#i can't remember how to tag bye

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[follineo]

UUUUGHGGHGHGHGH,,,,

[derelictheretic]

literally had a dream about just texting a tumblr mutual,,, my subconscious wants to be besties

[chaosisinsane]

I think I've gained too much confidence with money💀 I hate it sbwhsjnw I'm too impulsive. I shouldn't spend too much money. but my mind thinks otherwise when it sees The Object at a """reasonable""" price

GRRRRRRR

[neverendingford]

.

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Coffee

Tony on his 5th cup of coffee by 6am: FRIDAY run the diagnostics again Pepper walks in with two cups of tea Pepper: Tony, you should really lay off the coffee, how many cups have you had in the in the past hour? Tony: 4 F.R.I.D.A.Y: 5 Mr Stark Pepper: See Tony, you have a problem Tony: I don't have a problem Pep, I just like coffee. It's better than you and your tea Pepper: There is nothing wrong with tea. It has health benefits Tony: It still had caffeine and you're addicted too Pepper: I am not! Tony scoffing: Yeah right, you keep telling yourself that Peter, walking through the door: Good morning Mr Stark, Ms Potts Tony: Morning Pete Pepper: Good morning Peter Tony: Hey kid, settle something for us will ya, Pep thinks tea is better and I think its coffee, which is it? Pepper: You can't keep using him to get your way Tony, he always sides with you Peter: I haven't had either Tony & Pepper: Ever? Peter: Nope, May never let me Tony: Well today's the day kid, prepare for your whole world to change Pepper: Don't you think you're being a little dramatic, Tony? Tony: Not at all, I'll never forget the first time I had coffee. I bet you still remember your first cup of tea Pepper: Well, yes but- Tony: But nothing, here kid try this Tony hands a mug of coffee to Peter and he takes a big gulp Peter: Bleugh! I'm sorry Mister Stark but that's awful. How do you drink it everyday? Tony: You get used to it, eventually it burns off a lot of your taste buds Peter: I don't think that's right Pepper: Yeah Tony, that doesn't sound healthy Tony: Pfft! It's fine, both of you worry too much Peter starts to feel the effects of the caffeine and his eyes go wide Pepper: Tony, I think something is wrong with Peter Tony: Nothings wro- Oh, thats-thats not good Peter: No Mr Stark, I feel amazing! I bet I could beat Captain Rogers in a race, I'm gonna go find out. Bye! Peter ran out of the lab and down the stairs Pepper glares at Tony for a moment Tony: Alright I'll go Tony enters the elevator but by the time the doors open on the common room floor Peter is already there practically jumping off the walls Peter: Mr Captain Rogers America Sir, how fast can you run? Steve, looking slightly concerned: Pretty fast kid, uh you okay? Peter: Yeah yes totally fine super fine! Wanna race? Steve: I don't think that's a good idea, where's Tony? Peter: He's in the lab, no the elevator, no I think he's around the corner Thor walks through the door and smiles brightly as he sees Peter Thor: Young Spiderling! How have you been? Peter: I'm good Mr Thor. How are you? How was space? How is Asgard? Did you fight any big aliens? Or scary monsters? Thor: Oh I have much to tell you. As soon as Heimdall sent me to Asgard on the Bi-frost I was met with a ginormous and fearsome beast- Peter: That's so cool Mr Thor! I was wondering, can you run fast? Thor: Yes, very Peter: Great! Do you wanna race around the tower and see who wins? Thor: That sounds like fun, let us go! Thor and Peter ran off, out through the door and around the tower right as Tony walked into the room Tony: Where are they going? Steve: They're racing around the tower. Is everything okay with him? He seems a little off Tony: He had his first sip of coffee Steve: You gave that kid coffee? What's wrong with you? Tony: I admit that I may have made a mistake Steve: May?! Tony: Okay, I did make a mistake Suddenly Peter comes flying back into the room Peter: Oh hey Mr Stark! Did you know I can run faster than Thor? Thor runs though the door and stop with his hand on his knees, panting Thor, breathlessly: Y-you are a v-very fast run-runner Tony: That's it, you are NEVER having coffee again Peter: But I love coffee! It's amazing! Thor: What is coffee? Tony: No, nope, nu uh, not again!

This was inspired by a post from @anyaharveyii thank you for the inspiration, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it.

@everyonesfriend I think you might like this!

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342

[moviecritc]

Being patos bestie and going crazy over that photoshoot 🧡

she's like a poem ⋆ pato o'ward smau

pairing: pato o'ward x bestfriend!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

warnings: none

a/n: i was flabbergasted by that photoshoot, i also included that one tiktok where he appeared covered in chocolate out of nowhere bc omg

remember that requests are open <33

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted a story!

[caption: there's a pato stuck to my piñata @patriciooward]

user1: oh to be that piñata

user2: whose birthday is it?

user3: you guys need to be a couple NOW

patriciooward just posted a story!

[caption 1: happy birthday bicho 🎉] [caption 2: you're such a weirdo but i love you] [caption 3: can't believe you made it to 25 after eating the whole box of cheese balls 😻]

yourusername: thank you wey 😘😘

user1: THREE stories for wishing happy birthday? you're such a simp

user2: pls just date her we know you want to 💋

patriciooward just posted a tiktok!

patriciooward they're also perfect for a birthday

view all comments

user1 I SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING PATO

user2 im still not sure if i want to buy them, do another one

user3 looks so good, and the chocolate too 🥰

user4 birthday? wasn't y/n's few days ago

user5 omg yess. we see you pato

user6 don't ask me how many time i've watched it

yourusername ⚠️jumpscare⚠️

user3 Y/N- user7 i can't with these two

patriciooward just posted!

liked by yourusername, elbaoward and 12,545 others

patriciooward Some shots from the other day :)

view all comments

elbaoward give this man a model contract

user1 i'm feeling woman things

yourusername oh wow

patriciooward just posted a story!

