#this turned way longer than i expected... whoops

[literarystarfish]

Officially saying Hi! to the whump community!

I’m kinda new to this whole “actually posting” thing (although I’ve been on tumblr for ages, I’ve always just kind of lurked.)

While this blog isn’t exclusively whump (though 99% of it will be) I thought I’d introduce myself officially.

I’d like to get more into the whump community especially and maybe come out of my shell a bit more and not feel so afraid to actually talk to some of you cool people. (What is even the best way to interact on here?! You’d think I’d know after being on tumblr for many-a-year…)

I’m not new to whump, but this blog has definitely been a new experience for me. I’ve actually never even posted an original post on my main before, so I truly made my first ever tumblr post on this here side blog!

Well, maybe I should introduce myself and see where it takes me:

You can call me Jayy or Star (she/her or they/them).

Most of my characters go by they/them in prompts so they aren’t gender specific and you can imagine them how you’d like. My longer stories differ depending on the story itself but I haven’t finished 99% of them so who knows what will happen by the time they see the light of day (if they ever do… but I hope they do..)

Whump/things I like to write or want to write about in the future:

Hidden whump/ stoic whumpees — (love when a character doesn’t show their whump)

Emotional trauma

Hurt/comfort

Fainting

Used as bait — (and make them feel guilty after)

Recovery whump or difficult recoveries — (though I don't super love Caretaker turns Whumper)

Team whump

Kidnapping/ captivity

Self sacrifice

Scars

Hero/Villain or superpowered whump

Whumpee turned Caretaker

Things I like but that I don't tend to write about as much:

Pet whump

NSFWhump

Fevers/sickfics

Psychological whump

Lab whump

Caretaker turned Whumpee

Things I don't like/don’t like to write about (though nothing is a super hard ick or anything):

Medical whump

Extremely graphic harm/ injuries/ torture/ etc.

Permanent injuries (but scars are fine)

Character deaths — (main character deaths anyway - I generally like my characters alive so I can whump them some more >:D )

Caretaker turned Whumper

Whumpee turned Whumper

It makes me so nervous to even comment on a post so tags are the best I’ve done so far. (I don’t know why its so scary to directly interact with people further than, like, reblogging and stuff @.@)

So, anyway! All that being said, if you notice anything you’d like me to keep doing, feel free to tell me!

Send me asks if you so desire!

Especially if there's something more you’d like to see or if you’d like me to expand on a post. (I’m a slow writer, but I have tons of ideas that I’d like to get down or have no ending yet. Maybe I’ll try more short form stuff. Most of my prompts have come from stories I wish I’d finally get to writing or have been writing.)

If you write for/are inspired by one of my posts, I’d LOVE to see what you come up with! Tag me if you want!

Or, alternatively of course, if there's something you think I shouldn’t do or if there's any tags you think I haven’t been tagging correctly or tw/cw I’ve been missing (I try my best but I forget much too often) that you think I should add, please let me know. Tell me what I’m doing wrong!

Even this post reaching out is a massive step for me. But everyone seems very nice and accepting here so far so I’m forcing myself to finally go for it. I really want to interact more!

Hopefully my brain doesn’t get angry with me about that but hey! baby steps.

-Jayy 💫

[impel-clown]

I have this HC where Crocodile and Mihawk realize that Buggy's wormed his way into both of their hearts when he actually makes them both laugh and they start looking forward to setting eyes on him all the time. What clinches it is when Shanks stops by and Crocodile and Mihawk both get protective and jealous because of the history Shanks shared with Buggy. Buggy just thinks his two "partners" are plotting to murder him.

Mihawk realized it first, that the clown had gone from an annoying, albeit useful, asset to someone he actually wants to spend time with. Crocodile of course, mocks him for this. Here he had thought the greatest swordsman had some taste, he is with Crocodile after all, but liking the clown? Really?? The guy making dicks out of balloons, that's a person Mihawk wants to be with? What a waste of time. But hey, it's the swordsman's life he can do what he wants with it.

And then it's two weeks later and Crocodile is storming into Mihawk's greenhouse, practically his own sandstorm because now he too has feelings for the clown! Oh sure if it was just sex he wanted, that would be one thing! Crocodile wouldn't even flinch if his feelings were just contained to wanting to fuck the "emperor" til he was begging, crying mess. But no! Here he is, a former warlord, wanting to get Buggy things so he can see the other man wear them, wants to hear the clown's stories and jokes because fuck if it doesn't spark something in him. Here he had thought his own tastes were above this! Being with the greatest swordsman in the world? Great! But add an honest to God Clown to that? No, just no! Meanwhile, Mihawk continues to water his tomatoes throughout the rant, only occasionally interrupting to remind Crocodile that if he harms his orchids, he'll have far bigger problems than a crush on a clown, Mihawk will make sure of it.

And for a while, that's that. They don't immediately make a move on Buggy, not ones to make some big grand gesture of feelings. Instead, they'll ease into. After all, they have time. So slowly, their bullying moves onto teasing (and still some bullying, but it's with care). Mihawk sometimes gifts him with fresh produce from his garden. Crocodile offers to train together. Hell, they even go and watch one of the shows he puts on with his crew! They couldn't be any more obvious about their affections.

(Buggy has no idea his feelings are reciprocated and just assumes these are all attempts on his life.)

And then Shanks comes strolling up to the island and Buggy makes the offhand comment that hey, he may loathe the red haired bastard, but at least he appreciates Buggy's company! It takes about thirty seconds of Crocodile and Mihawk sitting in silence after Buggy leaves to realize, that in fact, no they do not have all the time in the world, and that yes, they could have been more obvious with their affections.

The following few days are spent as Buggy's shadow, glaring daggers at Shanks and reminding him that Buggy is a Key component of the Cross Guild, and he can't just come waltzing in here demanding Buggy's attention, thank you very much.

Shanks, having immediately clocked this whole situation, just laughs.

[hauntingofhouses]

i'm outlining future chapters for my taimizu fic and it seems that a wild plot has appeared lmao ??? 😭

like this was meant to be a slowburn character-driven romance with character explorations and a shitload of healing-from-trauma™ and literally like nothing else. but Oops! Looks Like Something Else is Cooking!

[witchywithwhiskey]

like no other man

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

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

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

word count: 16.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then…

“Everything alright over there?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“John’s.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If my girl is cold—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Bucky knew you just as well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, we have fun together.” 

“Thought so,” Bucky teased lightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except, not really, because he belonged inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[formulaonecrumbs]

hi!! i’ve just like binge read all of your stuff and it’s so beautifully written

do you think you could do a charles fic with the co-parenting to lovers trope? like their kid helps them get together or like he flys out to see their kid and realizes that life is so much better with them? i have a whole like plot im sorry 😭

stay a little longer 🕯️

Charles Leclerc x ex(?)!reader

summary: co-parenting finally turns into something more when their daughter decides it’s time for a date.

warnings: co-parenting to lovers, kid matchmaker, suggestive content, kissing, car makeout, implied smut, love confessions, second chances

A/N: thank u anon for the requuessttt!!! i feel like i still don’t write charles very well 😭 like yes i believe the guy is romantic but i think i made that his whole personality in this WHOOPS. random but i love when drivers have girlfriends cuz now i got sm material for the mood-boards. i hope u enjoy it and as always love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

you never expected him to show up.

not like this, not without warning, not with that soft look in his eyes and a suitcase in his hand.

it’s been almost six months since you saw charles leclerc in person. six months since he kissed your cheek at the airport and promised he’d try to visit more. six months of facetime calls with your daughter holding your phone too close to her face, grinning with her tiny teeth and telling him she lost another one. six months of you pretending that you were completely fine raising her mostly alone while he chased podiums around the world.

but now he’s standing on your porch like it’s nothing. like he’s not the father of your child and also the person who once broke your heart in the softest, most unintentional way.

“hi,” he says.

you blink. “charles? what—what are you doing here?”

he looks down at his shoes. he’s wearing sneakers that used to live in your hallway. the ones your daughter would trip over every time she tried to run to the door. “i had a week off. i wanted to see her.”

you let him in because you always do. because she misses him even when she doesn’t say it, and because you’ve never been able to fully close the door on him.

your daughter screams ‘daddy!’ the second she hears him. he drops his bag and catches her mid-run, spinning her around in the tiny living room you’ve made your home. you watch from the kitchen, hands still on the mug you were making, heart doing something stupid and warm and dangerous in your chest.

“you’re not leaving tonight, are you?” she asks him, small hands on his cheeks.

he shakes his head. “not tonight. not for a few days, actually.”

and you swear, you see her little face light up with something more than excitement. something like hope.

it’s not supposed to be easy, but it is.

charles fits back into your space like he never left. he sleeps on the couch and does the dishes after dinner. he drives her to school in the mornings and makes up silly songs about brushing her teeth. he folds laundry while you’re at work and lets her paint his nails on the weekends.

and you keep waiting for it to feel like a mistake. to feel like a tease, like you’re slipping back into something that already ended.

but instead, it feels like healing.

like late nights where he sits across from you, whispering stories about races she’s too young to hear. like laughing over wine after she’s gone to bed, both of you tipsy on nostalgia and something heavier. something that tastes like maybe.

he doesn’t flirt. not really. but sometimes, he looks at you like he remembers every moment you ever shared. and sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he stares at you like you hung the stars.

it happens on a tuesday.

you’re rushing to get out the door for work. your daughter can’t find her other shoe and you’ve already yelled twice, which always makes you feel like a terrible mother. charles is standing in the kitchen, packing her lunch like he’s done it every morning for the past year instead of the last five days.

and then she says it.

“daddy, are you staying forever now?”

you freeze. so does he.

“because i think you should,” she continues, completely unaware of the tension she’s stirred up. “you make mommy laugh again. and you’re really good at pancakes.”

charles doesn’t look at you. he kneels down and kisses her forehead. “i love you, chérie,” he says quietly.

you don’t talk about it.

not until later, when she’s asleep and you’re both sitting on the back steps with a blanket around your shoulders and the sky full of stars.

“she wants us to be a family,” you whisper.

charles’s voice is soft. “i do too.”

your chest tightens. “charles…”

“i know,” he says. “i know i left. i know i haven’t been here like i should have. and i’m not trying to ask you to just forget it. but i want to be here now. not just for her. for you, too.”

you stare at your hands. your heart. the little cracks that never quite healed after he left.

“why now?” you ask.

he takes a breath. “because every time i see her smile, i see you. and every time i talk to her, i wish you were beside me. and because… i thought i was doing the right thing. giving you space. letting you live your life without the mess of mine. but i’ve never been more wrong.”

you look at him. really look. and he looks scared. vulnerable in a way he never is behind the wheel. and you realize, in this quiet moment under the stars, that maybe you’ve been scared too.

you don’t say anything. you just reach out, take his hand, and let your fingers intertwine like they never stopped knowing how to.

he moves in slowly.

a toothbrush at first. then a drawer. then he’s picking her up from school without you asking, buying groceries like he knows the list by heart. you fall back into love like it’s muscle memory. slow, steady, familiar. this time, without the fear.

your daughter starts calling you her “mommy and daddy house.” she draws pictures of the three of you holding hands, all smiling with the sun in the corner.

one night, she asks if you and daddy are married again.

charles chuckles. “not yet, chérie.”

you shoot him a look. “not funny.”

he leans in, his voice low against your ear. “it could be.”

and you feel it again—that dangerous, stupid hope that maybe this time, it’s real.

because he came back. because he stayed. because your little girl believed in love enough to put it back together. and because this time, you’re ready to believe in it too.

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

she catches you holding his hand in the kitchen.

it’s not a big deal, really. just fingers brushing as you pass him the milk. but charles catches your pinky with his, gives it a gentle squeeze, and you smile in that way you only ever do with him.

your daughter sees it all from her seat at the table, eating cereal like it’s the most important meal of her life.

“are you guys in love again?” she asks, spoon halfway to her mouth.

charles pauses, milk almost spilling over the edge of his glass. “what?”

“you heard me,” she says, chewing dramatically.

you shoot charles a look. he shrugs, trying not to laugh.

“i think you are,” she continues, totally unfazed. “you look at each other like the people in mommy’s movies. and you sleep on the couch together sometimes. and daddy made you pancakes in a heart shape.”

you can’t even deny that one. he really did.

“okay,” she says, pushing her bowl away. “it’s time.”

“time for what?” you ask, even though you already know.

“you’re going on a date.”

charles raises an eyebrow. “we are?”

she nods. “yes. i’ll stay with mamie. and you two can go somewhere fancy. with candles and music. and then you’ll kiss.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “what is it with you and kissing lately?”

she grins. “uncle pierre says it’s how people fall in love.”

charles makes a face. “i’m going to block his number.”

you get ready while she helps charles pick out a shirt. you hear her scolding him for choosing the boring grey one and insisting he wears the one with the tiny flowers because “mommy likes when you look like a soft boy.”

you come out in a dress that hasn’t seen the light of day in years and charles just stands there, looking like he forgot how to breathe.

“wow,” he says softly. “you look…”

you raise a brow. “like a soft girl?”

he laughs. “like the girl i’ve been in love with since before i even knew it.”

you blink.

he smiles, nervous and sweet and very charles. “too much?”

“no,” you say, cheeks warm. “just enough.”

you drive to a little italian restaurant tucked away in the quieter part of town. it’s dimly lit, with fairy lights above the patio and old music playing inside. it’s romantic in a kind of unintentional way. the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard because it doesn’t need to.

charles pulls your chair out for you and keeps glancing across the table like he’s still trying to figure out if this is real.

“this feels weird,” you say, sipping your wine. “in a good way. but weird.”

he nods. “like we’re pretending we’re not already a family.”

you smile. “yeah.”

