#honey i do not have the patience nor the time for that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring.

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances.

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees.

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm.

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove.

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs.

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench.

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!”

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips.

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses.

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier.

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you.

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours.

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in.

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely.

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner.

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth.

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state.

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

9K notes · View notes

babyhatesreality · 9 months

Note

Hey babes! Can you do a stucky mafia little reader where stucky and they reader are out at dinner or shopping and someone tries to attack them? The reader is ok but very shaken. 🥺

Fluff, angst, mentions of shock and doctors 🥺❤️

I love your page

Sure thing! And I love you back <3 Thank you for your patience, it means the world to me.

A/N- this is an AU outside of Katie Cat, and outside of my other series. I decided to try my hand at Dark Stucky for this one. This is a stand alone- and I'm excited to play in this sandbox for a minute, so thank you darling nonnie!

Down the Rabbit Hole

Pairing: Dark!Mafia!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: dark mafia Stucky, f! reader, severe Stockholm syndrome, Stucky both referred to as Daddy, pet names, reader is smaller than Stucky, language, an attack on all three, violence (not towards reader), shock, fear, angst, doctor talk, fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

"Mmmm," you couldn't help but say as you lingered on the last delicious bite of spaghetti. It was so rare that Steve and Bucky had a night away AND could take you out to dinner, that you'd almost forgotten what any other spaghetti other than Steve's tasted like. "It's so good."

"Good girl, you cleaned your plate. I'm proud of you," Steve said, the corner of his lip curling up in that smile that was almost a sneer, but you'd come to understand it meant he was pleased. You giggled and ducked your head, not wanting to admit that his praise in public made you feel all giddy.

"I think we should get the tiramisu to go. It's getting near your bedtime, little one," Bucky said, looking at his expensive diamond-encrusted watch. He chuckled when you pouted. "Now, now. None of that or we don't do this again." You instantly wiped the pout off your face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd actually gotten to leave the mansion for a date night with your daddies, and you weren't about to jeopardize that. Seeing the pout gone, Bucky purred. "That's better. Now let's go."

A waitress handed Steve a to-go bag with a large piece of the dessert in it as you all were heading out the door. You were surprised when you realized that neither Steve nor Bucky had paid, and couldn't help but look behind you as you all were exiting. "What's the matter, Princess?" Steve asked, taking a firm hold of your hand. "What's wrong?"

"Don't...don't we have to give monies to the people for making us food?" you whispered, a little afraid that this was going to be one of those questions that got your daddies mad when you asked it. But this was the exact opposite. Steve squeezed your hand a bit, and Bucky quickly took you other hand and kissed it as you all walked down the street to where Sam had parked the car a few blocks away.

"Look at our sweet little girl, Buck, making sure all her people are taken care of," Steve said, grinning at Bucky and then down at you. "Seems like she picked up a thing or two from the business."

"It's okay, Sweet Cheeks, Daddy and I know the people that run this place. They make us food for free, whenever we want," Bucky said, smiling down indulgently at you.

"Oh. That's nice of them!"

"Did you like going to that place?"

"It was...nice. The food was way yummy. There was lots of people there."

"Was that too many people, honey?"

"Um...it's okay. Just not used to anybody but Daddies."

"Well, how about we all go back home and it can be just Daddies again?"

"Yeah!" you cheered, relieved. It was weird being around people again- you weren't sure that you liked it. You hadn't been around that many people since your Daddies saved you from your boring life to make you their Princess. It had taken a long time, but now you couldn't live without them.

The three of you turned into an alley. Normally, it would have terrified you to walk down a place like this, but with both of your daddies holding your hands, you knew you had nothing to fear.

Suddenly, you heard a deep voice behind you. "Stay right where you are. Don't move."

Ignoring the voice's orders, both Bucky and Steve whipped around instantly. Steve forcefully shoved you behind him. Afraid, you buried your face in the back of his jacket and tried not to make a sound. As you did when you were home and their work people came over, you stayed silent, like a good girl does.

"Give me your wallets and no one gets hurt," the voice said, low and gruff. Bucky let out a bark of a laugh as Steve stepped forward.

"Oh, son. You have no idea what you've just done, do you?" Steve said lightly, but you could hear the undercurrent of violence in his tone. You felt Steve's arms shove aside his jacket lapels, but the next thing you knew, Bucky had you up against the brick wall of the alleyway. Everything got really loud really fast. You turned your head in terror to make sure Steve was okay, but Bucky forcefully grabbed your chin in his hand and made you look at him.

"Eyes on me, Princess," he commanded, and you obeyed instantly. "Good girl. You remember our codes?"

"Y-yes, Daddy."

"Good girl. Rabbit hole. Quick like a bunny. Go." He let your chin go and stepped towards Steve, leaving you alone with your orders.

After Steve and Bucky had rescued you and you'd grown accustomed to this new life, they had drilled code words into you in case of situations like this. "Rabbit Hole" and "Quick like a bunny" were codes for find a place to hide as fast as you can, and don't move until they come to get you.

You looked for a safe hiding space, just like Steve had taught you to, and found a slight notch in the brickwork of the alley- just large enough to hold a dumpster. You ran into it as fast as you could, squeezing yourself in between the dumpster and the wall. You huddled down, hands over your ears and eyes squeezed shut, pretending you were a rabbit in a hole, just like they taught you. Your hands over your ears mostly muffled the shouts, the grunts, and the loud bang. Then everything was silent.