[caption: 🌊⭐️]

yourusername: who's that bitch? oh wait it's me 😊

user1: it's that yn???

user2: finally soft launching her

yourusername just posted a story!

user1: OK WE SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING

user2: oh pato and you are so together

user3: please tell me that you kissed at least

patriciooward just posted!

patriciooward she's like a poem i wish i wrote (she made me write this)

tagged yourusername

view all comments

yourusername aww 🥰🥰 you know this is just to win over your sister right?

elbaoward anytime babyy 😉😉 patriciooward wait no it take me too many years to date her you can't take her from me this soon :((( yourusername too late bye

user1 THIS IS JUST PERFECT

user2 it's like watching those friends that everyone knows they're gonna end together ACTUALLY getting together

user3 shut up this is so cute

user4 y/n has always been my favourite wag even when she wasn't

user5 i love that this isn't even a surprise no anyone

user6 we knew they were dating before they were actually dating user7 FRRR

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, et

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The phone rings. You pick up eagerly, nearly fumbling the receiver. You steady it and clear your throat. "Laufeyson Accounting, how may I help you today?"

"Ah, such a sweet voice. It is Jonathan Pine. I believe we met the other day?" The smooth timbre replies. You nod as you cradle the phone with your shoulder and keep typing.

"I remember. I'm afraid Mr. Laufeyson is out of office at the moment. He should be back short--" you voice catches as the door opens, as if on cue. You truly hope the thought of the man doesn't summon him so easily. "Shortly."

Laufeyson gestures with his finger for you to be silent. You squint and clear your throat.

"I can take a... message."

You falter as your boss approaches you. He rounds you and turns your chair so your legs are out from beneath the desk. You nearly swipe the keyboard and mouse onto the floor. You grip the desk's edge with one hand as the phone cord stretches before you. You watch him in confused irritation.

"Ah, simply tell him to give me a ring," Pine sighs. "But what of you? How do you like working for the man? He can be rather temperamental."

You furrow your brow as Laufeyson gets to his knees. What the hell is he doing? You shift as he runs his hand up your calves and up to your skirt. You ball your fist.

His green eyes sparkle at you as the drone of the phone tickles your brain.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pine. I didn't catch that."

Laufeyson tilts his head and arches a brow. He bends to kiss above your knee. Okay, he's delusional. He can't be doing this right now.

"I was saying I do hope you get some time off. Knowing the man, he would be the type to have you working overtime--"

Laufeyson slides his hands up your skirt and scoops them under your ass. You swallow your voice and cough.

"Eight hours a day," you try to put more than detest into your tone as your skirt rides up higher and higher. Laufeyson trails his lips up your thigh and instinctively you catch the top of his head. "I appreciate you checking in. I'll let him know you called. I'm just getting someone on the other--" He jerks you so your hips tilt and you slip in the chair. "line! Bye."

You flail and slam the receiver into the cradle. It hits the button and bounces off as it falls from your grasp. The dial tone quietly hums.

"You are getting rebellious," Laufeyson chides and bites your thigh above your stockings.

"Sir--" You sputter. "I was on a call. With your client."

"Tut, tut," he runs his finger over the lace at the top of your stocking, his other hand still buried beneath you. "I've more urgent business at hand." He kneads your ass as his hand slips up to your naked cunt. "That woman is abhorrent. I am rather in need of a palette cleanser."

You pull your hand back to clasp the arm rests. In that moment, the choice dangles before you; swat his incessant head or grit your teeth and bear the price of freedom.

He smirks as he drags his hand from beneath you. He shoves your skirt higher as his fingers glide along your slit. You clench but not out of any need. Only for it to be quick.

"I could--" you try to push yourself off the seat. "Finish--"

"Ah," he jabs your hip and you drop back down. "As I will have you."

He spreads his fingers wide along your thigh and squeezes as he watches his other hand. He tickles along your cunt and snickers. He bites the tip of his tongue as he glides between your lips. You wince.

"Irony, isn't it? The woman sworn to keep criminals in line is all but repulsive, yet the rat that's escape its cage is so... delightful."

You bite down. What's ironic, or rather hypocritical, yeah that it, is that this man proclaims moral superiority yet behaves as bad as those you broke bread with in the prison mess.

He flutters his fingers along your clit and traces down to your entrance. He swipes back up again, deliberate as he teases your cluster of nerves only to flick back up. You turn your face away as your body responds to his diligence.

"Hmm, shall I taste the forbidden fruit?" He purrs as he leans in.

You tense as he drags his fingers down and bows his head. His breath grazes your skin and his hand trails down your thighs. He kisses the curls along your pelvis and delves his tongue into your warmth. A squeak escapes you.

He hooks his hands around your thighs and pulls you further down the chair as he angles you to his feast. He spreads his tongue wide to taste you, then swirls the tip around your clit. You twitch and chew your cheeks, fighting the declaration of your surrender.

The sight of his sleek hair between your thighs sends a quiver through you. A mingling of disgust and thrill. It isn't him, only the years of neglect. Or maybe it's what you've never known. You're no stranger to that need but you've never had it fed.

"No, I can..." you push on his head, "I'll do... I'll... you..."

The fragments of your protest tumble around you. You reach up to grasp the back of the chair, gripping tight the arm rest as you slip further down. The noise of his eager lapping fills the office, his breath buffing up your thighs. He hums and growls as he drinks you in.

A flare of anger sparks beneath the heat of rising bliss. How can he do this? After all that you've let him do, he cannot be pleased. He has to debase you in any way he can. Even if it means you enjoy it.

"L--Mr.--" you stammer as your head lolls back and forth. "No-- stop." Your stomach knots and your chest pounds. No, you! You stop.

He seals his lips around your clit and the sudden draw of pressure makes you spasm. You clap your hand over your mouth and your voice escape through your fingers. Your eyes roll back as a tide flows over you.

"Mr. Lauf--"

He purrs and rolls over you. Your voice clogs in your throat and you curl your fingers as you turn your hand. You bite your knuckle as the swell crashes down and breaks into ripples through your muscles.

He coaxes you through the after waves as you shudder. He nuzzles into you, smearing your cum around his nose and mouth. That sends a twinge of revulsion through you. You pull yourself up as he sits back on his heels and licks his lips.

"Loki?" The stunned tone has you sitting up immediately.

