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luv-lock · 2 months ago

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— DICK GRAYSON IS YOUR COWORKER ☆⁠

Coworker Dick who flirts with everyone in the office but only wants you. He’s all winks and easy smiles, the golden boy who makes even the most boring meetings bearable—but it’s you he always circles back to. You, who gets the first coffee he picks up in the morning. You, who gets his dumb little notes scribbled onto reports with “you looked good today” in the margins. You, who catches the way his fingers twitch every time you brush past him, like he’s aching to touch you but knows better than to do it where someone else might see.

Coworker Dick who thought he was normal before you. He thought he had a decent work-life balance, that he could function like a regular person. But now? Now he can’t go five minutes without thinking about you. His whole fucking day revolves around you—watching the clock, waiting for lunch breaks, finding any excuse to be near you.

Coworker Dick who jerks off to the thought of you in the office bathroom. It’s pathetic, shameful, but he can’t stop. All it takes is a glance at you—the way your lips part slightly when you’re focused, the way your nails tap against the desk, the scent of your perfume lingering when you walk past him— and he’s hard. So fucking hard, sitting there at his desk, trying to focus on emails when all he can think about is you.

Coworker Dick who sits in a stall, biting his fist, stroking himself fast and desperate, whispering your name. He pictures your thighs wrapped around his head, your hand gripping his hair, your voice telling him how good he is. And when he comes, messy and quick, muffling his groans into his sleeve— he’s already aching for more. Already fixing his tie, washing his hands, stepping back into the office with a flushed face and a new plan to get you alone.

Coworker Dick who turns into such a needy wreck the second you let him have you. One drunken work happy hour is all it takes—his mouth crashing onto yours in a dark booth, hands shaking as they slide under your skirt like he can’t believe this is real. And you let him. You let him drop to his knees right there, between your legs, breathless, whispering, “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you.” And when you guide him out of the bar and into a taxi, dragging him home like a stray puppy, he follows without hesitation.

Coworker Dick who doesn’t stop begging once you let him taste you. He eats you out like a man possessed, moaning like he’s the one getting off. Tongue sloppy, needy, greedy, pushing deep while he ruts against the mattress like some depraved thing, whimpering when you tug his hair. “Please—please let me make you come—” He’s gasping between sucks, his perfect lips shiny with spit and slick, shaking when you grind against his face and come all over his tongue. And even then, he doesn’t stop—just licks it all up, fucking obsessed with how you taste.

Coworker Dick who acts like nothing happened the next morning—except now, his texts are filthier. Thinking about you. Miss your taste. Can I see you tonight? Please?

Coworker Dick who can’t keep his hands off you at work. He’s insatiable, desperate for any excuse to touch you. A hand ghosting over your lower back as he leans in to “help” you with some spreadsheet bullshit. A knee pressing between your thighs under the desk during a meeting. Fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt just to feel. And when lunch rolls around, when everyone’s busy laughing and chatting in the break room—he’s already pulling you into the nearest bathroom stall, dropping to his knees like it’s a prayer."Please—fuck, I need it."

Coworker Dick who sobs into your cunt like a fucking starved man. His pretty, flushed face buried between your thighs, licking, sucking, devouring you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His tongue flicking your clit fast and messy, lips latching on like he’s kissing your mouth instead of your pussy. His moans vibrating against you, shameless and loud, muffled only by the wet suck of his mouth. And when you yank his hair, grind against his face, drench his chin— he fucking shakes, shuddering through his own untouched orgasm, just from eating you out.

Coworker Dick who follows you home every night now. He doesn’t even ask anymore—just shows up at your door, blue eyes wide, lip bitten, already half-hard in his slacks. And when you let him in, he strips in seconds, sprawling out on your bed, already panting like a bitch in heat.

Coworker Dick who lives to be fucked. "Please, I’ve been good," he whines, voice shaky, presenting himself to you like a gift. And you know what he wants—his favorite strap, thick and pink, the one that makes his pretty mouth go slack the second you lube it up. And when you push in, slow at first, letting him adjust—he’s already pushing back, already begging for more. "Harder, please—fuck me harder—"

And you give it to him. You pound him into the mattress, grip firm on his hips, dragging him back onto your strap with every thrust. He’s babbling, voice breaking with high, needy moans, body shaking as he takes it deeper, rougher, harder. His cock is leaking untouched, dripping, twitching, his stomach clenching every time you slam into him just right.

Coworker Dick who loses his fucking mind when you flip him over. You hoist his legs up, pinning him beneath you, thrusting deep while his eyes roll back, mouth open, whimpering like the pretty little plaything he is. His hands scrabble at your arms, his voice breaking when you finally fist his cock, jerking him hard and fast while you wreck him."Oh God—oh fuck—" He cums so fucking hard, ropes of it splattering his chest, his stomach, his chin, his whole body trembling under you, overstimulated and wrecked.

Coworker Dick who clings to you after. Face flushed, breathing heavy, curling into you, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your skin. You clean him up, stroke his hair, and he just sighs, content, needy, yours.

Coworker Dick who doesn’t care about labels."I’m not your boyfriend," he says one night, naked in your bed, still marked up from your nails, still bruised from your grip. "I don’t need to be. Just… use me whenever you want." And he means it. Every desperate inch of him.

Coworker Dick who gets jealous. He doesn’t mean to. He knows you’re not dating. But when he sees you laughing a little too much with someone else? When some guy from accounting puts a hand on your shoulder? It drives him fucking crazy. He won’t say anything—not out loud. But suddenly, he’s there. Right at your side. Interrupting conversations, finding reasons to steal you away. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Hand firm on your wrist, pulling you into an empty hallway, crowding you against the wall.

And when you smirk, when you tease, “Jealous, Grayson?” he groans, pressing against you, rutting his hard cock against your thigh. “What if I am?”

Coworker Dick who tries to be normal but fails. He texts you constantly now.At work:Miss you already. When’s lunch? You looked so fucking hot in that meeting. Couldn’t stop staring. At night:Can I come over? Please? I’ll be good. I’ll do anything.

Coworker Dick who always finds ways to mark you. He doesn’t like seeing you go to work without some reminder of him on your skin. Hickeys on your thighs, bruises on your hips, fingerprints on your waist where he held you too tight. He fucking lives for that shit. "Wear a skirt tomorrow," he murmurs after fucking you stupid, panting against your neck. “Want you thinking about me every time you cross your legs.”

Coworker Dick who wants you to ruin him completely. You can see it in his hungry, desperate eyes every time you push him down onto the bed. Every time you pull his hair, shove him onto his back, climb on top of him and ride him until he’s shaking."I’ll do anything for you," he whispers against your lips, aching, devoted, lost. And the worst part? He fucking means it.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

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bunny-jpeg · 11 months ago

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you had how many kids? (141 + more)

long post - sorry!

captain john price -

the first time price sank his cock into you. it was game over. you are probably going to end up with at least six kids running around a big piece of land in the center of the british isle. equal split between three girls and three boys. the price genes must be strong because they all look like spitting images of their father.

price loves his wife though, he just thinks you're the sweetest thing since honey. after you put the kids to bed and you're in your bedroom, your darling husband can't help but hold onto you by the hips and maybe rub up against you. your softness, so motherly. it almost makes his mouth water. he tries to convince you for baby number seven but you just tell him that there's no way that's happening. but price is a cunning man and maybe a few mind blowing orgasms will change your mind.

simon 'ghost' riley -

your daughter was an accident. it was simon's last night at home before he got deployed again. and he spent that entire night sunk into your sweet cunt. you'd find out a month into his deployment that you were pregnant. worried about telling him, you kept it to yourself. you were anxious about the news throwing him off his game and him getting hurt. he needed to come home alive.

when he came home, he made sure he treated his missus right. while the pregnancy was a bit of a shock, he made sure he made up for lost time. and while that often had you on your back. it almost meant being spoiled by your husband. your daughter was close to being the biggest the hospital had delivered. you two would be content with your daughter, who took mostly after you. but within five years she would be going around proclaiming that she was going to be a big sister!

john 'soap' mactavish -

oh johnny was a smart man. he knew what he wanted and he got it with ease. he wanted to take you back home, settle you down in a night place in edinburgh. he was thinking in the stockbridge neighbourhood, where you and him could raise your kids in peace. the first time he held you in a mating press he knew that he wanted to be the father to your (many) children. he'd take care of ya, never let the mother of his children be without. he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, a seal of his promise. you end up with two boys, only eleven months apart (the look you got from your doctor when she found out you were pregnant so soon). they were mactavish boys that was for sure. their father's dark hair and he winning smile.

johnny does want a daughter however, he imagined she'd be a spitting image of you. while he loved his boys, there was no question about that, he thought a daughter would complete your little family. curious eyes like yours, that beautiful smile. as he kissed your neck and dug his fingers into your soft hips. maybe he could convince you in a few years to try for one.

kyle 'gaz' garrick -

kyle never thought that he would've ever been a father. when he signed up for service, he didn't expect to be done with that role well beyond when it would be suitable to be a father. so your son was an accident. he could almost pinpoint the night of his conception. he was home from abroad and the two of you spent the entire night (and the following morning) becoming requited with your bodies. you giggled when he showed off his more toned muscles and his fingers got tangled in your hair. his dark eyes felt familiar, like home, under the soft light of your bedroom. The resulting time together produced his son.