After a couple minutes, you felt three taps on your arm. You opened your eyes to see Bucky kneeling in front of you, smiling. You peeled your hands from your ears just in time to hear him say "Good girl."

You flung yourself into his arms, sobbing and scared. He picked you up, balancing you on his hip, as you cried into his shoulder. He gently kissed the top of your head before pulling his phone out and making a call. Less than a minute later, Sam came barreling into the alley. Without a word, Bucky passed you to him and walked towards Steve.

You started crying even more hysterically. "No, Daddy, please don't go!" you wailed, trying to stretch out of Sam's arms to get to them.

"Hey," Steve's voice cut in sternly. You instantly stopped squirming, knowing better than to push Steve when he was angry. Seeing that you were behaving the way he wanted you to, Steve turned his attention back to what was left of the would be attacker. Sam pressed your face into his shoulder so you wouldn't look, and you stayed right there, unable to control your trembling.

A couple phone calls later and the situation was resolved. Your cries had quieted to occasional hiccups, but you were trying your hardest to be quiet and good, just like they wanted you to be. When you felt Steve's strong hands lift you out of Sam's arms though, you turned with lightning speed and latched onto him.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay, Princess, Daddy is here now," he said in a much softer and more soothing voice that before. You sniffled a little.

"Daddy?" you whispered, looking up at him. He smiled softly at you.

"Hey there, Princess," he said, rubbing his nose against yours. You sighed in relief, and returned the butterfly kiss, before turning your head to look for Bucky. You didn't have to look far- Bucky was right behind Steve, smiling from ear to ear at you.

"Princess, tell Daddy what you just did," Bucky said proudly, lightly punching Steve in the back to get him to listen up.

"Runned to be a rabbit in a hole, like Daddy said to," you explained carefully, wanting to make sure you didn't mess it up. Steve's smug smile grew.

"Yeah? You were in a rabbit hole like Daddy told you to be?" Steve said proudly. "Well, how about that. You must have been a very brave little girl to be such a good bunny when the mean man came." At the mention of the attacker, you began to shake again.

"Shh, it's okay Sweet Cheeks, we're here and the bad man is gone. He didn't hurt us and he can't hurt you," Bucky crooned softly, stroking your cheek with his finger. But you couldn't stop shaking.

"Boss, you want me to call the doctor to come check her out?" Sam asked gruffly, seeing you beginning to tremble again.

"No! No doctor!" you whimpered before burying yourself in Steve's shoulder. You heard a smack and turned your head to see Sam holding the back of his head and looking annoyed, while Bucky stood next to him, fuming.

"Idiot, you know she hates doctors," Bucky hissed at their second in command.

"Sorry, sorry," Sam apologized, before looking at you. "Sorry, Princess."

"Is okay, Sammy. Thank you for...for helping me." You didn't really want to thank Sam for holding you back while your daddies were taking care of their business, but Steve and Bucky were very strict about manners and you knew they would want you to thank Sam. You were rewarded with kisses from the both of them, on either side of your head.

"Good manners, Princess," Steve whispered. "Come on. Let's go home. And see? Daddy didn't even let the bad man get our dessert. Let's go watch a movie and eat it before bed, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy."

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go out to dinner, hm?"

"I'll do anything you want, as long as I can stay with you and Daddy forever."

"Good girl. That's what we want to hear."

#daddy!bucky #daddy bucky #daddy stucky #daddy!stucky #daddy!steve #daddy steve #daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy stucky x little reader #mafia!stucky #mafia!stucky x little reader #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy bucky x little reader

735 notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 5 months

Text

I Did it for You | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You love your children but they will always be the reminder... Pairing: fem!reader x Father in Law Jungkook Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: Yädere, suggestive and explicit language, reminders of infidelity. a/n: Okayyy here's the epilogue of the original story Do it for Him and Part two Do it for Us requested by the lovely @coralmusicblaze I hope you all enjoy the ending and thank you thank you thank you for all the love!

6 years later...

"Baby slow down!" I yell after my daughter, scared she'll hurt herself. "It's okay, she'll learn" my husband says coming up behind me wrapping one of his arms around my waist while we watch our daughter play with the family dog. "I know, but I hate watching her cry. I just wish I could protect her from everything and everyone" I say turning around to look up at him but catch his father watching our interaction from across the yard first before quickly doing what I had intended.

"I know, I do too" he says brushing the hair off of my forehead and placing a feather light kiss on it, holding both sides of my face and pulling away to look deep into my eyes. "Are you okay? You seem a bit more on edge today. Is it the baby?" he questions, hand gently caressing my stomach, now just starting to show. "Maybe but don't worry, I'm not in any pain" I say giving him a soft smile. "You better take better care of your mommy sir" he says now leaning down, eye level with my little bump.

"Honey please, they'll start staring" I say feeling flustered with his actions and urging him to stand up. "So what? I'm trying to discipline my son" he says with a fake angry face making me laugh out loud. "I just want you to be okay. After the beautiful daughter you've given me I couldn't imagine being more in love with you. And now, your body is going through it all over again to give us a son. I just want you to know how incredible you are, and how much you mean to me" he says and I break eye contact, feeling that same wave of guilt wash over me as it does time and time again.