“but i want this too,” he adds, eyes soft. “the dating part. the butterflies.”

you meet his gaze. “you still get butterflies?”

he reaches across the table, lacing your fingers with his. “every time you look at me like this.”

and god, you feel it too. that flutter. that full-body warmth that only ever comes when you’re really, really falling.

after dinner, he takes your hand and suggests a walk. it’s chilly but not cold, and the stars are out like someone painted them just for tonight.

“this is the part where we kiss under the moonlight,” you joke, bumping your shoulder into his.

charles stops walking.

“what?” you ask, turning.

he steps closer. “i was waiting for the right moment.”

your breath catches. “is this it?”

he nods, eyes flicking to your mouth. “yeah. i think it is.”

and when he kisses you, it’s slow and soft and everything you’ve been missing for years. it’s full of promises and apologies and second chances. it tastes like wine and laughter and home.

you stay like that for a long time, under the stars and the streetlamp, kissing like you’re twenty and just discovering how good it feels to be wanted.

when you get home, the lights are low and the house is quiet. your daughter is asleep, curled up in her bed with her stuffed giraffe and the nightlight glowing faintly beside her.

charles shuts the door gently behind you.

you turn to him, heart racing, still a little breathless from the night.

“so…” you whisper.

he walks toward you, slow, eyes locked on yours. “so.”

“was this the part where we’re supposed to kiss again?”

he nods, grinning. “definitely.”

he backs you into the couch and kisses you until you’re both laughing and gasping and tangled in each other. his hands in your hair, your arms around his neck, the world spinning just slightly off its axis in the best way.

“we probably shouldn’t wake her,” you mumble against his mouth.

“then we’ll be quiet,” he whispers back, kissing down your neck.

you end up in the car—because it’s late and you can’t quite make it upstairs, and also because there’s something wildly thrilling about being wrapped around each other in the dark leather seats, trying not to fog up the windows too much.

his hands on your thighs, your lips tracing every freckle on his collarbone, his voice low and hoarse as he says your name like a prayer.

after, you sit in the front seat, legs curled into his lap, his hand resting gently on your bare knee.

“we should do this again,” you say, grinning against his shoulder.

charles kisses your temple. “i plan on it.”

and you believe him. completely.

because this time, he’s not just here for the night. this time, he’s here to stay.

THE END :>

[javierpena-inatacvest]

hi Madeline! it’s me ready to annoy you with more javi THOTS

I know that man goes feral seeing you pregnant , especially when you start to show because everyone will know that HE made you that way and that you belong to HIM and it just makes him feel so primal and feral

Cassidy oh my GOD 😩😭 (y'all gotta stop doing this to me (pls actually don't), my baby fever is already so bad and this is not helping 💀) You are 100000% correct and now I can't get this out of my head and what was supposed to be a little drabble has decided to turn into a full blown thing WHOOPS

Insatiable

Summary: Javi thought he couldn't love you anymore than he already did- that was until the two of you found out you were expecting. Now that your baby bump is finally starting to show, Javi can't get enough of you.

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Pregnant Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (listen... she can't get pregnant if she's already pregnant soooooo), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, breeding kink (bc this man will keep you barefoot and pregnant as long as you let him), creampie, Javi is literally obsessed with you and is foaming at the mouth 24/7 watching you carry his baby, Javi is so excited to be a dad, Javi loving his cute lil family so much it makes me wanna vomit

A/N: Me: Damn, I need to write about something other than babies and breeding kinks. Also me: .... No. Don't mind me while I run laps in frantic circles and howl at the moon thinking about this because good lord, you know this man's breeding kink is an unstoppable force of nature

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Well that look on your face definitely doesn't say nothing, Jav."

You couldn't help but giggle at the way Javi's eyes had been glued to you from the moment he had entered the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and hip resting against the counter, admiring you like some sort of breathtaking piece of art as you worked on finishing up dinner.

Because truth be told, to him, that's what you were. Javi had no problem making it very clear to you that he was convinced you were the most beautiful woman to ever walk the face of this earth- beauty not just in the way that you appeared, but a beauty that came deep within your soul that had changed him in a way he would have never thought possible. A beauty that had given him a life he swore he would never deserve- that someway, somehow, you had wanted to spend the rest of your life loving him.

Even after over a year together, a new house, and a ring on your finger, Javi found himself falling harder and harder for you with every passing day. He was honestly convinced it was physically impossible to love you any more than he already did.

That was until four months ago, when the two of you found out that your love would no longer be spread between just the two of you- In a few months from now, it was soon going to be the three of you.

After watching you grow and carry his baby the past four months, Javi learned that despite all odds, he could love you more that he already thought possible.

"Your face says 'I'm thinking very dirty thoughts about my wife' or 'I'm really focusing on trying to hold in a fart' and if the second one's the case, I don't think it's very fair you still get to look that hot while you fart". You smirked, raising an eyebrow at Javi, reaching next to him to grab the dish towel you had been using to wipe your hands before mirroring his stance against the countertop.

"Luckily for you, it's not number two." Javi huffed, rolling his eyes at you before his gaze traveled down to your stomach.

Over the past few days, you had finally reached the point where you were starting to look pregnant, and not just like you had eaten 7 Thanksgiving dinners (as you lovingly liked to coin it). Your bump was now beginning to protrude out of your tighter fitting shirts, excited to see your belly starting to grow, giving your hand a new place to rest on top of the subtle curve, making you grin every time you placed it there.

You had also discovered that not only was Javi just excited about your adorable bump, your husband was ecstatic about it. Your pregnancy was now no longer the hardest secret he'd ever had to keep for the first 12 weeks of your baby's life, it was now an opportunity boast about the fact that you were his beautiful, pregnant wife, and that you and that baby were his.

At this point, there probably wasn't a soul in Laredo that didn't know you were pregnant, because everywhere Javi went, it was a chance to let anyone and everyone know he was going to be a dad, and you were the one carrying his baby.

"Hey, I have to leave our meeting early today because my wife has an ultrasound today for our baby."

"I know peanut butter and pickles is a weird combination, but my wife is pregnant, and what the baby wants, the baby gets."

"Just wanted to get the truck checked out since my wife and I have the baby to drive around in a few months."

And while maybe it was overkill, he just couldn't help it. There was something about becoming a dad, seeing you pregnant, knowing that he was the other half of your baby growing inside you that drove him absolutely feral.

If that gold, diamond band wrapped around your finger wasn't enough to prove that you were his, the baby he had put in your now barley bulging belly sure as fuck was.

Javi reached out his hand, fingers splayed across your stomach with an undeniable smile spread across his face as you rested your palm over his grasp, the two of you staring down stomach.

"Watchya thinkin' about, Jav?" You teased, speaking on behalf of both you and baby Peña as Javi stared at both his and your hands covering your bump, silently admiring the simple moment you were sharing.

"Can you believe we fucking made this?" Javi laughed quietly to himself, still in shock every time he really thought about how he was going to be a father. "That we're actually gonna have a baby?"

"Actually, I can, considering we were both there, and it was very fun." You giggled, lacing your fingers between Javi's and bringing his hand up to your mouth to plant a soft kiss on it, "It's crazy, Javi. I can't believe we're actually gonna be parents."

"Yeah? Fun, huh?" Javi smirked, bringing his other arm to wrap around your waist, fingers beginning to dig into your hips as he pulled you closer.

"Out of all the things I enjoy doing with you, Javier Peña, making babies is very high on that list."

Biting down on your lip, you leaned further into Javi's touch, your bump barley getting in the way of being chest to chest as he craned his neck down, engulfing your mouth in an electric kiss that had you feeling like you were floating.

"Fuck- I'd make 100 babies with you, Hermosa." Javi groaned, feeling the growing bulge in his pants starting to press against your thigh in between kisses.

"100?! Jesus, Jav, are we planning on running a circus?" You laughed, Javi too wrapped up in the thought of you carrying another one of his babies to even process your joke.

"I don't fuckin' care. I'll give you as many babies as you wanna have. You're so fucking sexy being pregnant."

Without your lips ever parting, Javi swung you around so that your back was pressed against the counter, caging your body under his before letting his kisses travel down your neck and collarbone, across your chest and south towards your stomach, until he was dropping to his knees in front of you.

"Javi, I've spent the past three months eating nothing but Hot Cheetos and pickles and complaining about how I need to throw up every thirty seconds, last time I checked, that's about as far from sexy as you can get." You tried your best to muster out some sort of laughter, but with the way that Javi was kissing you, letting his hands roam up to the waistband of your shorts, slowly beginning to tug your bottoms off your hips until you were in nothing but your underwear, Javi was making it very difficult to play into your joke.

Not that you were complaining.

"Nuh uh," Javi hummed, gently tracing his fingers over your covered folds, arousal seeping from your core into the dampening cotton, "Do you know how fucking sexy it is seeing you carry our baby? Knowing that you let me get you pregnant? Grow our kid and give us a family? Baby, if that's not the fucking sexiest thing I've ever heard, then I don't know what the fuck is."

Rubbing and forth, the pads of Javi's fingers applied more pressure to your clit, making you let out a whimper as he finally tended to the throbbing ache that had been rapidly building between your legs. At this point, your underwear was clinging to the outline of your cunt, swollen and puffy with anticipation as your slick soaked the fabric.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me already, baby girl." Javi tutted, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your panties and shuffling them down your legs, revealing the shiny mess smeared between your thighs from your weeping hole.

Scooting himself closer, Javi hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around your thigh to hold it in place and keep you balanced. His fingers slid through your folds, parting them with a V of his fingers to softly kiss your clit, big brown eyes looking up at you, pooling with lust as he watched you writhe under his touch.

"F-fuck, Javi, oh my god." You whined, noticing the shift in how your changing body and hormones made you even more responsive to Javi's touch, your pussy already beginning to clench around nothing with the way your stomach was swirling with arousal. "Please, baby, fuck."

"Please, what, Hermosa?" Javi smirked, peppering more soft kisses to your sensitive nub, knowingly driving you wild.

"T-touch me, baby, please. Please, don't fucking tease me, I just- Fuck-"

Before you could finish your plea, Javi had his head buried between your thighs, lapping you up like a man lost in the desert, finally finding his oasis. Long, flat strokes of his tongue swiped against your clit, already working at an unforgiving pace, ready to make you fall apart for him over and over.

Your hand shot down, digging your fingers through the thick, brown locks of Javi's hair, trying to find any way to brace yourself as an all too familiar tingle began to build in your spine as your sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his tongue.

You were convinced there wasn't a man on the face of this earth who loved eating you out more than Javi, riding a serotonin high every time he settled his mouth between your parted legs, worshiping your pussy until it wept for him like a dam finally breaking its seal and flooding him with your slick.

As if you weren't close enough already, Javi slid two of his fingers into your entrance bumping up perfectly against the sweet spot inside you, curling just enough to send you moments away from spiraling.

Without faltering his pace, Javi's lips latched around your clit, sucking intensely while his fingers pulsed at the perfect rhythm, feeling your pussy flutter around him.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" You threw your head back, orgasm rushing through you forcing your cunt to clamp down around Javi's fingers, slick gushing around them. Javi's strong grip held your legs in place, trembling with pleasure as you came, letting you catch your breath as your chest heaved while you came down from your high.

Javi placed a soft kiss on your sensitive clit before tossing your legs off his shoulders to stand, hands cupping your jaw to lock your lips in a passionate kiss, the tangy taste of you still fresh on his tongue.

"Turn around, mi amor." Javi cooed, gently letting his hands down your body, running over the swell of your stomach until he reached your hips, guiding you to face the edge of the counter until your forearms were resting on the ledge, bare ass pressed against the bulge straining against the denim of his jeans.

You craned your neck over your shoulder to see Javi frantically working at his belt, metal quietly clanging until a swift tug had his pants and boxers pooled around his ankles. You let out an audible moan as you felt his tip swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal to coat his cock, stroking himself with the mix of your slick and his precum.

"Fuck, you're so perfect," Javi whispered, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder and trailing the pecks of his lips up your back and neck, "So fucking beautiful carrying our baby." One of your hands shot back, grabbing at Javi's waist to brace yourself as he pushed into your heat, shaft filling you up inch by inch until he had bottomed out, hips flushed with your ass.

The sweet stretch and sting of Javi's length had you reeling, your sensitivity from your last orgasm on top of the already increased sensitivity from new waves of hormones, jaw going slack at the sensation of his fullness, greedily pushing your ass back into him to take as much as you could.

"Move, baby, fuck- please," You whimpered, bracing yourself against the counter, grinding your bottom half into his hips to do anything to ease your ache, "Javi, fuck me baby, please, I- oh fuck-"

Before you could finish your plea, Javi was beginning to pound into you at an already punishing pace, punching into you g-spot in a way that made your eyes nearly roll in the back of your head.

"You want me to fuck you, Momma? I'll fuck you, hermosa. Whatever you want, baby, you know I'll give it to you." Javi smirked, fingers digging into the curve of where your hips meet the meat of your ass, thrusting into you with thick drags of his cock, intoxicated by the warmth and wetness of your velvety walls.

Releasing the grip of one of his hands, he wrapped it around your front, splayed as it slid down the curve of your belly to reach between your legs, rubbing firm circles into your clit.

You couldn't help but buck back into him, feeling your stomach swirl with arousal and anticipation of your impending orgasm beginning to build, the combination of the snap of Javi's hips and pressure against your sensitive nub making you feel like you were melting under his touch.

"Fuck, Javi- Fuck, oh my god. Fuck, you feel so good. Oh shit- don't stop, baby." You moaned, feeling your pussy starting to flutter around his cock as he continued to fuck into you, your borderline incoherent babbling only egging him on more as his thrusts became faster.

"I won't stop, pretty girl. I won't stop until I fuck you so full of me, you'll be dripping out of me for days. Fuck- I won't stop until give you as many fucking babies as you want." Javi grunted, gritting his teeth as he rammed into you, feeling the knot beginning to tighten in his own stomach at the thought alone of being able to get you pregnant again.

