#Like I said... I am playing slowly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lxnarphase · 8 months ago

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𓇼 FUCK HER, FLIP HER, BEND HER BACKWARDS !

❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : the church always says sex for pleasure is a sin, and nanami kento is a man of the lord. but fuck, if his wife isn't worth sinning for. wc: 4.3k

❤₊‧⁺...cw : n. kento x fem!reader, religious themes, traditionalist views on sex and marriage, loss of virginity, missionary to mating press, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, nanami loses himself in your pussy, slight cum play, dirty talk

❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : am i unintentionally coping with religious trauma? possibly but it is fun :33 anyways based of this! forgive me if my writing is a bit rusty, it's been a while but enjoy !!

the two of you have spoken about eventually having children many times, but knowing the steps it took...it kept you both pushing it back, knowing eventually you'd both be ready.

after speaking with doctors, asking for advice from the church, and having you grumble about the neighbors who welcomed a cute baby girl, the two of you figured it was time.

you did your best to act normal all dayl, trying not to seem to nervous or too excited as you went about your chores for the day.

it may just be an act to procreate, but...it's still your first time with nanami. you want it to at least feel special.

there was nothing in the bible that went against that, right?

well, you have plenty of time to overthink since it seems that your dear husband will be at work late. to pass the time, you wait upstairs in your shared bedroom, the TV on as a distraction.

you're so stuck in your own world that you don't even notice him in the doorway before he clears his throat, leaning in the doorway. "oh! hi, honey, welcome home!" you go to stand up, but he holds up a hand, making you stop before you can get up from the bed.

it's silent, aside from the noise from the TV, and you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation.

has...has he always looked that handsome?

he continues to stand by the door, still not making eye contact. "you said it...starts today, correct," nanami questions, focused on undoing the straps of his watch. it shouldn't be attractive, it's such a simple task...yet it has your stomach doing flips as you nod.

"mhm, my, uh...ovulation starts today." it's such a weird thing to say, it just makes everything feel so...clinical. but that's how it's supposed to be, right? those who use sex for pleasure instead of procreation are sinners, or whatever the reverend at the church says.

"mm."

slowly pulling it off, he sets the watch on the dresser before shutting the bedroom door

"good."

dear god in heaven, you think to yourself, struggling to swallow the saliva pooling inside your mouth as he starts to undress. please forgive me for such inappropriate thoughts about my husband.

he removes his suit jacket—black today, it seems—placing it carefully on his desk chair, followed by his cufflinks and tie. his shirt is next, each button popping to reveal his strong, well-maintained physique.

you have to stop yourself from pumping your fist in the air for getting so lucky with such an attractive man as your husband. too busy ogling him like a horny teenager, you miss him undoing his belt before tugging them down and stepping out of his boxers.

once you do realize he's fully undress, you blush hard once he approaches the end of the bed—it took everything out of you not to stare at that...monster hanging between his legs, dear lord—and climbs onto it, making his way to hover over you.

his eyes roam up and down your body, taking in the pretty silky night dress you had on. It’s a soft blue with lacy white trim with little intricate flower designs.

modest, yet sensual.

"this is new," he comments, voice low and sultry. you can't help but wonder if he meant to sound so...so...

you don't find the correct word for it, but this new tone lights a fire in your stomach that has your r thighs squeezing together just a little bit.

"well, i figured it was an important night...you know, finally popping our cherries a-and starting a family?"

it's a weak attempt at humor, your voice clearly giving away your nervousness. you just pray that he ignores it.

a soft hum leaves him, his fingers playing with the intricately designed lace trim. the idea that you want to make this whole ordeal special, that you want to give yourself to him wholly, and that you want to swell with his child...

it pleases him greatly, a small smile touching his lips.

"well, aren't you sweet, my dearest?"

such simple words, yet they relieve so much tension from your shoulders. you can't help but smile back before a little gasp falls from your lips when his hands start to lift the dress up. his hands, they're so big, so hot on your skin.

It's a struggle to remember that this is for the purpose of producing offspring and nothing else, but you try, you try so hard.

but when you hear the hitch in his breath at the realization you didn't have anything else underneath the dress after he pulls it over your head, it's hard to remember.

the thought just about completely leaves your mind at the way nanami, your usually put-together husband, looks so hungrily down at you, a look you've never seen before in those pretty hazel eyes.

his gaze lingers on your body for a moment, mouth opening before shutting instantly, preventing himself from saying something he'd likely regret.

calm down, kento, he reminds himself, taking a second to clear his mind. this is for the purpose of family, not sinful and carnal desires.

even so, he's drinking in the sight of you, unable to stop his hands from rubbing up and down your sides, the soft skin of you, his wife, warming his palms. all his.

"gorgeous," he mumbles, unaware he even said it.

the moment you feel his leaking cock brush against your leg, a thought occurs to you.

neither one of you has a single idea of how to do this.

sure, you both know enough about putting it inside and moving, but that was about it. is there something else you should do? things you should say, places you should touch to aid in the process?

they never explained the actual process of sex in church, and lord knows your mother and father would've keeled over and died instantly if you were to ask them.

'it comes naturally when god deems it your time' the reverend stated once during a sermon. you fight back a frown, realizing that man probably had even less of an idea of how to do it.

however, the feeling of his tip nudging against your slit rips a gasp out of you, bringing you back into the present.

"are you alright? you left me for a bit there," nanami asks, his brow furrowed in worry. if you weren't ready, he was willing to back off. he may want to fulfill this important aspect of marriage, but...not if you don't want it.

"n-no, i'm okay! just...wondering how all of this is going to work out," you softly reassure, giving a weak giggle.

he can't blame you, he isn't very sure either. but as the man of the house and as your husband, he didn't plan on letting you worry. he would do all the work, you just needed to lay there looking so pretty, so soft, so...he realizes he's doing it again, letting his mind wander to places it shouldn't.

"just...j-just relax, we will figure it out as we go along."

with your silent nod, nanami starts to push his hips forward, hissing silently when he realizes the wetness that greets him.

you were this aroused just from...talking?

the thought of scolding you for letting your mind wander crossed his own, but...it would be hypocritical when his cockhead is dribbling precum all over your soft mound.

you choke out a noise of pain when his cock finally notches onto you and starts to push inside. sure, your wetness helped get the tip and the few inches after it inside, but just that is already too much for you, and you're expected to take all of it?!

you do your best not to move, not really sure what you should be doing. you'd be a good wife and bear with the pain if you had to, your nails digging into the pillow under your head as you braced yourself for the rest of his cock.

but this is absolutely unbearable, how do other women bear with this and have 6 or more children?!

a flicker of concern flashes through nanami's eyes at the sound you made, and he stops moving forward. he may be a bit mean sometimes, but he wasn't cruel.

if you both are going to go through with this, he is not going to make you suffer and nor is he going to force you to endure a painful experience.

no true man of god would do such a thing.

"breathe, don't hold it in," he instructs, his voice somehow calm and collected. one of his hands laces with yours, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as his lips brush against your forehead. "i've got you, darling, the pain will pass, just...tell me to stop if it gets too bad. don't hold it in."

giving a soft nod, you try to match his breathing, your body relaxing and making it easier for nanami to slip the rest of himself inside, a near silent sigh escaping him. the tightness and initial resistance that greeted him nearly made him moan, his cock twitching violently inside of you.

something about the physical feeling and knowledge that you saved yourself for him like you promised years before you both got married sent a surge of possession and pride, knowing he has such a loving and faithful wife who is so willing to give herself up to him like this...he can only hope you feel the same knowing he saved himself for you and only you.

so, as a 'reward'—and totally not because he fears you'll strangle his cock off with how tight you are—he's so gracious to you, not moving to let you get used to the stretch and feel of him inside, the room silent except for your matching breathing.

a few moments go by, and you should feel embarrassed when you feel slick drip out of you and down your ass. the realization that your dearest husband, one of the most faithful men of the church, is letting his cock soak inside of your hot cunt makes you whine a little, slick walls fluttering around him.

he's so fucked.

"a-ah...i'm going to move now," he warns, taking your sudden noise as a good sign. nanami shifts his legs just a bit before giving an experimental thrust, his brow furrowing as he slowly finds a rhythm.

the feeling of your hot and gummy walls is absolutely intoxicating, divine, nothing he's ever felt before.

this is what it felt like?

this is what he waited for?

fuck, it felt...it felt so good.

too good.

for you, the pain completely melts away, and you silently thank god and the angels above for giving you a merciful husband who is so kind as to wait for you to loosen up around him.

little do you know, he would rather kill himself than start moving when you're still adjusting to the pain and stretch.

his gentle movements make you all but melt under him, your eyes fluttering at the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your veins.

no wonder your parents preached about saving yourself until marriage, and thank the heavens you listened.

the very thought of feeling this way with anyone but your kento puts a bad taste in your mouth.

meanwhile, nanami chants prayers in his head over and over again as he tries his best to focus on the 'true' purpose for this.

the sticky, wet, and gooey sensation of your plump cunt sucking him, practically weeping each time he pulls out is just unfair.

the poor man, he's fighting so hard to maintain his composure, to not succumb to the base instincts that those soft moans of yours are beginning to stir within him.

"s-shush, darling," he grits out, hips still following his slow, deep pace. "don't...don't make such noises," he all but pleads, voice tinged with a huskiness that betrayed his growing need for you.

“i-i’m sorry! just, it...feels good, y-you feel good, feels s-so good,” you whisper, hands coming up to cover your mouth and stifle those sickeningly sweet noises.

but of course, that isn’t enough because each push and pull of his cock stirs your drooling cunt, filling the room with wet, filthy squelching sounds.

nothing about this is holy, nanami thinks as he grits his teeth, hands fisting in the sheets next to your head.

look at her.

those soft, muffled noises are truly music to his ears, his pace morphing from the slow, deep grind into a faster pace as your soft body gives into the pleasure.

so wet, so damn tight around my cock., like she never wants to let me pull out.

"k-kento, y-you're goin' too deep, i-i can't be quiet, s'too much!"

messy little pussy, 's beggin' for cum, needs it, needs to feel my tip kissin' her cervix as i pump load after load into her womb.

he knows what that little voice is, and no matter how much he wants to claim that it’s the sound of demons pouring their sinful words into his mind, he knows that it's his thoughts, fueled by those dirty little noises that she can't hold back.

how pitiful, how sinful, doesn't she know she's going against all the teachings they've heard preached every weekend in their church?

doesn't she know she's giving into lust?

doesn't she know her pretty sounds are making his dick throb, painting her insides with his hot, gooey precum?

"hush, 'm not going to t-tell you again, you...you need to be quiet," he growls, the command lacking its earlier authority.

nanami also knows lying is a sin, and he's doing a damned lot of it right now as he tries to convince himself that you need to stay silent. after all, this—this is just a process of giving you both a child, just like you wanted, and nothing else.

but he's lying to himself.

he needs you to be quiet or else he'll lose it.

the poor man is barely holding onto his restraint, and these sweet noises pouring from your mouth aren't helping at all.

"y-you make this so difficult sometimes, my dear..." his voice is rough with need and desire, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. "but, by god, you're...you're. absolutely. exquisite."

he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his hips into you in a way that has the coarse hair on his crotch to rub against your clit. the pleasure it gives you is electric, your legs coming up to squeeze his hips as you try to grind with him.

his words, his simple praise only makes you hiccup his name, crying out louder as your watery eyes roll back as your needy cunt squeezed down on his fat cock.

you're such a sweet thing, trying oh-so hard to mute your sounds. each snap of his hips is all but driving you insane.