"You mean the world to me" I say after I look away for a second, now gazing into his eyes again with mine glossing over, overcome with the devastation I feel for my past actions. "Baby are you okay?" he says, face now full of concern. "It's okay I'm fine, it's probably just these damn hormones. I'm going to go freshen up inside" I say giving him a quick kiss and making my way back into the house to take a second to collect myself.

Once inside I find myself being pulled aside instead, away from prying eyes, looking up to see the one man that I wish I could never see again. "Are you okay Pretty? I saw that you were crying out there" he says brushing the hair out of my face, just like my husband had done moments before.

"I'm fine" I say pulling back out of his grasp and making moves to leave but he grabs me by my wrist and pulls me back to him, to which I decide to surrender, knowing thats there's not much he could do to me in this setting even if he wanted to.

"How are you liking the party? I wanted to make sure that our daughter has an amazing 5th birthday". "My daughter" I spit out at him, throwing up my defenses immediately, not having the desire nor the patience to deal with this today.

"Our daughter. Or would you rather me tell my son that she's actually mine?" he threatens, raising a brow at me. I take a deep breath conceding to the one request he always has, referring to her as 'our' daughter in private. "The party is fine. She loves it and that's all that matters to me. Now if you'll excuse me" I say trying to leave but being pulled back once more.

"How is our son doing?" he questions, caressing my bump in a more provocative way than my husband had just done. "He's fine" I say grabbing his wrist and shoving it off of me and thankfully he keeps his hands to himself this time. "Is he healthy? Have you been taking care of yourself?" he questions as if he actually cares. "I told you he's fine and my wellbeing is none of your concern, it's my husband's" I say finally walking away, with him giving up on talking to me any further.

I had hoped to avoid him at all costs today but unfortunately he always wants to speak to me, and takes every chance he can to do so. As if my children are not enough of a reminder of my infidelity, he decides I need to always have it thrown in my face since, to my knowledge we are the only ones that know, and I need to keep it that way. I can't lose him, I can't lose my husband. I know day in and day out I'm digging myself deeper and deeper into this mess, him unknowingly raising his sister, thinking she's our daughter and soon will raise his brother the same way.

Every time she calls my husband dad or daddy I feel my heart break for her. If only she knew what a horrible man her true father is. The one I let manipulate me into having her and doing it all over again, guilting me into trying for a son so we can properly 'continue the family line' even though nothing about this could ever be described as proper. If I could turn back time I never would have called him back, or told him he could come over to 'talk' or play into his twisted games.

I wish I would've been stronger, more sound of mind. But I was vulnerable, and he took advantage of that. The thought of never being able to have children with the man I love breaking my heart, the disappointment on his face when all of the tests came back negative, the stress his family had placed on his shoulder.

If I could take that away from him I would, but not like this. I would've waited for the doctor, I would've waited to get more than a few months worth of treatment and tried time and time again instead of living this lie.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look what grandpa got me!" my little one calls out to me, her eyes twinkling with her own little galaxy shining through them. I wish they brought me joy, I really truly wish they did, but they remind me of her father. "Yes baby? What did he get you?" I say when she grabs my hand, dragging me along to the garage to show me the pink and purple big wheel bike. Her favorite colors...

"What do you say sweetie?" I say smiling down at her, doing my best to act accordingly when she's around. "Thank you grandpa Jeon!" she says and sits down, twisting and turning the handle bars. "Of course love. After all, I did it for you" he says, looking down at her lovingly before bringing his vision back to me, giving me a disgusting knowing smile that makes my stomach twist and turn, leaving me swallowing down the bile that I can feel rising in my throat.

"Baby are you alright?" I hear my husband say after entering the garage, rushing over to me, steading me on my feet. "I- yes I'm fine" I say clearing my throat, trying to cover how faint I started to feel. "No you're not, come on we're going back inside" he says lovingly, not believing the brave act I had tried to put on, holding my hand and wrapping his arm around me, taking a few steps to make our way back inside.

"Daddy! Look look!" our daughter squeals in excitement when she see him. "Wow baby that's so cool!" he says giving her a bright smile, trying not to brush her off while also tending to me. "Daddy can you come and watch me ride it?" she asks hoping to keep him here.

"It's okay honey I'm here, I'll watch you. He's gotta go take care of Mommy, he'll come watch you later" My father in law says. "Oh okay. Mommy are you okay?" she asks with her doe eyes, showing concern and confusion. "Yes baby don't worry I'll be fine. Go play with Grandpa okay? We'll be back later" I say and give him one last glare, daring him to 'slip up' in front of her.

"Okay Mommy, feel better" she says before turning back in her seat, waiting patiently for the okay to start peddling down the driveway. "Yeah, take care of yourself and our little baby boy on the way" he says giving us a genuine smile for my husbands sake, making me falter again, hating that again he's reminded me who my children belong to.

"Come on Darling we're already half way there, let me take care of you" my husband says and I gag, my body jolting forward with the sheer force of it, gaining the strongest flashbacks of the time his father had told me that. The night I broke our vows...

The End.