With his one hand still rubbing your clit, his other arm scooped around your front, pulling you from resting your weight on your forearms against the counter to have you stand up straight, your back flushed against his chest. With you pressed against him, Javi couldn't help but suck and nip at your pulse point, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulled you in closer, holding you steady while your body began to tremble on the brink collapse.

"I know you're close, baby. It's alright, mi amor, I've got you. Wanna feel you soak me. Cum all over my cock before I fill you up." Javi groaned, his words hot against your skin between kisses along your neck and shoulder blade, shifting his grasp to cup one of your swollen breasts in his palm, fingers gently toying with the hardened buds of your nipples.

The added sensation was all it took to send you over the edge, orgasm crashing through your body with an unforgiving wave of intensity, pleasure radiating through every inch of you as your cunt clamped down around Javi's cock, gushing with your arousal as you came.

Knowing you had reached your end, Javi began to chase his own high, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as your body melded with his, nearly going limp in his grasp from how good he had made you feel.

"That's my girl. Fuck, I can't wait to get you pregnant again, let everyone see how you're all mine carrying our baby. Gonna be such a good Mom, giving us a family, making me a dad. Oh fuck- I love you so much. So fucking much. Te am- ahhhhhh, fuck!"

Before he could finish his thought, Javi was spilling inside you, the hot ropes of his spend coating your walls, a low groan humming deep in his chest as he filled you with every last drop he had to give. Javi's body slumped into yours, his head resting on your shoulder as both of your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths, hearts racing in sync as you came down from your highs.

Carefully slipping his softening cock out of your heat, you could feel the mix of your spend smearing between your thighs and dripping down your legs as Javi grabbed your waist, turning you to face him so your mouths could meet in a still messy dance of tongues and teeth.

"Holy fuck..." You huffed, finally managing to get a word out through your breathlessness and giggles, looking up at Javi, blissed out grins stretched across both your faces.

"Holy fuck..." Javi parroted, the two of you happily giggling half naked in your kitchen, the both of you staring down at your stomach as Javi rested his hands to cradle your bump.

"This one's not even here yet, and you're already thinking about number two?" You snickered, raising an eyebrow at your husband, gently tracing circles with his thumb around your stomach.

"Huh?"

"Don't think I didn't hear what you said. Let's get this one first, then we can think about another one." You teased, giving Javi a little nudge as his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, sheepishly darting his eyes towards the ground.

"Sorry, I- I just, God, something about you being pregnant- drives me fucking crazy. I love both of you so fucking much, I swear." Javi sighed, soft smile spread between his cheeks, eyes glancing back and forth between your bump and equally happy grin stretched across your face.

"We love you too, Javi." Pressing up on your toes, you planted a soft kiss on Javi's cheek, draping your hand across his, resting happily on your stomach. "Listen, if you want baby number two, you gotta help me finish cookin' baby number one. And baby number one is hungry. Do we have anymore sour-"

"Sour gummy worms? I picked some more up on the way home from work yesterday."

"Oh thank God, I was about to go drive to the store pantsless to get some if we didn't. Fuck, I wonder if we still have-"

"Watermelon? Got that and green grapes too, just in case." Javi chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss into your messy hair.

"God, I love you." You beamed, making your way towards the pantry, "You keep this up and we're makin' baby number two on an expedited timeline there, Jav."

"Sour gummy worms and watermelon is all it's gonna take?"

"Like I really needed that much convincing anyways? I told you earlier, making babies with you is one of my favorite things to do. Sour gummy worms and watermelon is just a nice bonus."

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @purpleprincess75 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

@purpleprincess75

[sk1ndx0]

Love me not (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Chishiya x fem!reader

TW: Niragi being annoying, some smut? Cursing, kissing (ew 💔)

Summary: Who the fuck gave Niragi permission to touch and talk to you?

You walked around the pool, avoiding the crashing bodies and random drunk strangers. Yup. This was the Beach, alright.

It was time for that once-in-a-blue-moon visit, and you slid your way passed everyone and into the bar. You looked around, seeing no one behind it. You reached over the counter, grabbing a bottle and taking the cap off.

You noticed an obnoxiously loud group.. everyone was laughing, whooping, etc. The worst part about it was..

They were the Militants. And that meant Niragi.

Well, a drink in your room wouldn’t hurt.

You immediately started walking to your room, trying to maneuver your way through the crowd again. As soon as you reached the elevators, you felt a hand grip your arm and shove you to the wall behind you.

You winced slightly, yelping in surprise and you looked up at the face who chucked you.

Niragi.

You scoffed, standing up. “The hell do you want?”

A sadistic grin spread on his face, reaching his eyes. “Aw, and I thought you’d be happy to see your favorite militant.”

“I don’t have a favorite one.. I hate you all equally.”

You winced as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, and grabbed at your hair, yanking it.

“Don’t fuck with me.” He growled softly. “I’ll fucking put a bullet between those pretty eyes. How’s that sound?”

You glared at him, yanking his hand way. “Don’t touch me.”

He gave you a once-over, smirking and leaning against the wall.

“I like a little chase, babydoll..”

His eyes bore into yours, watching as you walked into the elevator and went up.

You entered your room, realizing that you left your bottle downstairs. You groaned. Guess that was all for nothing.

You plopped onto your bed, letting out a soft whine..

Whhhyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!

You heard someone knock on your doorway.

“Bad time?” Chishiya mumbled, looking at your defeated form.

“Hey can you-”

“No.” Chishiya cut you off, sitting beside you.

“Meanie.” You huffed, sitting up to look at him.

His hands were in his pockets, and his hair looked a bit messy.. or you just wanted to touch it.

Without thinking, you reached a hand out to brush a strand of hair from his face, your fingers lingering a bit longer than they were supposed to.

Chishiya tensed up, but didn’t move. He never did.

You smiled softly at him, and his heart sped up slightly. He let out a soft cough, trying to cover up his heart beat.

He seemed calm, but his mind was..

..elsewhere..

“So what’d you come in here for?” You removed your hand, letting it set in your lap.

He stared for a bit before sighing through his nose.

He reached out from his pocket, his fingers grazing your thigh lightly.. You looked down, chuckling softly and moving into his lap.

He slightly scoffed in surprise, his hand moving to grip your waist. You looked down into the eyes that made you melt, smiling softly.

You leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t something filled with hunger, like usual.. but it was nice, and tender. You looked down at Chishiya. He noticed the change, of course, and his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned further into the kiss.

You smiled softly against his lips, opening your mouth slightly so his tongue could dart out and wrap around yours..

You felt his hands travel, like he didn’t know where to start. He deepened the kiss, becoming more passionate, more rough.

You felt him pick you up, almost easily.

You let out a noise of surprise and delight, feeling him pin you to the bed with his body..

———

You expected some form of loneliness in the morning, per usual.

But.. it wasn’t like that anymore.

You grew close with Chishiya, whether you liked it or not. So he stayed more often.

He cuddled you. Gave you the aftercare that he usually never did.

In Chishiya’s mind, it was everything he knew you wanted. Him?

He would kill for this.

You didn’t wanna move, but you did.

You turned to face Chishiya, seeing him stare right back at you.

“Goodmorning sunshine.” You giggled, holding his face with one hand.

He softly chuckled. He sat up, leaning against the headboard.

You followed shortly after, clinging onto his arm. He looked down at you, once again tensing up slightly.

“Might have to go play a game today.” He softly mutters. You look up at him with your doe eyes.

“Me or you?”

“Me.”

“I see. Who’s gonna protect me while youre gone?” You whine dramatically, putting the back of your hand to your forehead.

“It’ll have to be Niragi…” You opened one eye to see his reaction.

“Fuck no. If it’s like that, you’ll come with me.”

You giggled softly, holding his face and kissing both of his cheeks, getting up from the bed. “You’re too cute sometimes.” You ramble while you get dressed.

Chishiya eventually gets up, dressing himself, finally putting on his hoodie.

“So am I going with you?” You suddenly ask, smiling.

“That’s your choice.” Chishiya looked at you, hands in his pockets.. calm.

“Well.. I want to know if you want me to come.” You pretty much skip over to his side.

Chishiya stared at you, silent for a bit.

“Oh come on, not the silent treatment.”

“If you want-” He finally mumbled.

“Alright I’ll come!” You bounce, giggling like a child.

———

Walking out of the game arena, it was fairly simple. Dodgeball. A spade game. If you got hit by a ball you got eliminated, yada yada..

You skipped beside Chishiya, rambling about something random, like how clouds could weigh up to a million pounds.

Chishiya followed you closely, listening.

It seemed like he wasn’t. Like he didn’t care.

But he cared.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

He’s finally admitting it himself. He cares for you.

He’d burn this place down.

All for you.

Maybe that was enough for him.

For you.

But you aren’t exactly his. No, not yet.

“Hey by the way, Niragi grabbed me by my hair and started throwing me all over the place. Like, who gave him permission to do that? So rude, right?”

Chishiya immediately snapped up.

“He what? Huh?” His eyes narrowed.

“He.. grabbed me by my hair? It wasn’t that hard though, you’ve pulled on my hair harder.”

You giggled, acting as if it was all a joke.

Chishiya’s fists clenched and unclenched in his pockets. “Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, a little. Not in the good way either.” You stuck your tongue out in mock disgust.

Fuck. No. He. Didn’t.

———

Chishiya walked down the hallways on the Beach. He walked to the executive room, walking in. He saw Niragi, waiting as requested.

“Okay, the fuck did you ask me to come here for?” Niragi asked, like he had better places to be.

“Did you hurt Y/N?” He simply confronts, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded like he already knew he was going to win this argument.

“Pshh.. light squabble. All I did was pull on her hair a bit, nothin’ special.” Niragi leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Keep your distance from her.” Chishiya ordered, getting straight to the point. “Lay another finger on her and I’ll take care of you myself.”

Niragi scoffed, smirking. “Oh boo hoo. Y/N really cried to you? Damn she must be really stupid.” He laughed, the noise cutting through the air like glass.

Chishiya’s jaw tightened, softly exhaling through his nose. “She isn’t yours to touch.”

“And she’s yours?” Niragi snapped back, tensing up.

Chishiya stayed silent, staring at Niragi. “Keep away from her, is all I’m telling you to do.”

“She obviously loves me.. she’s just hiding it like the little girl she is-”

“She can’t love you if she’s never screamed your name so who does she really love here in this situation?” Chishiya snaps.

Chishiya’s gaze darkens, staring at the oh so stunned Niragi.

“The fuck..?”

Niragi mumbled, his eyes still wide.

Chishiya turns on his heel, walking to the door.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He softly chuckled before closing the door behind him.

Never again. Never doing that again. Chishiya cursed under his breath.

A/N: Crisis averted…. This was NOTHING like the original idea but I feel like it’s better somehow bc it’s a wee bit longer and has more detail! I hope you guys like this one 💕💕

(it’s still so short ILL MAKE UP FOR IT I PROMISE 💔💔💔)

ok but how Chishiya walked out of there like a DIVA-!?!?

TAGS FOR MY MUMSHKIDDIES

𐙚⋆°🦢｡⋆♡

@ankababy @arthurs-horse @adanfore @sanriwoozzz @unhinged-sorcerer @potato-vagina @chishiyaswigglue @douazz

-Love, Sk1n

[justauthoring]

all too easy.

requested! -> hello!! :D i've loved your fairy tail fics so far and wanted to know if you could write something for laxus? anything would be fine! thank you! -> can you write some laxus x reader fluff please requested by -> anonymous

a/n -> this was sitting unfinished in my drafts for too long and given that fairy tail is returning in a week basically i HAD to finish it (im still in disbelief my first anime is returning!)

pairing -> laxus dreyar x f!reader

"i have a proposition for you."

quirking a brow up at cana, you know instantly that the sly smile and the mischief dancing in her eyes is nothing good.

you loved cana. of course you did. she was part of your family and your friend, not to mention your teammate; but the girl seemed to get a particular kick out of teasing you. you were more often then not the target of her skeems, usually crafted after a few of her barrels were downed. however, being the resident alcoholic of fairy tail, cana's mind seemed to work better inebriated then it would for others.

so her proposition is regarded with hesitance, pulled away from your own thoughts to focus in on her. "...yes?" you ask softly, prompting her to finish and almost instantly she brightens, the smile turning genuine as she takes a seat at the table across from you.

your eyes fall on the barrel of alcohol she promptly drops beside her.

"i'll give you the full reward of our next mission if you drink with me."

okay... so that was certainly not what you were expecting.

brows furrowing, you shake your head. "that's... all?"

still grinning, cana nods. "that's it. i just want you to drink with me." she explains, tapping her barrell for added effect.

"why?" you ask instantly, not trusting how... simple her request. it's definitely a set up of some sort... the only problem is you can't figure out what or just what her angle is. "you've never asked me to drink with you before and we've known each other a long time so—"

"y/n?"

"yes?"

"i just want to drink with my best friend," she says, her voice oddly soft and sincere in a way that it normally never is. you knew cana cared, of course, but she was rarely ever this serious. "and i know you don't like drinking so im bribing you."

you pause, regarding her for a moment longer. you let your eyes drag across her, taking in her expression and trying to find some sort of hint that there was something beyond what she meant.

you couldn't find anything.

the guilt starts to well then. it seemed cana truly just wanted to have a drink with you and you think back to all the times you'd rather quickl denied her request. it never was more than just because you could not keep up with cana without getting incredibly drunk and you were... not a fun drunk to say the least.

but... you supposed a few drinks couldn't hurt.

"okay," you concede, nodding as you signal mira to bring the two of you some cups. "i'll drink with you."

cana lets out a whoop, her hand pumping the air and you watch on with a laugh, shaking your head.