“i-i can’t, ken, y-you don’t understand, i-it feels so good, i-i’m so full! you’re pressing against all the good spots, kentoo, i-i love you s' much, b-but i can't!”

be a good fucking husband and do what you were made to, nanami kento.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip, trying to hard to ignore that temptation purring in the back of his mind.

the voice is so much louder now, echoing throughout his mind and muting any prayers or pleads to be mindful of the sanctity of this whole process.

fuck her. give her what she needs, what she deserves.

but it's too fucking hard, he can't his hips are speeding up, his strong hands moving to grip your thighs, unaware of how they start to anchor behind your knees.

breed your pretty little wife and give her a baby like she deserves.

with a deep groan, nanami finally loses all control, fingers digging into your supple thighs to push them to your chest and practically folding you in half.

this new angle has him openly moaning like a dirty whore, allowing him to plunge even deeper into your tight, gummy walls, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each and every deep thrust.

"k-ken, kenny, k-ken," you sob, tears catching onto your lashes as your entire being is assaulted by the endless pleasure your husband is giving you. he doesn't even look like your kento anymore, his pupils blown so wide that you can barely see the ring of greens and brown of his iris.

"f-fuck. 's all your fault, you know that," he hisses, eyes narrowing as he weakly glares down at you. but you can see the hearts in his eyes as he gives in to the pleasure.

his dark eyes bore down into yours, the wet plap plap plap plap of his hips slamming into yours almost overpowering his voice. "if y-you just stayed quiet like i asked, w-we wouldn't be here."

a little spurt of wet gushes out of you, making his fall forward into the juncture of your neck with a groan at the dirty noise it makes,

"god, i-i can feel it, y'know? can feel this sticky pussy—such a dirty little pussy—makin' such a mess. saved it jus' for me, didn't you, baby? mmhm—fuckin' hell, 's tight—thank you god f' giving me such an angel of a wife." nanami is huffing nonsense against your neck, pounding into you with a force that has the bed creaking loudly.

if you weren't being fucked stupid, you would be worried he was about to break the bed.

"you can keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, b-but you jus' had to have the noisiest little cunt."

he's so mean, but it only serves to make you gush even more, the way juices pour out of you and only make the already filthy noises even nastier.

"she's talkin' to me, baby, y'hear it? i'm...i-i'm gonna breed you," he manages to whine into your ear, pulling away to press his sweaty forehead against yours.

his tongue, so pink and pretty—you want it in your mouth, want to taste it want to feel it against yours—runs over his top lip as he watches drool drip down the corner of your mouth while you nod brainlessly.

nanami's never felt so dirty, so unhinged, but it feels so right, feels so fucking good. he never wants to leave your pussy, never wants to pull out, this is where he belongs, buried deep inside you as his cock pumps load after load right into your tummy, giving you what you need, what you deserve.

"yeah? you want that? i'll give it to you, baby, promise, 'm gonna be a good husband a-and knock you up, gonna make you a mommy."

that has you keening, tears pouring down your cheeks at the pleasure it shoots up your spine. you know you're close, but it's different.

it feels different, feels too much, there's pressure you've never felt before from the few times you'd cave in and play with your puffy, swollen clit in the shower when you waited for nanami to get home from work to kiss you to sleep.

no, you feel like you are about to fucking explode. "ken, i-i can't, 'm gonna—s-something's coming," you try to warn, your hands fisting in his hair as you tug and tug and tug.

the pull of his hair makes him moan like a slut, it sounds so fucking good. his eyes are rolling back before he rushes to comfort you, pressing soft little open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

you don't need to fight it, you just need to give it to him, give him what he needs.

"shh, shh, don' cry, y' look t'pretty, honey. l-let it happen, cum for me, i've got you, angel, cum for me s-so i can fill you up," he coos, his hips growing erratic as he feels your silky walls starting to fluttering around him, feeling you teeter on the edge of release.

he shifts, just barely, just enough to better position himself to fuck deeper into you. but that slight movement has his cock smushing against something soft and spongy that makes you sob, growing softer and more pliant under him, and you know you are done for as all you can do is wail his name.

"please, pretty girl, cum for me, show me how good 'm making you feel, soak my cock, c'mon, you can do it."

with a loud mewl that nearly has nanami soaking your walls in cum, you dig your nails into his biceps as you finally, finally cum. and you're right, it is different, your cute pussy squirting and creaming all over his dick.

the poor man is choking back a whine, eyes wide in shock as your cunt just gushes slick everywhere, clenching around him like a vice as you cum.

your juices are soaking his cock and balls, splattering against his lower abdomen obscenely. the thought of making you do that again crosses his mind for a split moment before the need to fill you up for being so good overpowers any other thought.

not giving you a break, he continues his unforgiving fucking, ignoring your cries and pleads for him to slow down.

"nonono, shh, shh, shush, you can take it," he coos against your lips, no longer caring if this was sinning or not. all he could think about was the constant squeezing and spasming of your poor overstimulated slit that was milking him toward his orgasm.

you try to squirm away, but the way he has you folded in half has you unable to do anything but accept his stupidly deep thrusts that make you swear you can taste his cock in the back of your throat.

"t-tha's it." he's panting, slurring his words, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. it’s so wet, so messy now, but he can't find it in himself to care.

no, all he can think about as he looks down at you is how you'll have that angelic glow as you grow round with his baby, and everyone will know you're his, that he knocked you up, he pumped you full of his cum, that you're his you're his you're all fucking his—

"f-fuck, honey, i-i can't..." his hips stutter as he does his best to maintain his rhythm, but his own release is barreling down on him. his heavy balls are drawing up tight as they slap against your ass, your juices still pouring out and soaking all of him.

"'m gonna fill you up, 'm gonna pump this—this sinful little cunt f-full of m'cum, angel, gonna knock you up, gonna have you drippin' with me, g-gonna give you a fuckin' baby, shit—"

with a deep, guttural groan, nanami hisses your name as he buries himself as deep as possible, his hot tip kissing your cervix as thick, hot ropes of his potent cum pour right into your womb, hips grinding into you and giving little thrusts as you milk his cock weakly despite your overstimulation.

it's—it's so much, he's still cumming, how was all of this inside of him? you can practically feel it sloshing around inside of you, and you whimper when you feel it gush out around his now softening cock, dripping down your ass onto the bed.

a moment or two passes, and he sits up, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face and looking down at you.

oh.

you sweet thing, you're an absolute mess. you have tear streaks down your cheeks, your lips swollen from him unknowingly biting them between the little kisses he was giving you, a pretty sheen of sweat on you, and...

his eyes trail lower to where his dick is still nestled inside of you, and it takes everything in him to not accidentally thrust his hips a little bit.

it's a creamy, sticky mess, a mixture of his and your cum seeping out your poor, abused pussy.

"o-oh. sorry, my love. i'm...not quiet sure what happened there. i apologize for such...foul language," he mumurs, his hand stroking your hip. "'s okay," you softly coo back to him, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to catch your breath. "i-i liked it..."

but you quickly learn you've married both a man of god and a curious, insatiable bastard who can't help but drag his cum all over your pussy, quickly finding your clit. and the reaction you give him is one he decides he likes, your hips canting up as your soft, oversensitive walls squeeze around his cock again.

"k-kento, that's nasty!"

all you get in response is a grumbling noise in his chest as it takes you weakly slapping your hands against his chest to get his eyes to snap away from your gooey, creamy pussy.

clearing his throat, he looks down at you, that heated look slowly creeping back onto his face. "perhaps we...we should try once more. just to ensure it takes," he states, doing his best to show some semblance of dominance.

but it's impossible when his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, his pupils blown as he gazes down at your panting form like he's about to devour you whole.

"after all, a...a big family is what god wants from man and woman, right? so we...shouldn't delay and keep trying." his hand trails up your side before finding its way to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh.

his thumb experimentally rolled your nipple, and the way your body reacted, a soft gasp of his name...how is he supposed to explain the feeling he's getting in the confessional booth?

"y-yeah," he gulps, leaning his head down. you can feel his hot breath against your tit, and you swear you feel drool drip onto your breast. "w-we'll keep trying. jus' to make sure w-we do what the scripture asks."

may god forgive him for being such a fucking liar and a damned bad one at that.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ #[💳] kento .ᐟ

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danysdaughter · 6 days ago

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bucky seeing p0rn for the first time after the dating apps don’t work out👀

I'm deadddd, this was so vague so I just ran with it

The Education Of James Buchanan Barnes

pairing | post!tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 6.3k words

summary | when dating apps fail him and thirst traps become his downfall, bucky barnes finds himself spiraling down the internet’s most unholy rabbit hole—pornhub.

what starts as horrified research turns into full-blown obsession... especially when you, his sharp-tongued best friend, catch him red-handed and make very sure he lives out every filthy fantasy he’s been hiding.

tags | (18+) MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, face sitting, breeding kink dirty talk, roleplay mentions, overstimulation, sexual humor, porn discovery, reader catches bucky watching porn, friends to very horny lovers, reader is a menace, teasing, flustered bucky, dom!bucky, subtle power play, consent is sexy, reader rides his face, doggy style, missionary? i hardly know her, mutual pining (solved by porn), no use of y/n, reader is a problem and bucky loves it, aftercare.

a/n | yeah, I definitely went overboard with this. I hope you freaks enjoy this

taglist | if you wanna be added to my bucky barnes masterlist just add your username to my taglist

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ — ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

divider by @cafekitsune

You sipped your drink slowly, already biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as Bucky glared into his beer like it had personally betrayed him.

“So,” Sam started, barely hiding his smirk. “How was the date with... what was her name again? Velvet? Vixen?”

“Vesper,” Bucky muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “And she asked if I’d be into choking her with my vibranium arm before we even finished our drinks.”

You snorted into your glass.

Sam leaned forward, grinning. “I mean... was she wrong?”

“Sam.” Bucky’s glare was instant, but mostly performative. “I just met her.”

You glanced at him over your glass, amused. “What app did you find this one on?”

He groaned. “The same one you said was ‘normal.’”

“No one said it was normal,” you said, raising a brow. “I said it was better than Tinder. That’s not a high bar.”

Bucky leaned back with a sigh, looking thoroughly done with the entire 21st century. “I miss when people met at soda shops and asked each other about their families instead of sending... pictures of their genitals.”

Sam barked a laugh. “Aw, poor Grandpa’s overwhelmed by the sex-positive future.”

“You know what’s not positive?” Bucky muttered. “The fact that I Googled ‘how to get back out of the dating app’ and it sent me to a subreddit with people just as confused as I am.”

You exchanged a look with Sam, both of you clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Have you... considered other ways to meet people?” you asked, trying not to grin. “Like not being a digital hermit?”

Bucky looked between the two of you, deadpan. “I’m this close to living in the jungle again.”

Sam raised his glass. “To Bucky Barnes, the only man who can bench-press a car but can’t survive Hinge.”

Bucky slammed his glass down—not hard, but with enough force to earn a side-eye from the bartender.

“I just don’t get it,” he muttered. “I’m trying to talk to these women like a normal person. I say, ‘Hi, how was your day?’ and one of them responds with—” he fumbled with his phone, squinting at the screen, “‘Send me a pic of the arm, baby, I wanna see what’s gonna rearrange my insides.’”

You choked.

Sam full-on cackled, grabbing his chest. “Wait—rearrange her insides? Yo, that’s poetry.”

“She sent a GIF after that,” Bucky went on, staring at the phone like it might explode. “A GIF. Of a hydraulic press crushing a watermelon. What does that mean?”

“I’m gonna die,” you wheezed, nearly spilling your drink. “She wants you to hydraulically press her coochie, Barnes. Come on.”

“I thought she was making a smoothie metaphor!” Bucky snapped. “And then another one asked if I was into CNC. I said I didn’t know what that meant, and she said ‘perfect.’”