Tag list: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @goddesofimortality @kaitieskidmore97 @bangtans-momma @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @xumyboo @snehal @rainfprest @mindurbuzznezz @mystikat

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or comment below to be added :)

#fanfic #kpop #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jungkook and reader #jungkook and you #jungkook yandere #tw yandere #yandere

351 notes · View notes

buckyysdoll · 1 year

Text

— 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 —

જ⁀➴ — summary: while you + your husband just want to stay warm in your bed, duty calls once again; a/n: i actually really love this one and hope you lovelies do, too!; cw: explicit mentions of sex, canon-typical assassins, soft!bucky; pairing: bucky x f!reader, fatws era

MAIN MASTERLIST

The first sound you hear in the morning is a low moan that rises from the depths of a throat, and so too does the arm around your waist tighten slightly in the slow, drawn-out waking from sleep. A shock of dark hair buries further in your neck from behind, as if taking in your scent.

It sounds again, that quiet complaint, a lighter note than what comes through beneath. You can’t make out its origin but nor do you care; you hear only those moans.

Breath still warm from sleep in the furrow of your neck, its join to the shoulder; the closeness of two loved bodies still naked from a night — and dawned morning — of sex.

This is all that you care for — all that takes your thoughts as your stir. What you know is the smell of the man that you love as he makes his sleep-guided protests.

For you hear it now quite plainly as your eyes part on the room; an obnoxiously loud, deep knocking on your wooden apartment front door. Worse still is how it is coupled with the sound of a voice growing further irate, and one that you thought inconsiderate when taking in the hour.

It was just six a.m.

But Sam Wilson wasn’t known for his patience — not when it came to you and your husband. His voice rang out through the walls as you sighed and ignored him, curling more against Bucky. “You guys, will you get your damn asses out of bed?” Clearly, he was wasting no time.

You groaned, hating him for that moment alone, and despising how this time was cut short. You knew this was part of the life that you lived, but today? Did it have to be now? If you turned in those arms that you loved so well, you knew you wouldn’t get up from this bed.

Frankly, these slow days spent undressed and flush against him were the best ones, and his sleepy smile most precious.

He clearly agreed.

Because as you lifted his hand from your waist between yours and raised it to your lips for a kiss, he once again made that low sound — though this time much deeper, a deliberate message. And so it was with aching regret that your smile spread wider, just adoring this man, but still then pulled his hand to the side of the bed, and detached yourself from underneath it.

“M’ not letting you go, you gotta stay.” The words were spoken muffled into pillows, yet you heard them. Knew well enough each nuance of his voice. All it took was his lips at the back of your nape and you were plaint once more in his warmth, and you could swear that you didn’t want anything then as much as just to hold him, and be held. Soon as that, his arm had come up where it was and re-settled, more embracing than before. It was his arm of skin and bone and yet you couldn’t hope to move it, didn’t want to as you huffed a laugh and kissed its side instead.

“Honey, i’m gonna have to get the door,” you murmured quietly, entwining your fingers once more between his and laying it back flush against your stomach. You made no move to get up despite the words you’d just admitted, and despite how Sam’s incessant knocking was only increasing in volume.

At that you spared a brief thought to the mostly old residents of your apartment complex — neighbours of your building who now surely hated the couple at no. 16.

So you yelled out an answer of ‘I’m coming!’, and resigned yourself to just another morning up early. And this time, when you managed to disentangle yourself from Bucky, you laughed as you fumbled away from his reached out attempt to snag your waist back to his side.

You managed to climb up off the bed, yet you still turned back for one lasting kiss.

You couldn’t resist it.

It was always like this, every morning: he stole one more kiss and you let him each time. Only now it wasn’t a blaring alarm you awoke to, like you used to on missions; instead it was the tones of a man gone beyond waiting, and surely only moments away from coming through the goddamn window.

Still, now you just couldn’t care for the world and the demands it would make of your husband, nor for the asks it would claim in due penance for you to atone for your great many sins.

You knew if it was truly urgent then Sam’s tone wouldn’t have been so cranky as it was. Both you and Buck knew your fellow Avenger well enough to know that his old, familiar crabbiness was casual.

So why not let him wait and damn well cook?

And it came to be that you drew out this one sole moment, and you cherished soft lips on your own — familiar lips, more so than your name. They were the same of which you’d given yourself to over and again so gladly, making up years across which you’d spent loving with your heart the very man they belonged to. His hands, too, those that had known and loved each inch of your body, soon found your waist; found each place they could touch as he deepened the kiss — made it lasting, brought heat.

Throughout those seconds that finished too soon, Bucky’s head had reared up from his pillow; eager to pin you beneath him again as you’d spent so many hours last night. As such, he had leant up on his elbows for whatever more access it could grant him to hold you, and as you kissed him you wondered how on earth it got this good; how on earth you were supposed to resist him.

God damn the gorgeous man who wanted to love you all over again, who wanted to say fuck off to the world and have his girl on her back, wanting more. “Cmon, won’t you just come back to bed with me, baby?” he spoke against your lips, voice all breath. Such was the nature of your marriage that these first morning kisses never struck you as gross.

Indeed, it was almost enough to persuade you to ring Sam and ask what he wanted, as your husband’s tongue made a slow show of re-learning your mouth, as his kiss grew more thorough. It was as if he hadn’t had it coaxing out cries from your lips all night long and just hours ago; like he hadn’t been using that mouth to show you just how much he thought his wife to be worth worshipping.

You swore to yourself again and again that you didn’t care just what Sam Wilson wanted; there was Bucky, there was you, there was the night you’d spent in love. There was the cold metal kiss of your husband’s wedding band as it met the warm skin of your waist.