-

it's not just a few drinks.

it's practically her whole barrel and before you know it, you're thoroughly drunk. your words slur and your movements are jagged, you're not even fully conscious of what you're saying or doing; all you know is that you're having fun and there's not a single care in regard to anything else.

somewhere along the way, as to be expected, other members of the guild started to join in the fun. wakaba and macao were the first, then team natsu returned from a mission and of course, natsu was quick to join in the celebration. he'd tugged lucy and happy with him and gray, erza and wendy trailed behind.

with them came the rest.

the whole guild was in an uproar and you were basking the full of it.

completely unaware of the eyes watching you quietly, you linked arms with cana, the both of you singing loudly, out of pitch and without a single care in the world. some of the guild members watched on in amusement, clapping and cheering the both of you on.

you'd ended up on a table without meaning to, dancing around without watching your step. it takes five minutes before you inevitably trip, stepping back only for your foot to land on nothing, and feel yourself slipping back as your arm slips from cana.

you register that you're falling but you're inebriated state leaves you unable to catch yourself, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you wait to slam into the floor beneath you. your eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, but...

but you never hit the ground.

instead, you're enveloped in warmth. arms catch you, wrapping around your back and under your knees as you're held against a firm chest. with a gasp, you open your eyes, only to see laxus looming over you, eyes flickering across you as if assessing you for any injuries.

"laxus!"

his name leaves your lips in a squeal of surprise and it seems the commotion of everything caught the attention of the guild as there's cheers called out for laxus' save and a few whistles that has your cheeks burning.

you expect laxus to let you go, but he just stands up straight, still silent and still holding you close to him. his eyes flicker across the rest of the guild and then he's turning, making his way to the guild doors—with you.

"aw! laxus! don't ruin all the fun!"

it's cana who calls out, voice pitching and loud but laxus just shakes his head, never faltering in his step, opening the guild doors and letting them fall shut behind him. the chaos of the guild grows muffled and instead instantly, and you're left out in the cool magnolia air, only then realizing how late it had gotten.

"where... where are we going?" you ask tentatively, unsure of your own voice and hating the way your words still slightly slur.

"i'm taking you home."

you nod, more to yourself than anything. nearly falling had taken you from your stupor slightly but your mind was still jumbled and you could clearly feel the effects of alcohol coarsing through your system; it didn't help that it was laxus that had caught you or that you were alone with him.

for as long as you can remember you've had a raging crush on him.

being apart of the guild since you were a little girl, you'd had a schoolgirl crush on laxus; it was a mix of the fact that he was older and you'd been enamoured with his magic. only, you never really grew out of it. even when he'd done his attack on fairy tail, your heart had been in a state of conflict between your feelings and the cruel actions he'd done.

and when he'd been kicked out? you'd been distraught; only to be ecstatic when he returned that day on tenrou island. sure, it had been followed by being asleep for seven years, but regardless, laxus had returned and it seemed with it his attitude had changed.

while he'd never been cruel to you, you'd spent most of your time watching him with adoring eyes. but when you'd all returned from tenrou, there was a noticeable difference in laxus. he was still quiet and he did tend to stick to himself, but where he'd been cruel and crude before, he was awkward and endearing. he was considerably kinder and the two of you had even grown closer in the passing months since.

needless to say, that schoolgirl crush had grown into a fullout 'i-like-you-so-much-i-can't-fuction-around-you' crush.

so, clearly, you were freaking out.

it takes you a moment to realize you're still in his arms, wrapped securely around your waist and the blush deepens as you hastily worm your way out of his grasp, pushing against his chest. the action causes laxus to halt in surprise, turning to glance down at you with parted lips as you frantically wave your hands in front of you.

"i-i can walk home on my own," you rush out, words still clearly slurring. "i me-mean, thank you for catching me but you don't need to... you don't need walk me home. i don't want to be a bother."

there's a beat of silence, then; "you're not a bother."

and you blink, stunned, eyes flickering up to meet his calm and steady ones.

"i don't mind," he clarifies, the words somewhat awkward. are his cheeks red or are you just imagining that? "i... i want to make sure you get home safe."

"oh."

you regret the second you say it, feeling like a complete fool as your cheeks burn and you stare back at him like an idiot.

blinking, you force yourself to speak; "o-okay, then."

you turn and he follows and then the two of you are walking again. it's awkwardly silent and you're mentally cursing yourself because it wasn't like this was the first time you've ever been alone with laxus so why can't you think of anything to say? you want to blame it on your inebriated state but you know that isn't completely it.

his words, though probably not meant by anything more, of wanting you to get home safe is getting to your heart and making your heart race—and that is making your brain short circuit on what to say.

you're so lost in your own thoughts you aren't watching when you're stepping and for the second time that night you lose your balance, tripping and tipping forward as your vision blurs.

this time you're sure you're going to fall but you forget that laxus isn't a s-class ranked wizard for nothing, and his reflexes allow him to slip his arm around your waist with ease. once again you feel you back press against his firm and warm chest, and you're positive you might pass out.

"maybe i should just carry you."

you blink, wide eyes turning to face laxus and you're even further surprised to see the small grin on his face at his own teasing.

"i-i..." but no words leave your lips because you have no argument. "sorry..."

laxus just shakes his head but before you can say anything more, he's shifting, his arm slipping underneath the bend of your knees and your axis is tilted as he lifts you into his arms, bridle style.

"oh!"

he shuffles, making sure you're properly in his arms before meeting your gaze; "this okay?"

letting out a shaky breath, you don't dare try to speak—knowing you'll only make more of a fool of yourself—and nod with burning cheeks.

the rest of the walk goes pretty uneventful from there. you don't live far from the guild so laxus reaches your small apartment with ease having been there before when returning from a mission that you and cana had joined laxus' team for. you'd moved out of the fairy apartments a while ago because although you loved the girls, having a space to your own was something you'd desperately needed.

you're more than thankful for that in this moment cause you don't think you could handle the embarrassment of any of the girls seeing laxus carry you home.

you hand him your key when you reach your door and instead of leaving the second he's set you down inside, you're pleasantly surprised by how laxus stays.

swallowing thickly, you shuffle in front of him; "once again, thank you. for-for everything."

laxus' eyes fall on you, nodding; "of course." then, after a moment, he adds; "i... uh, was surprised to see you drunk. you normally don't join cana on her bad habits."

tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, you glance at your feet; "yeah... definitely learnt my lesson for that one."

laxus pauses; "i mean... i wouldn't mind if it meant i got to be the one to walk you home."

you're sure you misheard that. had... had laxus just been flirting?

turning to him, your lips part; "what?"

this time you're sure his cheeks are red.

"you're cute drunk," is what he says, stunning you further. "it bothered me how some of the other guys there were eyeing you so when i saw you fall, i... well, made sure i was the one to catch you."

he promptly avoids your gaze all while he speaks, rubbing the back of his neck and cheeks as flushed as yours.

"o-oh..." you mumble, before cursing yourself. stupid you and stupid brain for shortcircuting. "i-i mean... are you saying what i think you're saying?"

slowly, laxus' eyes shift to yours.

"yeah..." he breathes, "especially if you feel the same."

for the first time you're thankful for your inebriated state that gives you the courage to close the small distance between the two of you and promptly press your lips against laxus'. you fall against him with a swoosh, hands wrapping around his neck as you let your eyes flutter shut, sinking into him further the second he tugs you closer by the waist.

it's exactly like you always hoped it would be and you can hardly believe you're kissing him even as his lips slant against your own.

a moment later, breathless, you pull away, chest rising and falling with laxus' as he cups the back of your head and meets your gaze.

your eyes flicker from his eyes back to his lips.

"we-we shouldn't."

and at first you're panicked, heart stopping momentarily, but laxus is smiling in a way you've never seen before (and a way that takes you breath away) and shakes his head; "i don't want our first time to be while you're drunk. i have no doubt of my feelings, but i want you to be sober."

could your heart possibly swoon anymore?

biting your lip, you smile, wide; "at least spend the night?"

laxus grins; "of course."

-

"so... did you and laxus have a good night?"

eyes zoning in on cana, you frown; "what does that mean?"

shrugging, with her regular barrel in between her legs, "nothing," she says, playing it off nonchalantly. "just, you two left together last night and came to the guild this morning together. it's a bit suspicious, don't you think?"

you stare at her for a moment longer, taking in her grin and the twinkle of mischief in her eyes and promptly gasp; "you got me drunk on purpose!"

cana glances away; "i have no idea what you're talking about!"

"yes, you do!" you accuse, pointing your finger at her. "you wanted me to make a fool of myself... so... so what? laxus would come in and help?"

cana scoffs; "the two of you were ridiculous. always making heart-eyes at each other," she laughs. "i had to step in. for you, of course."

rolling your eyes, you stare at her in disbelief.

staring past you, cana just grins; "it worked didn't it?"

and you're confused at first, until a hand settles on your shoulder and you glance up to meet laxus' familiar and soft look.

"hey," he smiles and for all his talk of being tough, it seems even he can't fight the lovesick grin off his face.

a quick glance at cana tells you she's drinking her victory in, but really, you can't be all that angry when you see the way laxus is looking at you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

O Chilly Night

Warnings: no warnings because I let this be a sweet one. however I could see this Steve getting dark after this story hehe.

Summary: You go skating and fall in a way you don't expect. (plus!reader)

Character: skinny!Steve Rogers

Day Twenty-Two of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - i didn't fall on the ice, it was a trick 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The blades glide beneath your feet as your legs move without thinking. The noise of sharp edges slice across the ice as bodies float in pairs and trios, swirling and swerving in laps around the grand oval rink. Electric lights sparkle all around, intertwined with holly and berries in a festive scene. Cheery laughter and cutting whoops fill the crisp air around the clouds of warm breaths. 

Patricia and Joyce skate behind you, slower as they aren’t so confident in their balance. You keep a relaxed pace and spin to face them, moving backwards as they cling to each other. Joyce chatters and touches her cheek. 

“It’s awfully cold out,” she complains. 

“We’ve been inside all month,” you counter. “I’d rather this than to sit at the typewriter a moment longer.” 

“Mm, I’d rather the warm office,” she grips and Patricia nods in agreement. 

You chuckle, “well, Merry Christmas to you.” 

“I’d like it a lot more if it was in June,” Joyce leans into Patricia. 

“We can get some cocoa after, there’s a stall nearby,” you say. “I told you to bring a scarf.” 

“Thank you, mother,” Joyce sneers. 

“Would you like mine?” You ignore her venomous retort. 

“No, I want to stop. I’m dizzy. This is boring,” she whines. 

“Well, there are benches,” you shrug, “you could take a rest.” 

“Fine, but I’m not waiting on you all night,” she sniffles and cups her nose. 

“I’ll come with you. These skates are too small.” 

You smile through the tug in your cheeks. You thought your new coworkers would enjoy the night out. The rink seemed to be a nice seasonal attraction. Market stalls, skating, and even a horse-drawn sleigh. You might try that next. They seem more comfortable sitting down. 

The head for the closest exit and you turn to skim away, keeping a mellow pace. A raucous thunder of laughter and jeers rise from the other end of the rink and you peek over to see the reason. A group of six men pass by a body on the cold surface. The ice seems to steam around the small figure splayed there. 

No one stops. No one even seems to care and more laugh at the poor soul’s plight than worry for it. You sweep down the center of the ice, swooping between other skaters, and stop to bend over the man in his wool coat. His cap is off his head, pillowing it over the ice, and his scarf is twisted down his front. You didn’t expect a man, not at his size. He's rather spindly and the fall might’ve broken something. 

“Sir,” you eke out, “are you alright?” 

He groans and opens his eyes. They are big and blue around his beakish nose. His gives a pained grimace. “I must be. I thought if I kept my eyes closed I might melt into the ice.” 

“Did you hit your head?” You wonder. “Can you get up?” 

He stares at you, his irises gleaming in confusion as he searches your face. He looks around then nods. “Yeah... I’m good,” he assures you. “Thanks for asking.” 

“Here,” you offer your mittened hand. “You shouldn’t stay down there or you might stick.” 

His forehead creases and his mouth upturns. He snorts, “that’s silly.” 

He looks at your hand and reaches for it hesitantly. You grasp him and do your best to plant your skates. He’s not very heavy. You get him on his blades but he wobbles precariously. 

“Sorry, I’m no good at this.” He clings to you as his feet slip. ��My friend wanted to come but...” he glances around. “He’s late.” 

He’s not very tall, even on the skates. And somehow standing, he doesn’t look much bigger than he did on the ice. The hollow of his throat is deep and his jacket is at least two sizes too big. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold. 

He finally lets you go and puts his hand out to balance himself. You bend and scoop up his hat. You hand it over as your cheeks bulb in a smile. 

“You sure you didn’t hurt anything?” 

He stares at the hat before he takes it and covers his messy blond hair. “Just my ego.” 

“We all fall when we learn. That's how you learn, what matters is you get back up,” you say. 

“Yeah? Well, it helps if we have someone to help us up,” he snorts. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “It’s just what you do.” 

“Really? Cause everyone else just laughed at me.” 

“That’s more their problem than yours, I’d say,” you tut. 

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“Not at all. Merry Christmas, sir.” 

“Yeah, uh, you too,” he looks down sheepishly. “Can I ask how you got so good at this?” 

“Not by honest means. I used to sneak out when my mother wasn’t looking,” you snicker. “Kept a better eye on me after I fell under the ice.” 

He laughs, “hm, guess I’ll have to keep practicing.” 

“Um, I hope your friend shows up soon. Mine are waiting,” you point over your shoulder. “But, uh, do you want some help to the edge? You can lean on the posts.” 

“I think you’ve done enough,” he chews his cheek. “Think I see my buddy.” 

He raises his hand and you turn to look. You can’t see much over the bodies all around you. You’re not sure how he can see more than you. Oh well. 

“Well, have fun and... be careful,” you slowly turn and drift away. You should go find Patricia and Joyce. 