Sam wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh my god—Bucky, you’re gonna end up in someone’s kink diary.”

“She sent me a TikTok about edging,” Bucky added, horror slowly overtaking his face. “I thought it was about gardening.”

You completely lost it, head in your arms on the table. “Please stop, I can’t breathe.”

Bucky scowled. “I’m serious! She said she wanted to edge me for hours, and I said that sounded peaceful, like a nice walk—and she sent back forty-seven emojis.”

Sam gasped between wheezes. “You’re getting sexted in hieroglyphics and you think it’s a hike, I’m begging you to never leave the house again.”

Bucky looked between you both, betrayal written across his face. “I survived Hydra. I survived seventy years of brainwashing. But I will not survive being called ‘daddy’ by a woman who lists her job as ‘freelance foot model and energy witch.’”

“Wait—did she have the crystals?” you asked, barely able to form the words.

He nodded grimly. “She said my aura was ‘screaming trauma kink.’”

Sam actually slid off the stool, wheezing on the floor.

He shut the door behind him with a dull thunk, then stood there for a moment in the silence. The kind that pressed in around the edges when no one else was around. Just him, the creak of the old radiator, and the words “rearrange my insides” still echoing in his head like a ghost.

Bucky sighed, tossed his jacket onto the back of a chair, and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge as if disappointment wouldn’t be waiting there too. One beer left. Great.

He grabbed it, popped the cap off with his metal hand, and made his way over to his laptop.

It sat there on the table like a challenge.

He opened it. The familiar whir kicked on. A sigh slipped through his teeth.

“I fought in two wars,” he muttered to himself. “Survived Hydra. Took down a helicarrier. But this? This is the real enemy.”

He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Then he typed:

"What does CNC mean?"

Enter.

He leaned forward slowly, reading the top search result. Then the second.

His eyebrows pulled together. His mouth fell open just slightly.

"...Consensual non-consent?"

He clicked the link. Read further.

He leaned back in his chair like he’d just been shot.

“Why—why would anyone want that?” he muttered, scandalized. “That’s just... that’s just assault with permission.”

Still, he didn’t close the tab.

He opened a new one instead.

"Edging meaning (not gardening)"

More links. More acronyms. More trauma.

His face contorted in quiet horror as he scanned descriptions, diagrams, tips and techniques.

His beer sat forgotten on the table.

Eventually, he clicked a link that just said “beginner’s guide to porn kinks.” It was a blog. Fairly clinical. Until it wasn’t.

Then he clicked another.

And another.

Until eventually he wound up on a site with thumbnails—little videos with previews. Titles he didn’t fully understand.

He stared at one.

A girl, on her knees, mouth open, eyes wide.

Title: “Training My Pretty Submissive Brat”

He blinked. Then hovered. Clicked.

The video loaded.

He sat still, very still, as it started playing.

And then...

“What the hell—” he whispered.

The guy was talking. Dirty. Commanding.

The girl was moaning like someone had just whispered state secrets in her ear. She was calling him sir. Begging. Crying out when he—

Bucky slammed the spacebar to pause the video, hand clenched on the table.

He stood. Paced.

‘I shouldn’t be watching this,’ he thought, running his hand through his hair. ‘This is wrong. This is not—that’s not—’

He looked back at the screen.

Unpaused.

A few seconds passed.

He sat again.

Watched. Silent. Rigid.

His jaw clenched. His eyes darted across the screen like he was scanning enemy movement.

Then his hand—his metal hand—tapped the edge of the keyboard.

Paused again.

His chest rose and fell.

“I mean… he’s not hurting her,” he thought. “She’s asking for it. She likes it.”

Beat.

“And she’s loud.”

He sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the paused screen like it had insulted him personally.

Then he muttered, “Is that what people want now?”

He reopened the search bar.

"How to talk dirty in bed"

The search results hit him like a grenade.

By the third article, his ears were red. His fingers hovered over the trackpad like they didn’t know whether to scroll or just snap the whole laptop in half.

He clicked another video.

This one was slower. More intimate.

The woman straddled the guy’s lap, whispering in his ear. He growled something back, then pushed her down on the bed—

Bucky’s breath caught.

He didn’t even notice his hand moving under the table at first.

Didn’t notice the low groan that slipped from his throat when the man on screen said, “Good girl—just like that.”

He froze. Eyes wide. Mouth dry.

He swallowed hard.

“…I need another beer.”

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t stop watching.

Because something in him had been starved for this. For contact. For control. For someone wanting him, even in fantasy.

The next video autoplayed before he could stop it.

Another couple. This time, softer lighting. Moaning, whispered praise. Her back arched under his touch as he moved slow, deliberate, like every second was sacred.

Bucky swallowed hard.

He sat motionless for a full minute.

Then his hand drifted down.

Hesitant. Awkward.

He undid the button of his jeans, fingers brushing over the bulge in his briefs. The contact was enough to make his breath stutter.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

He shifted in his seat, pushed his jeans down just enough, and curled his hand around himself. Warm skin against cool air. His metal hand clenched uselessly on the table as the other moved slowly, uncertain.

The sounds from the video—soft, rhythmic, intimate—filled the room.

And Bucky gave in.

His eyes didn’t close. He watched—studied—the way the man touched her, held her, spoke to her like she was something precious and filthy all at once.

“Such a good girl,” the man murmured. “Taking all of me. Just like that.”

Bucky bit down on a groan, his hand moving faster now, hips twitching in his seat.

He imagined saying those words.

And then—

He imagined you.

Your voice, sharp and sarcastic, going breathy and soft when he touched you. Your legs around his waist. Your fingers in his hair. Your mouth whispering his name like it meant something.

And that thought—you, under him, with him—wrecked him.

He jerked harder, gritting his teeth, chest rising fast.

A low moan slipped out. Sharp. Uncontrolled.

His head fell back, eyes clenched shut as heat coiled in his gut. His body trembled.

One more stroke—

And he came.

Hard.

He let out a strangled noise, hips lifting off the couch, body seizing as white-hot pleasure shot through him. His hand slowed, milked every last pulse, until the aftershocks faded and all that was left was—

Silence. Reality. Shame.

His breath was harsh in his ears.

The screen was still playing.

The woman moaned, laughing, pulling the man closer.

Bucky stared. Then looked down.

At himself. At the mess.

At the way his hand was still wrapped around his cock, softening now, shame creeping in like a slow burn.

He let go like he’d been scalded.

The aftershocks hadn’t even faded before the guilt hit—cold and immediate.

Not from what he’d watched.

Not even from what he’d done.

But from who he’d seen in his mind while he did it.

You.

You, laughing beside him at the bar. You, rolling your eyes at his brooding. You, calling him “grandpa” and meaning it with affection.

You—beneath him, moaning, touching, giving yourself to him in the fantasy that had just ripped through his body.

His stomach twisted.

He yanked his pants back up, hands clumsy, face burning not with arousal now—but with shame.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pacing, one hand raking through his hair, the other clenching into a fist. “Fuck—what the hell’s wrong with me?”

You were his friend.

You were real.

And he’d just used the idea of you like… like some porn star on a screen.

His jaw tightened. He couldn’t look at the laptop. Couldn’t look at himself. He felt dirty—not because he’d touched himself, but because it felt like a betrayal. A violation of something pure.

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

That hadn’t been just need.

That had been you.

And now he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to look you in the eye again.

A Few Weeks Later

There was a knock at the door.

Three knocks, then a pause.

Then two more.

“Come on, Barnes,” your voice called through the door. “I brought sacrificial offerings.”

Bucky hesitated.

He sat in the dark, boots still on, bruised knuckles resting against his knees. His hoodie clung to him, sweat-damp and rumpled, his mind still halfway in the mission, halfway in the same loop it had been stuck in for weeks.

But it was you.

He got up slowly and opened the door.

You stood there with a paper bag in one hand, a six-pack in the other, grinning like you had zero intention of leaving whether he wanted you to or not.

“You gonna let me in or should I start monologuing like a Bond villain?”

He stepped aside without a word.

You strolled in like you owned the place, already heading to the kitchen with practiced ease.

“Brought dumplings, noodles, and enough alcohol to bleach the taste of both from your soul,” you said, setting things down. “You looked like someone clubbed you with your own metal arm last mission, so—figured I’d play nurse. A sexy, underqualified nurse with boundary issues.”

Bucky closed the door quietly behind you.

“You’re not a nurse,” he muttered.

“Not with that attitude.”

You popped the beers open, handed him one, then flopped onto his couch like you lived there. Legs kicked up, food containers opened without ceremony, your usual grin in place.

He stood a few feet away, beer untouched in his hand.

He hadn’t seen you in weeks—not really. He’d ducked every casual run-in, bailed on team movie nights, even ghosted your texts under the excuse of "needing space." He figured you noticed.

You just hadn’t said anything.

Until now.

You eyed him, casually, between bites. “You gonna sit down or do I need to pull you onto the couch like a Victorian housewife?”

He sat. Slowly. Farther away than usual.

You noticed. Of course you did. But you didn’t call him on it.

Not yet.

Instead, you nudged a container toward him and said, “Eat, soldier. You look like a sad, haunted lumberjack.”

And still—he didn’t say a word.

Because all he could think about, sitting beside you again after a month of silence, was the way your mouth had looked in that fantasy.

The way your voice had sounded moaning his name.

The way he’d used the memory of your real, friendly, teasing self to—

He swallowed thickly.

You kept eating, casual, sharp, familiar.

Exactly how he remembered. Exactly what made it so much worse.

You wiped your fingers on a napkin, leaned back, and gave him a look.

“Alright. You look like you’re two seconds from overthinking yourself into an early grave. Movie time. Something with violence or explosions—your love language.”

Before he could protest, you were already standing and heading toward his desk.

“Wait—” he said, starting to rise, but too slow.

You flipped open his laptop. “Let’s see what Grandpa Barnes has in his—”

“Ah—ahh—yes, please—!”

The moaning hit like a tactical nuke.

You froze.

So did he.

Both of you staring wide-eyed at the screen as the speakers screamed filth into the otherwise silent apartment.

Bucky moved fast.

Too fast.

He lunged over the couch, hand outstretched like he was taking enemy fire.

You dodged.

Smooth, practiced. Years of training paying off.

“No—” he barked, face already crimson, “Please—don’t—!”

“Oh my god—” you laughed, holding the laptop just out of reach. “Is this—is this Pornhub? Are you seriously—you are! You’ve been watching porn, you absolute degenerate.”

He groaned, dragging his hand down his face, mortified.

“Please give me the laptop,” he said, voice low, wounded, like you were holding a hostage.

But you were already clicking the spacebar, pausing the video mid-thrust.

“Oooh,” you said, squinting at the tab title. “‘Brat tamer destroys needy sub’? This is what you’re into?” You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Bucky.”

“Stop,” he muttered, pacing now, hands on his hips. “I was—researching.”

“Researching what? The anatomy of a throatfuck?” you said, howling with laughter. “Brat tamer—are you even on Tumblr, old man?”

He looked like he wanted the floor to open and consume him.

“Do you know how much I regret every decision that led to this moment?”

You hugged the laptop to your chest dramatically. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this. The secrets. The shame. The kinks.”

“Give. It. Back.”

“Nope. Not until we find out if you’ve got a whole ‘rough dom Bucky’ fantasy folder stashed somewhere. You into praise? Degradation? Impact play? Knife play?”

He growled.

Actually growled.

And for half a second, it stopped being funny.

Because the way his eyes locked on you?

That wasn’t embarrassment anymore.

That was heat. Low. Dangerous.

You grinned, too drunk on the chaos to stop.

“Come on, Barnes,” you said, laptop still clutched like a prize. “Own it. You like a little bratty backtalk? You want someone to whimper please while you tell her she’s being a bad girl?”