you don't end up with a big family, while you two live in a decently sized home just outside the city he is content with it just being the three of you. he'd rather be the best parent to one then worse off to more. he was a good father to his son, proud of the little baby. even when he woke you both up at all hours of the night. it was life and kyle was happy. but when your son turned five, you had something to share with kyle. you were pregnant again. he had to admit, after that, the idea of having a few more kids wasn't a bad idea.

bonus! bonus! bonus!

phillip graves -

oh phillip wants a full house. he didn't buy that nice piece of land outside of houston for show. big yard, white picket fence, in a safe neighourhood (can't have you getting hurt!). he'd be living out his all american dream. so when you ended up pregnant five months after marriage with twins, he was beyond happy. he thought your pregnant body was beautiful, even well into your second trimester he was fucking that sweet cunt of yours. telling you how good of a mama you were.

phillip thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. even when the aches and pains of pregnancy come and go, he'd making sure that his wife is good. if he can't be around, he sends his shadows to make sure that you and the kiddos are alright. so expect a big, loving all american family. you'd never thought you'd be spending your twenties caring for almost five kids!

col. alejandro vargas -

alejandro wants you safe. and you being pregnant can cause some issues. it makes you a target, so you packed up your life and headed somewhere more quiet. most information about you was redacted from public and private records. he even went as far as to change your name and identification. it was for you, for him and for the daughter you eventually had. but despite that, when alejandro returned home. he was the shadow to your daughter. she knew who her daddy was. eventually when he can get out of the snare of the military, he was home. your little place in the middle of nowhere, he promised to protect you and your little bundle.

the times he visited while you were pregnant though. he loved to run his hands up and down your swollen middle. he smiled at you, almost proud of what he did to you. while you'd in the end have only your daughter, it was a complete home. and don't worry, after your daughter's birth he is more than willing to show how much he loved his sweet wife.

rodolfo "rudy" parra -

oh rudy, sweet rudy. he couldn't help himself. the first time you fucked, or rather made love, he knew he wanted to breed that pussy of yours. he was using a condom, but he could picture himself doing it bare backed. the feeling of your slippery cunt tight around him. nothing protecting you from accidents. he'd often daydream on his off time about the three kids you had. he had even picked names out for them, but he'd get your input on it as well. after all you were the beautiful woman who was carrying them. such a good wife to him.

he left the military when you got pregnant, as did you. life became less about the violent conflicts and more about raising your son. he was a quiet baby, and rudy adored him. he also adored his beautiful wife who worked so hard to give him his son. he reminded you of that often. you do end up with those three kids within a five year gap and rudy couldn't be happier.

könig-

oh, könig. he knew that you'd be carrying a big baby. like look at him, he towered over you and could easily bench you in your third trimester. so he wasn't expecting a whole army of children. one very large boy was enough for him. the 99th percentile. but he was there the entire time, he made sure that you were taken care of. he felt safe having his larger body up against yours, protecting it. he'd rub your belly with his large hand. even if you were very pregnant, you still were small compared to him.

he loves his son, obviously. the first time he held him, he almost cried. he was a father now. he had a wife and a child, a home to call his home and a place to feel safe. he was an attentive father, he was used to being up early. so you got to sleep in while he checked in on your son. he made sure to teach him german, english and a few of the other languages he had picked up. he was going to make sure his son knew all about the world. he was a proud father!

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zhelin-thames · 4 months ago

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Danny’s chaos with the Lantern Corps #2

Returning to Earth

[Danny Bragging to Tucker and Sam]

Danny: So, space was awesome. I made a rage monster angry, a blue alien complimented my “hope,” and Hal got so annoyed he almost quit. Tucker: Please tell me you took pictures. Danny: [grinning] I took selfies with their glowing rocks.

[Danny and the BatFam at Wayne Manor]

Dick: You were in space? You didn’t even tell us? Danny: It was kind of last-minute. Also, they didn’t have Wi-Fi. Tim: [snarky] That must’ve been so hard for you. Danny: It was tragic, Tim. Truly.

[Justice League Check-In Call]

Wonder Woman: I trust the Lanterns taught you discipline. Danny: [shrugs] I taught them how to chill out. Close enough. The Flash: Did you prank Hal? Danny: Oh, big time. Hal Jordan: [appears in the hologram, glaring] He called my ring a mood ring. Again. Danny: [grinning] Emotional support jewelry is what I said. Get it right.

[Batman’s Concern]

Batman: Did you cause any intergalactic incidents? Danny: …Define “incident.” Batman: [stares at him in silence] Danny: Fine. No. Happy? Hal Jordan: [interrupts over comms] He almost joined the Sinestro Corps! Danny: [smirking] Almost.

[Villains’ Reactions to Danny’s Space Adventures]

Lex Luthor: [watching news footage] The ghost boy now has space alliances? Preposterous. Joker: [laughing hysterically] He’s a ghost kid and an astronaut! What a riot! Black Manta: Did he mess with the Lanterns? Danny: [phases through the wall] Yup. And I made it out alive.

[The BatFam Dealing with Danny’s New Glow-Up]

Jason: So, what’s with the green sparkles? Danny: Oh, just some Lantern energy I might’ve borrowed. Damian: Borrowed or stole? Danny: [grinning] What’s the difference?

[Danny’s Lantern-Inspired Prank on Bruce]

Danny: [floating, glowing green with a makeshift construct of the Bat-Signal] Hey, Bats, look! I’m you! Bruce: [crosses arms] That’s not even remotely accurate. Danny: [laughing] Come on, Space Dad 2.0 thought it was funny!

[Justice League Final Note]

Martian Manhunter: The ghost child is unpredictable, but his intentions are noble. Hal Jordan: His intentions are chaos. Wonder Woman: Perhaps he needs guidance. Danny: [appears in the hologram] Or maybe the Justice League needs a ghost mascot. Batman: [pinching the bridge of his nose] This was a mistake.

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skauni · 9 months ago

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They Had The Wrong Traitor….

!!WARNINGS!!: Torture, Explicit Descriptions, Gained Trauma, No Happy Ending.

They didn’t know.

How were they SUPPOSED to know..?

Two months ago, Task Force 1-4-1 realized they had a traitor amongst themselves. Someone giving information about them to Shadow Company. They didn’t know who, until all signs started to point to you. Since then has been hell.

They tied you to a cold metal chair with ropes so tight they rubbed your ankles and wrists raw. You still remembered the day it started. Waking up with a splitting headache in the cold, dim lighted, concrete room. A table in front of you. On it you saw a hammer, pliers, a metal bat, sets of knives—even a damn corkscrew.

That first day was hell. You shrieked at the top of your lungs that you were innocent as your main tormentor, Ghost, broke your fingers slowly. Knuckle. By. Knuckle. When you still didn't confess he took the pliers and slowly ripped your nails from your broken and mangled fingers. Making you scream louder in agony.

The rest of the days blurred. Hardly any food or water; just barely enough to keep you alive. Every time a wound scarred they re-opened it. Soap held your jaw open today as Ghost slowly ripped out your teeth. Your voice long gone from hours of shrieking before this. No fight left in you when their radio's crackled to life. "Soap, Ghost, hall. Now." Price spoke. His voice sounded uneasy.

When they left you tilted your head forward. Letting the blood from your removed teeth drip slowly from your lips. It was painful to breathe. Bruised, cracked, and maybe even broken ribs and a broken nose they kept targeting so it never healed. A broken hand and forearm from three harsh strikes of the hammer. Several deep gashes from some of the knives Ghost used on you. A dislocated kneecap from being bashed in by the metal bat.

You couldn’t hear what they talked about out in the hall. But you knew it was something shocking based on the dead silence that came after Price’s muffled voice. In all honesty, over these two months, you started thinking it was your fault this happened to you. Thinking it was your fault you were framed; you just made yourself too easy a target to frame as the traitor.

You heard rushing feet and the sound of vomiting in the trash can down the hall. You guessed Gaz since you heard Soap ask Price something, you heard Price’s gruff grunt and Ghost’s Manchester accent as he swore under his breath. Your eyes fluttered in exhaustion but snapped open on instinct as you heard the door open again. They’d caught the real traitor, a newer recruit who had everyone wrapped around her finger.

Price had entered the room.

“I didn’t do it…” You whispered hoarsely. Your captain nodded. “I know, Y/N… I know…” he whispered softly. You flinched as he unsheathed his knife from its holster, he moved slowly as he cut your hands and legs free. He tried to pick you up but you cried out. He carefully set you back down and radioed for a few medics. They arrived a short while later as Price kept you awake to be sure you couldn’t slip away before everyone could apologize at the very least.

The medics came soon enough and moved you carefully onto a gurney so as to avoid shattering any bones further. They moved you to the med bay as fast as possible to get your wounds tended to and disinfected. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sat outside of the med bay as they listened to your agonized shrieks and whales of pain from the medics setting your already healing knuckles back in place.

It took a few hours after your corrective knee surgery for the boys to be allowed to finally see you. The medics said you’d be out for a few days so your body could regain a small bit of strength. None of the team wanted to leave your side. They all had set themselves up so they could sleep by the cot the medics placed you on. In and out, they would individually go on missions or go in pairs so two of them could still keep their eyes on you incase you woke up.

A few days turned into a few weeks. And you finally woke up. But not as easily as the team would have wished. A cold sweat soaking your forehead as you groaned in agony in your sleep until you woke up shrieking and tried to curl into yourself for comfort, only causing yourself more pain. The boys had to pin you down so the medic could inject the pain killer.