You step off the ice and sidle to the side. You look up and down the benches but don’t see them. There’s families, dads on one knee tying their kids’ skates, mothers checking their coat buttons, and adolescents impatient to go out and find their friends. 

You go around the perimeter, walking on your blades, but don’t find your fellow typists. You stop to change into your shoes, knotting the laces of your skates to hang over your shoulder. You hook your bag strap over them and get up to search the picnic tables. 

Your feet hurt as you come up fruitless in your hunt. You finally give into the disappointment and sit on your own. You stare at the stall as you mull over whether to get a cider or cocoa to soothe the wound. They left you. So much for friends. 

You untangle your skates and set them on the bench next to you. You rub your mitts together and contemplate whether it’s even worth it to spend the nickel. You shield your hurt behind a smile that aches in your cheeks. You miss home. You don’t know why you moved to the city. Like that man said, people just laugh at your pain. 

“Excuse me, miss,” his voice startles you as the thought of him seems to summon his appearance, “I didn’t get your name.” 

You look up at the thin man, his nose even redder than before. He holds two steaming mugs. You blink and utter your name. “What’s your name?” You ask. 

“Steve,” he grins. 

You look at the cups, “you found your friend?” 

“Sure did, he’s racing on the ice,” he says. “I don’t wanna break my tailbone so I thought I’d step off. Er...” he looks down at his hands, “can I sit with you?” 

“Oh,” you look around at the full tables. “I guess. I’m taking up a lot of room, aren’t I?” 

He sets the mugs down and sits. He sniffs and scratches his nose as he beams at you. He’s speechless as you try to figure out what to say. 

“Um, I got you cocoa,” he slides a cup across. “To say thanks.” 

“You...did?” Your brows rise in surprise. “That’s so sweet, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. “So, where are your friends?” 

Your lips straighten. You can’t lie, you’ve never been any good at it. You reach for the mug, your mitten brushing his, and you pull it closer. 

“They left.” 

He hums, “really? Why would they do that?” 

You shrug, “too cold, maybe.” 

“Nah, I'd say they’re too cold,” he scoffs. 

You laugh softly, “you’re too nice. It’s my fault. I asked them and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I just thought...” you trail off. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.” 

“Sure it does,” he leans his elbows on the table as he cups his hands around the mug. “If they don’t think so, then toss them. They’re missing out.” 

You look up at him and blink away the heat in your eyes. Perhaps he isn’t the friend you expected, but you think you made one nonetheless. You smile and blow over the mug. 

“Thank you, Steve,” you lift the cup, “for everything.” 

“It’s nothing,” he pushes his shoulders up as he stares at you with his bright eyes. “It’s just a cup of cocoa. You’re the sorta girl who deserves anything she could dream of.” 

[remlionheart]

can i request a megumi x reader fluff >_<! so like while on a mission due to a cursed technique of the curse the reader gets turned into a child so megumi has to take care of them and yeah they’re dating BUT NOTHING WEIRD JUST MEGUMI TAKING CARE OF CHILD READER PLEASE 😭😭

not a lot, just forever...

intertwined, sewn together...

♡‧₊˚ ⋅ hi lovely! i sat with this idea for a few days thinking of a way to bring it to life because it’s honestly just so cute and the more i thought about meg trying to interact with a child, the more my heart melted. ((i also realized that this is the very first sfw thing i’ve ever posted on here (whoops lol)), it's more of a drabble than a full-fledged fic, but i hope you like it anyway ♡ 0.9k words. the fluffiest of fluff. lemme know whatcha think, luv you ‧₊˚ ⋅♡

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

Megumi had watched the curse hit you. Watched the way your body went limp after you'd fallen to the ground. He'd held you in his arms, struggling to shove past all of the worst-case scenarios that had invaded his mind before scooping you up and getting you to a safe place while Yuuji and Nobara worked on defeating the curse user who’d done this to you.

He was grateful that you were okay – beyond grateful that you were still with him and somehow mostly unscathed, but...

He never expected to see you like this. He hadn’t even heard of the curse that had struck you until now and the effects of it were... surreal, to say the least. He knew this version of you from old pictures he'd seen and stories that you’d told him over the last year you'd been dating, but he never in his life thought that he'd one day be standing face-to-face with 7-year-old you…

"Hey," your voice was impossibly light, your tiny hand tugging at the sleeve of his uniform. "What's your name?"

The wheels in his head weren't just spinning anymore, they were fully lifted off of the ground and exploding into the air as he looked back at you, desperately searching your face to try and figure out if you were still there or if he was really, truly in the presence of child-you who hadn't met him yet.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound calmer than he felt. If he was this disoriented, he couldn't imagine what you must be feeling, especially at the age you suddenly were.

"My name's Megumi." He said placidly, crouching down to become eye level with you. "And you?"

You giggled, the most innocent, wholesome giggle he thought he'd ever heard as you bashfully introduced yourself to him.

"That's a pretty name." He soothed, silently racking his brain for a way to explain why you needed to come with him.

He'd never really been great with kids, even when he was one. At this age, his dad had already abandoned him and he was being faced with the crippling reality that he was going to be sold to the Zenin clan. He'd been forced to grow up at such a rapid rate that the adults around him had never bothered to speak sweetly to him or treat him how they should've. He wasn't allowed to simply be a first grader with first grader problems, he was expected to be a man.

Though he might not have not known the perfect way to interact with you, the longer he stared back into your big wonderous gaze, he realized that he certainly knew how not to act from the people that had failed him. He couldn't undo the past for himself, but what he could do was be the adult that he wished he would've had at 7.

"Hey," he finally said, flashing you the steadiest smile he could manage, "You don't like..." He put a finger to his chin, scrunching his face for emphasis as he pretended to think. "Strawberry mochi, do you?"

Stars filled your eyes while your small hands clapped together. "That's my favorite!" You squealed, completely enthralled by the fact that he'd somehow managed to guess it on the very first try.

"Really?" He asked, trying to mimic your excitement, "Mine too. Do you wanna go get some? My friend Shoko has tons of it."

You nodded emphatically; all 120 centimeters of you ready to run there though you had no idea which way to go yet.

"Alright," Megumi said, "But you gotta do me a favor and stay close to me until we get there, okay?"

Thankfully, he'd been able to move you to a secluded area before the curse had turned back the hands of time, but he still wasn't going to take any chances. He summoned his dogs, biting back a sincere smile when he heard you cheer, "Puppies!"

They were equally as ecstatic to see you too though. Both of them wagging their tails and leaving slobbery kisses across your face while you laughed, the two of them acting as if they really were puppies and not deadly shikigami.

He gave you a couple of minutes to pet them before redirecting their focus and reaching for your hand. Both dogs immediately got into formation, guarding you while you began your journey back to Shoko's office.

"So – Megumi."

"Yeah?"

"Ummm," you sputtered, trying to think of what question you wanted to ask him first. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Favorite number?"

"Seventeen."

"Favooorriitteeeee.... food?"

"Anything that pairs well with ginger."

You made a face like you'd tasted something bitter, shaking your head as you giggled at his response. "What abouttt yourrr....favorite... person?"

He smiled to himself, squeezing your tiny hand in his. "Well..." He said, pausing to look down at you. "I think right now, I'd have to say it's you."

"Me?" You beamed, "Really?!"

"Always."

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

[mothhball]

Dark! Tom (from the party) has had a thing for Janet and Bill’s barely legal neighbor for so long. So at their party, while everyone else is drunk and too oblivious, Tom follows her outside and ((;

THE PARTY FAVOR

DARK!TOM X FEM!READER

summary Tasked with congratulating Janet in your parent's name, you head over to hand over a party favor. But a bottle of champagne isn't the only thing that's being thirsted over tonight.

warnings Tom is a little gross in this lmao. But it's Dark!Tom, so what do you expect 🥴💦 Big age difference!! (Reader is freshly 18, Tom is in his late thirties) P in V , unprotected, hints of drug use, foul language, alcohol consumption, cheating

notes Whoops, this got a little longer than I planned! my last little gift before I go on vacation lmao <3 tysm for requesting this, anon! I had fun writing this! Please turn a blind eye to any mistakes, I'm tired aaaaa

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 2.9k

“God, I haven’t seen you in years.”

You tense up at the voice, turning around to stare at a familiar face. You were just in the middle of hyping yourself up to even knock on the door when said door opened, leaving you unprepared and caught off-guard like a deer in the headlights. But it’s not the person you expected. No, instead of the expected Janet, her friend April is staring back at you, throwing a wrench into your plans. See, you’re here on a mission. A mission with easy instructions.

Your parents left a bottle of champagne and a greeting card on the counter before they went to the theater, asking you to head over to your neighbors Bill and Janet to congratulate them on Janet’s ministerial appointment. But now, you’re already going off-course.

“April… lovely to see you,” you smile at her, nodding down towards the gift you brought. But before April can respond, Janet’s voice can be heard from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Your neighbor. The little one. Well, not so little anymore.” April gives you a once-over, not even pretending to be cordial with you. In a way, it’s admirable of her. She never bends over backwards to please people, and she definitely has no trouble speaking her mind. If only she wasn’t such a fucking hater.

Janet joins her in the doorway, looking at you with an expression that’s both relieved and distressed. If you’re the deer in the headlights, she’s the deer that has already made acquaintance with the hood of a bulky SUV.

“Oh, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to come over, honestly. So lovely to see you. How are your parents?” Janet begins, raising her voice a little to drown out an argument that’s happening inside. You can see the forced smile, the exhaustion in every line on her face. And then, to both April’s and your surprise, Janet invites you inside with a wave of her hand. This wasn’t the plan. Not at all. You’re supposed to hand over the bottle and card and leave. Leave. Going inside the damn house definitely wasn’t part of your instructions.

“Uhm… Look, Janet, if this is a bad time –“ You try to decline, only to be cut off by the hostess of the party.

“No, no. Don’t be silly. Please, come in.” She notices your skeptical glance past her into the house, realizing that, despite her best efforts, you must’ve heard the last syllables of the argument that happened in the living room. Still, Janet puts on a brave face, desperate to play the part of the overjoyed, newly elected minister. The silence between you drags on for a few more seconds before she steps aside to make the invitation even more clear.

“Please,” she repeats, and this time it sounds like a plea you’re too polite to ignore.

The house feels off. You've been over a few times before, and the place has never once felt this… depressing. The living room reeks of misery, and you get the feeling that you stumbled into something you shouldn't be a part of. But now you're here, still clutching the bottle of champagne and the greeting card. There's a little stain on the red envelope, caused by your clammy hands digging into the paper, but you just assume that Janet won’t care.

You’re proven right when she takes the gift from you, only to immediately set the card aside in favor of opening the bottle of champagne. As she pours enough glasses for everyone, she tentatively tries to make conversation.

“I heard it was your birthday? You’re 18 now, aren’t you? God, what an age… So young. And so full of joy…” she trails off for a moment, and you witness in real time how her expression falls and twists into something pained and dejected. Then she catches herself and clears her throat, quickly replacing her sullen demeanor with something more cheerful. A typical politician.

“Well, happy belated birthday.”

Everyone else is stuck in their own thoughts, quietly muttering their congratulations, and you’re once again reminded why you never join the celebrations whenever your parents receive an invitation from Janet. You grace the group with a tight-lipped smile, downing your glass of champagne and accepting a refill.

The slam of the bathroom door almost causes you to drop your drink, and as you look up, you’re met by the sight of Tom stomping back into the room. You pause, unable to stop your eyes as they rake across his form, taking in the tension that has captivated every cell in his body. His forehead is covered by a thin layer of sweat, and his usually neat hair is tousled, plucked apart by skittish hands. You also don’t miss the way he hurriedly rubs the tip of his finger over his gums.

Tom clears his throat, straightening his ridiculously expensive suit jacket as he approaches you, and he meets your gaze with a look of recognition in his baby blues. Out of everyone in this dreadful group of characters, it’s him you get along with the most. At least you did, back when you last spoke and the air didn’t feel as thick as fucking tar. Something about Tom’s arrival only causes the tension to worsen, and you flinch as Janet’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“And your parents? Going on vacation, are they?”

You blink at her, taking a moment to digest the absolute whiplash this entire situation is giving you. This feels hellish, in a way. As if you’ve wandered into your own spinoff of Dante’s Inferno, desperate to crawl out of this ring of hell and back to your room to try and forget this ever happened.

“Yeah… They’re leaving for Italy in two days. Turin. For three weeks.”

Janet nods, looking absent as you answer the question she asked in the first place, and you awkwardly sip on your glass as she starts a new topic without acknowledging your response. You can feel Tom seething next to you as Janet speaks, radiating a nasty energy that’s seemingly directed at the host, sitting not too far away on a chair in the middle of the room. Tom’s jaw clenches, and you can practically hear how his teeth grind together.

Finally, he snaps.

“Are we going to pretend that nothing happened? Are we seriously going to pretend that Bill didn’t fuck my wife?”

The room immediately falls silent, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. So that was the topic of the earlier argument. You look at him, and he scoffs, turning away from the group.

“God, I –“ He cuts himself off, running his hands through his hair and down his face as if he’s trying to wipe the turmoil and exhaustion off his skin. Obviously, to no avail. “I need some air.”

Some minutes pass, and you feel incredibly out of place as another argument starts within the group, only getting worse with every glass of champagne—and now wine—that’s being chugged by everyone involved. You clear your throat, trying make yourself known.

“I should go as well. Uhm… it’s been nice. Congrats again, Janet.”

The woman in question doesn’t even notice that you’re slinking away from the party, too busy glaring daggers into her husband while Bill is talking about Marianne, Tom’s beautiful wife. Good lord, you’ve never felt more relieved to leave someone’s home.

Outside, you march through the small backyard, heading straight to the little gate that separates your property from your neighbor’s, and you’re almost back within your comfort zone when a voice stops you.