He was still pacing, but slower now. Controlled. Coiled.

You didn’t notice.

You were too busy poking the bear.

“Is that what you’re into?” you teased, stepping back. “All that repressed soldier shit finally coming out in dirty little commands and throat grips?”

His eyes met yours. Still embarrassed, sure. But behind it? Something sharper. Something hungry.

“Y’know,” you added, tone light, teasing, “I always pegged you as more of a soft dom. Gentle hands. Lots of praise. But this? This is dark. Kinda filthy. Kinda hot.”

That did it. He moved.

Fast.

Faster than he should’ve.

One second, you were smirking with the laptop; the next, it was out of your hands, clattering to the couch. You were against the wall, chest rising, his body a breath away from yours.

His hand planted next to your head.

His voice low. Controlled.

“Enough.”

You stared at him. The air was suddenly thick. Your heart thudded once, hard.

“You think this is a joke?” he asked, eyes burning into you.

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

“You think I don’t know you’ve been toying with me since the moment you walked in?”

That teasing smile faltered—just a little.

“You keep pushing,” he murmured, leaning in, breath brushing your jaw. “You laugh, you flirt, you play. But you don’t realize... I’ve thought about you. In ways I shouldn’t.”

You swallowed.

Hard.

“I know what I watched,” he went on, voice rough, low, dangerous. “I know who I imagined.”

Your breath caught.

His eyes dropped to your lips.

Then back up.

And when he spoke again, it wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise.

“You want to see what I’m into?”

You blinked up at him—cornered, caged—but not afraid.

Not even close. Your smile crept back, slower this time. Calculated.

“Oh,” you murmured, tone shifting. “You imagined me?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened.

His silence said everything.

You pushed your palms slowly against his chest, feeling the way his body tensed under your touch. Solid. Barely held together.

You leaned in, lips brushing just beneath his ear.

“So tell me,” you whispered, voice low and coaxing. “If you’ve already pictured it, Barnes... what did I look like?”

He exhaled harshly through his nose.

You didn’t stop.

“What was I doing?” you went on, dragging your fingers down the curve of his chest. “Was I on my knees? Bent over? Did I ride you while you begged for it?”

A choked sound left him—more breath than voice.

You smiled against his neck. “Or do you want to tell me what you were doing to me?”

His hands twitched at his sides.

You could feel it—the war inside him. Guilt, hunger, restraint. And under all of it, the ache.

“Go on, James,” you whispered, using his real name like a secret. “Tell me. What do you like?”

His head dropped forward, forehead nearly touching yours.

A beat passed.

Then another.

And then—

“I want you on top,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I want you to sit on my face and ride it until your legs give out.”

Your eyes fluttered closed for half a second.

That was not the answer you expected first.

His voice deepened, like now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

“I want you on your knees, begging. I want to fuck you from behind so deep you forget your own name. I want to feel you come around me and not stop. I want to stay inside you.”

His breath hitched. His hands were fisting at his sides.

“And when I’m done, when you can’t even move anymore—I want to come in you and keep coming until you’re full of me. Until it’s dripping out of you.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively.

Your nails curled tighter into his chest.

And your voice, still low, still teasing—but now breathy, just slightly—said:

“Damn, Barnes. That’s a whole lot of filth for someone who didn’t even know what edging was last month.”

Your last teasing whisper hadn’t even left your lips before Bucky moved.

One second you were pinned between him and the wall, and the next, his hands were on your hips, gripping tight. Then the ground disappeared beneath your feet.

You gasped as he lifted you—easily, effortlessly—hauling you against his chest like you weighed nothing.

“Jesus, Barnes—” you started, but his mouth was already on yours.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a claim.

Hot, rough, needy—his lips crashed into yours with the force of every filthy thought, every sleepless night, every moment he’d spent imagining your mouth, your body, your sound. His teeth scraped your bottom lip. His tongue pushed past yours. There was no hesitation. Just heat.

You moaned into it, hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer even as he carried you down the hall.

Your back hit the wall once, then the doorframe, and then—

The bed.

He dropped you onto it like a man starved for touch. The mattress creaked beneath you, sheets rumpled and cool against your skin as you propped yourself up on your elbows, breathless and grinning.

Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, looking at you like you were his undoing.

You tilted your head, voice low and mocking.

“Is this the part where you get all commanding, Sergeant? Or are you gonna make me do the work?”

His jaw clenched. He stepped forward. Then dropped his weight onto the bed, climbing over you, hands already at your thighs, dragging you down the sheets toward him.

“I told you not to push,” he growled.

You smiled, voice syrup-sweet.

“And I told you I liked pushing.”

His hands slipped under your shirt, yanking it over your head in one smooth motion. Your bra was next, tossed aside without ceremony. He ducked down immediately, mouth hot against your collarbone, then lower—kissing, biting, devouring.

You gasped, head falling back as his mouth found your breast, tongue circling your nipple before he sucked it between his lips, hard.

And still—you teased.

“Careful, Barnes. Gonna make a mess before you even get inside me.”

He looked up at you.

Eyes wild, hungry, dark.

And then he dragged your jeans down—fast, rough, like he didn’t have the patience for anything else—and crawled up between your legs, pressing his body to yours until there was nothing between you anymore.

“Then shut up,” he growled, grinding against you, his cock thick and hard through his jeans.

“Make me,” you whispered, pulling him down by the collar.

And he did.

His mouth was everywhere—jaw, neck, breasts, stomach—kissing, biting, groaning like he couldn’t get enough, like he didn’t know where to start because he wanted all of you.

Then he pulled back, breathing hard, eyes raking over your body like a man finally allowed to look.

“Get up,” he rasped, voice dark and thick with want.

You blinked up at him, dazed and grinning. “What?”

He sat back on his heels, hands gripping your thighs.

“I said get up,” he repeated. “I want you on my face.”

Your breath caught.

Dead serious.

You didn’t question it. Didn’t tease.

Instead, your lips curved into a slow smile as you shifted, sitting up, climbing over him with fluid, easy confidence.

“As you wish, Sergeant.”

That name hit him like a punch to the chest.

His hands guided you—firm, reverent, needy—until your knees were braced on either side of his head, your body hovering just above his lips.

He looked up at you like a man who’d prayed for this moment.

And then?

He pulled you down.

No hesitation.

Just mouth.

Hot, wet, desperate—he groaned the second he tasted you, tongue already lapping through your folds, lips sealing around your clit like he was starving.

Your head tipped back with a sharp gasp, fingers flying into his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth.

“Fuck—Bucky—”

He growled in response, hands gripping your ass, holding you down, keeping you there.

You rocked against him instinctively, gasping as his tongue flicked and circled, licked and sucked. He was moaning into you, mumbling things you couldn’t even make out—except for one word that hit clear, over and over:

“Mine.”

You looked down at him, eyes wild, mouth open.

His eyes met yours.

Dark. Glazed. Possessed.

You could see the man he used to be—the soldier, the weapon—but right now?

Right now he was just yours.

And you were his.

You couldn’t stop moving.

Couldn’t stop grinding against his mouth, against his tongue, the pleasure slamming through you in waves, harder and sharper with every flick, every suck.

Bucky moaned beneath you, the sound filthy, shameless, needy—like your taste was saving him from something dark and deep and buried.

His hands held you tighter, guiding your hips as you rocked against his mouth, your thighs trembling around his head.

“Fuck—fuck—” you gasped, one hand gripping the headboard, the other buried in his thick, messy hair. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

He didn’t.

If anything, he doubled down—lips sealing tighter, tongue working you harder, sloppier, his groans vibrating against your clit like a live wire.

He wanted this.

He wanted to suffocate on you, drown in you.

And you gave it to him.

Because when you looked down, saw those glassy, desperate blue eyes staring up at you, pleading for more, there was no holding back.

The coil snapped.

Your whole body locked as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and searing, your hips jerking uncontrollably against his mouth.

“Bucky—” you cried, voice cracking, thighs clamping around his head as you came—hard.

He didn’t let go.

He held you there, arms wrapped around your thighs, mouth still working you through it, licking and sucking every shudder, every twitch, like it was a gift.

You collapsed forward, one hand braced on the headboard behind his head, the other still clutching his hair, your body wrecked, shaking, soaked.

And when you finally opened your eyes—chest heaving, heart pounding—you looked down at him.

His lips were wet, chin glistening, eyes blown wide with hunger.

He looked like he could live there. Like he’d happily die there.

And all he said, voice hoarse and full of worship:

“You taste like heaven.”

You were still trembling when he sat up behind you, hands stroking your thighs, your hips, slow and reverent like he needed to remember the feel of you.

“You good?” he rasped, voice wrecked from moaning into you.

You nodded, barely catching your breath, lips curving into a slow smile.

“Still waiting for that doggystyle fantasy to come true, Sergeant.”

That was all it took.

He growled low in his throat, grabbing your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto your stomach. Before you could even laugh, his hands slid under your body and lifted your hips high, chest pressed down into the mattress.

You moaned, the stretch in your spine perfect, delicious.

He leaned over you, his breath hot at your ear.

“This how you want it?”

You arched your back, ass pushing against him. “This is how you want it.”

He growled again—low, deep, possessive.

“Exactly how I want it.”

Then you felt him—his cock, thick and hot, dragging through your soaked folds, the head catching on your entrance.

He didn’t push in yet.

Just rubbed, slow, deliberate, teasing.

You whimpered, tried to push back.

He gripped your hips tighter.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “You’re gonna feel all of it.”

Then—he pushed in.

Slow at first, but deep, the stretch burning in the best way as he filled you, inch by thick, pulsing inch.

“Fuck—” you moaned, hands clutching the sheets as he bottomed out.

He held still once he was fully inside.

Like he was savoring it.

Like this—being buried in you, your body wrapped tight around his—was what he’d been starving for.

Then he moved.

Pulled out halfway.

And slammed back in.

You cried out, the sound muffled by the sheets as he started thrusting, each snap of his hips harder, deeper, rougher than the last.

His hands gripped your waist like you were his anchor.

His rhythm brutal, relentless.

He fucked you like he meant it—like he’d dreamed of this for weeks, like every fantasy had led to this.

You were gasping, moaning, clawing at the bed.

“Look at you,” he panted behind you. “So fucking tight—taking me so good.”

You couldn’t speak.

Could barely breathe.

And when his hand snaked around to rub your clit, you screamed his name.

He didn’t let up.

Just pounded into you harder, faster, until the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, filthy and loud and perfect.

He was so deep in you.

Deeper than anyone had ever been—physically, yes, but also fully. Like this was where he belonged. Like this was where you belonged.

His hips rolled, the angle perfect, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you with every rough, claiming thrust.

And his voice—low, wrecked, filthy—poured right into your ear.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he growled. “You like being on your knees for me?”

You whimpered, nodding, voice breathless.

“Yes, Bucky—fuck—so much.”

He leaned over you, chest flush to your back, still moving inside you—slow now, torturously deep, like he wanted to feel every pulse of you clenching around him.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “My good girl. So fuckin’ wet for me. You were dripping on my face—you know that?”

You moaned, your body shaking, ass pushing back into him.

“I saw you,” he said, his rhythm stuttering just to drag the next thrust out longer. “When I told you to sit on my face? You didn’t even hesitate. You just gave it to me.”

You gasped as his hand slid down your back, curving over your ass, squeezing.

“And now you’re letting me fuck you like this,” he went on. “Taking every inch like a good little cocksleeve. You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

You shuddered, squeezing around him so tight he groaned.

“Yes,” you panted, shameless. “Fuck, Bucky—fill me up—please—I want it.”

He slammed into you harder, rhythm picking up again, fast and unforgiving.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s what I like. You begging. You dripping. You mine.”