Through the times you were awake, you refused to let any of them remotely try to touch you. They could see it. The distance you put between yourself and them. The distrust in your eyes. The anger and hurt in your furrowed brow. You had trusted them with your life. And now you were beginning to think you should have never let your guard down. Not for one damn second. But a small part of you thought it was somehow your own fault…

Gaz spent the most time with you. No touching, just trying to get you to talk. Even if in anger. He was slowly piecing your trust in him back together bit by bit. When physical therapy came around you asked him to help you because your knee hurt too much to do it alone and the medic seemed busy with another soldier. The rest of the team saw this, beginning to hope they had a chance at forgiveness as well. They weren’t aware that you never forgave Gaz. You just trusted him enough to count him as a person you will let help you. Not a friend. And not a teammate. Not anymore.

Soap was the second to earn the right to help you, then Price not too long after that. Ghost… was a different story. All he did was glare at you, as if he still thought you were the traitor. To which you returned the hostility. He hadn’t let it show, but he was devastated. He wished he’d have never believed that false evidence. He couldn’t even look at you because all he saw was his work etched into your body. That was why he glared. It wasn’t meant for you, it was directed at his work that scarred your body.

When you could walk on your own without crutches, you went to Price in the break room where everyone was. Expression cold and dead serious as you handed him resignation papers. He froze. “You can’t… we need you on this team Y/N—“ he started but you cut him off. “Need? Or want me here because you loathe yourselves so much you need me to reassure you that you’re forgiven with my presence?” He staggered back. “I never forgave any of you.” You added.

“There isn’t a day we’ve woken up without regretting—“ he tried again. “You don’t get to play that card! Do you know how many times I woke up crying in agony from wounds that are already healed because of you four!? Oh, or how about the fact I can’t stand to be touched by ANYONE anymore!” You snapped back. “Y/N…” Price started to beg. “No. I hate you. All of you. For what you did to me. Don’t even contact me. If you have something to tell me, keep it to yourselves.”

The team was silent. You walked to your barracks and packed. Booked a flight back to your hometown. And walked out the doors of the base. Giving none of them the time of day to apologize or try to fix things between you and them. You hadn’t even told them you neglected to sleep most nights out of fear someone would come out of the shadows and beat you half to death again…

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flwrkid14 · 2 months ago

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Tim Drake Makes Horrible Life Decisions, and Gotham Suffers for It

So, picture this: you’re Damian Wayne. You’re in Gotham. You’re minding your own business, probably threatening someone, when suddenly—

Tim. Drake. Walks. Through. The. Door.

Which is crazy, because no one has seen him in almost a year. This man disappeared off the face of the earth after claiming their father was still alive (which, now they know he was right, but that doesn't mean he didn't sound insane at the time), and now, out of absolutely nowhere, he waltzes back in like nothing happened.

Which, okay, yay! They got the coordinates and were able to bring Bruce back! That's great! But instead of calling or even warning anyone that he was, in fact, still alive and making very questionable life choices, Tim just shows up at the Manor’s front door looking incredibly smug, dressed in some League-adjacent gear, and—oh yeah—carrying a mostly-conscious, Lazarus-green-glowing, very familiar-looking boy over his shoulder.

Cue everyone just staring.

And then:

"Hey guys," Tim says, completely casual. "This is Danyal. Damian’s clone. Also, my boyfriend. Try to be nice."

And that’s when Damian seriously considers violence.

Because, of course, the League of Assassins—those bastards—decided that when he was no longer fit to be the next Demon’s Head, they’d just cook up a clone. Enter Danyal, who apparently didn't last as long as they had hoped.

But the thing about throwing a perfectly good clone into the Lazarus Pit is that sometimes, instead of reviving someone the normal way, you accidentally create a half-ghost with existential issues and a penchant for property destruction.

Now, there’s a lot more to unpack here. But let’s break it down:

Tim is alive. No one even gets the chance to yell at him for ghosting (ha) them for nearly a year before—

He apparently blew up the league of assassins??? Which is the only acceptable reaction to discovering your feral ex-grandfather made a spare Damian, but still, a little warning would’ve been nice.

Tim kidnapped him. And then—because Tim is Tim—

Proceeded to date him.

Absolutely no one knows how to respond to this.

Jason is laughing his ass off. He thinks this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened. (He also immediately gives Danyal a noogie, because apparently all versions of Damian need to be bullied at least a little.)

Dick is concerned but also so relieved Tim is alive that he doesn’t know whether to hug him or strangle him.

Stephanie, Duke and Cass are just watching this play out like it's the best drama they've ever seen.

Alfred is probably the only one handling this with dignity. (Barely.)

Bruce looks at his returned son, then at the glowing clone, then back at Tim, and just sighs, because, honestly? He’s too tired for this.

Meanwhile, Damian—who has officially hit his limit and is barely recovering from his urge of violence—is just staring. Trying to process the fact that:

He has a clone.

That clone is now his older brother’s boyfriend.

Tim—who he hasn’t seen in a year—showed up out of nowhere, without warning, to drop this information on him like it’s normal.

"You kidnapped my clone." "Rescued," Tim corrects. "You kidnapped him, blew up the League, and then proceeded to date him." "What can I say? I’m efficient."

"I WAS GONE FOR A YEAR." Bruce finally explodes. "A YEAR. I COME BACK, AND NOW TIM HAS A CLONE OF DAMIAN AS HIS—HIS BOYFRIEND?!*"

"We prefer ‘genetic anomaly turned incredibly attractive disaster. Plus, a lot can happen in a year," Tim says, like that helps.

Danyal, barely recovering from the loopiness of the Lazarus Pit and sudden existential crisis, gives a lazy little wave. "Hi."

Now Gotham has two Damians (one ghostly and feral, the other just regular feral), Ra’s al Ghul has no viable heirs, and Bruce? Bruce wishes he were still dead.

Tim, meanwhile, is just happy his boyfriend’s getting some quality bonding time with his genetic source material.

The family cannot handle this.

#tim drake #danyal is danny fenton in case u didn't know #danny fenton #brain dead #dead tired #batfam #dc x dp #damian wayne #tim has a type and its people who should not exist

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months ago

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Always the bridesmaid never the bride

I'm not going to lie. I forgot if this was a prompt or a response to something I posted since I got it back before Thanksgiving. But if it's the former then:

Danny says this to Bruce at Clark and Lois' wedding. He is convinced Bruce is in love- or in lust, at the least- with Clark because the wealthy man constantly popped up at their office for important "business" and "private exclusive" interviews.

Now, Danny won't lie and say he's a better journalist than Clark or Lois- those two are the top two of the Daily Planet. There is a reason almost all Superman stories are covered by them- but he's darn good himself. After retiring from protecting his town from Ghosts, he's only ever used his powers scarcely, but they have helped him with a few articles here or there.

His career as a reporting journalist was mainly made by his ability to stumble across trouble alone! Danny had won awards for his articles. He has been included in a city time capsule project.

Danny got the scoop on Jason Todd being alive story way before everyone else. After realizing the boy was in witness protection, he hadn't even exposed it without speaking to Mr.Wayne first. The man was nothing like the tabloids had one believe. Danny found him a severely intelligent man with a deep love for his family and city. He just distracted people with his razzle and dazzle, hiding his beautiful soul in plain sight.

It had been an eye-opening conversation. The duo made a deal to wait until Jason was safe to be announced; Danny waited three whole months before he was greenlighted to release his story. Jason Todd had officially "returned" from the dead with an exclusive interview with Danny Fenton.

Danny honored and protected his dignity by writing a story that made the public love the returned young man. He hated reporters who only dragged people's names through the mud because that wasn't real investigation; that was just accepting the latest gossip on the streets.

Bruce was so grateful that Danny hadn't put his son in danger that he even gave Danny a business card that went to his home office!

And yeah, okay, Clark had Bruce's personal cellphone, but Danny just couldn't understand why the billionaire was so hung up on Clark Kent. It wasn't like the guy was Superman!

And maybe he was overly happy to find out Clark and Lois were an item. Sure that someone as good as Bruce, for all his facade of being a party boy who never grew up, would never chase a taken man. Danny had been right, too, because Bruce Wayne appeared less and less around the Daily Plant office.

It was.....sad not to see him, but Danny was a very busy journalist. He was grateful that the distraction had finally taken the hint and scurried off somewhere. What irked him in the following year and a half of Clark and Lois dating was how often Perry signed the two to cover Gotham News.

Mostly at one of Bruce Wayne's extravagant parties! Yeah, it was sort of cool that most of Bruce's parties were charity events. He had checked the numbers himself, finding that Bruce's efforts were honest and working to better his city. How many billionaires actually kept their word when wanting to be a philanthropist?

Of course, Danny had to write a piece on it. The people needed to see the positive change Bruce was making. Sometimes, it felt like people forgot how much he gave to the city. The article went viral, and people on the other side of the world were praising the good man Bruce.

Perry had given Danny a raise for it.

Clark had ruined that significant mark on his record by placing a wrap present on his desk with a wide grin. Apparently, the two had gone on a yacht trip together without Lois or Bruce's significant other. Whoever that was. "Bruce wanted me to give you this as a thanks."

Ugh, the smug asshole was just rubbing it in Danny's face that he was still friends with his ex. The present had been a shitty ship in a bottle that Danny had placed beside his writing awards in his living room. You know it would be a waste to just throw it out.

Or let it get dusty. Or not stare at and wonder if Bruce knew he liked pirate movies, so the fact he had a model replica of Captain Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl made for Danny was really no big deal.

Then Bruce came by the office after buying out the Daily Planet, giving Clark a month's vacation paid due to some "family emergency."