“Hey. Come… Come here for a moment.” You look over your shoulder, spotting Tom as he’s leaning against the wall next to the dustbins, head in his hands. Torn between your desire to leave and the empathy you feel for the man, you hesitate for a breath before you approach him.

“Are you alright? I can’t imagine…”

Without answering, Tom lifts the lid off one of the dustbins, revealing a gun sitting pretty among the trash. You can feel the blood draining from your face, and you recoil, breath hitching within your throat.

“Jesus Christ – “

“Shh, shh! I know. Just –“ Tom cuts himself off, raising his hands in an effort to calm you down. When you’re just looking at him instead of running, he lets out a sigh of utter devastation. “You know I can’t do this. And I won’t, but... I… I found out this morning that Bill…”

He shakes his head, unable to finish his sentence, and your heart twists a little as you see the tears welling up in his eyes. In an attempt to comfort him, you reach out to set a gentle hand on his shoulder, which causes him to crumble even more. Tom lets out a choked scoff, shaking his head as his anger grows alongside the grief and disappointment.

“And I’ve always been faithful! I never cheated on Marianne! Even though I’ve had plenty of opportunities! Even… God, even with you around, I’ve always… always kept a grip on myself.”

He sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, before he meets your eyes again, and you startle. There’s still anger in his eyes. But another emotion has joined in as well, filling his gaze with something dark and hungry that causes you to pull your hand back again.

Suddenly, you’re very aware of your situation.

“I’m sick of pretending. Sick of denying myself. I’m a man too, god damnit.”

He’s quick to snatch you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in against his frame. You know you should struggle. You should tell him off. But you’d be a liar if you claimed that he had never once crossed your mind late at night. Tom is the kind of man who inspires your hands whenever you touch yourself. His face is the one you imagine hovering above yours when you’re knuckle-deep in your pretty little pussy.

“Wait, I –“ You try to speak, but he’s quick to maneuver you up against the wall, pressing you against brick and mortar and trapping you in place with his body.

“No. I’ve waited long enough.” He grits his teeth, catching both your wrists to pin them behind yourself over the small of your back and hold them in place with one of his larger hands. “Do you know how hard it was? To see you prancing around… I was always scared you’d have a boyfriend when you turned 18. Lucky me.”

You swallow hard, letting out a squeak as his free hand reaches around to pull up your shirt and bra, revealing your soft skin to the mild air and his eager fingers. Tom rolls one of your nipples between his pointer and thumb, tugging the hardening bud before he moves onto the next one, and you can hear how shaky his breath is getting as he continues to grope your tits. You squirm at a particularly harsh tug, causing him to press you up further against the wall, immobilizing you completely as he undoes his belt and zipper.

His deft hands take care of your jeans and panties next, opening them and pulling them down as much as he needs to gain access to your sweet cunt.

“Tom…” you whine, feeling the head of his cock brushing up against your dripping slit. He grunts in response, not bothering to hear you out as he sinks his length into your velvety folds, causing his breath to shudder against the shell of your ear. You wince, letting out a soft noise of discomfort as he pushes deeper, rolling his hips against yours to set a shallow rhythm.

“You can take it. Look at how fucking wet you are. You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

You want to protest, but right as you open your mouth, he aims a rough thrust up against that delicious sweet spot within your cunt, luring a filthy noise from your lips that only spurs him on even more. Tom still has your arms restrained, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he stretches you open on his cock, getting your tight walls used to his girth.

His fingers push into your mouth, middle and ring pressing down on your tongue to make you gag and whimper simultaneously. Every time he shoves his fingers deeper, your body tenses and drool dribbles down your chin, right onto your exposed tits. It’s rough and fast, overwhelming you in more ways than one. Tom grunts into the crook of your neck, panting against your skin like a man possessed only by the desire to claim, to mark, to own.

The wedding ring still sitting around his finger clinks against your teeth, and you cringe, letting out a soft whine of discomfort that’s quickly shushed by the man behind you.

“Shh… Just be a good girl for me, yeah? Fuck, you squeeze my cock so well when you gag on my fingers…”

He pounds his hips against yours in quick, deep thrusts, fucking his cock into your cunt at an angle that makes your toes curl and your knees buckle. In that moment, you’re grateful that he chose to take you against the brick wall since you’re heavily relying on the structure and Tom’s grip on you to stay upright.

“And you’re so sweet… You don’t care about my job, right? No, you don’t. You’re not like Marianne. Always being so fucking sentimental on her high horse.”

He spits out the words, silencing any further comments from himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The rhythm of his thrusts quickens as he chases his high, and his hand finally releases your wrists to instead reach between your thighs to rub insistent circles around your clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure draws a wail from your lips, and Tom pulls his fingers free from your mouth to instead stifle any noises more effectively with the palm of his hand. His mouth is next to your ear, allowing you to hear every rasp of his breath and the subtle whine of his voice.

“You’re going to cum for me, right? You’re going to finish nice and quietly like a good girl on my cock, hm? Yes, you are.”

He uses his grip over your jaw to make you nod, and he hums in approval as he meets your hazy eyes. Slowly, the pace of his fingers on your clit builds into a crescendo, and his gaze never once strays away from your face. Like a man dying of thirst, Tom drinks in every twitch in your expression, every breathy groan that’s muffled by his hand. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours right as you cream all over his length, twitching while he fucks you through your climax. Groaning, he removes his hand from your jaw to hold onto the flesh of your hips, pistoning into your fluttering cunt even faster, harder, more desperately.

Finally, his thrusts grow erratic, and he pulls out of you at the very last second, reaching for your panties to shoot his thick cum all over the soft fabric. Tilting his head back, he swallows hard as he milks himself dry with a few more pumps of his hand before he releases his grip on you. You slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath while Tom straightens out his appearance.

“This was… worth the wait,” he pants out, reaching into his pocket to pull out a marker. He kneels down, holding onto your knee, while he writes his phone number on the inside of your thigh, marking your skin with the black ink.

“Text me when your parents are in Venice. Or Turin. Or wherever the fuck they’re going.”

You nod back at him, whispering a small "alright,"  which makes him pause. He gets back up to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he takes off his wedding ring and drops it into the dustbin right next to the gun. Your eyes meet again, and his expression softens for a split second before he leaves to get back into the house, throwing himself back into the dreadful party and leaving you behind to walk back home with shaky legs and sticky underwear.

Two days later, your parents finally leave for their trip. You follow them to the doorstep, watch with baited breath as luggage is crammed into the family car and the GPS is set up. Then, after the exchange of hugs and goodbyes; after your mom hands you 50 quid as an extra allowance and she waves to you out of the window as your dad starts the motor, they drive off and leave you alone. The house feels dreadfully empty as you close the door and lean against the frame. A minute goes by. Then another.

Eventually, you reach for your phone and open the contact you shouldn’t have saved.

“I’m home alone.”

Sent. Received. Read. For a moment, there’s nothing. You bite the nail of your thumb, grappling with the possibility that he regrets what happened and is now trying to avoid you. And maybe that would be for the best. Maybe you’d be able to move past it and make peace with the fact that you’ll never be able to feel those hands on your skin again. But then those little dots pop up. He’s typing. He’s responding.

“Good girl. I’m coming over.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

@hanawrites404 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @nocturnest @biblicallyaccuratebee @red-riding-wood

@luvlloyd @smxkyqvxrtz @bloodandglitter207 @rosiemarieyn @sagepixie

@paradiseprincesss @vegasisthinking @ilovedottore @cillianslvt @strangeobsessed

@ryecosse @ribbonystar @calicoartie

[itsjusthockey]

Hey hun!! Could u write about something about Jack getting injured pretty bad with him being his clumsy self and catching his edge or something. Reader feels obligated to pamper him every second of everyday and is just so gentle with him it gets to the point where Jack is like “babe just because I hurt my leg doesn’t mean we can’t make out or do it” cause reader is like so scared of hurting him but Jack is just super needy

Smooth - Jack Hughes

Summer Series Open Now

This was a request, keep sending them I love them (if I get more than five new request, I drop a new fic tomorrow)

I changed a few little things but I love how this turned out

Much longer than expected, whoops

w.c 1,516 (credit to gif maker) (slight suggestive content)

You’re honestly surprised Jack has lived to see the grand age of 22. He may think he’s agile, smooth even, but you know better. In fact, you’d dare even to say that your boyfriend is one of the clumsiest people you know. It’s honestly a miracle he hasn’t broken anything, especially since this summer; he’s really been pushing his limits.

“Babe, Babe! Look.”

You turn your head up from the book you are currently devouring to stare at your boyfriend. You watch as he does a cute little flip on the wave and throws you a couple of peace signs. You smile, give him a thumbs up, and not a second later, he dives off the board and into the lake.

He quickly gets into the boat, grabs a towel, and shakes out his hair. As soon as he’s only a little wet, he walks toward you, sitting right next to you and placing your legs on top of his.

“That must be a damn good book. Usually, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

You roll your eyes at him, gently placing the book down. “Well, if you must know, it is very interesting. Lots of murder, lots of mayhem.”

As soon as the sentence leaves your lips, he snatches the book from your lap, reading the back insert. After a couple of seconds, he hums.

“Looks kinda good.”

You smile and snatch it back. “I’ll add it to your list.”

Jack nods, smiling again at you, and leans over to kiss your forehead. When he pulls back, he nods toward Luke, who is currently surfing at the back of the boat.

“I think I’m gonna go again; try that thing Luke saw on TikTok.”

Once he says that, you narrow your eyes at him.

“The last time you tried something like that, both of you almost drowned.”

This time Jack rolls his eyes, shaking his head wildly.

“Please (Y/N), your lack of faith is insulting. We’re experts.”

You shrug your shoulders at your boyfriend; you honestly don’t care; you know that sometimes their little tricks can become problems.

Mere minutes later, the two of them are hooked up and gliding effortlessly on the water. Quinn is driving the boat, and you’re watching, realizing this may be something you want to see. You’re also sitting beside Trevor, who’s filming the entire thing.

It’s starting great; they do a few little tricks while you and Trev cheer them on. You also catch when Jack does another turn a throws a wink your way, dragging his hand through his hair which he knows you love.

You’re honestly pretty impressed at the pair, not that you’d ever let them know that, but they look good. Everything seems to be going great until it’s not.

You’re all still cheering them on when they reach their final move. One second they’re both good, then in a blink, they both go down, but not before you hear a slight yelp from your boyfriend as he hits the water.

As soon as they fall, Trevor’s eyes dart to you, both of you sharing the “oh fuck” look. Quinn notices this, too, and weaves the boat around quickly.

When you finally get to the pair, they both look a little nervous. Trevor moves first, quickly moving to put down the ladder. Seconds later, he’s helping pull Jack up, Luke also helping to push him into the boat. You can’t help but wince yourself as you watch your boyfriend's nose scrunch up in pain.

As soon as he gets into the boat, he swings his leg up, and everyone can see the blood dripping down and a giant purple bruise forming.

Without saying a word, you grab the first aid kit from the front of the boat and swing into action. You sit across from your boyfriend, wordlessly opening a few supplies. You’re not mad, of course; you’re just worried. Injuries aren’t ideal for hockey players, even if they're small.

“Oh, son of a bitch,” Jack hisses as you wipe some alcohol pads over the rather large cut.

You glance up at him to see some tears welling up in his eyes, and as soon as you meet his eyes, he rips them away. You know he’s mad at himself and, obviously, in quite a bit of pain.

“Is he gonna make it?” Luke asks, watching behind you.

“Don’t know, might have to cut it off.”

You look toward Jack as you make the joke, trying to ease the slight tension, but he doesn’t seem very impressed.

Ten minutes later, you’re docked, and Trevor and Luke are tasked with getting Jack to the house. You stay behind, helping Quinn get the boat settled and doing the glamorous job of wiping your boyfriend's blood off the boat floor.

“He’s lucky that wasn’t worse.” Quinn breaks the silence. “I should’ve backed you up more.”

You shake your head, throwing away the bloody paper towels. “They were gonna do it anyway. He’ll be fine.

You both finish up and go to the house, seeing Luke and Trevor in the kitchen, but no sign of Jack.

“He’s upstairs,” Luke says, gesturing toward the stairs.

You walk by and ruffle his hair slightly, to which he wacks your hand gently away, throwing you an uneasy smile.

You head up the stairs to the bedroom, and when you enter, you see your boyfriend lying on the bed, his foot propped up with some ice on it. As soon as you enter, his eyes follow your figure as you move toward the dresser, grabbing some clothes to change into.

Before you go to the bathroom, you stop.

“Do you wanna shower all the lake and sunscreen off you?”

Jack whips his head toward you, and after a bit of silence, he nods. You move to help him, getting him into the bathroom and helping him peel off his shorts.

Soon you’re both in the shower, and you’re making sure he keeps his weight on the good leg. In the bathroom's light, the bruise and the cut look terrible, and your heart breaks everything he winces.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out after minutes of silence.

You give him a confused look. “Why? It’s not like you planned on getting hurt, J.”

You quickly swipe some hair from his face, forcing him to look at you.

“I know. I just should’ve listened. And also, I was being a dick, which you don’t deserve, but I know if I talked to you, I’d start crying.”

His admission makes you even sadder, and you quickly pull your boyfriend down to meet you. Placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“It’s okay, J.”

You finish the shower, and for the rest of the night, you dote on your boyfriend. You make sure he’s comfy, get you both snacks and turn on his favorite movie. Minutes tick by, and you’re comfortably tucked into his side when you notice he isn’t watching the movie.

“You okay? Tired?”

He shakes his head, and m he pulls you into him, connecting your lips. You smile into the kiss and then pull back away from him. This causes him to pout, and he leans back in, pulling you into him, but you resist.

