do you say, doll? Do you want to come with us?”

“No.”

“No?” Bucky backpaddled at your answer. He looked you up and down, wondering if he misheard. “Did you say no?”

You took a deep breath and gathered all the courage you could muster and looked Bucky straight in the eyes. 

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Mr. Barnes,” you confidentially said, even though, your voice trembled, “but you are still strangers to me. I cannot go with you, to a place I don’t know. I’m shy, not crazy.”

“Aw, she’s even cuter than I thought,” Steve chuckled at your little outburst. “You’re right, Y/N. We will wait outside of your apartment for you to get ready like gentlemen. Please excuse our forwardness.”

“Steve and I will take you out for dinner and drive you back home. We can talk about the job offer on our way to the restaurant. Only if you want to, of course,” Bucky pouted and held out his hand. “Please don’t leave us hanging.”

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself and closed the door behind you, exhaling deeply. Your knees shook, but you were also proud of yourself for standing up against Steve and Bucky.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, smirking for a second before they chuckled. 

“She’s so cute when mad,” Bucky laughed. “God, it makes me wild imagining her squirming underneath me while I take her apart. She will whimper my name and beg me to fill her up and breed her. But not before I ate her sweet cunt.”

Steve laughed. “You’re a horny dog.”

“Says the man running around with a boner since he laid eyes on our sweet mouse,” Bucky bit back. “I hope you know I’ll have her first. She will melt in my arms.”

“I hope you know Y/N is not like the other girls you easily wrapped around your fingers.”

“I know,” the brunette smirked. “That’s what I like about her, Steve. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that things would be different with Y/N. It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Phew, you got it bad for her,” Steve whistled.

“You are no better,” Bucky snickered. “I know you want to make her ours. Do not deny it. You’re in too deep yourself.”

Both men waited patiently for you to join them outside of your apartment. They offered their arm to you, acting like gentlemen while guiding you toward their car.

The ride toward the restaurant was both, exciting and a little scary. You got into a car with two strangers promising to make you their queen.

Steve held the door to the restaurant open for you while Bucky guided you inside.

“You’ll love the restaurant,” Bucky said as he pulled the chair for you. “Did I already tell you that you look beautiful tonight, doll?”

“Thank you,” you stammered. You didn’t know if he meant what he said. Your sky-blue mini-dress was far from elegant. While all the other women at the restaurant looked like they came straight out of a fashion magazine, you felt underdressed. “It’s new…”

“I like that color on you,” Steve cupped your chin with one hand to tilt your head. “It’s cute and sweet.” You gasped feeling his lips press against the corner of your mouth. “Just like you.”

Bucky’s features darkened when you leaned into his friend’s touch.

“Shall we eat, doll?” He pulled a chair for you, making your heart flutter. “Steve was right, Y/N. You look beautiful in your dress. Did you buy it only for us?”

You giggled and dropped your gaze. “No,” you lied. “I bought it some weeks ago.”

“Aw, our doll believes she can lie to us, Buck,” Steve flashed you a stunning smile. “We know that you wanted to look pretty for us, Y/N. It’s not a bad thing you want to impress us. We did the same. Bucky spent two hours in his closet to find the perfect suit only to drive to town and buy a new one.”

“Steve did the same,” Bucky grabbed a chair and moved it closer to your seat. “He just likes to make everyone believe he looks good in everything without effort, including a potato sack.”

Steve grinned and ran one hand down his chest. “I’d rock that potato sack, Barnes. You know that.”

“I bet you would,” you murmured while eyeing Steve. He looked damn good in his suit and knew it. Men like him and Bucky always know how handsome they are. “You’re both very handsome.”

“Baby, you don’t have to stroke Steve’s ego,” Bucky moved his hand to your thigh to tickle your skin. “It’s already over the top. How about you stroke mine.”

“I think yours is over the top too,” you replied and gave him a tiny smirk before clearing your throat. “So…can we talk about the job now? You got me fired last night.”

“Straight to the point. I like it,” Steve grabbed the remaining chair and moved closer to yours too. He sat down only to place his hand on your other thigh. “We need someone to take care of our paperwork for our more legal business.”

“We need someone we can trust. Steve and I are rather bored when doing office work. You on the other hand have a lot of experience,” Bucky toyed with the hem of your dress while telling you more about the position you always dreamed of.

“How do you know about my work experience?”

“Baby doll, we are enchanted by you. This doesn’t mean we let a wolf in sheep’s clothing inside the inner circle of our business.” Steve pressed a soft kiss to your neck, making you sigh. “If you want the job, it’s yours.”

Bucky mirrored his partner. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lips nipping at the soft skin. “Oh, and the best is. You can bang your bosses…”

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