Danny had been worried about Ma Kent and Pa Kent- the pair had visited the Daily Planet and were the nicest people to ever walk the planet- so like the well-mannered man his mother raised, he had gone to the farm with some of his Dad's famous fudge. Only to find the Kents unaware there was an emergency in the family until Danny reminded them.

He had been a journalist long enough to call bull on their meaningful glances. Danny knew that neither Bruce nor Clark would dare cheat on Lois. They were both too good for something as sleazy as that- and honestly, Lois would kill them- but that didn't stop Bruce from obviously still carrying around a torch for Clark.

Which meant he gave him unfairly favorable treatment in the workplace. Ugh! Perry didn't even seem to care, stating that Bruce had signed their paychecks, and as long as he wasn't forcing Clark into anything harassment-worthy, Danny just had to deal with his coworkers having friends in high places.

That meant they got away with different things. He just had to suck it up and accept it.

But now, Clark and Lois tied the knot. Bruce had to back off. He would never overstep a friend's relationship like this. Danny might have seen him sneak a few glances at the dancing couple- not that he was staring at Bruce Wayne! But the man was one of the hottest topics to write about, and he never knew when a good story would pop up.

It was rather sad, really. How Bruce forced himself to come to a celebration of the man he loved marrying and choosing someone else. Danny had dedicated a drink to his heartbreak- from clear across the room.

He wasn't on a personal cellphone number basis with Bruce Wayne, let's allow a "Drink your broken heart sorrow away with me" basis. And maybe Danny had a few too many. Perhaps he lost count after realizing it was an open bar because, surprise surprise, Bruce was footing the drink bill for all guests.

Danny doesn't remember what made him think he could cross the room to Bruce or why he found the courage to point a finger in his face before slurring, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh Brucie?"

He does remember those piecing blue eyes locking him in place, brow folding in concern as Bruce replied. "Mr. Fenton, are you alright?"

"Me? Oh yeah! Just enjoying the party." He throws his arm up, spilling some of the alcohol out of the cup. He doesn't mind since the DJ starts to play one of his favorite songs, and he just has to sway to the beat. "This is a fun party. Are you having fun? I'm having fun!"

"I think you've had a little too much," Bruce says, helping Danny to his feet. When did he fall? Oh, right, when he was dancing. He laughs again, curling up on Bruce's chest. He feels it shift with the vibrations of the other man's voice. It's rather nice. "Did you come alone? Is there someone I can call for you?"

"Can I tell you a secret, Brucie?" Danny mutters, leaning forward to whisper into the man's ear before he can respond. "I live alone. I have no one to take care of me. I can't even drive."

"I see. I can have my driver take you home then. Can I see your wallet? I want to read the address-"

Danny has a second to think Oh no before his stomach lurches, and vomit falls out of his mouth all over Bruce Wayne's fancy suit that probably costs more than his house. Danny's eyes water. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't usually drink, and I feel terrible, and I-"

"It's alright. " Bruce says, smile still perfectly kind, understanding, and slightly dizzy. Danny knows he's lying, though- his reporter eyes can see right through that facade. He's pissed that Danny threw up on him. Understandably.

He starts sobbing, apologizing even more, and pointing out how he knows Bruce is actually upset.

Bruce looks mildly surprised before throwing one of his arms over his shoulder and helping him out of the hotel ballroom. The reception had started hours ago, and despite it not being anywhere near over, no one would bat an eye at them leaving early.

They were walking down the hallway. Danny found himself leaning on a counter, laughing into his hands about a potted plant, while Bruce chatted up the lady at a computer. He told the pair that Bruce should rebound with a man instead of a woman if he wanted to get over Clark but was ignored by them.

Rude.

Then suddenly, Danny was being pressed into a soft mattress on his back while someone was taking off his shoes and losing his tie. When did he get home? How had he moved that quickly?

This didn't feel like his pillow. Danny has a special one. He can't sleep with it. He packs his pillow when he travels, even if it's just one night he plans to stay. Danny has used the same pillow for years now.

"I'm sorry, I can't get your special pillow, but I can give you lots of water." A man says, making Danny blink and open his eyes. His eyelids feel so heavy that it takes him a moment to stay open.

Above him, Bruce is carefully unbuttoning his suit jacket. The billionaire had removed his own coat, but the vomit-covered white shirt remains. Danny feels ashamed at the sight even as Bruce pulls his arms out of the jacket sleeves.

"Sorry," He whimpers. "About the vomit."

"It's alright. You needed to throw up. Do you feel better?"

Danny nods, closing his eyes and feeling a warm towel run along his face. He sighed as the sticky, gross feeling around his mouth was gone, and he sank further into the Not Right But Comfty pillow.

"Sleep well, Mr. Fenton," Bruce says, tucking the blankets around Danny once he finishes cleaning him up. Danny hums, already half gone, when he whispers.

"You're a good man. No matter what you present to the world. No matter if you believe you're not, I know you're good."

There is a moment of silence before Bruce replies. "I paid for the hotel room. It comes with a free breakfast, so when you're feeling up to it, come down for food tomorrow. Have a good night, Mr. Fenton."

"Stay?"

"I'm sorry. I never intended to stay; I just wanted to get you somewhere safe. Going home in your state would have been a bad idea."

Danny's words are nearly too slurried to be understood as he slowly slips away: "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, Fenton. Bruce would never want you."

He wakes up with a killer hangover, confused about where the hell he is, and almost has a heart attack when he realizes he crumpled up the suit pants he rented. All that is so hard to process in thirty seconds that he nearly missed the written note on the nightstand.

Call me xxx-xxx-xxxx

XOXO

Bruce Wayne

What in the world happened at Clark's and Lois's wedding!?

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Never the Bride #Part 1 #spirt halloween ship #Danny is a reporter at the Daily Planet #Develops a crush on a celeberity he interviewed #Bruce never paid attention to Clark's coworker #Until the wedding #Now he can't stop thinking about him #misunderstandings #Bruce and Clark were just doing JL stuff #TW: Blackout Drinking

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2tcs · 10 months ago

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Naga (Part 1)

“Slither slither hiss. Slither slither hiss. Slither slither hiss.”

“Danny? What are you doing?” Same asked as she walked into their apartment.

“Isn't it obvious? He has embraced his inner scaily.” Tucker said from where he sat on the couch in his own fursuit.

“Technically this is my own body so I'm not a scaily. I don't need a suit.” Danny gloated as he coiled his ghostly tail around himself and flicked out his tongue like a snake.

“But you're a ghost. Not an actual snake. There for, you are a scaily.” Tucker vary maturely said before sticking his tongue out at danny. He's so happy the suit could stick out it’s tongue. Ya it cost a little extra but it was so worth it.

“So now you are a snake?”

“Naga actually because of the human half.” Danne said with a shrug.

“Wouldn't you be a lamia because you're a boy?” Sam asked?

“Actually lamias are a female only species where as Nagas are not. Male nagas are called nagas, go figure, while female nagas are called nagis or naginis.” Tucker said while flipping one of his paws off so he could use his phone.

“Tuck's the one who brought up that I look like I have a cosmic snake tail so I've been been practicing making it more solid. Awesome right?” Danny said as he began slithering around the room again.

Just don't do that out in the open. Last thing we need is the Bats sniffing around.” Sam said with a head shake as she went to their room to get in comfies.

👻One week later in a random sewer under Gotham.👻

“Hood. Why are you in the sewers?”

“Damn it Orical! Don't just randomly turn on my co- shit! Get back here!” Hood yelled as he chased some drug smugglers who thought it would be a great idea to escape through the drains.

“They took a right up a head and then a left immediately after. Carful though. Something is causing major interference with my cameras down that way.”

“Got it. Right, left, then.” Sckdding to a stop Hood immediately ducks back through the entrance and peaked around the corner. “I don't think I need to worry about those specific smugglers any more.” Hood whispered.

“Hold on hood. Connecting to your camera now… Is that a snake?”

“It has a human half too so they're a naga. The human half is already around the bend up ahead.”

“Where are the perps?”

Stepping more fully in the room now that most of the naga's body was no longer occupying it Hood turns and spots both smugglers passed out.

“Looks like they ran in here and immediately got slammed into the wall.” Hood said as he went over to check their pulses.

“Are they still alive?” Orical tentatively asked.

“Hmm. I'll have to get rid of the bodies. Don't want my own men getting got. I'll talk to you later Barbi.” Hood said before disabiling his com and camera. “Should never have sold to kids you dumb fucks.” he said, shooting off two rounds.

___

Saw a post about merDanny and almost immediately saw one about Nagas. So the brain worms got to work. That and I'm currently sitting at the DMV waiting for my turn so I'm bored. Also on mobile so I know there are spelling errors. Have fun with this.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #red hood #oracle #naga

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starry-songs-canvas · 1 year ago

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Take Care of Him

The boy, who had Damian’s face, couldn’t be more different than Dick’s (alive?) baby brother.

Aside from his Snow White hair, he smiled and laughed freely, making puns on top of his embarrassing story about his supposed twin brother.

(“Clones don’t have childhood memories right? So if I have an embarrassing story or two, that’ll give you a way to check that I’m not a clone AND give you ammunition for teasing!”)

“—And that’s how his face—and his pride—was forever wounded by Sparta the warrior cat!” Danny finished his story with a flourish, cracking up immediately after.

“Huh, and to think he left it at “training”, obviously he didn’t think anyone would let the cat out of the bag.” Dick said, laughing even as he eyed the lookalike.

Danny snorted. “Yeah, I doubt he thought anything as Cat-astropic as that would happen.”