You cried out, bracing yourself against the mattress as he drove into you faster now, hand slipping beneath to rub your clit again.

“Say it,” he hissed. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you choked. “You, Bucky—I’m yours.”

He groaned deep in his throat, thrusts faltering for a beat like the words knocked something loose in him.

Then he grabbed your hair, gently but firm, pulling you up just enough to kiss your neck—bite it—then whisper:

“When I come, I’m gonna stay inside you. Gonna keep you full for hours. Walk around dripping with me.”

You whined, thighs shaking, the pressure building again—faster, sharper.

“Bucky—please—”

His voice was a growl, low and thick with promise.

“Come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

Your whole body clenched around him, your scream muffled by the sheets as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and messy, your walls fluttering around his cock.

Your moan was still echoing when he grabbed your waist, pulling you back—up, off the bed, into his lap.

You barely had time to gasp before you were straddling him, his chest pressed flush to your back, his mouth at your neck, and his cock still inside you.

“Not done,” he growled, arms locking around your waist. “Not until I come in you.”

Then he thrust up into you—hard, deep, devastating.

You cried out, your body already overstimulated, every thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you all over again. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, spreading your thighs wider, keeping you open for him as he pounded up from beneath you with bruising rhythm.

“Fuck—Bucky—” you whimpered, hands flying back to clutch at his hair, his shoulder, anything.

He was relentless.

Grunting with each thrust, hips snapping up into you, his breath ragged against your ear.

“Feel that?” he rasped. “How deep I am? How you’re still so fuckin’ tight?”

You nodded, moaning, body jerking with every thrust.

“You’re gonna take it,” he hissed. “Every drop. I’m not pullin’ out—you hear me? I’m comin’ inside you.”

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to speak. “Please—Bucky—fill me up—”

He groaned, deeper than before, thrusts losing rhythm, his grip bruising on your hips as his body started to shake.

“Fuckfuckfuck—gonna come—”

One last thrust—brutal, final—and he buried himself in you, arms tightening, head thrown back as he came hard, deep inside you.

You felt it.

Hot.

Thick.

Flooding you as he groaned your name, holding you tight in his lap, still pulsing inside you.

And he didn’t let go.

Didn’t move.

Just stayed there—buried—chest rising against your back, his breath warm at your neck, whispering,

“You’re mine.”

You collapsed forward onto the bed, body still twitching with aftershocks, breath ragged and uneven. Bucky followed, slow and heavy, staying close, still inside you for a moment longer like he couldn’t stand to let you go just yet.

Eventually, he pulled out with a soft groan.

You whimpered at the loss, hips squirming on instinct.

He stayed behind you for a second, hovering—eyes locked on the way his release slowly dripped out of you, sliding between your thighs and onto the sheets.

You could feel him watching.

You tilted your head back with a lazy grin. “If you’re gonna stare like that, at least have the decency to offer a towel.”

He huffed a rough laugh—half-exhausted, half-stunned. “Sorry. Just... didn’t wanna forget what that looks like.”

You stretched like a cat, all smug satisfaction and afterglow. “Yeah, well. Take a picture next time, Barnes.”

He leaned down, kissed your shoulder—soft, slow, grateful—then flopped beside you, dragging the sheet up over your tangled bodies.

His arm wrapped around your waist, warm and heavy.

Neither of you spoke for a minute.

Just the sound of your breathing slowing. Your bodies cooling.

Then he murmured, voice quiet against your skin, “You’re in my head now.”

You smiled, eyes drifting shut.

“Good,” you whispered. “Took you long enough.”

You lay there, tangled together in the warm quiet, your body still thrumming, skin slick and flushed. Bucky’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his breath slow against the back of your neck, lips occasionally brushing your shoulder like he wasn’t even conscious of doing it.

You grinned.

Couldn’t help it.

“So…” you said, voice casual. “How long you been jerking off to me, Barnes?”

He froze.

You felt the heat bloom off him before he even said a word.

“Don’t.”

Your grin widened. “What? It’s a fair question. Based on how fast you devoured me, I’m guessing… at least a month?”

He groaned into your shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m right,” you countered. “Don’t think I didn’t catch the way you almost cried when I said ‘as you wish, Sergeant.’ You’ve been unwell.”

He muttered something unintelligible and buried his face in your neck.

You rolled to face him, propped on one elbow, smirking as you traced a line down his chest.

“So, tell me,” you purred. “Now that you’ve got a taste... what do you want to do to me next time?”

His throat bobbed.

You waited.

“I dunno,” he mumbled.

“Oh, you know.” Your nails lightly scratched his ribs. “Come on, be brave. Tell me.”

He grumbled. “You’re gonna use it against me.”

“Correct,” you said sweetly. “Now spill.”

He exhaled slowly, then muttered:

“...Sixty-nine.”

You grinned. “Classic. What else?”

He covered his eyes with one hand. “Breeding.”

Your eyebrows lifted, delight flashing in your eyes. “Oh? Really leaned into the ‘stuff me full, Sarge’ angle, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“I won’t, actually,” you laughed, leaning closer, lips brushing his ear. “Anything else you wanna act out, Barnes? Any other dirty little fantasies you been keeping locked up?”

He hesitated.

Longer this time.

Then—reluctantly, quietly:

“...Roleplay.”

You blinked.

Then broke into a slow, wicked grin. “Okay, now this I need to hear.”

“Nope,” he said immediately, trying to roll away. “That’s enough honesty for one night—”

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, pinning him down with a devilish smile. “Tell me if I need to show up next time in a pencil skirt and glasses, or if I should wear that SHIELD catsuit and call you ‘Sir.’”

His eyes snapped open.

And you knew.

You gasped. “Oh my god. You have a thing for the whole ‘secret agent mission gone sideways’ scenario, don’t you?”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Please stop.”

“You want me to cuff you to a chair and interrogate you,” you went on gleefully. “Or, wait—no—you want to interrogate me.”

“I’m begging.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You want me in red lipstick and a wiretap, don’t you?”

“I’m never telling you anything again.”

You leaned down, lips brushing his.

“I’m gonna make all your little roleplay dreams come true,” you whispered.

“Kill me now,” he muttered.

“Nope. Gotta save your energy. You’re not done with me yet.”

You grinned, smug and sated, curling down against his chest, eyes closing as his arm wrapped around you again.

And beneath your cheek, you felt him smile.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut

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inseobts · 1 month ago

Text

I’m Your Husband

fem!reader

characters: zoro, sanji, law, shanks and ace

tags: fluff, light comedy, established relationship, protective, pda

a/n: sorry for playing so much with ace T.T

words count: around 1.3k - 1.4k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Zoro:

The sun is down. The sky is dark, but the town is bright with lights and music.

You just finished eating at a small place by the sea. The food was great. Now, the crew stands outside, full and happy.

Luffy stretches his arms “Alright! Let’s go explore!”

Usopp nods “Let’s split up! We’ll cover more ground!”

You feel warm. Maybe too warm. That third drink… or was it the fourth? Either way, your head is spinning just a little. But your smile won’t leave your face.

Nami pulls out a map “Okay, I’ll go with Sanji, Chopper, Zoro, and Y/N.”

“Eh? Why am I in that group?” Zoro asks, already frowning.

Nami smirks “Because I said so. Try not to get lost this time.”

You giggle and stumble a little “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Zoro looks at you, arms crossed “You can’t even stand straight.”

You step forward and grab his arm “That’s why I need you.” Your voice is soft. Sweet. Maybe a little loud.

Zoro freezes. His cheeks turn the faintest pink. He glances around—people are watching “H-Hey. Don’t cling like that.”

You grin and press your cheek to his shoulder “But you’re warm.”

“Oi, marimo,” Sanji says, cigarette between his lips, “If she wants to hold you, let her. You lucky bastard.”

“Shut it, curly-brow,” Zoro mutters “She’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” you mumble “Just happy.”

Chopper runs ahead, excited “Let’s find some cool shops!”

You keep holding onto Zoro’s arm as the group walks. He keeps trying to shake you off, gently. But you won’t let go.

“Y/N,” he says in a low voice “People are staring.”

“So?” You look up at him with a small smile “I like holding you.”

He sighs “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me” you tease.

He looks away, his voice barely a whisper “…Yeah.”

You blink “What?”

“Nothing” he grunts.

Nami glances back and smiles “You guys are so cute.”

Zoro groans “Don’t start.”

You lean even closer “Zoro~”

“What now?”

“Carry me.”

“No.”

“Pleaaase?”

Sanji laughs “I’ll carry you, mademoiselle—”

“No!” Zoro snaps. He sighs again and crouches “Fine. Get on.”

You cheer quietly and hop onto his back. Your arms go around his neck “Zoro’s the best…”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t puke on me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, finally closing your eyes.

Zoro walks, steady and strong, even with you on his back.

Behind you, Nami whispers to Sanji, “He’s totally soft for her.”

Sanji shrugs “Still don’t get what she sees in that mosshead.”

Zoro’s ear twitches “I can hear you, idiots.”

The streets are quieter now. Fewer lights. Fewer people.

You’re still on Zoro’s back, half-asleep. Your cheek rests against his shoulder. His body is warm, and his footsteps steady.

Sanji walks ahead with his hands in his pockets. Chopper’s beside him, talking excitedly about a candy shop he saw. Nami looks at the stars.

Then it happens.

“Oi, oi… look at those two up front.”

The voice comes from a shadowed alley. A group of men steps out. Maybe five… no, more. Eight? Ten?

All of them wear smug grins and old, ragged clothes. Drunk or bored, or both.

“Redhead’s got legs for days” one of them whistles.

Another points at you “And that one’s already clinging to her man. What a shame.”

You blink slowly, still a little tipsy, but even you catch that.

Zoro stops walking.

Nami’s eyes narrow “Great.”

Sanji steps forward fast, arm out in front of Nami and Chopper “Let me handle this.”

Zoro lowers you gently to the ground “Can you stand?”

You nod smiling proudly at you don't even know what “Mmhm. I’ll try my best”

He steps away from you, his hand already on one sword.

The men keep talking.

“Hey sweetheart,” one says to Nami, “you and your friend here, ditch the blond twig, the dog and that Grinch. We’ll show you a good time.”

Another laughs “Yeah the drunk one too. Bet she’s easy.”

Everything goes still.

Sanji’s eyes glow with rage “What did you say?”

Zoro doesn’t speak. He just draws his sword with a soft shing.

The leader of the group smirks “Look at these pretty boys. Gonna cry?”

Sanji takes off his jacket slowly “Nami-swan, Chopper—stay back.”

Chopper grabs Nami’s hand and pulls her behind a cart “Be careful!”

Zoro turns his head slightly toward you “Sit down. This’ll be quick.”

You nod and sit near the cart, leaning against it.

The men charge first, loud and sloppy.

Bad idea.

Sanji moves like fire, one man down with a spinning kick.

Zoro is calm and cold. His sword flashes but he doesn’t cut them, just knocks them flat with the dull side. Quick. Clean. Brutal.

But then someone tries to sneak around.

Toward you.

“Hey, maybe I’ll take the quiet one... she cute”

Zoro’s blade is at the man’s neck in a second. His voice is low, dangerous.

“Say another word.”

The man gulps.

“Zoro” you whisper. You’ve never seen his eyes like this. Sharp. Dark.

“I’m fine,” he says “But I don’t like people looking at you like that.”

Sanji grabs another by the collar and slams him into the ground “Next time you look at a lady like that, I’ll rearrange your face.”

The rest scatter fast. Limping, running, one even crawls away.

Silence again.

Chopper peeks out “Is it over?”

Nami sighs “Yeah. Idiots.”