The monitor blocks all by Frigga's long face and silver blond waves. You plant your feet as you try to tug down your skirt. "Shit," you hiss.

Laufeyson stares at you as he pokes his tongue in his cheek. He wipes his face with his sleeve, a shade of crimson kissing his sharp cheeks. He braces the corner of the desk and stands, staying behind it as he stiffly faces the unexpected drop-in.

"Mother," he greets in a strangled cough.

Her lashes flick, "yes, well, I only came by to... well, I've gone and forgotten..." she chuckles nervously. She looks at you. "I'm very sorry. Er, oh, but dear," she touches her neck. "I am not unhappy for the match."

"Mother," he adjusts his belt subtly behind the monitor. "It isn't-- please, we should talk."

"Not now, I think," she trills. "I will make an appointment." She turns to the door and pauses. "And I did try to call. The phone was off the hook."

"Mother--" he repeats but she's too quick.

She leaves and as the door snaps shut, you plummet back to the depths of reality. You grab the receiver and put it in the cradle. You sigh.

"Well," he turns to you and puts his hands on his hips. He looks down at his trousers. "You've made a fine mess." He runs his hand over to his buckle. "Best clean it up, darling."

You glare up at him. As you stew in shame, this man can't find an ounce of it.

He unbuckles and you feel the last of the adrenaline scatter. Numbly, you push yourself to the edge of the chair. With your heels, you walk it closer, the wheels skimming the floor.

"Ah ah, I want you in nothing but those stockings," he tisks. "They are rather fetching."

You look up at him. Jaw locked, lips sealed, cheeks taut. You reach to your blouse and sweep it over your head. He strides around the desk, a hand still on his pants, and locks the door. He returns to you with a snicker.

You stand to slip out of your now wrinkled skirt. You lay your clothes on the desk, on piece at a time. You unhook your bra last and reach for the chair. He kicks it away.

"Kneel," he commands.

Your cheek ticks. His own dimples as he notices. You cautiously lower yourself. He pushes down his pants and pulls his dick above his silky boxers. He strokes his length as he steps closer.

He presses his tip to your lips as he grabs the back of your head. He traces your lips and hums. He does it again, brushing around your mouth as he sighs.

"Open, darling," he slithers.

You obey and stare at the tails of his shirt, hanging loosely down his pelvis. He pushes you onto him, fingers splays across your skull. You latch onto his pants before he can gag you.

He chuckles again and slips his hand down to your throat. You tilt your head as he inches deeper. Your eyes water and you hold your breath as he ignores the strain of his intrusion. He pets your throat as he feels himself from the outside.

"You take me well, pet," he hums and eases back. "I wonder if it's practice or you are merely made to serve?"

He rocks into you slowly. He basks in ever dip down your throat, retreating with a haughty purr each time until his tip rests on your lip. In, out, in, out.

"Look at you, hmm?" He taunts. "I do think I've been rather generous in offering you a second chance. Hm?"

He groans and bites down on his breath.

"So good," he purrs. "Never..."

His voice unfurls into sultry snarls.

You puff around him, head throbbing, nails dug into his pants. You close your eyes as the mascara runs into them. You ball up all the anger and humiliation and let it sink into your stomach.

Just get it over with. That mantra always got you through. Childhood, teenage angst, prison... this is just one more thing.

You have survived worse than this man. You will survive him. Right?

[sahisan]

— ooh, i still have your lighter.

featuring . chuuya nakahara.

tags . sfw. swearing. exes who can't get over each other. unhealthy coping mechanisms (mostly for reader (alcohol)). mention of smoking. a lot of alcohol. angst. a lot of angst. more angst. could've been 5+1 typa thing but it's not that, just small drabbles. gn reader. wc 1.9k.

author note . this is like actually very rushed because i really want to sleep but i needed to finish this before going to sleep so yes. maybe i'll beta read in the morning. maybe. also almost died writing this bye why do i love suffering. also guess what the name of this one is taken of.

"i still have your sweater."

chuuya hears how your voice is a bit quieter and more slurred than usual due to the effects of alcohol in your blood, and he can't really tell if he likes it or not with how you'd woken him up at nearly 2am to talk. again. sure, alcohol and all that, but he doesn't know if his current, sleepy comprehension of what's going on is better than your drunken one.

he intakes a breath at your words.

"the grey one," you continue quietly, and chuuya can hear you shifting your head on whatever you're laying it on through the speaker. "i haven't even washed it yet. it still smells like you."

in that very moment, he wants your drunk ass to just shut up and go to sleep.

but then there's your voice. intoxicated and quiet and soft, almost as soft as it was when you'd talk to him when you were together.

chuuya hates reminiscing.

he remembers that sweater. just a plain, grey sweater, but he also remembers you taking a liking to it very quickly. he still remembers you walking around in it, still remembers how he had to force you to take it off because you wouldn't budge.

he remembers a lot.

"just how drunk are you," chuuya mumbles as if scolding or complaining or both, but he can't deny that he tries to mask the shakiness in his voice with the sounds of his bedsheets' shuffling.

"mmmaybe two sake bottles in," you tell him then.

"jesus," he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. he's trying to remain composed, but god, is it hard. not only is he pissed off due to your drunk phone call, but a mix of bitterness and sorrow also runs through him at the realization that you still have a bit of him in your life and you still keep these bits.

well, he isn't any better, actually.

"you still got my sweater, huh?" chuuya blurts, trying to ignore the ache in his heart.

he scoffs, a frown on his face. his tone is harsh but his actual feelings still somehow manage to show through the way he speaks; he's hurting more than he's angry.

"...i still have your stupid fucking lighter," he ends up mumbling after a beat of silence.

there's more silence from you as he says the words, and chuuya exhales a breath through the lump in his throat, wishing for it to just disappear.

he hears you hum. "the silver one?" you ask, and it's his turn to hum in reply. "...you still use it?"

"yeah," he ends up breathing out.

"every fucking day," chuuya responds, words much softer now somehow despite the curses, his eyes now fixed on the ceiling above him.

and it hurts, it really does. to know that you, despite having a new life, still call him when drunk, still own his sweater, and now the realization that he still holds a piece of you as well.

he never told you that, never said a word about how the lighter never left his pocket ever since you left him, and he wasn't planning on, but chuuya, in fact, had started smoking much more since after you left.

he hopes the lighter will never break.