They sat in silence for a moment, overlooking the buildings below, with the Dalv. Co. Labs smoking in the distance and the breeze blowing past the two, yet only seeming to affect Nightwing and not the phantom beside him.

“Is he safe? Is he happy?” Danny murmurs as he looks up at the stars, looking every bit the forlorn ghost he claimed to be.

“…We keep each other safe. And I’d say once he got past the stabbing faze, he’s pretty happy in Gotham.”

“But I’m sure it’d make him happy to see you again.” Dick thought back to the comments the vampire-ghost they’d fought earlier. It didn’t sound exactly, “happy” or “safe” for Danny. Or anyone else involved.

Danny shook his head. “Nah. He’s… moved on. And with how crazy my after-life is? I’m already dealing with ghosts, ghost-hunters, and my—err—that frootloop from earlier. I do not need to add furries and murder-ninjas to the mix.”

Danny sighed as he floated into a standing position. “Speaking of which, if you could just, maybe not tell him you saw me? Better to let dead dogs lie.”

Danny’s piercing Lazarus green eyes looked at Dick and he saw the exact same expression B had on whenever he “had to do it alone”.

“Just, take care of him, Kay? Or I’ll haunt you to the ends of the universe!” He said, throwing up a peace sign as he turned invisible.

Dick snorted, “Yeah, sure kid.”

Dick got up and started off toward the bat-plane. He had a brother to interrogate, and another brother/clone of his brother to find.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover #damian and danny are twins #danny and damian are twins #Dick gets a turn with being the first to meet Danny now #demon twins au #demon twins #dpxdc writing prompt #writing blurb #my first time at a full on writing blurb #constructive critism welcome #Danny is just “don’t worry it’s just the government and hunters and my parents and my evil god-father after me”#“Oh and also the ghosts themselves. Totally nothing to worry about”#Dick and Danny met blowing up Vlads lab and kicking his behind #I imagine Danny as a cryptid not because he’s trying to be mysterious or speak in riddles #But because he has no idea what the bar for normal is and everything he says is vaguely horrifying out of context #And probably horrifying in context

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bowlofworms · 1 year ago

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Idk why but this scene came to me so I made a little comic

Danny: *on a rooftop in Gotham*

Signal and Red Hood: Hey dude you good?

Danny: Hello fellow Meta-Humans! It is I, a Meta-Human boy! 100% alive and thusly protected under the Meta-Human Rights Act!

Signal: …

Hood: I believe him.

Danny: Thank you fellow living person!

Danny: *leaps into the air, legs turning into a spectral tail* away!

Hood: So, that was definitely a ghost, right?

Signal: yuuup.

LATER

Nightwing: and then he… flew away like Peter Pan? At least come up with something more believable than meeting a hazmatcore fae child on a roof who called you a quote “fellow living person”

Hood: it was a GHOST, Dickiebird.

Nightwing: Ghosts aren’t real, Hood.

Hood: there’s a ghost in the Justice League!

Nightwing: THE WATCHTOWER IS HAUNTED?!?!

Hood: …

(Yes Danny’s hair does get more floaty when he’s happy and I will die on this hill)

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #bowlofworms #my art #bowlofworms art

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luminatricky · 5 months ago

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Vampire? In Gotham! (part 2)

Summary: Danny arrives, sees something Concerning, meets Batman, tries not to fight Batman. Nope not going to rogue it up here, no thank you.

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Danny Fenton, John Constantine & Danny Fenton

for context, phenes are letters in Ghostwriting, and you can do necromantic magic with them if you know how

As soon as he's within a five mile vicinity of Gotham, Danny has to stop and deeply consider his afterlife decisions.

PhantomMenace: what the FUCK is wrong with this place.

PhantomMenace: John.

PhantomMenace: I know you know how many generational curses are set in the very foundations. And not the abusive cycle kind.

PhantomMenace: who had the goddamn PATIENCE for this

PhantomMenace: who carves THIS MANY phenes into THAT MUCH wet concrete??

PhantomMenace: we'd have to blow up the whole city to unfuck this!!

PhantomMenace: when I find whoever did this I don't know if I'm going to kill them a second time, or make out with them immediately

PhantomMenace: they've clearly ascended to levels of spite I can only dream of, I've to at least respect that

God's Favorite Whore: For my sake I hope you kill them. Gross.

PhantomMenace: 💚

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

Night time in Gotham is beautiful, even without the view of the stars.

Danny finds himself exploring from the rooftops. Old Gothic architecture spins for miles; spidering out from the tallest buildings are gargoyles reminiscent of what he knows of cathedrals. Below him, the city comes alive in a flurry of motion.

The cars slow to a trickle, but foot traffic picks up. Well-dressed people in their 20s hit the bars, swaying and laughing with their friends. Danny takes note with a smile that they're all armed, and at least one person in each group seems to be as sober as a stone. Keeping safe and having fun.

The night workers hit the streets, and little skinny kids of all ages weave in between bodies like leaves in flowing water. Handing off things Danny can't see to the people on the street corners, laughing and joking and pushing each other, never straying too far to allies or the side of the road. Not ever being without at least one other. It's sad to see they have to protect each other like that, but that's life, and it seems they're living it.

Blob ghosts make unseen mischief. There's a second layer of traffic - blobs spinning a foot in the air above everyone else, catching stray emotions and fat and happy off the ambient ectoplasm. Danny's never seen any blob in a color other than radioactive green, but the ones in Gotham are all different shades of red. He wonders if the curses here might be a factor. And if his condenser will be stained red from now on.

Danny spots something strange the longer he looks. He slips off the edge of the building, walking down its side to the alley below. He slips into partial invisibility to not startle anyone not already looking for him, and peaks out the mouth of the alley.

Shades walk down the streets side by side with the human Gothamites. They give the human-looking ghosts a wide berth, but otherwise no one acknowledges them. He tracks the figures with his eyes, hating the blank look in each of them. He's sure that they're not even properly looking at anything. They go through anyone and everything in their paths intangibly. He sees several people shiver and look around confused, before walking off, visibly more tired looking than before.

Danny unclips his condenser from his belt to check if his dinner's ready. He startles a bit at the unfamiliar red, but shrugs. He's hungry. The blobs are having a blast despite how evil the air is. He should be fiiiine.

Taking a deep gulp, Danny returns his attention to the Shades, wary of what this new behavior means. He quickly does a rough count of humans, and then the strange Neverborns in the street. And oh boy. He does not like how the math is mathing.

In a normal, healthy population, there should only be one Shade per fifty humans. In Gotham? It's nearly one to one. He's never seen or heard of this. Danny wonders exactly how many people get mysteriously sick, or die of "natural causes" here.

Once he gets settled in, he'll have to go looking for the cause. Even in a crime ridden big city this isn't normal.

Danny takes another sip as he tears himself away from the mouth of the alley. He becomes fully visible as he steps into the shadows. He means to float up to the rooftops again, but a dull thump behind him has him zipping around on instinct.

Between him and the exit, a broad shouldered man rises from his feet. At first Danny thinks he's covered in shadows, but as his eyes quickly readjust to the level of light, he realizes that the man is just wearing a long dark cloak with a cowl. It covers his head and half his face, with two white beams of light staring impassively at him. It hurts to look at to be honest.

Danny tenses like a springtrap. John never gave him descriptions of any of the rogues, OR the bats. He doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and he'd really rather not get into a brawl tonight. Humans don't do that to be friendly.

"Where did you get the blood?" The man demands. His voice is obviously modified to be deeper, but Danny thinks it might be naturally growly and inflectionless, as the man's body language or expression doesn't change.

He doesn't really think before he responds. The question throws him, okay? "Uh? Synthesizer?" Danny shakes his condenser some. It's only half full, so it only sloshes thickly against the sides instead of spilling. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about it, Danny caps it and reclips it to his belt.

He extends a hand to shake. "Name's Dante Nightingale. But people call me Danny."

The incredibly rude man doesn't shake his hand, OR introduce himself. All he gets in response is a minute head tilt that in other circumstances he would find adorable.

He rolls his eyes. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. Like a human."

The man grunts in acknowledgement. After an awkward moment, the man extends a (clawed!) hand from under his cape and grips Danny's own. "Batman."

Danny relaxes a smidge. "Nice. Cool. Heard about you and your Fraid. I'm told you're good people. thank you for not being a sentient shadow here to rob me." He lets go of the man's warm glove.

"Fraid?" Batman parrots, vaguely suspicious. Or curious. He's not sure.

"Um. It's like. Well, found family is the default in my culture, so we got a whole word for it. I didn't want to assume blood relations." Danny explains. "You've got a strong grip. Are the claws part of your suit or?" Danny flashes his own claws playfully.

"The suit." Batman says simply. "Why were you watching people from the alley?"

Danny leans back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth. "Just flew in to town, I don't really know my way around yet. So I've been exploring on the rooftops so no one has the bright idea to mug the newbie." Danny stops swaying and folds his arms over his chest with a frown. "Then I noticed something wasn't right. Well. Other than how cursed you guys are. Actually? Might be related."

Batman's headlights narrow in a very convincing glare, so Danny tries to elaborate. "Shades really shouldn't be literally crawling through the streets. The non-physical, non-sentient psychic vampires? Yeah. I don't know if you can see this, but they're walking around in groups besides and through people. Which. They don't group up, and they don't typically go for crowded places. Shades thrive in privacy. They mimic whatever person accidentally made them, and lure loved ones alone. This whole thing is weird and probably not good."