But nor was it in your nature to ignore the very man who had become so like a loved one to you both. In truth, you’d formed a trio that no breadth of years could break, and you knew as well as Bucky did that yes — you’d go to the door.

And so, you did think as you made to get up, that it was almost as if your husband forgot that he alone was not your flat’s great assassin. That for all of what he thought were sly manoeuvres, you could match them. You knew each tell and movement of his body.

When you pulled back he groaned against your mouth once again, though now relented as he watched you retreat. Your eyebrows raised, amused, to see his slowly spreading smile — the look so self-satisfied and male that you knew just exactly where his filthy thoughts had gone to.

It was precisely the place where — if you were honest — your thoughts had not strayed far from all morning.

But now there was no time to indulge them as you let out a laugh so like music to his ears, and swung your legs over the bed at long last and began to search in vain for some clothes.

From sex you were still naked, and so made to grab a sheet to wrap around you. Better still would’ve been Bucky’s shirt or yours, though where they’d been thrown and discarded in your haste for skin on skin was unknown, and you did lack the time to look. So as you fumbled for anything to cover up your modesty — though relished the thought of Sam’s expression if you didn’t when you opened the door — you settled on the sheet with little options remaining, braving the journey from bed.

You left Bucky to his low-toned mumblings as your feet struck bare on the hardwood floor, cursing the shock of the cold and your lack of foresight to have donned your warm woollen socks. Still, it wasn’t as though you could concentrate on much else than the presence outside, and you thought to yourself as you made to the hall that you and Bucky really were out of practice.

Neither one of you had been an active Avenger for the past couple of months, instead testing out this new life. Sam alone continued with the legacy of Captain America while all that you and Bucky prioritised was making up for so many years of lost time. No doubt that was why you now found it so hard to rally your strength, and not only for the fact that your legs were still weak from last night.

Too weak for Bucky’s ego, it would seem.

For it was something that your husband hadn’t failed to notice as you’d stood from your bed just now, his evident pride in a smirk on his face as you threw a one-fingered gesture over your shoulder in response.

You guessed that with so many days spent now together — just like this in your shared home, and sharing love — you were somewhat retired. Yet here Sam was — that early bird — standing just the other side of lacquered wood.

You opened the door on his disgruntled face, smiling sweetly in the small reach of the space. You’d only unlatched the lock but kept the chain in place across, keeping a distance between the two of you as you looked on his deep, furrowed brow. “Good morning,” you offered as you swallowed your mirth, hearing footsteps sounding lightly from your bedroom.

By that alone, God damn your heart for leaping as per always, beating harder just alone from knowing how he shared your space.

But as Sam started off again with an “I swear if you don’t get —” you hastily re-closed the door for a moment to unlatch the chain and pull it open wide.

“Yeah yeah we get it, Wilson, you’re gonna whoop our asses, whatever.” You stood by as he strode through the door, his Falcon wings — though folded — still obtrusive in the space. The apartment you shared with your husband was modest, but enough for two ex-assassins used to cells.

This, by that contrast, was comparative luxury.

And more than that, it was peace. It was life beyond the war and had been years of needed quiet. Or at the very least it had been until oversized birds found it prudent to intrude.

With a brief glance behind at the empty hall and stairwell, you shut the door right after him and re-locked all its bolts. Yes, you may’ve been safe here but you were an assassin; old habits died hard.

“Are you even gonna tell us what you’re here for?” you then thought to ask, hearing Bucky’s choice words coming from the bedroom. The old, small smile that found you was the one he always brought, as the telltale sounds of his cursing revealed that he too was in search for lost clothes.

And you were cold in your sheet.

Indeed, on you voicing the question, it seemed only then Sam noticed you stood practically naked. This was the first time he had looked your way, and you battled with the impulse of teasing.

Because for sure, his eyes had widened and a faint blush had crept up his neck, further darkening the skin of his face that had always been handsome, you knew. Sam fumbled for a response but seemed to find none that would save him, though right then Bucky emerged in the doorway to your bedroom, standing shirtless and looking damn well good for it.

That smile birthed anew.

You supposed meanwhile that you looked a mess with your hair so tangled about you, mussed up as it had been by those hands that you ached for even still, these hours later. It seemed that no matter how many rounds you went, you wanted more of him — all of him — again. And so now, with last night’s makeup smeared around your eyes and lips, it was no secret that the two of you had had a busy night.

And at that, a busy morning too when neither one of you had wanted to stop.

It was then that you caught the first glimpse of your face in reflection in the mirror of your hall, having simply not worried to check yourself before padding out to the front door. Now though, you saw how your neck was so peppered in marks where Bucky’s mouth had been on you; where he had wanted to make himself known on your body in the throes of such passion you’d shared.

Heat pooled between your legs at the thought, and you had at least the good grace to blush. But as you moved out into the living room in wake of Sam’s progression, you touched a self-conscious hand to your skin. It did nothing for the place your mind strayed to; still, you now relived the feel of him.

You and Bucky alone knew how much further those marks travelled — knew they grouped at the curve of your breasts and down to your stomach, growing sparse from there on. Precisely why that was, as well, you both kept to yourselves; how the need had overtook and then centred his mouth on parts of you much harder to bruise.

Parts that now were remembering well how his tongue had felt bringing release.

God, once you got him to yourself once again you’d be paying him back for the ache.