—

chuuya hadn't answered your calls for a month.

"where the hell have you been?" you throw at him instantly the second he picks up on the fourth ring.

"in france, idiot," he points out with a scrunch of his face, plopping down on his bed and exhaling a near groan-like sigh, the memories of the recent overseas mission creeping up his mind.

fucking city of love.

he hears you hum, and then sound of rustling, as if you're shifting in your own bed. you're not drunk this time—thank god—but you do sound a bit more... melancholic, if he compares to your voice during the latest calls.

"mm, and how was france?" you ask, voice slightly quieter like you're focused on something else besides the call. he hopes you aren't.

chuuya scoffs. he takes in a breath, turning to lay on his side and press his phone to another ear, "ça aurait été bien mieux avec toi," he mumbles out at an exhale, using the harsher tone of voice to make it sound like he'd said something bad about his trip—and not like he'd said something about you. no. not in a century.

and you laugh. you actually laugh, and, at first, he doesn't understand why—at what are you laughing? did you somehow understand what he said? were you secretly learning french all these years away to catch him saying something like this? could be possible, knowing you, but the sound of your laughter literally interrupts all his thoughts and he can't focus on anything—

"at least translate, come on," he hears you say, voice still a bit breathy from the recent laughter. "don't tell me france was that bad."

chuuya has to move his phone from his ear for a good few meters away to exhale a loud, relieving breath through his mouth.

"not translating you anythin', i'm not your personal translator," he says once he brings the phone back to his ear, scowling and huffing. "you're gonna struggle with trying to understand what i said for the rest of your life now, that's what you get."

he still has to get over the sound of your laughter. perhaps it's the first time he's heard it in years.

("would've been much better with you.")

—

it's nearing half past midnight, and chuuya, somehow, already knows you're drunk as hell as he picks up the call.

he's in the middle of a trip back home from work when he does, leaving a single hand on the steering wheel as he answers.

yeah, you're definitely drunk.

"enjoying yourself?" he mutters dryly, huffing out a breath as he hears your nearly incoherent mumbling on the other line.

he listens to it nearly a minute, stuck on a red traffic light.

"hey," chuuya calls out quietly, exhaling a sigh, he's really gonna have to do this now, isn't he? "be a dear 'n pass the phone to the bartender, will ya?"

it's a miracle you do as told, as intoxicated as you are.

once he hears the shuffling sound of that said bartender picking your phone up to their ear, he asks for the address, and once he gets it, the traffic light turns green and chuuya goes for a quick "u" turnabout, making his way towards the bar, not before asking the person on the other line to watch over you so you won't wander off before he arrives.

you're already slumped on the bar counter with your arms under your head and a finished glass of—clearly—something strong beside you as chuuya comes through the door.

he thinks of if you try to silence your desire to call him every time with alcohol and if it—alcohol—almost always makes it worse. it certainly does, he catches himself thinking.

he thanks the bartender for the address, paying for you and carefully swinging your hand over his shoulder to safely exit the bar and carry you over to his car, listening to your drunken babbling all the way through.

chuuya sighs once he gets you into the passenger seat, and you seem to almost immediately slump into the leather.

so you've had that much.

he can work with that, now that you're already fast asleep as he's back to starting the car.

once him and you in tow are at your doorway, he fishes the keys out of your pocket and lets himself in.

your apartment has remained as he remembers it—there are some minor changes, but the little details are the ones that he notices first and they're still there, even throughout the years.

at least you have some sort of stability in your life.

chuuya ends up shrugging off your outerwear and shoes and bringing you over to your bedroom, contemplating about whether or not you would like to wake up in fresh clothes im the morning, but he realises thay you two aren't that close anymore for him to go through your closet and, moreso, change your clothes. he lets it stay like it is.

before leaving, chuuya makes sure to place a glass of water and a pack of hangover pills on your nightstand.

he leaves using that same spare key you made for him years ago.

his forehead finds the steering wheel as soon as he collapses into the driver's seat.

—

"we should stop doing this," you tell chuuya quietly during one of the next calls, and chuuya can tell you loathe the words coming out of your mouth.

you're absolutely sober this time.

"we should," he confirms just as quietly, staring up at the ceiling above his bed.

there's silence on both ends for the next five minutes. after that, you wish him good night and end the call.

chuuya doesn't try to bring his phone away from his ear for two more minutes.

—

tuesdays are always shit.

chuuya does not want to receive any phone calls on a fucking tuesday night while he's buried in paperwork and stupid reports, but he ends up receiving one.

from you.

he nearly snaps his phone in two once he picks it up in his free hand, stopping for a moment as he sees your contact popping up on the screen.

he hesitates for a moment, the hand holding the pen he was previously writing with halting.

chuuya exhales a breath, eyelids closing. he presses "accept".

"what now?" he snaps as soon his phone touches his ear.

a moment before he did so, he could hear you intaking a breath as if you were preparing to speak. as if you were excited to propose something.

you're silent on the other end after that. he can tell you were taken aback, but he was really just too tired to care. maybe.

"...you, me, chateau latour 1977?" your voice is quiet; quieter than it was supposed to be before he snapped, and he can actually feel it, because your voice actually falters in the end, but he can trace the bits of hope remaining in it.

something in chuuya's chest squeezes at that, and then he registers your words.

...oh.

you're inviting him over to drink.

...oh.

chuuya is actually silent as the gears turning before in his head and the flow of his thoughts literally stop—they just stop. there's nothing in his mind except for your voice offering to drink together. he unintentionally drops the pen from his hand.

and then his eyes shift towards the two incomplete stacks of papers on the table in front of him.

you over work? his ex over work? his ex the thought about whom he can't seem to be able to get rid of as much as he wants, over work?

what an easy choice.

unfortunately, today is one of the days when chuuya ends up speaking before he thinks.