Batman grunts again, head tilting slightly the opposite way. The little bit of silence lets Danny briefly contemplate if Batman is neurodivergent and not actually trying to be a brooding asshole. The older man's tone and facial expressions are flat, he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and he favors nonverbal communication. Danny makes a mental note to figure that out later if they ever meet again.

"What can we do?" Batman asks. Danny shrugs. Technically, it's not his problem unless they can't handle it themselves. "Justice League Dark this, I guess. Find me if they can't help. I'll give it the old college try if you ask."

Batman taps the side of his mask where the ear would be underneath. A quiet sound of static fills the alleyway. Batman full-body flinches at the sudden loud sound in his ear. The older man whirls to glare at Danny. The Halfa nearly chokes under the creepy, suddenly hostile gaze of the pinpricks of light.

"What did you do to my coms?" The man full on growls. The cloak is brushed aside as Batman takes out two throwing blades from his (bright yellow?) belt.

Danny's heartbeat races at the prospect of a brawl. Green light fills his vision and starts to cast a strange glow across the alley. His biology reacts, but his mind is screaming at him to put on the brakes. Do not fight the vigilantes! He's not being friendly! Do not the rogue!!

So he puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah woah woah! I can't control this, electronics just fritz around me! Hold on, just, I'll leave and they should be fine? I need to get back to my hotel anyways. Nice meeting you!"

Without waiting for a response Danny turns ghost tail. Which is to say, he turns invisible and flies through the building in the vague direction of said hotel. He flings himself into the soft, soft pillows, and tries to calm his ass down. No. No fighting. He does not need to be put in Arkham on his first day, or whatever.

Elsewhere, the coms crackle back to life.

"-atman?!"

"Oracle." He confirms.

"What happened? The boys are on their way, what's the sitch?"

"There's a vampire in Gotham."

#danny phantom #dpxdc #vampire danny #halfas are vampires au #ghost prince danny #halfa danny fenton #danny fenton #batman #john constantine #uncle john constantine #batman vs. dracula universe #gotham's ecto is red au #ghosts socialize by fighting #feral danny #autistic bruce wayne

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thevillainswhore · 1 year ago

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The Ties That Bind Us

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, small amount of angst, mutual pining, jealousy, kissing, smut, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink, p in v sex, derogatory names, spitting, happy ending.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“You look so pretty, Mama!” You caught your son’s reflection in the mirror, his bright blue eyes wide and in awe as you finished the final touches up of your makeup.

You were about to respond, but the words died on your tongue at the sight of Bucky’s large form rounding the corner into the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over one another. “She absolutely does, cupcake.”

The intensity of his stare made you gulp silently, and you diverted your eyes back to your son.

Bucky had been doing that a lot recently —looking at you differently, more longing in his eyes than usual.

“Thank you, baby,” you said, ignoring Bucky in favour of showing your appreciation to your son. The knot in your stomach was wound too tight to try and unravel the conflict that ravaged in your mind. “You’re going to be good for your Dad tonight, aren’t you?”

Your son did his best to try and hide the cheeky smirk on his lips — one that resembled his father a little too much. “Of course Mama, I be a good boy.”

Unable to help the smile growing on your face, you brought him into your embrace, snuggling him tightly until he let out a loud squeal when you tickled his stomach. “I mean it, trouble. No staying up late and no ice cream before bed.”

Instantly, his puppy eyes fell to his father, an innocent pout on his lips. “But Dadda—“

“Sorry kid,” Bucky held strong. Glancing to you before looking back to his son, “Mama’s rules.”

“Oh, shucks,” your son sighed as you laughed.

From the outside looking in, the three of you seemed like a perfect family. Picturesque and ideal — white picket fences enclosing a home that was full of love and laughter, wholesome family dinners and celebrations for each loved one.

But things were never as simple as you wished.

The sobering thought made your laughter die in your throat, and you checked the time on your lit up phone screen. It was almost time for your date and you were wary of being late. “Okay, cupcake. I’ve gotta get moving so I can make it on time.”

“Aw,” your son whined, and you ruffled his hair as you made your way out of the bathroom. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you squeezed by Bucky, the scent of his aftershave he had worn since you first met him filled your nose and overtook your senses.

You barely suppressed a moan, a sinful combination that your mind begged you to inhale one more time, while another internal voice scolded you. The lingering touch of his fingers ghosting over your waist made it even harder to listen to sense.

Once you reached the hallway, you shook yourself and grabbed your bag from its hook by the door. The coat over your arm was warm and comfortable as you slipped it over your shoulders.

The telltale patter of feet over the hardwood floor bounced towards you, along with another set of heavier ones not too far behind. “Where you going this time, mama?” cupcake asked.

Smiling, you leaned down and tucked a stray lock of deep brown hair behind his ear. “Just for dinner, baby. I won’t be out long and I promise I’ll be back to make you pancakes in the morning, okay, sweetie?”

He nodded before stepping closer and tiptoeing up to whisper in your ear. “Make sure he treat you good because you deserve whole world.”

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging on to your waterline. You blinked them away quickly before your son could notice.

Though, Bucky did.

You kissed his forehead, and leaned back to look into his eyes. “You got it, cupcake.”

Stepping forward, Bucky spoke up. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Mama and go get a movie set up, huh pal? I’ll be with you soon.”

Before your son left, he hugged you. “Bye Mama, I loves you.”

You smiled as he ran off. “I love you too, baby — and remember to be good!”

Only Bucky and you were left by the door, your blanket of comfortability was gone and you felt his eyes that held too many memories burning through you.

“You really do look beautiful,” he vowed.

Fuck, you internally cursed.

You tried not to look into his eyes while you fumbled with your dress. “Thank you, Bucky.” You quickly shifted the conversation. “If he doesn’t settle then text me, okay? My phone will be on loud and I’ll answer straight away—“

“As much as I— We would like you home, I’m sure we’ll survive without you for a couple of hours,” Bucky said, recovering from his hiccup smoothly.

Your gazes met — you had always gotten lost in his eyes and even all these years later nothing had changed.

Snapping out of your reverie, you shook your head and unlocked the door. “I’ll um— I’ll be back later.”

Before you could leave, Bucky caught your hand. “Have fun, Doll.”

And with all the strength you had, you delicately took your hand out of his, taking note of the tan line of where his wedding ring used to sit. “Bye, James.”

The date went as expected.

Your company for the night wasn’t a problem at all. In fact, this was the third date you had both been on together. However, the spark you had so badly tried to ignite through bland conversations and one already ringed out similar interest fell short.

Every date you had been on since your divorce with Bucky seemed to lack a certain something for you. Although in recent light, you had come to terms with the fact you that no one’s eyes had the same shade of blue you were familiar with. Or made your heart jump in your chest from excited nerves years after your first meeting.

Simply, you hated the fact you compared every single man to Bucky.

With a sigh, you unlocked your door, careful to make as little noise as possible as you walked into your home. It was quiet, almost silent, apart from those damned footsteps that eased the weight off your chest and yet caused goosebumps to cascade down the bare skin of your arms.

Bucky rounded the corner from your kitchen to the open plan living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand in the orange hue of the darkness, provided by a single lit lamp.

“Hey,” he greeted you, the expression on his face imperceptible. “How was your date?”

You cleared your throat, struggling to keep your composure from the sight of his tight black T-shirt and denim jeans that deliciously hugged his thighs. “Um yeah— it was— it was okay.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Just okay?” He laughed. “Come on, give me more than that.”

You sighed in defeat. “I told him it was best if we didn’t see each other anymore.”

Unfortunately, there was only so much of a facade you could fake until it became noticeable to your date. It was an amicable decision with no hard feelings. But, it didn’t help to settle the confusing thoughts in your head.

Bucky took a swig of his drink, placing it on the hallway side table before he began slowly pacing towards you.

You couldn’t discern the look in his eyes, the way they feasted on your thighs or your waist. Backing up against the door until you physically couldn’t break free from the heat of his gaze, you could only watch as Bucky drew closer, right until you were a breath apart.

He brought an arm up, over the top of your head to lean against the door. “Any reason why?” he asked, a husk to his tone that granted you no favours.

A sudden pulse shot through your nerves, the ache between your thighs intense. It took everything in you to not rub them together. He would notice that you were sure of.

Desperate to escape what was sure to be a dangerous situation, you quickly slid out of his invisible hold and hastily made your way to the kitchen to pour your own drink. Bucky joined you only seconds later.

“How was cupcake?” you asked instead, attempting to switch the conversation to a safe topic. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“He was good as gold,” he instantly replied, staring you down. A beat later, “He whined about the ice cream situation, but I promised I’d take him out for it tomorrow and he was out like a light — we had fun.”

You slightly faltered as you poured the whiskey into a second glass. You didn’t miss his small innuendo of spending more time together.

“Thanks for looking after him tonight. I know it was pretty useless anyway, but—“

Bucky trapped you against the counter as he placed his hand over yours, his deep baritone rumbling in your ears. “Don’t thank me for looking after my own son, you know I’d do it all the time if I could.” He took a deep breath. “If you would let me.”

No. You couldn’t do this.

You immediately dropped the bottle of whiskey onto the kitchen countertop, ripping yourself away from his touch to walk away.

Bucky reached out as he followed you. “Babydoll—“

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you scolded, fury in your voice.

Bucky however, wasn’t deterred. “Doll.”

“No—“

“Will you just—“ he caught you with a firm grip and spun you around to face him. “Will you stop running away from me.”

The two of you were out of breath from sudden adrenaline, harshly breathing into each other's mouths. The look in Bucky’s eyes was wild, untamed — tortured.