Frankly, it was a blessing that Sam didn’t have the super soldier senses you did. Both you and Bucky were loath to think of just how much worse it could’ve been; of how much more deeply indignant Sam’s sounds of complaint would be then, as to now.

The whole apartment — you both — just spelt out sex. Blatant sex.

“Sam, are you eyeing up my wife?” Bucky leant against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow cocked up on the same side that one corner of his mouth had turned up in wry humour.

Sam’s head snapped to him, and he let out a groan. “Oh, man — you too? You guys are nasty.”

Because as he stood there in the rays of the sun so newly risen that were coming through your slatted window blinds, you saw twin marks all along Bucky’s neck that matched your own — saw them going further down his chest.

Purple marks — clear love bites — pinched his fairer skin to bruised, light in places where your teeth alone had dragged, deeper still where you’d sucked.

Neither one of you now had the presence to look or feel ashamed. It just wasn’t true, and any embarrassment you’d felt had diminished with the shadows on his skin.

In fact, as your eyes appraised your recent handiwork, you felt stirrings much more deliberately south than of shame. And warmer, too.

Loving him was easier than breathing and you missed him even as you stood just feet away.

So clutching the sheet to your body despite how it dwarfed your height trailing behind, you crept in a weighed down shuffle to your husband’s bare side, sidling into his hold. In an instant, his arm settled firm on your waist, now in company just like as in private.

“Sam we’re not nasty, we’re married.” You tried to appease him, just rolling your eyes.

“Yeah right,” he relented in that sarcastic tone, and you shook with your restraint against laughing.

It was precisely the relationship the three of you had for him to be like this, to tease you this way. And God bless his heart, but you loved him — and knew Bucky cared for him just the same, too.

With his name in your head all over again, thoughts of last night played out in a montage. It moved in rapid fire but you stamped it out right then, pressing a kiss to his chest as you turned your head just so, to the side and to his skin. Right now wasn’t the time to get once again desperate for your husband to fuck you, though it was hard to remember that fact when you looked down upon him at what he was wearing.

It was now that you noticed up close — and with Sam no longer standing between you — that he stood in only black sweatpants, those you’d just bought and loved getting him out of.

Seriously, you needed to be physically restrained. Your cheeks were heating fever-white in a blush, beyond dignity’s hope.

Your eyes closed lightly and a hum moved past your lips as that good warmth once again found you, though this time again from the slanted light that managed to come in through the blinds. It did little to dismiss the growing ache of your arousal, but you knew that whatever news Sam had now brought would mean all hope of lazy Sundays postponed.

Bucky’s arm tightened its hold for a moment in affection and you gave a squeeze back, laying a hand to the small of his back and then moving on past him to the bedroom, to get ready.

You sifted through drawers looking for clothes to put on that were suitable, though for what you didn’t know. And so it was then that Bucky asked that fatal question: Why. Asked for what you’d both been drawn awake and out of effectual retirement.

“So what exactly did you get us out of bed for? I hope for your sake it was worth it.” And though his tone was light you knew he too played back last night, seeing how that sun had played upon your skin from underneath him; how your lips had left red stains where they’d traversed his chest, lower still to his waistband …

Shower water ran hot for you both as you came back into the room, eyes moving between them from one to the other, not landing until either of them spoke. You’d heard each word of their pointed conversation; read the ones that went unsaid between the lines.

Sam hadn’t answered the question.

He saw you both so happy and he hated to disrupt it.

And so your stomach dipped this time in a much different way than to earlier, and with a feeling so much less of pleasure as Sam pursed his lips and said, “It would be better if I showed you.”

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

506 notes · View notes

rookthorne · 4 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐎𝐡, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥

The love that Bucky and you shared was unparalleled, unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was a joy to witness and be a part of the tender side of the otherwise ruthless and effective Mafia King. And on that day, it was no different — playing your cherished role had never been so fulfilling.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♕ Alpha!Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Omega!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ♕ 1.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ♕ Tooth rotting fluff, mention of collaring, scenting

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ♕ I think this is one of my most favourite moodboards I have ever made.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ♕ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Snow had blanketed the whole of New York city in the blink of an eye.

The change had been swift. Flakes and flurries landed in heaps along the sills of Bucky’s penthouse windows, and you watched them dance in the morning sun while cupping a warm drink in your hands.

Cushions enveloped you on your favourite egg chair, each one fluffier than the one next to it. A shawl was wrapped around your shoulders, the row upon row of knitted squares filling you with an immense sense of warmth and contentment.

Another blanket, the one Bucky handed you before he left to make breakfast, lay over your lap. The softness of it brushed against the skin of your thighs, and you moved to hold your mug with one hand to brush the palm of your other over the plush material.

It was your favourite colour; a present from Bucky in the beginning of your relationship for when you missed his warmth during the long nights in his absence.

Quiet footsteps sounded just out of the doorway to the bedroom, and you looked up from the blanket and over your shoulder. Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in his favourite set of loungewear in no other colour than his trademark: black.

“Hey there; my Bunny, my honey baby,” he purred, walking close. He held a steaming mug in his right hand, while his left stroked over your hair and down your shoulder, over the fabric. “How are you feeling, little one?”

You sighed happily and watched as he took the couch opposite you. “Good—feeling good, if only a little cold. How ‘bout you?”