"i'm busy," he ends up barking in the end, ending the call barely a second later.

he stares at the now lit screen of his phone, showing the earlier message from you, containing a single photo of the wine bottle you'd offered him just a minute ago.

he stares at it, and stares, and stares some more, before he throws his head back and clenches his eyelids as hard as he can, because his eyes suddenly start watering with tears.

chuuya is an idiot.

—

"i'm sorry."

chuuya doesn't remember which of you two said this. he hopes it was him.

"i know."

he doesn't remember who replied.

call ended.

—

[steddieas-shegoes]

so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

[oscquinn]

౨ৎ DON'T BE A STRANGER (social edits)

summary; ellie enjoys her last summer before college, taking advantage of every moment before moving out to california. over the summer fans speculate about ellie's relationships with her brothers friends, but only one rumor can be true. which will it be?

tags; social media au, hughes sister oc, fictionization of these hockey players, etc etc etc. pre relationship nhl x oc ... but it's your guess as to who 🤭

a/n; this is only partially edited bc i simply needed to upload. this serves as a teaser for what's to come in my miniseries... see if you can guess who ellie will be paired with based on these posts ;))

liked by jackhughes, andrea.m.lance, 15.3k others

elhughes loves summer!

8.8k comments

jackhughes learned from the best 🏄🏻‍♂️

trevorzegras cause she learned from me

user01 more proof trev is the fourth hughes brother

elhughes @user01 trust i bully him like a brother :))

trevorzegras 🤙

elhughes hang ten brotha

lola_ohara i love summer almost as much as i love you (❤️ by creator)

elhughes love u so big 💕

andrea.m.lance need u to teach me to wake board (❤️ by creator)

elhughes yeah jack's useless at teaching

user02 wait did trev teach ellie fr 😭

elhughes i actually learned from quinn

liked by lhughes_06, nicohischier, 30.7k others

jackhughes Sunny days

12.3k comments

trevorzegras 🤙 (❤️ by creator)

elhughes do you comment the same thing on every post?

_quinnhughes Shredding 🏄🏻‍♂️ (❤️ by creator)

elhughes stop thirst trapping on my timeline jack

lhughes_06 Agreed.

jackhughes How is this a thirst trap

user01 LMAOOO JACK AND ELLIE

user02 her face i'm DEAD.

liked by jamie.drysdale, jackhughes, 28.2k others

trevorzegras Summer breakin'

12.9k comments

jackhughes PGA material (❤️ by creator)

elhughes never letting you drive the boat again

trevorzegras Extremely rude Ellie.

user01 awww the pic of ellie

user02 i love seeing el get along with her brothers friends

user03 yeah, she's "getting along" like "friends"...

elhughes @.user03 girl bye (❤️ by creator)

lhughes_06 Best guy on the green

trevorzegras Damn right

liked by jackhughes, _alexturcotte, 20.4k others

colecaufield Par for the course

10.1k comments

trevorzegras Under or over?

colecaufield Yk it was under

elhughes @.colecaufield you're such a liar

jackhughes Way over

colecaufield @.jackhughes You're one to talk.

elhughes @.jackhughes @.colecaufield only par you two hit was the golf cart parking spot.

colecaufield Like you were any better?

elhughes I MADE PAR COLE

user01 COLE MAKING MOVES HELLO???

elhughes ur reading wayyy too much into this

liked by jackhughes, _quinnhughes, 13.8k others

lhughes_06 A summer to remember

9.5k comments

elhughes cropping me and q out of the pic is heinous work

lhughes_06 😶

elhughes still proud of you bub, go devs! (❤️ by creator)

jackhughes Gonna be Jersey royalty (❤️ by creator)

_quinnhughes Crazy proud. Love you man ❤️ (❤️ by creator)

user01 im still so insane about this

user02 quinn next.

elhughes @_quinnhughes

user02 NO WAY 😭

njdevils welcome to the family, Luke 😈💯 (❤️ by creator)

liked by elhughes, trevorzegras, 14.8k others

_alexturcotte Boys are back in town

9.6k comments

trevorzegras Guy in the sunglasses looks 🔥

_alexturcotte Best glasses award

lhughes_06 Do you know CPR?

_alexturcotte Why would I know CPR

lhughes_06 Can't have my sister drowning on your watch

elhughes LUKE 😭

user01 so ellie is in cali now?

elhughes she isss ☀️👙🌊

user01 omg enjoy ucla girlie!!

user02 i would pay for a detailed recount of what happened with ellie and jack's friends this summer

elhughes please get a life.

🔒 private account | 🎵 sorry for party rocking, LMFAO

liked by andies.coming, 12 others

elliefish sorry for party rocking?

7 comments

andies.coming jack AND luke almost saw this when i opened the app.

elliefish DO YOU HAVE IT OUT FOR ME?

andiescoming YOU'RE THE ONE WHO POSTED IT

andies.coming it was an ACCIDENT

sarahsspams girl is it who i think it is??

elliefish text me 💋

pucklucklola i missed ONE roomie debrief wtf (❤️ by creator)

© gallaghersgal, 2025

THX 4 READING -> dedicated to my queen @notsonian. looking for more? send me an ask to be added to the au taglist !!

[maevesque-moved]

A/N: Ahahahahaha... Remember this post? Yeah, bye. I'm hiding after I post this.

@rafayelsheart tagging you, because... AAAA I fucking did it.

His voice is low and husky, tingling your senses as he brushes his lips along the outer shell of your ear, whispering softly, "wake up, kitten." And you instantly stir awake from your sleep, fatigue still clings to your eyes but you pay no heed to it as your eyes meet with Sylus's.

You smile, eyes sparkling in between the sleep-spelled gaze, and you look divine in his eyes. He pulls you closer, and without seeming, captures your lips in a heated kiss. Your tongues dance, tasting each other as he pulls you closer, hoisting your leg over his waist, making you feel his hardened member.

It's slow at first, your hand moving to wrap around his aching cock, stroking him slowly as you two continue your rhythmic dance against your lips. It's coupled with a beautiful thrum of his soft, puffed out moans. Oh, how you simply adored how he sounds melting in your hands like this.

"Kitten," he groans against your lips, "are you really going to continue teasing me?" His tone rough with desire and a morning rasp.