Zoro walks back to you. He crouches “You okay?”

You nod “They were gross.”

He offers his hand. You take it.

“Next time,” he says, “stay close.”

“I was literally on your back.”

He grunts “Still.”

You smirk “Were you jealous?”

He looks away “…No.”

“You were.”

He doesn’t answer, just picks you up again, bridal-style this time.

You blink “What are you doing?”

“You can’t walk, and I’m not letting you fall behind.”

Sanji lights another cigarette, muttering, “Show-off.”

Zoro ignores him. You wrap your arms around his neck again, this time without teasing.

“Thanks” you whisper.

His voice is soft, only for you “Always.”

Zoro still holds you in his arms as the group walks again. You rest against his chest, eyes half-closed, smile lazy.

But after a few more steps, you squirm a little.

“Zoro?”

“Hm?”

“You can put me down. I can walk now.”

He pauses “You sure?”

You nod “Promise. I’m not that drunk anymore.”

He stops and gently lowers you onto your feet. His hands linger on your arms a second longer, just in case you stumble.

You wobble just a little but stay up.

“See?” you say with a proud smile “Told you.”

He nods “Fine. But don’t fall again.”

You start to walk, but then he does something strange.

He reaches down… and takes your hand.

Your eyes widen a little. So do Nami’s.

Even Chopper notices “Whoa… Zoro’s holding hands?!”

Zoro doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look embarrassed, either. Just keeps walking like it’s nothing.

Nami raises an eyebrow “Since when do you hold hands in public?”

Sanji raises both eyebrows “Yeah, mosshead, you sick? Got a fever or something?”

Zoro glances at them “Tch. I just don’t want her tripping.”

Chopper runs up beside him, grinning “But you never do that! That’s so cute!”

Zoro sighs but doesn’t snap “Yeah, well. You’re fine, Chopper. Just don’t push it.”

You look at him. Really look. His face is calm now, jaw relaxed, grip warm around your fingers. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just… right.

You don’t know why you feel shy suddenly.

But you say it anyway.

“I have a crush on you. Do you like me back?”

The group stops walking.

Zoro blinks. His eyes meet yours.

“I’m your husband...” he says, flatly “Literally.”

You freeze. Then blink “Oh yeah.”

And then you squeal.

You start bouncing in place, grinning like crazy “You do like me!”

Zoro doesn’t even try to hide the tiny smile that pulls at his lips.

You drop his hand and throw your arms around his neck “Zoro, I like you so much!”

He catches you easily “Yeah, I know.”

And then you kiss him.

Right there. In the middle of the street.

It’s soft but sure. You lean into him. He lets it happen.

He kisses you back.

Chopper covers his mouth “Oh my god…!”

Nami gasps, then laughs “This is so going in my diary.”

Sanji nearly drops his cigarette “I hate this timeline.”

Zoro pulls back just a little, still holding you “You’re drunk.”

You whisper, “But not that drunk.”

He exhales slowly “Yeah. Sure.”

You rest your forehead against his “I love you.”

He answers without thinking “I love you too.”

Another pause.

“You just said that out loud?” Nami shouts.

Sanji groans loudly “This is a nightmare.”

Chopper claps his hooves “They’re in love! So cute!”

Zoro finally sets you back down, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Come on,” he says “Let’s go back before the idiots behind us explode.”

── .✦ Sanji:

The Thousand Sunny docks at a bright island full of music, shops, and food stalls. The air smells like grilled fish and sweet fruit. It’s the kind of place the crew loves.

“Let’s eat everything!” Luffy cheers.

“You say that on every island” you say, smiling.

“Because it’s always true!”

You walk beside Sanji, your fingers brushing his. He takes your hand without even looking and brings it to his lips.

“My beautiful angel,” he murmurs “Shall we find a feast worthy of your beauty?”

“Just one that won’t kill us,” you joke “Please.”

The crew ends up at a cozy restaurant near the center of town. There’s a band playing outside, and the tables are shaded with bright cloths. People are drinking and laughing everywhere.

“Find a seat,” Sanji says “I’ll handle the food.”

You touch his arm “Don’t take too long.”

“Only death could keep me from you, mon amour.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart does that little flutter. Sanji always talks like that. He means it too, in his own dramatic way.

You sit with Nami, Robin, and the others. Everyone’s talking and laughing. Luffy tries to steal bread from someone else’s plate. Typical.

At the counter, Sanji orders. That’s when two women walk in, locals, dressed in soft, colorful clothes. They spot him instantly.

“Oh no,” Nami mutters “Look who just walked into his life.”

You turn and see them. One’s got curly black hair, the other wears silver earrings that swing when she walks. Both walk straight to Sanji.

You watch calmly.

“Hi, stranger” says the taller girl.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the short one asks, leaning close.

Sanji smiles politely “Just visiting. I’m with friends.”

“Too bad,” the tall one says “We were hoping you’d say you were alone.”

“Oh? Then I must break your hearts, ladies,” he says, still smiling “I’m already spoken for.”

Your chest warms at that. But still… he doesn’t leave.

Then the shorter one laughs and says, “Just one drink. That’s not cheating.”

Sanji hesitates. He looks toward your table. He meets your eyes.

You shrug with a soft smile “Go ahead.”

He raises an eyebrow “Are you sure?”

You nod “You’re too polite to say no anyway.”

He stands there for a moment longer. Then he sighs dramatically, presses a hand to his heart, and says, “Forgive me, my love. It’s only a drink.”

“Don’t fall in love with anyone” you say.

“Impossible. You already own my heart.”

He walks with them to a small table in the corner. They giggle. One pours him something pink into a glass. He keeps his hands to himself, posture perfect, but he talks, smiles, flatters. You can almost hear the compliments from here.

Zoro leans closer “You’re really letting him do that?”

“Why not?” you say, sipping your drink.

“He’s literally flirting right now.”

“No. He’s just being Sanji.”

Robin chuckles “You trust him.”

You nod “I do.”

Still, your eyes don’t leave him. Even if your heart knows he’s yours, it’s hard to ignore two girls laughing at his jokes.

After ten minutes, he stands up, bows, and walks back. One of them tries to touch his arm, but he gently steps away.

“Thank you, ladies. But my real treasure is waiting for me.”

When he sits beside you again, you hand him a glass of water.

“Done being too polite?” you ask.

He takes the glass “It was torture, I swear.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I was praying you’d come save me.”

You laugh “Liar.”

He leans closer “I only ever mean it when I talk to you.”

You smile and take a bite of your food.

But you don’t let go of his hand under the table.

The meal is almost done. Luffy’s plates are stacked like a tower. Usopp is bragging about something that never happened. You lean back in your chair, sipping a cold drink. Sanji sits beside you, close but calm.

You feel his warmth next to you. You feel… okay.

Until they show up again.

The same two girls from earlier. The tall one waves. The short one smiles like she’s just so happy to see him again.

“Is this seat taken?” the short one asks, already pulling over a chair next to Sanji.

“You’re back,” Sanji says politely “What a surprise.”

You don’t say anything. You’re watching. Listening.

They sit anyway.

Tall girl rests her arm on the back of Sanji’s chair “You left so fast earlier. We didn’t get to hear more about you.”

Short Girl adds, “We’ve never met someone so… elegant. You must be used to lots of attention.”

Sanji chuckles nervously “Please, you flatter me.”

You raise an eyebrow. He’s not leaning toward them, but he’s not moving away either. He’s being polite. Too polite.

You glance at Zoro. He’s smirking.

Nami mutters under her breath, “I’d slap them.”

Robin sips her drink “This is getting interesting.”

One of the girls tries to feed Sanji something off her plate.

You drop your fork.

Everyone goes silent for a second.

Sanji finally leans back “Ladies, I can’t—”

You stand up slowly. You smile. But not the nice kind.

You walk over and rest your hand gently on his shoulder. He turns to you like the sun just came out. You don’t look at him yet. You look at the girls.

And you say, loud and clear “That’s my husband.”

The words hit the table like thunder.

Both girls freeze. One blinks. The other pulls her hand back like she touched fire.

Sanji turns bright red. His eyes go wide. Then his mouth falls open “Y-your… husband?”

You finally look at him.

“Yes. You’re my husband, aren’t you?”

He starts nodding so fast it’s like his head is going to fall off.

“I’m your husband!” he says, grinning like an idiot, heart eyes in full bloom “Forever and ever! I belong to you, my love!”

He grabs your hands, kisses them one after the other “Your husband. Only yours. Always.”

You smile sweetly at the girls “Thanks for keeping him entertained.”

They stand up awkwardly, mutter something, and walk away quickly.

Sanji’s still holding your hands. Still blushing. Still staring at you like you just saved his life.

“I love when you get possessive” he whispers.

“You just love when I call you ‘husband’” you say.

“…Maybe.”

You lean down and kiss his cheek “Then behave, husband.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Sanji’s still holding your hands like they’re sacred treasure. The girls are gone, the crew is snickering quietly, and you finally sit back down beside him.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

“You’re incredible” he whispers.

“You’re lucky I am.”

He gives you a dreamy sigh “Marry me again.”

“You’d flirt with the waitress at the wedding.”

He gasps “I would never!”

“You’d compliment her hair while holding my hand.”

“…I would,” he admits “But I’d still only see you.”

You give him a look. That look.

And then you glance down at his hands.

“Hey.”

“Yes, angel?”

“Why didn’t you wear your ring today?”

He blinks “What?”

You raise an eyebrow “It’s usually easier once they see that you’re taken.”

Sanji looks down at his bare left hand like he just noticed it. Then he immediately starts digging in his coat pocket.

“I—I was washing dishes this morning!” he says, panicking “I didn’t want to scratch it! I swear I meant to put it back on!”

“Uh-huh.”

He finally finds it. A simple gold band, a little worn from kitchen life, but still shining.

He grabs your hand and slides it on with dramatic care, like he’s proposing again.

“There. Forgive me?”

You hold up your hand and show him the matching one on your finger.

“I always wear mine.”

He groans “I’m the worst husband ever.”

You lean in close “You really are.”

He tilts his head, eyes hopeful “But I’m your husband.”

You sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but you can’t help the smile creeping across your face.

“Yeah,” you say softly “You are.”

He lights up again.

“You make me crazy” you say.

He kisses your hand “Then let’s be crazy together.”

“Get a room, this is disgusting.” Zoro says while drinking.

“Nooo, no room. I want to see.” Brook replies getting punched by Nami before he can even do his usual laugh.

The crew laugh but you don’t put your eyes away from your husband, blushing and smiling softly and he does the same.

── .✦ Law:

The fire crackles in the middle of the camp. Meat sizzles, drinks pour, and the air is full of laughter and victory.

The war is over. Kaido is down.

Tonight is for celebration.

You're sitting close to Law, sake cup in hand. It’s warm in your chest now. The fourth cup? Maybe fifth? You lost count. Whatever. You’re relaxed. Happy. Tipsy.

You lean back, stretch, and laugh at a joke Usopp just told, even if you didn’t fully hear it.

Shachi blinks “She’s having fun. Someone mark the date.”

“I’m telling her you said that” Ikkaku warns, grinning.

Law glances at you “You good?”

You grin “Mmhmm. Sake’s nice.”

He hums but watches you for a beat longer.

Across the fire, Luffy stands on a barrel “This party needs more energy!”

Sanji spins around at your laugh “Y/N-chwaaaan! You look radiant in firelight! Please, dance with me!”

You shake your head and gesture at Law “Taken.”

That single word makes Penguin choke on his drink.

Kid raises an eyebrow “Taken, huh?”

You smirk and lean into Law’s space, voice teasing, “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll make it obvious.”

Law narrows his eyes “What does that mean?”