Bucky grinned. “Doing good, baby.” He sipped at the steaming liquid, and settled back against the back of his own chair. “What did you want to do today? I only have a little bit of work to do,” he explained, gesturing towards his laptop that sat on his bedside drawers. “But I can do that in the study.”

“Why don’t we stay in today?” you asked, tilting your head. “I miss you.”

“Oh, baby,” Bucky cooed, and he sat forward. “We can stay in, ‘mega. Actually–” His long, dark hair fell forwards over his shoulders as he reached out towards the underside of the coffee table between your seats. “Where is it– Ah.”

“What are–”

“Hang on, patience, little one,” he teased, and he sat up with a grunt. “I got this for you—here.” A pale pink package, wrapped in a pearl sheen ribbon, was held outstretched in his steady hand.

“What is it?” you asked, shuffling forward to grab the package from his hands. “It’s not Christmas yet…”

“I know.” The cushions of the seat he settled on shuffled as he scooted back to sit comfortably, and he watched you with a soft, tender smile on his lips. His eyes were bright in the yellow morning sun; sparkling with adoration. “I just wanted to treat my Bunny.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You always treat me; treat me like a princess. I am just interested in what you could have thought of this time.”

A deep chuckle shook Bucky’s chest, and he put down his mug in favour of running his hands through his hair.

Unable to wait in suspense any longer, you placed your own mug down on the table and put the package on your lap. It was not the biggest you had ever seen, nor been given by Bucky, but it felt solid — the contents weighty rather than light.

“Open it, honey,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “You’re adorable when you try to work things out, but just open it so you can see.”

“Fine, fine,” you huffed, reaching for the ribbon. The scratchy material came away with a small tug, and the shine of the pearlescent white glowed prettily in the morning light. “I love this.”

“I’ll get you a collar with that same colour then, baby,” Bucky offered, and you glanced up at him sharply, disbelieving. “What? I want to treat you.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, blinking slowly. “I love it, but–”

“But nothing,” he interrupted. “You will learn eventually that I will give you everything your heart desires and wants, no matter the price tag. It’s the perk of being the head of the Mafia, honey.”

“Yeah, well,” you mumbled, furrowing your brows. “I’m still getting used to that.”

Bucky didn’t respond to that statement, so you gently lifted the lid of the package to reveal a layer of pink tissue paper. It crinkled as you ran your fingers over it, fascinated by the swirls of darker pigments, and with a hitch of breath, you pulled the paper back to reveal the contents. The hitch in your chest turned into a choked gasp. “What–!”

Pale pink fabric was folded neatly in the box, and you spied the collar of what you thought was a sweater. A headband, with fluffy, pink bunny ears sewn onto the top of it, was placed at the bottom of the box; the one singular folded ear giving it a playful, cheeky characteristic.

“I thought– Well, I thought you would love having another soft thing to sleep in, or just be comfortable in,” Bucky explained needlessly, his voice just above a whisper. “I know you love soft things, honey baby. I saw that and I knew it was perfect for you.”

Excited beyond restraint, you flew to your feet and a soft gasp fell from your lips as you pulled the sweater over your head; the softness of the woollen cable was unlike anything you had ever felt before. There was a thin, embossed pattern of a bunny on the front of the sweater, and it wore a small Santa hat on top of its head — the fluffiness of its fur was obvious even in the flawless stitching.

“Fuckin’ adorable, Bunny,” Bucky said, awestruck. “That was worth the wait. My God, you’re beautiful.”

Instinct took over, and you rushed forward, barely giving Bucky a second's notice before you landed in his lap, straddling it as you threw your arms around his neck. “Oof– Fuck! Honey, bit’a warnin’ next time?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you whispered, pushing your forehead into the side of Bucky’s neck. “Jus’ wanted to say thank you, alpha.”

A rumbling purr started in Bucky’s chest at your words, and he wrapped his arms around your waist and shoulders, cupping the back of your head with one hand to force you closer to his neck. “It’s okay, it’s okay, baby. Jus’ stay there, stay close to me.” His cheek settled on the crown of your head just as he started to rub up and down your back. “Fuck, you’re so cute like this. Hang on, sit up for me.”

You sat back on his thighs, though you longed to be tucked up to his neck again. “What is it?”

“Wait,” he said quietly, and he reached past you to something that had fallen onto the floor. “You’re missin’ something. Here.” The ears, pale pink and cute as a button, appeared in Bucky’s hands. He reached up and placed the headband over your head, and he fiddled with your hair to make sure it was comfortable. “There you go, honey baby.”

Soft giggles fell from your lips as you reached up to touch the soft ears yourself, and Bucky’s hands came to a rest on your hip and thigh respectively. “They are perfect,” you breathed, staring into his bright eyes. “Thank you.”

“A’course, ‘mega.” Heat crept up your neck as Bucky continued to stare at you, his eyes greedily drinking in every last detail of your face and new sweater. “I can call you my little snow Bunny now, huh? All fluffy, soft, an’ cute.”

“You are such a sap,” you murmured, tucking your chin to your chest in the sudden surge of shyness.

“If you’re gonna call me a sap for lovin’ on my girl, then yeah,” Bucky said, leaning forward and reaching up with his index finger to guide your chin back up, so he could look into your eyes once more; his stare was intense and overwhelming. “I’m the biggest fuckin’ sap that ever lived, my little snow Bunny.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #MB #rookthorne's works

183 notes · View notes

shadowlali · 4 months

Note

Lali🖤

That fic you did for the anon with Ranch Owner Ale x Pastors Daughter needs a pt2 P L E A S E, it was so juicy!!