You smile, shaking your head, knowing that you can't stand teasing him any longer, not when you ache to feel him filling you to the brim so early in the morning. The thought of your bodies rocking to a steady rhythm as passion fills the air was a trip to ecstasy you didn't think you needed.

His hand trails down, fingertips drumming until he reaches your entrance, his long slender digit dip into you, slowly stroking your insides, one finger becomes two, and the third has you begging softly, panting against his ear.

"More, please."

Sylus smirks, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Since you asked so nicely." He says, positioning himself to your entrance, "are you ready?" He asks, wanting to ensure he doesn't hurt you, not when the light teasings are sprinkled with gentleness and care.

You nod, reaching back tug at one cheek, opening yourself more for him and he growls, his hand gripping your hips before pushing into you in a languid movement, drawing up a gasp from you that he swallows before he eases his head back, pushing his fingers into your mouth, that you wrap your lips around to suck your slick off, your eyes closing as you savor the taste of yourself on his fingers.

He groans at the sight, unable to help himself as he delves his tongue back into your mouth, greedy to taste yourself on your tongue. The kiss was hot, wet and simply messy, but that's something the two of you never seem to mind.

He continues pushing as he feels you adjust, your walls hugging him perfectly snug, he has to stop himself from coming right then and there. A groan tumbling from his lips once he bottoms out, a soft whimper escaping you as her walls squeeze around him.

"So tight, kitten," he grunts softly, his hand gripping your ass as he begins to move, his cock sliding in and out with ease.

Your whimpers being coupled with moans, fill your room with the sound of soft skin slapping against each other, and your pretty noises that Sylus absolutely adores.

He picks up the pace, his groans becoming louder, his grip on your hips tightening as your bodies move in sync, panting against each other's lips, swallowing each other's moans as he moves against you.

Your moans gradually grow in volume, a pleading, "harder," renews his fervor as he obliged to your request, his thrusts becoming harder, holding you in place by your hips as he pressed deep, deep, deep inside you.

The two of you get lost in tangled limbs under soft blankets, the sun continues rising as your bodies move in harmony.

"I'm... I'm close..." you moan as you grip onto his shoulders.

He rolls the two of you, now hovering as he uses this angle to piston his hips, easily hitting your sweet spot mercilessly.

"That's it, kitten," he grunts in between his encouragements and now relentless thrusts, "come for me."

And you do, a loud moan muffled the moment he captured your lips as you came, coating his cock with your essence, and he helps you ride out your climax.

Once you come down from yours, you pull him closer, your ankles locking behind him as the back of your feet pressing against his ass, making him press deep inside you once more. You trail kisses up to his ear and nip at the earlob, a pleading and sultry whisper, "come inside me..."

And who is he to say no, his eyes darkening once more, and even more so when you guide his hand to your neck, his brow cocking upwards as the smirk returns.

His long, slender digits curl around your neck, applying pressure when needed as he snaps his hips, feeling him nearing his own release.

"Come for me, Sylus..."

The smile you give him as he tightens his hold around your neck has him growling in pleasure, your breathless command and the squeezing of your walls has him spilling into you after a few more thrusts.

You hold onto him, clinging to him even, as he rides out his orgasm until it's spent. He takes care not to crush you as he wraps his arms around you, easing to the side to lay with you, and when you feel him slipping out, you squeeze your walls much tighter than before.

It makes him chuckle, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Alright, alright... I won't go anywhere," he reassures you, a kiss to your forehead as he tucks your head under his chin, his own eyes closing as he hums softly.

"Rest," he commands, though his tone is gentle, "we can go out later."

He also makes sure that he adds black-out curtains on their list of things to buy before allowing himself to drift off to sleep to meet with her once more.

[brittle-doughie]

It appears that Y/N Cookie just can't catch a break from these folks.

It'd be honestly interesting to see how some cookies would react to Y/N finally snapping back or getting enraged from all the stress.

- 🐼 Anon.

(p.s: Remember that your mental health is important too! Please take a break if you need one!)

Halt! The Restriction Mayhem Update!

This and a reply on that post about restraining orders gave me this idea heheha

Greetings, Cookie Runners. I’m Brittle, a writer for the CR x Reader tag.

Today, I’ll be introducing this totally not made up new event starring Y/N Cookie, a cookie that that can never seem to catch a break from the shower of attention their fellow cookies give them.

After many major incidents involving a feud between cookies, Y/N Cookie is at their wits end for some peace and quiet, and so has decided to have some time apart..with restraining orders! Will Y/N Cookie finally get their tranquility with this method? You’ll find out by playing the new event mode!

In this event, you’ll play various stages themed around certain clingy cookies, collect the evidence jellies you need to file the restraining order against the Cookie.

You can attempt the harder difficulties after completing Normal Mode with Hard and Intense Mode, which will up the challenge in stages and evidence!

For costumes, Scorpion and Cocoa will be receiving Epic costumes while a Super Epic is ready for Y/N Cookie, it’s Y/N Cookie’s Super Epic Costume, Absolute Heartstopper! There’s a new sheriff in town and your heart is their bounty!

That’s all that will be shared for today, hopefully Y/N Cookie survives the wait for the update and try not to get dogpiled on by upset cookies. Take care bye byeeee

Coupon Code: RUN Y/N COOKIE RUN (To clarify, this isn’t an actual code, but you probably already knew that)

Normal Mode:

Kumiho Cookie

“W-what? But darling, you can’t be serious!”

Cocoa Cookie

(Cocoa just stands there, confused and heartbroken)

Ninja Cookie

“…..Why would you do that? Did I come off too strong?”

Hard Mode:

Okchun Cookie

“I just wanted to make you feel welcome in our village. Why leave when your home is here…”

Lilac Cookie

“A piece of paper won’t stop me from you..”

Timekeeper Cookie

“Understood.” (Tears restraining order out from the fabric of reality. Thank Tree you had copies)

Intense Mode:

Sea Fairy Cookie

“I am very passionate about you, Y/N Cookie. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Fire Spirit Cookie

“HA HA! NO PIECE OF PAPER IS KEEPING FROM YOU, Y/N COOKIE!”