You grab his hat, pluck it off his head, and drop it on your own. It’s too big and slides over your eyes.

Shachi lets out a shriek-laugh “Oh my god, she’s wearing his hat!”

“Y/N, give it back.” Law says flatly, reaching for it.

You tilt your head “No.”

“Give it—”

“Say please.”

He stares at you “You’re drunk.”

“Didn’t say no” you sing.

Zoro makes a low sound that might be a laugh. Sanji, meanwhile, is clenching his wine bottle like it personally betrayed him “She’s flirting with him? With that guy?”

Nami snorts “They’re sitting in each other’s space, Sanji. She’s on him.”

“Tragedy!” Sanji whispers.

You grab Law’s face with both hands “Hey.”

“What.” he says stiffly.

“You know I like you, right?”

The fire quiets. Everyone freezes. Even Luffy stops mid-meat-bite.

Law tenses “What are you doing?”

“Reminding you. In case you forgot.”

Shachi and Penguin look away. Bepo buries his face in his paws. Ikkaku groans “Oh no, it’s happening.”

You poke Law’s cheek “I like your murder face.”

Kid laughs out loud “Murder face?!”

“Shut up” Law growls, glaring across the flames.

You curl up next to him, still wearing his hat “So handsome.”

“Y/N,” he mutters, voice low “Stop.”

You tilt your head “Why? You’re mine, right?”

“…Yes.”

Usopp drops his cup.

“Excuse me?!” Sanji shouts.

“Did we just get a whole relationship reveal during party time?” Nami blinks.

Robin smiles gently “I was wondering how long they’d keep it quiet.”

Kid looks between you and Law “You? With him? Damn.”

“Respect.” Heat adds, raising his drink.

You raise yours too, still leaning into Law “Cheers.”

Law looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.

You wiggle your fingers in Law’s hair, still wearing his oversized hat.

“You know,” you say, voice soft but playful, “you’re kind of impossible to ignore when you blush like that.”

Law tries to pull his face away, but you catch his chin gently “Don’t be shy.”

He groans, but you can tell he’s smiling behind the cup he’s raising to hide his face.

Sanji is practically vibrating with jealousy a few feet away “Oi! Don’t hog the captain! She’s mine too, damn it!”

You laugh “Sanji, you’re sweet, but Law’s got me.”

Law’s eyes flash toward Sanji “Careful.”

You glance back at Law, eyes sparkling “You know you’re the hottest boyfriend I could ask for.”

Law freezes. Then, deadpan but with a tiny smile, he says, “I’m your husband.”

The camp goes silent.

For a split second, your brain glitches—wait, husband?—and then you explode, louder than anyone expected, “OMG YAYYY! I FORGOT YOU MARRIED ME! BEST NEWS EVER!”

You throw your hands up in the air, practically bouncing in your seat like you just won the lottery. Your smile stretches impossibly wide, and your eyes sparkle with giddy excitement.

“Law! We’re married! Can you believe it?!” you gush, nearly knocking over your sake cup “I totally forgot you married me! I’m so lucky! This is the best news ever!”

Law’s eyes widen as he watches you go full-on happy dance mode, his usual calm cracking. He reaches out quickly, steadying you by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey, sit down.” he says with a low chuckle, his voice gentle but firm.

You wobble slightly but don’t stop grinning “Can’t! I’m too excited!”

He sighs, shaking his head fondly, trying again to settle you “You’re going to fall.”

You catch his hands, laughing “Maybe, but it’s worth it!”

Law’s cheeks darken just a bit, but he can’t help the soft smile tugging at his lips “You’re ridiculous.”

You lean closer, eyes bright and teasing “Ridiculous? I prefer when you call me adorable.”

A few of your crew are watching, amused. Penguin smirks “She really lights up when she talks about you.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen her this happy” Shachi adds.

Law’s hand stays steady on your shoulder, and after a moment, you finally settle back down, still glowing.

“Don’t scare me like that” he mutters quietly.

You squeeze his hand “Never. You’re stuck with me... husband.”

He groans dramatically but the warmth in his eyes says otherwise “I’m already regretting marrying you.”

You laugh “Good.”

Luffy’s mouth is wide open, still holding half a meat leg “Wait… married?!”

Nami drops her drink “You two are married?!”

Kid bursts out laughing “Well, no wonder you’re so attached, freaky doctor!”

Sanji’s jaw drops, completely stunned “Husband?!” He looks like he might faint.

Bepo squeaks and hides behind a tree.

You bounce happily “Yep! Secret’s out! We’re married, but only the crew knew.”

Law sighs, adjusting his hat back onto his head “I wanted to keep it quiet.”

“Too late now! You said that yourself!” You grin.

Robin chuckles “Well, congratulations. I always thought you two were close.

Zoro shrugs, grumbling, “Figures.”

You lean into Law, wrapping your arm around his waist “Guess you can’t escape me.”

Law looks resigned but happy “Good.”

Sanji crosses his arms, muttering, “I need a drink…”

You giggle and whisper to Law, “Worth it.”

Law just shakes his head with a small smile.

The campfire flickers as everyone recovers from the big reveal. You lean against Law, still smiling but your eyes hold something deeper, a shadow behind the joy.

Law notices. His gaze sharpens “You’re quiet now.”

You take a shaky breath “I… I'm drinking to forget, but it's not working.”

His eyebrows knit “Forget what?”

You glance away, voice low “How you almost died in the fight. I saw you, Law. It scared me.”

For a long moment, no one speaks. The warmth from the fire feels heavier.

Law’s usual hard edge softens, and he reaches out slowly to pat his hat on your head.

“Hey” he says quietly, voice gentle.

Law reaches out and pats his hat gently on your head. His voice is low, almost careful.

“You’re important to me.”

You look up at him, surprised but steady “Same here.”

His hand lingers a moment on your shoulder before he pulls back slightly, the usual sharpness softened.

He almost forgets you’re in public, his hand lingering on your shoulder like he wants to pull you close. The tough captain’s guard drops for just a second.

Kid smirks “Whoa, Law getting soft.”

Penguin frowns, eyeing your sake cup “You’ve had enough.”

You reach for it again.

His hand shoots out, stopping you “No more.”

Shachi nods “We need you clear, not drunk.”

You pout “But I’m having fun!”

Bepo hops closer, worried “Captain, she’s too loud already.”

Law stands, arms crossed, watching you “They’re right. No more drinking.”

You frown but lower the cup “Only because you said so.”

Law’s lips twitch into a rare smile “Good.”

Your crew surrounds you protectively.

Ikkaku teases, “Lucky he’s soft with you.”

You lean on Law, feeling safe “I am.”

Sanji mutters, “Unbelievable...”

Law’s hand slides around your waist, pulling you close “Stop worrying now. Stay with me.”

You sigh happily “Always.”

── .✦ Shanks:

The sun is high. The air smells like salt and grilled fish.

The Red Force is docked near a lively island. There's music, laughter, and drunk pirates everywhere. Shanks is somewhere near the tavern, talking too loudly, laughing like nothing in the world is wrong.

You sip your drink under a shaded canopy near the docks, far from him but close enough to hear his stupid laugh.

You haven’t spoken in four days. Not since the fight.

"You're impossible" you’d said.

"You're too stubborn" he'd answered.

Then silence.

Now? You're pretending he doesn't exist. He's pretending the same. Except that you know he sees you. Just like you see him. Always.

“Why are you even mad?” Lucky Roux had asked.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even know anymore.

“Wanna talk about it?” Yasopp tried.

You glared at him until he walked away.

Suddenly, a shadow falls over your table. You glance up.

It’s a man. Not part of the crew.

Tall. Dark skin. A silver earring. Broad shoulders and a smirk you don’t trust.

“You look lonely” he says, leaning close.

You raise a brow “I’m not.”

“No one should drink alone on a day like this.”

You say nothing. But you don’t tell him to go away either.

From across the street, you feel Shanks before you see him. He’s leaning against a wall, one foot crossed over the other, grinning lazily.

He’s watching.

Of course he is.

The stranger sits down beside you “Name’s Davor” he says, offering a hand.

You shake it, quick “Mm.”

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing away from the party?”

You smile, small. Still not interested. Still mad.

But then your eyes meet his again... Shanks.

He tips his head slightly, smug as ever. His eyes are saying, Go ahead. Play. You’re still mine.

Your blood heats up.

Fine.

You turn to the stranger, eyes a little softer “You look strong” you say, laying a hand lightly on his arm.

He grins, surprised “I train a lot.”

You let your fingers trace the curve of his bicep “I can tell.”

From the corner of your eye, Shanks pushes off the wall.

Still smiling.

Still calm.

But his jaw is tight now. You know that look. He’s coming.

Davor leans closer “Careful. You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll think I have a chance.”

“Yeah, but careful...” you say, smirking “I bite.”

“I like that.”

You let out a fake little laugh, sweet and mean at the same time.

Shanks steps behind the man without a sound “Hey,” he says, cheerful “Enjoying the view?”

Davor looks up “R...Red-Haired Shanks?”

“Red-Haired Shanks, yes.” He nods at you “That seat’s taken.”

Davor blinks “She didn’t say she was—”

“She didn’t have to” Shanks cuts in, voice low now.

You lean back, sipping your drink, acting bored.

But your heart is racing.

Davor glances between you both “I didn’t mean any disrespec—”

Shanks claps a heavy hand on his shoulder, all teeth “Course not. Just be careful. Some things look unclaimed when they’re not.”

Davor stands quickly “Got it. Sorry, ma’am.”

He walks away fast.

Silence.

You look at Shanks.

He looks back, eyes hot and shining.

Neither of you says anything.

Then, he leans down, his lips near your ear.

"That was cute," he murmurs "Trying to make me jealous."

You roll your eyes “Didn’t try. Just succeeded, or you wouldn't even be here.”

He chuckles “You done being mad?”

You shrug “Maybe.”

He reaches for your drink, takes a sip without asking “Good. 'Cause I’ve missed you.”

You don’t reply.

But you don’t stop him when he sits beside you either.

Not this time.

Shanks stretches his legs out under the table like he owns the world, like he didn’t just interrupt a conversation you were clearly enjoying.

He takes another sip of your drink. Loudly.

You don't look at him.

He waits a second. Two.

Then “So... was that your type?” he asks, too casual “The whole broody and tall thing?”

You blink at the horizon, bored. Still not speaking.

Shanks grins. He thinks this is funny "Should I cut my hair and start lifting barrels just to compete?"

Still nothing.

"Hello?" he singsongs, nudging your knee with his "Cat got your tongue? Or did Davor take that too?"

You sigh. Long. Loud. Then, you stand.

His smile falters just a second.

"Where you goin’, sweetheart?"

You don’t answer.

You walk.

Back toward the bar. Back to the party.

Back to Davor, who’s drinking something bitter and looking around like he wants to vanish into the floor.

You sit next to him again.

He jumps “Uh—didn’t expect to see you again.”

You smile sweetly “Why? Did my Captain scare you?”

“...A little.” He laughs nervously.

You lean in anyway, eyes half-lidded, voice soft “Don’t worry. He’s not gonna do anything. I won't let him.”

Across the square, Shanks is still sitting at the table. Watching.

You meet his eyes.

He raises his cup in a little mock-toast. That damn smirk is back, the one that says, Go ahead. You’ll come crawling back anyway.

So you turn back to Davor.

“I didn’t get to finish admiring these muscles earlier” you say, touching his arm again. Slower this time.

Davor blushes, but tries to play it cool “You really wanna keep poking the dragon?”

You grin “Why not? It’s not like he’s breathing fire yet.”

Behind you, you hear a whistle.

It’s Shanks.

You don’t turn around.

You just smile wider.

Let him feel the burn this time.