"Hey now, let's not add more injuries to the list, shall we?" You give him a sweet smile and another quick peck, "How about you settle for snuggling? We don’t need any more dangerous stunts, and we can save that for when you're back to your agile, smooth self.”

Your teasing causes Jack to pout further and rolls his eyes, ducking down the meet your lips again. You slightly let him win, letting him deepen the kiss a bit before you pull back once again. As soon as you do, he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I appreciate the concern, but I still have two legs, babe.”

He raises his eyebrow at his suggestive comment, and you roll your eyes back as far as they can go.

“Gross.”

He snickers, pulling you back in and moving his lips down your neck, stopping at the place you go crazy for. You can’t help but squirm as his lips send tingles down your spine.

“Jack, you're impossible," you laugh, trying to maintain some composure while he continues his teasing assault.

He lifts his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, if I can't be agile on the water, at least I can be smooth here," he winks, earning himself another eye roll from you.

“Smooth, huh?" you quip, a smirk forming on your lips. "I'll believe that when you can walk without limping."

He smiles another big smile, and his eyes grow soft.

“Please, I’m 100% sure you will heal me, and I promise I’ll be careful.”

You stare deep into his eyes, and you feel yourself breaking.

“Fine, but I’ll do most of the work.”

Jack's eyes darken as the words leave your lips, and at record speed, he pulls at your top.

“If that’s the case, I think I want to stay injured forever.”

[blackmoonowl]

𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬

ꨄ Pairing: Beelzebub x reader

ꨄ Summary: Going to bake something, but a certain demon keeps pestering you for a sample. Never wrote Beel before so I hope I did well.

ꨄ Word Count: 578

You didn't even have to look around when you heard someone enter the kitchen behind you.

"Smells good," the familiar deep voice of Beelzebub sounded. A small smile crept on your lips as the orange haired demon stood next to you in a few steps.

"Had a few leftover ingredients," you replied, turning around to look at him. Beelzebub's nose twitched, and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve before he could start drooling.

"Your homemade cookies..." Beelzebub trailed off, his eyes lighting up even more. You chuckled at his enthusiasm, leaning on the counter.

"You know, I could definitely help the extra help making them." The sixth brother perked up at that, nodding.

"I'll help, I was looking to spend more time with you anyway," he offered without hesitation. You didn't even need to tell him anything else as he quickly retrieved the eggs and flour from the fridge, placing them beside the milk and chocolate chips you had just gotten from the store. Beel barely reacted to your amused expression as he placed the equipment on the table next before giving you an expectant look.

"Yeah yeah, I'm on it. Just don't try to eat the ingredients while I work. Speaking of ingredients, can you mix them once I'm done?"

"Yeah, I can do that. I'll do my best."

True to his word, Beelzebub restrained himself as you quickly measured the ingredients. The avatar of Gluttony cracked the eggs into the bowl with practiced ease, tossing the shells in the bin.

"Here you go," you handed him the measured ingredients as he tossed them in the mixing bowl before grabbing a whisk. A smile crept on your lips as you saw his brows twitch with the struggle to keep the drool from seeping out of his mouth.

After he was done mixing the ingredients, you offered him the molds to pour the batter into. Beel awkwardly tilted the bowl, pouring in the batter... making a mess of everything else in the process.

"Careful!" you warned but it was too late as some of it dripped onto the table, and your fingers as you tried to guide his movements to pour everything in properly.

"Whoops, sorry..." Beel muttered as he placed the bowl down. He swallowed thickly as he saw the mess on your fingers and the table. The avatar of gluttony couldn't help himself any longer, gently gripping your wrist and bringing your hand closer to his face. He then opened his mouth, closing his lips around one of your digits, licking the batter of it. A small smile found itself onto his face once he pulled back. "It's delicious!"

You ignored the way your face felt hotter than before as Beelzebub licked your other fingers clean. "Is... is it?"

You wanted to smack yourself for the dumb question, but Beel seemed rather amused. "Yeah! Here, try some yourself."

You almost reached for the whisk, barely missing it as Beelzebub leaned down, letting his lips meet yours. He gave you a gentle squeeze on your hip, causing you to nearly gasp. The demon took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste the leftover batter he hadn't yet swallowed. When he pulled away, he had that almost innocent smile of his on his face. You took a moment to gather yourself, picking up the tray with shaking hands to put it in the oven.

"Yeah.. I.. I guess it is pretty good."

[vinvantae]

for the bringing the f1 grid to a nascar request!! would u do george, lewis, charles, and lando? thank u sm!!

Okay so I know nothing, nada, zilch about NASCAR so I turned to my fave American @formulaforza who wrote some prompts for me. Thank you Mackie 😘 x

Got a little carried away with George at the end 👀

*************************************

Lewis

When you suggested taking Lewis to NASCAR, you expected him to turn his nose up - the sport just wasn’t as refined and delicate as Formula 1. But he was ecstatic, and within days a paddock pass was draped into your lap. He wanted to get up and close and personal with the action before the race, have you close by his side as he listened to overcomplicated lectures from members of the team.

And when the race finally started, he was enthralled- shouting louder than you think you’d ever heard him as the cars fought on track. Cheering and whooping, the brightest of smiles on his face as he leant down to whisper - well shout with how loud it was - into your ear.

“This is brilliant! We should do this more often!”

You grinned at him and playfully smacked the brim of his cap. “If I had known you’d be such a NASCAR nut I would’ve bought you waaay sooner!”

“It’s definitely our thing now.”

The two of you shared one more playful grin before turning your attention back to the track - just in time to see two cars wipe each other out and gasp with the crowd.

Charles

“It's not too dissimilar to F1.” You explained, as the two of you climbed the steps of the grandstands to find your seats. “Friday is practice, Saturday is qualifying and Sunday is the race.”

“Yeah but… we don’t do hundreds of laps.” He frowned, “What did you say this was, 200 laps?”

“Yeah, this one is, but some are up to 400. But it’s in stages.” You hummed softly, bursting out laughing when you caught the shocked look on his face - the most laps in F1 being at his home circuit, a measly 78. “You’ll understand it, love I promise.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, nodding - still as confused as before. You linked your fingers with his. “Okay, so the first two stages are 65 laps long - the top 10 get points. Winner gets 11, 2nd 9, 3rd 8 etc… the winner of the third stage gets 40, and all the way down to 40th gets points. Well most of the time”

“Wait Forty? How many cars are there?”

“Forty. They all get points in the 3rd stage. 36 of them are reserved for drivers of teams that own charters.”

His eyes flickered across your face. “I don’t think I’m ever going to fully understand this… but if it’s important to you I’ll give it a go.”

“Thank you baby. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Lando

“What are you doing, Lan?”

You watched with a playful smile as your boyfriend stood up to peer over the track into Victory Lane. “…I was kind of hoping we’d see a fist fight or two. I was told people are always fighting each other.”

“Not always.” You laughed, tugging at his wrist. “Sit down. Besides, they’ve gotta race first, you idiot. They need a reason to fight each other.”

He whined softly, plonking down in the seat beside you - resting his head on your shoulder. “Are the fights good?”

“Oh yeah, sometimes people do shit during races too - like this guy hit someone else and took off most of his door so when the guy came back around he literally threw the door at him.” You hummed, squeezing his thigh. “I hope there’s a fight just for you.”

His smile alone was worth it. “Hell yeah.”

George

“Georgie, are you even paying attention?” You whined softly, using the tip of your finger to redirect your boyfriend’s longing gaze back towards the track.

“Sorry, darling, you’re just very distracting.” He teased softly, looping his arm around your middle so he could haul you closer. “What did I miss?”

“Depends, how long were you staring at me?” Your voice had a teasing lilt.

His cheeks flushed a little. “…uh, longer than I care to admit. Fill me in?”

George watched as you explained, gestating wildly and pointing to the cars on the track - and he found himself getting lost in you again. Although most… all of it was going straight over his head, he loved how passionate you were about it and that was enough.

He blinked a few times when he realised you weren’t speaking anymore, your brow raised. “…what did I just say, George?”

“Something about Joey… lasagna?” He winced.

You burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Logano! My god, Russell, I’m going to have to get your ears tested.”

“Love, my ears aren’t the problem.” George pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I’ll make you a compromise. You name three drivers by the time the race is done - I’ll let you do that thing you’ve been asking for in the bedroom.”

His breath hitched before he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one more intense. “Deal.”

He managed to name all 40, and turns out there was more than one thing he’d been asking for… and who were you to deny him?

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement pt. 1

Jessie Fleming x Reader (enemies to lovers)

Synopsis: Jessie transfers to your team in Portland, while everyone else seems to be thrilled about her transfer, you see the girl as a threat to your position and playing time with the team.

Warnings: cursing

WC: 2.4K (this is just set up, the other parts will be longer)

A/N: this is a LONG overdue series I started writing when Jessie first transferred to Portland, I just have had some serious writers block with it. But I’ve finally been able to get some of it down. It is enemies to lovers, so it will be rough and angsty at the start but give it some time :)

Everyone had seen the rumors flying around. You heard the whispers of your teammates at training yesterday afternoon after they had all seen the supposed transfer news. Just like any other fan or team, you all loved the speculation. Your teammates loved it even more when it surrounded bringing a big name on to your team for once instead of Gotham like everyone else. Janine and Christine spent most of their practice trying to dodge questions about their fellow Canadian teammate, not giving away any details of what they did or didn’t know.

You couldn’t lie, you often fed into the spectacle of transfer rumors, chatting with your team about where people might be headed. Something about this transfer rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was because you felt threatened. You were a midfielder as well. If you’re being honest with yourself, your first season in the league, fresh out of college, had not gone to plan.

Being drafted second you were expected to perform well, and the transition into the NWSL from the NCAA had been anything but smooth. You had a few minor injuries, a strain here and there, with the addition of a minor concussion. You ended up with an overall disappointing season. It wasn’t due to your lack of effort, you pushed yourself as hard if not harder than most players, it just hadn’t yet paid off.

Jessies arrival meant you’d likely be finding yourself sitting on the bench more and more often. They were bringing in someone who could actually help the team. They were bringing in your replacement in the form of an incredibly skilled and experienced midfielder.

You tried to remember that they were just rumors, she wasn’t confirmed to being transferring. What small hope you had was quickly diminished when you got the team message from staff asking that you all arrive to practice 20 minutes early for a “quick meeting”.

So when you walked into the meeting room, slouching in your seat next to Sam and Janine with a huff, they both turned to look at you. They had both taken you under their wing when you joined the team, being your first friends in Portland. They would come over when you were injured, helping take you to and from training, and helping you get acquainted with the city.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of their bed, damn.” Janine looked at you with wide eyes. It was uncharacteristic behavior being so cranky, even with how poorly your season was last year, you were typically upbeat, trying to make your teammates laugh, keeping practice lighthearted.

“Shut it Beckie.” You muttered in her direction. Sam looked at you, wide eyes before slowly turning to face forward not wanting to get on your bad side. Your coach walking in shortly after, not giving Janine the chance to respond. You’re not sure she would have even had something to say as she just stared at you, mouth open at the fact that you had just talked back to her.

“Alright, quiet down everyone,” your coach held his hands up. “I’m sure everyone has already seen the rumors floating around our club. We hadn’t planned to announce it until she was actually here to introduce herself but as of a couple hours ago, we have officially agreed to terms with and will be welcoming another Canadian,” he shoots a look at Janine and Sinc, “Jessie Fleming will be joining us.” A couple of whoops and hollers scattered across the room. “She’ll be starting with us at practice in two days. I expect, as you all have with our other transfers and signings, that you welcome her to Portland.”

While the rest of the team seemed to be thrilled at the idea of Fleming joining the team, you dodged every conversation you could about her.

Thankfully training was short, with the season just beginning you were completing fitness testing, getting both benchmarks for the season and learning how well everyone had kept up with their fitness during the off season. After warming up, everyone ran the well known and well dreaded “beep test”. It may be dreaded to most, but as a midfielder you had some of the best cardio fitness. It was days like this where your confidence rose, feeling comfortable through the test, nothing to worry about except running.

By the end of the test, you were one of the only players still running, your lungs were burning with each breath you took, the lactic acid building up in your thighs and calves. You finally dropped to your knees, unable to run any further. You found yourself kneeling next to Janine before rolling over to sit. Placing your head between your knees you breathed, listening to your teammates around you also panting, some coughing, some cursing the test for existing. You laid back fully putting up one leg straight in the air. A smile crept across your face, something about the burning of your lungs and your legs nearly cramping felt so good, a small reminder of your hard work.

“You mind helping me stretch?” Reaching out an arm you smack Janine next to you. Easily convinced, she stands up moving over to you placing herself to hold the foot in the air. She gently begins to press it toward your chest, your hamstring straining as she pushes your leg further.

“You’re fucking crazy for smiling after that test.” Janine rolling her eyes at you, a small cough coming out after as she can still feel her lungs burning. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with two of you now.”

“What does that mean? Two of us?” You send her a pointed look before laying back letting your head fall back against the grass. Janine drops your leg, grabbing the other one before repeating the stretching motion.

“It means, I’ll now have to deal with you and Jessie running circles around me and the rest of this team. Literally circles.” She huffs.

“Right.” You felt the smile drop from your face, you had been able to forget about your replacement’s arrival. Janine noticed instantaneous change in your emotions at the mention of Jessie. She made a mental note to check in with you later, not while you were still on the sidelines of the pitch with the entire team.

Once everyone cooled down from the test, you stretched more, before heading into the locker room. You grab a protein bar and electrolytes from the shelf before hopping into the ice bath. Janine follows you, hopping in as well, making a comment about how cold it was as she shivers.

“Hey, I know we usually go for coffee after practice. We can still do that, it's just that I had offered to help Jessie unpack. She got in last night and didn’t really get settled. I’m supposed to meet her at her new place in about an hour, so I won't be able to stay for too long. It’ll have to be more of a grab and go kind of thing.” Janine looks at you, you both standing in the ice cold water, your shirts held up to avoid getting them wet.