Lotus Dragon Cookie

“That’s a difficult wish to fulfill, Y/N Cookie. A dragon’s desire for a companion is strong, regardless of any restrictions like this one, a dragon WILL get what they desire eventually…”

[fernpetals]

The Night is Dark #1

Masterlist

Yandere Constantine x Reader

Oh, the night is dark and full of terror. It is true indeed. But you do not need to fear, you darling little thing. You have John Constantine by your side.

John Constantine whom the evil fears just slightly, thinking twice before attacking him. The man, who refuses to put a tag into whatever you two share, yet. But he is the first one to ask if you have reached your place safely, and on rare occasions, he isn't the one dropping you. He is the man to fume if another man as much as smiles at you.

John Constantine whose dark eyes softens just a bit when he looks down at you. His hands reach out to his pocket a he fishes out a packet of nicotine instead of the cigarettes, and every time he looks at your eyes, proud and twinkling under the downtown LA street lights, his heart swells a little bit more.

There are words spreading about you at Midnite's. Hushed whispers, side-eyes. But for now, no one dares to mess with one who has returned from the grasp of the Devil himself.

it makes you a little sad every time Constantine refuses to acknowledge what you two share. Something electric, something pure...

Maybe pure from your end. Constantine is almost ashamed of the nasty thoughts he has about you. Almost because this feels so natural, and perhaps the only thing that feels right about this world. He loves the feeling of your skin pressed against his. On the nights when you are a bit too drunk (you get drunk so easily, it is hilarious for him, but as long as you are under his supervision), he loves the way your lips feel against his, you respond without any question about the true nature of your relationship. It is complicated. He can hold you close without the fear of questions.

Questions, questions, and so many questions.

You ask too much and understand too little.

Can't you see? The moment the wrong kind of people know what you mean to him, they will come after you? Can't you see, he is cursed, doomed to be alone all his life while he drags himself through his miserable existence, searching for a way to save his soul?

Of course, you don't see it. Why would you still want him otherwise?

He cannot bring himself to see that you love him for what he is—in the mirror, he sees a doomed man, but to you, he is the love of your life.

Constantine is a coward. That is why when you drunkenly profess your love to him, he simply scoffs and tucks you to bed like he cares like he loves you back. But in that moment, when he can barely hold back his tears, he does admit it. He loves you too much, for a time too little left.

He thinks you have no memory of the previous night, and acts typically like himself--- detached, unbothered, and the asshole that he is.

But the thing is, you remember everything.

And you confront him about last night---you remember how his lips felt, you remember his soft eyes when he professed his love to you---you remember feeling like you won in life.

But the morning, he denies that on your face

"Do not delude yourself. You were dreaming. I simply tucked you in, silly girl. What were you on? Drugs?"

His words sting you in ways you cannot describe

It is like the final thread breaking after many blows of denials and disappointments. The thread has been pulled many times, and just as you feel like you have reached the top, holding on to it, Constantine snaps it. And you tumble down. Hard.

He is straight-faced, but you like he is laughing at you, mocking you. You cannot listen anymore. you hear everything yet nothing registers in your mind. it's like his voice is a muffled background noise.

Something in you withers. You realize that you have been waiting at an abandoned station---there will be no train coming for you. Ever.

"I need to go home. Bye."

You are surprised at the stability of your voice, even though there is a yawning pit forming in your stomach, and it is sucking in everything good in you and every comfort, every ounce of confidence, even emotions.

"Hey, I spent my morning making breakfast for two---"

You are too focused to care. Too focused on your escalating heartbeat and moving toward the door. Fast.

Once out and sitting in the subway, you allow the realisation to sink that the final blow that has broken your heart was delivered this morning, by none other than the very man you have always anticipated to deliver it, to break your heart. What you did not anticipate is the gut-wrenching pain that comes with the realisation, the acknowledgement and acceptance.

Constantine and you have no future together.

And it is time to give up.

(Do not worry, there will be a part 2)

[sulphuricgrin]

I bring anot- wait wtf is this- a Miraak headcanon? from the Altmer headcanons guy?

What kind of bullshit is this?

Anyways, hi, here's a little of my take. I feel like this is an awful idea to drop this before I write Miraak's first chapter in my fic. Watch me share this, get killed by hammers, and drop my fic. haaaa

I'm just gonna "lore" dump and disappear forever.

A bit of low-key horror, which is a given with my fic tags; kinda existential horror with the themes of the limits with the mortal mind & memories. (Mention of my OC, Lilliandra obviously.)

After living in Apocrypha for +4500 years, he can't actually remember much of Nirn - the smells, sounds, the feel of the sun, etc. He naturally wants to escape, but what unfamiliar world would he be returning to? Knows the change of languages due to ciphers & books though.

Memories are a weird thing. How often are our memories 100% accurate? As time goes on, we begin to forget the earlier memories. So what happens when you've been alive longer than a mortal should be? Let's also not forget that memories tied to stronger emotions (fear, anger, trauma, embarrassment, etc) are easier to recall than the mundane.

So what happens to your memories after +4500 years?

Well, Miraak finds them a bit difficult. Pre-Apocrypha happy or calmer memories are few and far between. Not in an angsty boo-hoo kind of way. But simply that's how our brains work sometimes for survival - they either latch onto the worse or block it out. For him it's the bitterness, the worse - dragon cult bullshit over family and friends - if he had any, he doesn't know anymore. Though he doesn't really agonize over this. How can you if you don't know?

Also returning to memory accuracy - well, the mind holds on to the strongest emotions, but that emotion can also alter the truth of the event. So how much does he claim is true is actually true? 👀

Anyways, next topic: a life stuck out of time.

Rarely knows the exact date, let alone seasons or years. Books offer little help since those that haven't been written on Nirn yet can still be found on Apocrypha anyways.

Body stuck out of time, in stasis/stagnation basically. Rarely eats as his body doesn't need it. While not necessarily needing it, still sleeps occasionally to offer his mind some rest. (If you've ever had severe insomnia, you'd understand how maddening it can get just being awake too long.)