Davor laughs awkwardly when you run a finger down his arm “You’re bold...” he says.

You smirk “You’re still here.”

He shrugs “Only because he hasn’t killed me yet.”

You glance sideways. Shanks is still at the same table, drink untouched, elbow on the wood, chin resting on his hand and eyes fixed on you.

His smile is now gone.

He stands.

The chair screeches back. He walks slow, boots steady on the wood. No smirk now.

You brace, but don’t look away.

Davor sees him coming and tenses “Alright, maybe I should leave now—”

“No,” Shanks says, voice sharp “I’ll talk.”

You tilt your head “Oh? Now you want to talk?”

“I’ve always wanted to talk.” His eyes burn into yours “But you were too busy flirting with that guy’s forearms.”

You lift your chin “I wasn’t flirting. I was proving a point.”

“To who?!”

“To you!”

He runs a hand through his red hair, frustrated “Y/N, what do you want from me right now?”

“I love making you jealous” you say, arms folded, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He steps closer “I’m not jealous” he says, jaw tight. Then softer, “Just… stop.”

His voice lowers even more “You were right. About the fight. I was stubborn. I didn’t listen. I acted like a damn idiot.”

You blink.

You weren’t expecting that.

“I…” You shift your weight “I don’t even remember why we fought.”

He stares at you “Are you serious?”

You nod “No clue.”

For a moment, the two of you just… stand there. Then his lips twitch. A small, surprised smile. It grows. That warm Shanks smile. Real.

You smile too.

“Wanna start over?” you ask, voice lighter now.

He nods, eyes soft “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You hold out your hand “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. I think I have a crush on you.”

He laughs, taking your hand, pulling you in close.

“Babe,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back, “I’m your husband.”

You grin, leaning into his chest “God, I love when you talk domestic to me.”

He kisses your forehead.

“Let’s go finish this somewhere more private.” he whispers.

“Lead the way, Captain” you say, arms wrapping around him.

Davor clears his throat in the distance “So uh… I’m just gonna go—”

“Good call” Shanks says without looking at him.

"Oh Devor!" you call making him turn in surprise "For real... nice arms."

You smirk, still tucked against Shanks’ side, while Davor nods awkwardly and shoots a terrified glance his way.

Shanks turns to you and flicks your forehead. You pout, rubbing the spot like it actually hurt, acting confused about why he did it.

He smiles at you before leaving a kiss on the same spot on your forehead "Idiot, I love you. Now if you're done here..."

And just like that the storm ends.

── .✦ Ace:

The sun is high when the ship docks near a strange little island. Green trees, bright flowers, and weird fruit hanging from every branch. It almost looks like a dream.

You lean on the railing, watching as Ace stretches his arms beside you.

“Another island, another chance to explore” he says with that wide grin of his.

You poke his side “Another chance for you to pull dumb pranks?”

He laughs “No promises.”

He always pranks you. Hiding your shoes. Filling your drink with chili powder. That time he pretended to fall overboard just to hear you scream his name.

You still haven’t gotten him back.

Not yet.

As the crew unloads, you stay close to Ace. You already know the plan.

Marco leans in and whispers in your ear, “You sure you wanna do this?”

You nod “He deserves it.”

Thatch tosses a weird purple fruit into your hands “This will do the trick. Looks freaky, but it’s just sweet inside. Take a bite, pretend you lose your memory. He’ll freak.”

Ace is walking ahead, clueless. You smirk. Time for revenge.

The moment comes during lunch.

Everyone is sitting under a big tree. The sun is warm. Laughter fills the air.

You sit beside Ace and hold up the fruit “Hey, look what I found.”

Ace raises an eyebrow “That looks… sketchy.”

You shrug “You afraid of a fruit now?”

He scoffs “No. I just don’t want you turning into a duck or something.”

You grin and take a bite.

Everyone goes quiet.

You chew slowly, then suddenly drop the fruit and grab your head “Ow… what… what’s happening…?”

Ace sits up fast “Babe?”

You look around, eyes wide “Who are all of you?!”

He freezes “Wait, what?”

“I... I don’t remember anything! Why am I here?! Who are you?!” you shout, pointing at Ace.

"Yeah sure... nice prank, now you can stop alreaady." he says rolling his eyes at you.

You try your best to stay serious, confused and scared... and it actually works because one look over at you and Ace scrambles to his knees “It’s me! Ace! We’re pirates! You love me, remember?!”

You stare at him like he’s a stranger “Pirates?! I don’t even like the ocean!”

You hear muffled laughs behind you, Thatch’s hand over his mouth, Marco shaking with silent laughter, Izou biting his lip so hard it might bleed.

Ace grabs your shoulders “You’re joking. Right? Right?!”

You blink at him, dead serious “Please don’t hurt me! Someone help!”

He turns pale “What?! Hurt you?! I would never! I—guys, help! What do I do?! Should we call a doctor?! Is there a doctor fruit?! I don't know!!”

You sniff, faking a tear “I don’t even know your name!”

He holds your face gently, panic all over him “It’s Ace! Portgas D. Ace! We’ve been together for years! You sleep on my chest every night, you steal my food, you… love me.”

You’re so close on giving up already, you hate seeing him like this. But then you look over at the crew and they start silently making gestures to make you continue it.

And you do.

You’re back on the ship.

Ace insisted.

“If she sees our room,” he told the crew, “she’ll remember everything. Right?”

Marco just raised a brow “Maybe.”

Thatch was trying not to burst into laughter again “Yeah, maybe.”

So now you’re walking beside Ace, pretending to be confused but curious.

You glance around the deck, eyes wide “This is… a nice boat.”

He corrects you instantly “Ship.”

“Right. Sorry, bro.”

Ace flinches “Bro?”

You smile sweetly “Yeah. You’re being really nice to me, bro. I appreciate it.”

He narrows his eyes “You called me ‘lovebug’ yesterday.”

You shrug “Guess I was weird before the memory loss.”

He mutters something under his breath.

When you reach your shared room, he pushes the door open with hopeful eyes.

Inside, it’s warm and messy. Blankets kicked half off the bed. His shirt on the floor. Your hairbrush sitting on the dresser.

He points at the pictures stuck to the wall “See? That’s us. Kissing.”

You tilt your head “Wow. Looks like I liked you a lot, bro.”

He looks physically wounded “Please stop calling me that.”

You walk over to the bed and flop down “It’s comfy in here.”

Ace stands there, running a hand through his hair “You really don’t remember any of this?”

You shake your head with wide, fake-innocent eyes “Nope. But you seem chill. Kinda cute, too.”

He perks up “Cute?!”

“Like… for a brother.”

He groans “I’m not your brother!”

You stare at him, unblinking “Sorry. Bro.”

Ace falls to his knees beside the bed and grabs your hands “Okay, no. That’s it. This has gone too far. Bro here. Bro there. Bro??? I’m your husband!”

Your eyes go wide “What?!”

“Yeah?” he shouts “We sleep together, we travel together, we fight together, we’re in love! You kiss me every morning! You steal the blankets! You chew too loud but I still love you! And don’t make me say what we do closed door now!”

The rest of the crew looks annoyed by this last sentence.

“It’s not like you’re quite “closed door” anyway…” Marco says as if he’s scolding you both.

But Ace doesn’t even seem to care. He just stares at you with the sorriest expression you ever seen on him.

You sit up fast, eyes softening at Ace. The prank suddenly doesn’t feel as funny anymore.

“…Ace.”

“I don’t care if you don’t remember me,” he says, voice quiet now “I’ll make you fall for me again. I’ll tell you everything, every story, every stupid moment. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Your chest tightens.

You bite your lip, then finally blurt out, “Ace… I’m sorry. It was a prank.”

He blinks “What?”

“I didn’t think you’d fall for it that hard! I thought you were just playing along until a minute ago!” you say, grabbing his hands “It was Thatch’s idea. I just wanted to get you back! I didn’t mean to… Ace, I’m so sorry.”

He stares at you in silence.

Then slowly leans back.

Then throws his hands in the air and screams into the room.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!”

You’re hugging him, trying not to laugh and cry at the same time.

Then you hear a snort.

Then a muffled cackle.

Thatch is holding his stomach, tears running down his face “OH MY GOD. ‘BRO?!’ BRO?! I’M YOUR HUSBAND?!’ I’m gonna DIE.”

Marco leans against the wall, arms crossed, shaking his head with a small smile “I warned you not to prank someone more dramatic than you.”

Izou is fanning himself “I almost broke character when she said he was ‘kinda cute’... That was brutal.”

Ace whirls on them “You were all in on this uh?”

Thatch throws both hands in the air “Obviously!”

“You could’ve given me a heart attack!” Ace says.

Marco smirks “I was watching to make sure you didn’t set the ship on fire with your emotions.”

Izou snickers “That speech, though. The blankets. The chewing. I was this close to crying.”

You nudge Ace “Aw. They all thought it was sweet.”

Ace glares at you, then at the others “You’re all monsters.”

Thatch shrugs “She warned you. Payback, remember?”

Marco points at you “Honestly, the acting was solid.”

“Thank you,” you say, bowing slightly “I trained for this moment my entire relationship.”

Ace groans and hides his face in your shoulder “I hate all of you.”

You stroke his hair with a grin “Still love me, though.”

He mumbles something like “unfortunately” again.

Thatch high-fives you as he walks out “Legendary. Absolutely legendary. That man almost proposed for a second time out of panic.”

Izou whispers, “I bet if we kept it going for ten more minutes, he’d have built you a wedding altar and remake the whole wedding vows.”

Ace grabs a pillow and throws it at him.

The crew finally clears out after what feels like hours of teasing, laughing, and Ace sulking like a kicked puppy.

You’re lying on the bed now, still in your shared room, staring up at the ceiling.

Ace is standing by the window, arms crossed, his back to you.

You sit up slowly “Okay, how bad is it?”

He turns around, eyebrows furrowed “What?”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” you say “You’ve gone quiet. That’s when it’s most dangerous.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just walks over and sits down next to you.

You raise an eyebrow “So? What’s the plan? Fake poison in my tea? Switching out my shampoo with mayonnaise?”

He lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it.

Then, instead of answering, he leans in and gently presses his lips to your forehead.

You blink “…What was that for?”

Ace shrugs “Just felt like it.”

He pulls you close, your head resting against his warm chest, heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

“I really thought I lost you,” he says softly “Even if it was just for a few minutes… it felt real.”

You swallow, guilt creeping back in “I didn’t know it’d hit you that hard.”

“I didn’t know it would, either,” he whispers “But hearing you say you didn’t remember me… it scared me. More than I expected.”

You look up at him, surprised to find his expression completely open. No smirk, no teasing. Just soft eyes and a gentle smile.

“I thought you’d be busy drawing diagrams for your next prank” you murmur.

“Meh,” he says, brushing a hand through your hair “Not tonight.”

You chuckle “Wow. Ace skipping revenge? That’s suspicious.”

He laughs too, but it’s quiet “I’m serious. I just wanna hold you right now.”

He pulls the blanket over both of you, his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose brushing your hair.

You press a small kiss to his collarbone “You’re kinda sweet when you’re not threatening chaos.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, smiling “I’m still gonna get you back one day.”

“Sure, sure. But for now?”

“For now,” he says, kissing your temple again, “I just wanna be with my award-winning actress of the Grand Line… Ladies and gentlemen, my wife Y/N.”

You laugh into his chest “I’m the luckiest wife in the world.”

His fingers trace lazy circles on your back “And I’m the happiest ‘bro’ alive.”

You groan and smack his chest lightly “Don’t ruin the moment.”

He kisses your cheek “Okay, okay. No more ‘bro’.”

Just soft smiles. Quiet breathing. Warm skin. No pranks.

At least for now.

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