“Tell me you’ve never thought about it — us getting back together.” He gripped onto your arms, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me I’m delusional and I’ll walk out that door right now and we’ll never speak of this again.”

The ache in his voice broke your heart as much as the day you signed the divorce papers.

“Bucky—“

“Please.” He cupped your face with his hands, glancing between your eyes and your lips while his thumb slowly rubbed over them. “I’m a desperate man, baby. I’m desperate for you.”

You gulped, emotion bubbling over into your voice. “We broke up, Bucky. We’re divorced.”

He laughed wetly, but there was no humour in his tone. “And that means we can’t try again?”

The reasons for your separation seemed to blur under his stare. All the ways you weren’t good for each other leaving your mind and only making room for the good.

“Where the hell is this coming from, Bucky?” You deflected once again.

Your hands shook as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand the thought of seeing you go out with another man again,” he whispered, painfully. “It’s killing me, Babydoll. It should be me.”

Tears rushed over your cheeks, you were too overwhelmed to hold them back any longer. You sniffled as you glanced down the hall where you son currently lied fast asleep and obvlious. “I can’t hurt our son, Bucky — I can’t.”

He smiled sadly at you, the crinkle in his eyes ever present but they only made you swoon for him even more. “There’s a reason all those dates don’t ever work out.”

You couldn’t hear it, couldn’t take what he was trying to say. “Stop it.”

“I know you’ve been holding back as much as I have.”

He was pushing you, like he always did and as much as you wanted to curse him, it was working. “Please don’t make me—“

The point of no return came in the form of your most hidden secret spilling from Bucky’s lips. “You still love me, Babydoll.”

Ice ran through your veins, hearing those words out loud that you hadn’t dared let yourself believe. Your mouth gaped open, unable to find the words to deny his accusations until your tether broke.

“Fine! I’m ruined for anyone else!” you shouted, frustrated and scared — a wild animal trapped in a corner. “You’ve ruined me — is that what you want to hear?”

His plump lips, soft and pink curled up. “It’s exactly what I want to hear.”

Leaping forward, Bucky crashed his lips against yours.

He was feverish as you both collided into each other. His hands, unrelenting yet gentle mapped out each and every slope of your body as you stood in the living room, feeling each other for the first time in years.

“Fuck,” he groaned between kisses. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby.”

Your head spun, dizzy with want. You hadn’t been touched in so long by anyone, never mind your ex-husband and your heart pounded erratically with nerves, excitement and longing.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, Bucky kissed you like he was starved, as though you were his only salvation. He ran his fingers through your hair, tugging it harshly to pull you closer to him even though there was no longer any distance between the two of you.

“You’ve got no idea how bad I need you,” he whined into your mouth. “Need to fuckin’— I just need you.”

Without you realising, Bucky had pushed you up against the nearest wall and even through denim jeans you could feel the hard shape of his cock while he unabashedly grinded against you.

You broke for air, gasping as oxygen rushed to your lungs. “You have me, Bucky.” He trailed sloppy kisses down your neck as you panted, desperate to stain your skin with any trace of him. “You can have anything you want.”

He growled, a sound that caused a gush of wetness to soak your panties. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, sweetheart.”

Ripping away from you, he grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the laundry room on the other side of your house. You struggled to keep up with his fast strides in your heels, but you just about managed as he shoved you through the door and locked it behind him.

His back was turned to you for a while and you stood nervously fidgeting, waiting for him to face you. His back rose and fell with breathless heaves, as though he was holding back — a feral beast ready to pounce.

“Babydoll,” he said suddenly, rough and graveled. “I need to know you want this before I fuck the shit out of you.”

Holy fuck, the mouth on this man. Your mouth grew dry while you struggled to think clearly in his aura. “I— I do—“ you stuttered, lamely.

He slowly turned around, a wolfish gleam in his eyes with adrenaline surging through his veins. He was tense as he took a deep breath. “Say it like you mean it.”

When you stayed quiet, too hazy to speak, Bucky stalked towards you, lifting your chin up to look him directly in his eyes. “Say. It.”

Closing your eyes, you cleared your mind and swallowed before whispering, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name, Bucky.”

He smirked, the kind you knew all too well — deadly. “Atta’ girl.”

You sqeauled as he suddenly hiked you up into his arms, hands under your thighs so he could place you on top of the washing machine. Laundry detergents and other products you didn’t care to take note of fell from the shelves around you as he pounced on you once again, devouring you whole with his sinful lips.

“Do you know how much I’ve had to restrain myself, Doll — Mm?” he pressed, covering every inch of bare skin you had to offer with his kisses. “How fuckin’ hard it’s been to not drag you back in the house and take you right then while you get dressed up for someone else?”

You did. Because you understood more than anyone the pain of having to force yourself away from Bucky when all you had ever wanted was him.

He unbuckled his belt, the telltale sound of the leather snapping against his hands and the jingle of metal sent bolts of electricity straight to your cunt.

Your mind couldn’t keep up, your vision blurry with the sudden turn of events. All you knew was that you needed Bucky.

“Hurry, baby. Please,” you whined.

Bucky groaned with delight, his eyes rolling to the back of his head while he bit his swollen bottom lip. “Oh, how I’ve missed you begging for me, pretty mama.”

Rushing to take off his belt, he slid the material through the loops of his jeans and threw it on the floor, not long after hurrying to unzip his fly and shuffle his pants down along with his underwear.

The tip of his cock peaked out of his black briefs and instantly you let out a high pitched moan, even shocking Bucky enough to look back up at you drooling over him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, slightly condescending. “Don’t you worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

Bucky revealed the entirety of his cock, the length just as long as you remembered and the girth as thick as you had imagined in your nights alone with your toys that couldn’t compare.

The slight curve that you could feel the ghost of pleasure from to this day caused you to bite your lip and squirm in your place.

Without waiting for Bucky, you began shifting the bottom of your dress up your thighs, too impatient to wait for him to undress you. It gave you immense satisfaction when he followed the material, slowly revealing more of your skin. His mouth gaped open while he fell to his knees, the thud that sounded surely must have hurt, but there was no other expression on his face than greed.

You stopped your dress just before Bucky could peak at your red panties and you almost laughed when his head shot up, aghast that you had interrupted the show.

The power you held, you smirked. “You want more, Daddy?”

Bucky dropped his head onto your thighs, his breath travelling up to your covered mound — your eyes fluttered, though you kept your breathing steady to not seem so desperate.

Stroking your fingers through his fluffy hair, you murmured low, “Does it hurt to know my pussy is right here and you can’t have it?”

You felt his muscles quickly lock up, his head snapping up to you with a speed that was frightening and exhilarating all at once. The blue of his irises darkened, dilating as he chuckled, “You’re very much mistaken, sweetheart. Because this pussy right here,” he shoved your dress up, spread your legs and breathed into you. “She’s mine, baby girl. And you’ve kept her from me long enough.”

A chilled blast of air hit you as Bucky tore your panties from your waist and held them up. “You wore these slutty panties for that fucker, huh?”

You gasped in shock when he brought them to his nose and inhaled the gusset deeply. He grunted as he closed his eyes in bliss. “Cos’ I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s got you this soaked.”

Your keens amused him greatly. “Bucky—“

“That’s right, mama,” he laughed with pride. “My name sounds so damn heavenly coming from your lips.”

Bucky pocketed your underwear, not caring to be discreet and his thumbs came up to your cunt to spread you open to his eager eyes. “My god, baby,” he gasped in awe. Your hole clenched at the vulgar display. “You’re just as tight as the last time I had you.”

He tested a finger over your folds, running it through the embarrassing amount of slick that coated you.

“No one,” you breathed, shaking your head while willing your scrambled thoughts to formulate into words. “There’s been— there hasn’t—“

Bucky looked up at you from his knelt position, a small slither of vulnerability shining through his lust-hooded eyes. “Just me?”

You gulped and nodded, staring into his wide blues with honesty. “Just you.”

A moment passed between you. The charged air filtered down to that spark that had always been buried through the heartbreak you both endured in your divorce.

Bucky swallowed before placing a single kiss to the inside of your knee. “Then let me make up for that.”

You leaned your head back against the shelf behind you as his lips traveled up the meat of your thighs, yelping each time he gently bit you.

He murmured obscenities you could barely respond to as he edged closer to your pussy. You offered yourself freely, on a platter, as your legs opened even wider for him — the only man who ever truly owned you.

His lips whispered over your mound, a hint for what was about to come. “I’ve been waiting to taste you again for years.”

You moaned aloud, unhinged and unapologetic while Bucky licked a fat stripe up your cunt. Your nerves were alight with pure fire and you instantly grabbed onto the back of his head to push him further into you.

You didn’t care if the action was needy — one single touch of him and you were a goner once again.

He feasted on you, not coming up for air as he switched between sucking your clit and slurping your juices. “Oh my god— Bucky, baby you gotta— holy fuck.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Bucky wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and dragged you closer to him — all too happy to suffocate between your legs. “Sweet as a fuckin’ apple pie,” he murmured into you, the vibrations only deepening your pleasure.

Looking down at him, his eyes were homed in on you, watching your every expression. They were blown out, wild while strands of his hair stuck out in every direction.

Pulling away slightly, his heavy pants blew over your throbbing clit. “Daddy makin’ you feel good, Babydoll?”

You hardly had time to reply as he immediately shoved his tongue into your clenching hole and fucked you with it.

“Bucky!” you screamed to the ceiling. However, a harsh slap delivered to your thigh snapped you back to sense.

“You know that’s not what you call me,” he barked.