Doesn't really drink alcohol often as his mind and body are what he has left to himself - to an extent, considering Mora's claim on him.

When learning of how long he's been alive, but his body doesn't require much in Apocrypha, Lilliandra presents an unsettling question: If he'd return to Nirn, finally outside of Mora's influence, would his body be okay or would the thousands and thousands of years rapidly catch up to his body and it'd simply return to bones?

He's never considered such an option, nor does he enjoy thinking of it. He's always had the goal of getting out of Apocrypha. He had not thought there would be consequences to getting out as there were already enough consequences to joining Mora and fleeing to oblivion. (Why do you think he was attempting to gain so much power during the DLC? It's not just to return to Nirn, but in hope the power reduces any consequences of returning out of time.)

does this make any sense? I dunno. my brain is fried.

okay, bye

[waitmyturtles]

I've Caught Up With Wandee Goodday, and here are some cons and pros (aka, am I ever burnt out on GMMTV)

HELLO. I'm back temporarily from my summer travels (before I travel again!). I was in Thailand! I should have brought a box of chappals to chuck at the GMMTV building for where Wandee Goodday has gone. Anyway, I need to process my thoughts on this show, so here we go. (And I apologize, I have NOT looked at the tag for this show, so I don't know if I'm repeating what other people are saying here.)

PROS

CONS

1) This show had so much brainrot potential! Remember the first, like, four episodes? Potential homophobia in multiple workplaces? Delicious bisexuality? Ace storylines??? Wandee's PUTZ deception and manipulation? Yak going along with it, why?? There was a lot going on here, a lot we could have chewed on.

I've been sitting on my historical review of Golf Tanwarin's The Eclipse for my Old GMMTV Challenge for about two months now because I can't get over how pissed I was that that show took some unnecessary, and frankly insensible, turns in part to showcase the damn center ship of First and Khao. I don't think Golf's WG has taken similar turns specifically to center the GreatInn ship, per se -- I just think the writing got messy and lazy right before WG's midpoint in general, and punched a lot of the excitement I had about the show right before I paused around episode 8.

Wandee Goodday is an EXCELLENT example of how Thailand's hourlong QL dramas could be made INCREDIBLY more impactful, by way of forced editing and clarity, if Thailand could follow Japan's suit by making 10- to 12-episode series with 30-minute episodes.

The Dr. Ter storyline was over before it actually, really ended, in, what episode was that, 9 or 10. It was over! Why drag it out? In Japan, that storyline would have been two episodes, mayyybe three, MAX. Shirasu Jin was barely in Kieta Hatsukoi for an episode before he was banished. Takeda Kouhei barely made it through two episodes of Minato's Laundromat 2 before he went bye bye! We don't need these middling dudes. There was enough happening with Dee and Yak to not need this Ter shit! Sorry, LOVE YOU PODD, but Ter was made irrelevant so early on, and then they actually had to work together on a huge case?! And NOW HE'S CHEESING ON TAEM? Like, no. We don't need this.

2) There's still a lot of confusion and conflict between Dee and Yak by last week's episode 11. Dee's got issues receiving love! This is big.

(By the way. Showing Dee ONE video of his parents cheesing on him as a newborn is NOT THE WAY to explain away future parental neglect as an older child. YIKES.)

I love that Yak wants to invest in Dee, and we do see Dee doing a lot of reciprocating there to Yak, but this parental neglect reveal, along with still not knowing enough about the back story of Dee's parents dying, is out of order and not helpful to me getting enough knowledge about Dee for me to feel a holistic sympathy towards him. This makes me wonder if romance is really Golf Tanwarin's bag: if Golf didn't have to focus so much on the DeeYak/YakDee romance, could we have gotten better emotional representations of these guys, gotten a better picture of WHO THEY ARE, before they got into each other? Maybe? I dunno.

3) Considering that homophobia in systems seems to be a theme that Golf is interested in, why did the show drop Yak's concern about being out vis à vis his boxing career? Showing up at the hospital early on, in front of Ter's people, was already a big risk that wasn't given consideration; and now Dee's gone ahead and put the big pre-match smooch on full display by episode 11! I know Yak's gone full tilt for Dee, but I think we needed to put a bow on Yak's early macro-level concerns about being out for that loop to be closed.

[I feel like I have similar concerns here about 23.5 as well, so I'd like GMMTV to know (REMEMBER BAD BUDDY????) that you can have romance and big social commentary in a show at the same time without sacrificing lovely, intimate moments. Neither 23.5 nor Wandee Goodday needed to scrap heavy emotional moments for social media memeable clickbait.]

TL;DR this show, this script, could have been so good, there was so much there by way of storylines.

ANY FUCKING WAY.

PROS

1)

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS SHOW WENT HERE WITH THOR. THIS IS DISSONANCE, THIS IS CONFUSING! THIS IS MAGNIFICENT.

And the follow-up scene with the FABULOUS Fluke Nattanon. Fucking Thor. He's so good. They're so wasted in this show!

2) Great Sapol and Inn Sarin. There's a con here: the elephant pants do nothing for Great's butt. But otherwise, Great, and Inn as well, are DELIGHTS. THEY ARE GOOD ACTORS. They are wasted on this script. I hope they never work together on a GMMTV show again. If they're ever paired again (which I hope they're NOT, down with the ships), I hope they can get cast in a big ol' queer lakorn, à la JamFilm, and escape the need for the meme moments.

The thing is, about Wandee Goodday, is that if you admit you're into the show FOR THE DUDES, then I get why this show is watchable (AND IT'S WHY I'M FINISHING IT, GODDAMNIT), because the actual intimate moments ARE lovely. They're just not coherent with everything that we should know about these guys by the end of a series, and that makes me sad.

Anyway, this show ends this week, and that's it! I wish GMMTV's shop had had the WG items in stock when I was there in person; fuck these shipping fees, I want the Phadetseuk shirt so bad! If I had known this would be a kind of light and fluffy watch, I would have set my expectations WAAAYYY differently, and I would have likely had a better time watching this. As it stands now, I'm better suited to enjoy the finale, so I'm glad I got these complaints out of my system, and I'll say sayonara to all these dudes in full ogle mode later this week.