Part of you is annoyed at her. You two always grabbed coffee, it was an unspoken activity, occasionally another teammate or two tagging along. You two would get coffee, you’d vent to each other, chat about the tv shows you were watching, Janine would talk about her wedding. It was something Janine started with you when you were new to the team, she was doing it to make you feel comfortable at the start and it quickly developed into a genuine friendship. Now Jessie was going to replace you at work and in Janine’s life too.

“Just go to hers, it's all good. We can skip this week.” You try not to sound upset, already feeling replaced by Jessie’s arrival in the form of losing your coffee “date”.

“Sorry, I would have said something sooner but with the transfer not public yet, I just didn’t want to get her in trouble or anything.” She pauses for a moment. “Actually, why don't you come with me to Jessie’s? I really think you two will get on well, plus it’ll be a good way to introduce you two.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn't want to just show up, I mean I don't know her and unpacking her stuff would be a little personal, it just probably isn't the best time for me to meet her.” Coming up with the best excuse you could come up with without flat out telling Janine that you don't want to meet one of her favorite people. You had heard plenty about Jessie before from Janine, only before it didn’t bother you. Before it was just hearing about one of Janine’s best friends, now it had a different sting when she was brought up. Now she was talking about the girl coming to take your spot.

“Alright, well I’m still grabbing coffee because I thought we’d be going and I promised Jessie I’d bring her one. Come with me at least then we can split?” You know Janine has zero negative intentions, she still was trying to have your usual coffee while also being an incredible friend and going to help Jessie move in.

“Fine, twist my arm.” You add sarcasm into your sentence, it wasn’t too hard to get you to go get a coffee, it was one of your favorite drinks, you spent way to much time and money on it, even having your own espresso machine at home with a bean grinder and all. Janine always joked that you could just run your own coffee shop out of your apartment for extra money.

You get to the coffee shop, when you walk in the barista gives you a wave, you and Janine were frequent visitors, the baristas all knew you and your orders.

“Are we getting the usual ladies?” The girl behind the counter asks, already starting to punch in the order on her screen.

“I am, but can we get them to-go, thank you.” You tell her. She puts in the order for your cold brew with caramel foam.

“I am, but I’m also going to add another drink, can I just get a latte with the lavender syrup please.”

On a normal day, if you weren’t in such an upset and negative mood you would’ve mocking the way Janine says syrup, but you don’t. You also mentally gag at the coffee she ordered for Jessie, lavender tasted like old lady soap. You mentally added it to the list of reasons to avoid the new transfer. It was childish what you were doing but you didn’t care.

You reach to get your card out, Janine beats you to it tapping her card on the register. “Janine, no.” It was your turn to pay, the two of you alternated.

“Please it’s the least I can do given I’m ditching you today.” She shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Alright.” You rolls your eyes at her as you hear your name called from the other end of the counter where your drink was placed.

You grab your drink and turn to walk out of the shop. The shop wasn’t too far from your apartment, a couple of blocks, and you figured you could walk so Janine didn’t have to drop you off at your house before heading to Jessie’s.

“Hey, where are you running off to, I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, no I’m good, I don’t want to make your trip longer.” You also had enough social interaction for today, a short walk alone wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“Well Jessie’s new place is just across the street from yours, so I’ll be going that way anyway.”

Of course Jessie moved in right across the street, out of all the apartment buildings in Portland of course she found herself the closest one, besides literally being in your building.

Janine grabs hers and Jessie’s drinks and you both walk back to her car. The two of you chat again, complaining about the weather and how it couldn’t make up its mind if it’s was winter or spring yet. You both coo over a dog walking down the street and for a second the conversation is light, it feels normal again. Until Janine brings up Jessie again.

“Hey, would you mind if I give Jess your number? I just figured I’d maybe be nice, you guys live across the street from each other, if she needed anything while she’s still moving in, store or food recommendations, you could help.”

You wanted to say no. But the girl was going to end up with your number anyway, you had to be teammates, you’d have to be cordial with her, you couldn’t let your own pride be a problem for the team.

“Yeah, that’s fine I guess.” Your mood deflated, the words coming out of your mouth with a heavy sigh at the end, making it obvious you weren’t thrilled about the suggestion for her to have your number.

“Are you alright? You’ve seemed weird all day. Is it because of Jessie?”

“Why would it be because of her?” You ask, knowing damn well that your behavior was exactly her fault.

“I don’t know, just when she gets brought up, you seem to get annoyed.”

“No I don’t.” Your answer is quick, you get defensive. Unfortunately your defensive behavior likely tells Janine that it is in fact Jessie who’s on your nerves.

“Oh, I know what it is!” She slaps her hand over to your thigh, giving you a small smack.

“What?”

“You’re worried I’m going to start doing things with Jessie instead of you! You’re jealous!” Her tone is playful, she’s teasing you.

“I’m not jealous.” You cross your arms in the passenger seat, pouring like a toddler.

“Good, but if you were, you have no reason to be, yes she’s my friend, but so are you, our coffee dates will still go on, we’ll still hang out, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried.” You say as Janine pulls up in front of your building. You climb out of the car, thanking her for the ride.

“You’re welcome, I'll always love you, she’ll never come between us!” She yells out the window making a slightly embarrassing scene, bypassers not knowing the joke she’s making. You turn back, shaking your head at her as you laugh.

“Love ya Janine, bye.” You wave at her and enter your building.

You get inside and go about the rest of your day, laundry, cleaning, a rather mundane but somewhat relaxing evening.

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that you receive two messages from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hi, this is Jessie, Janine gave me your number. She said you lived in the area.

Unknown: Sorry, Jessie Fleming, I should’ve clarified. Don’t feel obligated to text me, just Janine insisted I reach out.

You ignore the messages, you have a quick thought of blocking her number, but you know that’s not realistic. You’d have to see her in a few days and be her teammate you can’t block her phone. At least the girl gave you the permission to ignore her.

So that’s what you did. You closed your phone, putting it on silent and snuggled into bed, putting on whatever was showing on National Geographic at this hour and falling asleep shortly after.

[beenbaanbuun]

mummy issues w/ jung wooyoung

i accidentally posted this yesterday when i wasn’t meant to… whoops!!

——————————————————————————-

“here, baby,” wooyoung smiles to you as he lifts the spoon from the bowl. you stand there, awaiting with an open maw as he blows on it softly. it smells good, but then again all of his cooking does. it smells of love and care and everything else that wooyoung seems to ooze out of every pore on his body. he’s a sweetheart, as he reminds you when he gently pushes the spoon between your lips. “if that doesn’t make your mum fall in love with me, i don’t know what will.”

the comment makes you roll your eyes, but you can’t surpress the warm smile that takes over your face as you savour the flavour of his soup. it’s just as you expected; warm and perfect. you swallow it down before leaning forward to offer him a peck to the lips. his lips are just as warm as the food, as is his face when you lay a hand on it to deepen the kiss. it’s slow and passionate but it’s over way too soon. as wooyoung pulls away to go back to his cooking you can’t help but feel entirely unsatisfied.

you settle for the next best thing and snake your arms around your boyfriend’s waist. you squeeze him once before relaxing your arms and letting them sit comfortably upon his hips. he hums in appreciation, the buzz passing from his body to yours. even something so small feels so intimate with him; like every ounce of love in his heart is being passed to you through that single vibration. it’s sickeningly domestic, but you’d happily suffer any illness the world can throw at you just to keep him in your arms.

“my mum doesn’t love anyone but herself and my brother,” you purr against his shoulder. “but i appreciate you trying. you never know, babe; maybe you’ll break the curse!”

“the curse?” he tilts his head just enough to see you from his peripheral. you look so soft with your face all squished up against his shoulder. he can’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. “what’s the curse, baby?”

your lips pull into a tight smile as you try and think of the best way to word it. how do you tell your boyfriend that your mother will never like him for the sole reason being that he’s yours. she won’t like how abrasive his personality, despite him having more love in his little finger nail than her precious son has in his whole body. she won’t like the way laughs, despite it sounding like a windchime compared to your brother’s cackle. she won’t like his cooking or the way he looks or walks or talks. she just won’t like him because you do.

and you really, really do.

you sigh into his shoulder and shrug. “the curse is dumb,” is what you settle on, “dont worry about it, alright?”

you can tell your words don’t do anything to quell his curiosity; the way he keeps his eyes on you for a second or two longer than necessary reassure you of that fact. wooyoung trusts you, though, so he just sighs and nods before switching his gaze back to the soup on the stove. he stirs it for a moment or two before leaving forward to grab the salt. you watch as he twists the grinder once, almost twice before you hear it.

the doorbell.

you freeze, a rush of panic filling your body from head to toe. she’s early, like always, and while you thought you’d been prepared for this exact moment, it’s very apparent that youre not… in the slightest. it takes a moment of just standing there, completely unmoving before wooyoung decides to do something. he takes the spoon from the soup and puts it on the counter next to the hob. his hands find yours and he pulls at them, loosening your arms just enough for him to be able to turn around and look you dead in the eyes.

your anxiety is present in every part of your body. it’s in the way your eyes cant stop blinking and the way your mouth hangs open as you try and take in as much oxygen as possible. your breathing is quicker than wooyoung thinks is healthy, but he doesn’t really have the time to take you through a set of breathing exercises; he realises that when the bell rings a second time. he can’t help but scoff at your mothers impatience.

“i can answer the door if you want,” he murmurs in a voice that seems so soft that it couldn’t possibly have come from him; your loud mouthed boyfriend who up until now you’d been convinced just didn’t have a volume control. it’s sweet and just like that you fall deeper in love with him. you hadn’t thought it possible, but as he stands there with your hands in his, offering to help solve all your problems, you feel like you did on that very first date. it’s like you’re experiencing love at first sight all over again.

and maybe that’s what helps break you from the prison your worries had trapped you in. the knowledge that you finally have someone in your life that loves you just because you’re you. you don’t have to put on a show anymore, or alter everything about yourself just to please him. you smile up at him, overcome with adoration, and you shake your head.

“i need to answer it,” you mutter, “it’ll satisfy her ego to see me beg for forgiveness over all the minisculde faults she decides to point out. might put her in a better mood for when i introduce her to you.”

the doorbell rings again, forcing you to break free of the little bubble of love you always seemed to be in when with wooyoung. “tell her that patience is a virtue, when you let her in,” he jests when you let go of his hands. there’s a loud cackle of a laugh when you roll your eyes and it eases your muscles even further. wooyoung really is the best remedy for your worries.

but even with your anxiety eased and your heart full of love, the walk to the front door feels unbelievably long. the hallway seems to carry on forever, growing longer and longer with each step you take. you’re almost sure you could run to it and never reach it.

that is, of course, until you do reach it, and then it all feels too fast. you give the hallway a final once over with your eyes, and only now do you notice the wonky painting on the wall and the spot of dust in the far corner. you’d spent hours cleaning with wooyoung last night and right now it looks to you like might as well not have bothered. it’s not like your mum will see all the time and effort put into what you did do anyway. she’ll only notice the smudge on the full length mirror you keep at the end of the corridor and the tiny scratch in the paintwork that was left there by the new sofa you and wooyoung had tried to awkwardly shuffle into the living room. before now it has seemed like a fun memory, but now you can’t help but find yourself wishing that you’d accepted the help of the men who delivered it to your home; they wouldn’t have scratched your walls so carelessly.

there’s a final wrap of a fist against your door and you know you can’t stall any longer. you unlock it with shaking hands and pull it open to see her.

your mother.

she hums disapprovingly as she steps inside, not even bothering to take her shoes off at the door. you look down at your own socked feet and suddenly feel insecure. is it wrong if you to demand your mother take her shoes off in your house? your brain tells you no and yet it still feels disrespectful. wooyoung would tell you otherwise, but wooyoung doesn’t know your mother. setting a boundary is an act of disrespect, and so with a tight chest, you let it go. the shoes aren’t the end of the world, after all. there’s so much else for you to worry about.

“do you not own a hoover?” is the first thing that falls from her mouth. not a hello, or a how are you. it’s a backhanded comment about the single spot of dust you missed on your cleaning spree. you grimace, hands folding into fists by your sides. you dig your nails in as a desperate attempt to calm your self down. part of you is tempted to push her right back out the door and lock it in her face, but instead you point to the doorway at the far end of the corridor. it leads to the kitchen where wooyoung is. hopefully he can break the curse, although judging by your mothers sneer, you aren’t hopeful.

“i must have missed it,” your voice is monotonous and tired, already fed up after just a few seconds in her presence. if she noticed, though, she doesn’t care. she’ll probably just chalk it down to you being ‘unmotivated’ and ‘uninspired’ like she always does whenever you aren’t practically bouncing off the walls.

you herd her into the kitchen like a shepard, walking behind her to guide her towards where your boyfriend awaits his judgement. each time her shoes tap against your floor, you die a little inside. you wonder if wooyoung will be disappointed in you for not standing your ground like he always tells you to. like he’s so good at doing. you wipe away that thought almost instantly; it’s just the effect your mother has on you. the disappointment you’ve experienced from her since you were a child wrapping its ugly tendrils around every single aspect of your life. you could never make her proud, but wooyoung isn’t her.

wooyoung could never be her. the pride he makes you feel for the tiniest of things makes up for the shame your mother makes you feel. you could wake up in a morning and wooyoung would find something to gush over. either you get up on a day when you’d really rather not, or you spend hours at the stove making breakfast that certainly doesn’t live up to anything he could make. he’s proud of you for simply existing, and that’s so much more than you could ever ask for.

there’s a ghost of a smile as you follow your mother into the kitchen and lock eyes with your boyfriend. he raises a brow; you shake your head as your smile grows. now isn’t really the time to tell him how dear he is to you, although by the way his face softens, you believe that he already knows.