Whining, you corrected yourself. “Daddy, please!”

You felt his smirk plastered over your pussy as he hummed into you, “There’s my good girl.”

Your legs began to shake as you felt your climax creep to the surface and Bucky only doubled down with his sinful tongue that you somehow had forgotten he was way too talented with.

“I’m close,” you whispered as your vision began to blur. “So close — please, please don’t stop.”

Bucky continued his ministrations while your pussy fluttered around his tongue. Your release was within reaching distance and you gripped the washing machine, ready to let go until suddenly his presence was gone.

You almost fell forward before you caught yourself with your remaining strength. The pent up tension that was wound in your stomach hadn’t loosened and it took you a second to realise you hadn’t cum.

“W—what?” you mumbled shakily as you blinked your eyes open. Bucky stood there, his cock pulsing and viciously purple, with a smirk on his face, wiping his slick covered mouth with his arm. It disorientated you.

“I haven’t—“ you swallowed the dryness of your mouth. “You didn’t make me—“

Bucky’s cock bobbed as he closed the distance between you, dizzying you even further with a passionate kiss. “No I didn’t, baby.”

You whimpered in despair, the ache worsening. “But Daddy—“

“Nu-uh,” he breathed while lining his cock against your hole. “You’re only gonna fuckin’ cum when I say you can.”

Recklessly, Bucky pushed his full length into your pussy. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into him as the sheer size of his thick cock winded you enough to wail out.

“Shit,” he cursed, a strain in his voice as he firmly gripped your hips. “Fuckin’ hell— Babydoll, how the fuck are you still so tight.”

Impatiently, you fidgeted. Whether it was to escape how full he made you or try and force him deeper into your cunt you weren’t sure. All of it was too overwhelming to process.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, tears building over your glassy eyes. “You’re too big— Bucky, I can’t—“

“Yes you can,” he declared with conviction while he lifted your gaze to him. “You can take it, sweetheart.”

Slowly, Bucky began to ease out of your cunt. His cock was coated with your wetness and he moaned deeply at the sight. He grinded back into you, his curved tip hitting every sensitive spot.

“There we go,” he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead, praising you. “Taking my cock so good, Babydoll. Just like always.”

His touch was familiar, yet new — all consuming and claiming — and you melted into him, smothering his neck with a litany of kisses as he continued to gently thrust his cock into you.

“M—Missed you,” you confessed, drunk from lust and emotion. “Missed you so much, Bucky.”

The motion of his hips sped up as he began pounding into you with more force. “Yeah? You missed being a sweet little wife for me?” He taunted with an evil grin. “You loved being Daddy’s little slut, didn’t you?”

“Mhm— Always your slut, Daddy!” You sobbed into his skin.

His pace turned unrelenting, fierce after too much lost time. He fucked you as though he would be left out to dry after he was done.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, Babydoll,” he grunted. “Don’t care who’s fuckin’ taking you on dates. You belong to me.”

Nodding your head, you fell mute, mouth gaped wide as you felt the knot begin to build up in your stomach once more.

Bucky looked down to watch his dick glisten with your slick. The obscene sounds created from the amount of your juices leaking out only caused his cock to throb. Your cunt squelched with each thrust he made. But it wasn’t enough for him.

Gathering saliva in his mouth, Bucky spat to where the two of you connected, groaning as it clung to your pussy and stringed out with his motions.

Your squeals of pleasure began to get louder as the coil tightened, “I’m gonna—“

Before you could rush the words out, Bucky pleaded, “Tell me you love me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, more alert now. He didn’t falter, only fucked you with more abandon.

“Tell me you love me,” he repeated once more, a demand this time.

“Bucky, I—“

“I know you do, Doll.” His hips started to twitch, his telltale sign that he was also close to cumming. However, you had an inclination that he wouldn’t let himself go until you gave him what you wanted. “I know you remember how good it used to be. Let me come home and I’ll fuck you this good whenever you want.”

You gurgled around his fingers as he suddenly shoved them into your mouth, collecting the drool gathered on your tongue to bring them down to your clit. He didn’t ease them against you, instead rubbing tight circles rapidly, bringing you closer to the edge faster.

It was impossible to escape his dark eyes or the fierce hold of his hand at the back of your neck. “Feels so fucking good, Daddy!” you blurted.

“I know, mama,” he assured as he drove his cock into you even harder. “Your cunt feels like heaven.”

“I wanna cum,” you cried. “I need to cum.”

“You know what you’ve gotta do then, don’t you, Babydoll?”

You squeezed your eyes closed. The pleasure started to blend into a mix of pain and you were only slightly ashamed that it only turned you on more. “I—“

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want.” A few more punishing thrusts and you were treading the line of your impending orgasm. Your thighs shook violently and beads of sweat dripped down your chest. But when Bucky grounded out his next words, you fell apart. “Be a good wife for Daddy and tell me the truth.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer, the balance of your orgasm tipping over along with the truth you tried to withhold. “I love you, Bucky!”

Instantly, you felt the pulse of Bucky’s cock, a warm shoot of his load filling your cunt while you silently screamed and shook with the intensity of your climax.

Everything fell deaf to your ears as you fought to catch your breath, slumping against Bucky. His heavy breaths blew your stray hairs sticking out from the sweat gathered on your head while his hips continued to slowly pump into you from the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

You were brought back to the present with the gentle touch of his lips pressing against your cheeks, kissing your skin delicately. “Hey there, Babydoll.”

While you would have normally been nervous, the energy that he had drained you of allowed your inhibitions and walls to crumble, leaving you to smile drunkenly at him. “Hi,” you whispered.

Bucky checked you over, darting his eyes over your face. “You feeling okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, bringing your thumb up to swipe over his stubble you had always been fond of. “Freshly fucked and never better.”

The corner of his lips curved up, a small mirth of laughter escaping him. He licked his lips and you detected a hint of nerves that crossed over his features. “I um— I’m sorry if I—“

You placed your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him. “You didn’t go too rough.” Slowly, you brought your finger down, hooking it into the collar of his shirt. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Good.” He brought one of your hands up to his mouth to kiss the palm of your hand. “Good.”

The two of you barely noticed his length still deep in you. All that you cared for was the weight suddenly released from your chest.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asked, cutting through the peaceful silence. He was defenseless, all guards down with a shimmer of hope twinkling in his ocean eyes.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and you inhaled deeply before you replied, “I did.”

He swallowed thickly, his emotion clear though his bright eyes. “I love you too — so fuckin’ much.” He nuzzled into your neck as your hand held him close to you. “I’ve missed you.”

A lump gathered in your throat once more. Breathing in Bucky’s scent freely, without guilt this time, you sunk into his embrace even further.

“Can I come home?” he whispered into your skin, a desperate plea. “I’ll do whatever you want — I’ll go to counseling with you, we can take things slow. I just need you back, Babydoll.”

The answer was simple. You knew in your heart there was no one else for you, no one better. No matter your differences, everything would always lead back to Bucky and you were willing to give the two of you a second chance.

“Okay,” you answered softly.

His head shot up, eyes wide and red from the tears you felt gathering on your neck. “Okay?” he repeated hopefully.

You smiled, kissing him gently on the lips before you muttered, “Come back home, baby.”

The pan sizzled on the stove as you cooked the last pancake, a stack already piled high on the counter next to you for breakfast.

Music played softly on the radio and you swayed your hips side to side, covered by a long T-shirt, while you hummed to yourself.

You were interrupted from your task when a pair of thick arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you from behind tightly. “Yknow, I could have had my breakfast in bed,” Bucky grumbled into your ear, his deep morning voice causing your eyes to slightly flutter.

You huffed a laugh before you mumbled, “I bet you could, greedy.”

The bristles of his trimmed beard tickled your skin as he playfully nibbled your neck. “Can’t exactly blame a man when his woman tastes so sweet, Babydoll.”

Your head started to feel heavy as you gave into his kisses, leaning back into his hold and opening yourself up for him.

“There’s a good girl,” Bucky praised you. “You just let Daddy—“

Peaking an eye open, you watched as his hand crept forward, about to pinch a pancake from the pile. He yelped as you swatted his hand away, a pout on his lips while you grinned.

“Nice try, Daddy,” you teased, smugly.

Before Bucky could retort back, a sluggish set of small footsteps sounded over the floorboards and you whipped around to find your son, still sleepy, making his way to the dining table.

“Morning, cupcake!” you greeted him cheerfully.

With difficulty, he climbed his way onto one of the chairs, huffing with the effort and sinking down once comfortable. He looked towards you, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Mornin’, mama—“

Frowning, your son looked towards Bucky, finally noticing him too. “Dadda?” he asked, confused.

“Hey, pal.” Bucky treaded, carefully.

Your son’s gaze fell to the lack of distance between you and Bucky, his hand still lingering on your waist. Keeping your composure, you waited nervously for his reaction.

“He treat you good, mama?” he asked all so innocently with a hint of fierceness in his bright blue eyes.

You watched with bated breath as Bucky stepped towards him, leaning over the table with his palm up to your son. “I’m gonna take good care of mama, “ he promised with sincerity.

Your son deliberated for a moment before nodding his head and reached out to hold his Dad’s hand. “Okay, can I have pancakes now?”

You sighed a breath of relief. “Of course, baby.”

It was silent for a moment, in your small kitchen while you plated up breakfast for your family. Bucky and you shared an intimate smile until your son spoke up once again. “Just don’t forget about the ice cream you promised me.”

Laughter filled the entirety of the kitchen, a home once again bathed in love — your perfect little family.

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