Consider giving them a Ale Vargas Jr in the oven and then the parents have to find out 👀 [can you tell i enjoy the drama??]

Honestly even if you don't make a Pt2, I just wanted to say that every fic you put out is so top tier. Your style and creativity is one of my favorites here. Despite your school schedule which I'm sure is harcore since Organic Chemistry is no joke, you're always posting banger - book quality fics for us for *𝐅 𝐑 𝐄 𝐄*.

Thank you for your existence and efforts 🖤 You are so appreciated.

pastor's daughter - part 2

COD AU - Rancher!Alejandro Vargas x pastor's daughter!reader

[18+] wc: ~4.1 k masterlist part 1

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance, angry dad/somewhat difficult family dynamics, talks about raising a child, allusions to a HEA, pet names (mami, nena, traviesa), fingering, unprotected sex a/n: my amazing, lovely mutual 💖! you sent this request in so long ago and i have finally finished it. thank you for your patience and sweet words. i hope you enjoy 🖤 to the anon who sent in another ale x reader pregnancy request, don't worry i am working on it! 🤍

No matter how long you stare at the white stick, the two little lines stay the same. You flip it over in your hand, thinking that maybe it's a joke, maybe a little message will appear that says “just kidding!” But it doesn’t, and the little pink lines stay the same. You throw it on the counter, landing it right on top of the three other tests you took which have the same conclusion: you’re pregnant.

Your head spins from the idea, or more so the fact that you are indeed pregnant, carrying a child, and you’re possibly going to be a mother. Your hands grip the counter as the panic sets in, the room suddenly spinning. It’s not like you were careful, you just really didn’t think it would happen from just one time.

You think about telling your mom, but you’re terrified at her reaction. You sure as hell won’t tell your dad, the town’s pastor. You have absolutely no idea what he’ll do especially if he finds out who the father of your baby is. The pastor’s daughter knocked up by the wealthy ranch owner is sure to cause a scandal.

There is only one person who you have to tell, and it's Alejandro. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. He set up his contact information weeks ago when you two… unexpectedly made a baby in his home? You haven’t seen him since, too busy with church events to find the time to escape your parents’ grasp.

“Honey?” your mom calls from outside the bathroom door, ”are you okay?”

“Ye–yeah, I’m almost out.”

You hear her footsteps continue to the living room and you decide to text Alejandro.

You: Hi, are you busy? Can I see you?

Sent at 9:28 A.M.

Alejandro Vargas: No, I’m not busy. Si hermosa, do you want me to pick you up? Where are you? [Yes, beautiful]

Sent at 9:29 A.M.

You: I’ll meet you at the café parking lot. In the back.

Sent at 9:30 A.M.

Alejandro: I’ll be there soon.

Sent at 9:30 A.M.

You quickly hide the pregnancy tests, placing one in your pocket before washing your hands. With your purse in hand, you quickly yell out I'm meeting a friend for bible study, to your mom before she asks anymore questions. The walk to the cafe only takes 10 minutes and by the time you get there, Alejandro’s truck is in the back lot.

As you approach, he gets out of the driver’s side and walks to the passenger’s, opening the door for you. Looking around, you find the coast clear and rush to hug him. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm, his fresh cologne filling your senses.

“¿Qué pasa, nena?” [What’s wrong, my girl?]

You sniffle, tears filling your waterline. “We need to talk, Ale. Somewhere private.”

He nods, helping you into his truck then getting in through the driver’s side. The ride to his ranch is quiet, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. Alejandro turns to look at you periodically, but your forehead is kept pressed on the cool glass of the passenger window.

“Are you alone?” you ask as his ranch comes into view.

“There’s no one else here, nena. Don’t worry.”

He helps you off the truck and leads the way into the house. You see the same couch where you were bent over a few weeks ago. It causes a flutter in your lower tummy, but you push it down, the topic of conversation is too important to be turned on right now. He sits on the opposite couch, patting the space next to him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Your dad isn’t here with a rifle pointed at my head,” he laughs to lighten the mood, ”so I assume he hasn’t found out–”

“I’m pregnant. I took four home tests and they all came out positive,” you interrupt him in a jumble of words, giving him the test.

His eyes widen, glancing down at the pregnancy test before taking it in his hand. Alejandro focuses on the two little lines, taking a deep breath and placing it on the coffee table.

“Okay–that’s okay, what are we–,” he stutters, dragging a hand over his beard, ”what do you need me to do? What do you need, do you want to tell your parents together? Do you want me to take you to a gynecologist appointment in the next town? Are we–are you keeping the baby? Just tell me what and I’ll do whatever you need.”

Alejandro’s words come out fast, the expression on his face seemingly only a little scared. You shake your head, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I don’t know what I want yet,” you whisper, ”right now, just a hug. Please.”

“Of course, hermosa. Come here,” he says while pulling you in closer.

He strokes your back while your tears silently fall. While you sit there, wrapped in Alejandro’s arms, with his cologne in your nose, you wonder what it would be like to be a mom.

Of course you feel like you aren’t ready… but what if you are? Maybe it would be wonderful to have a tiny human that you can love and cherish. You’ve always thought that this would happen much later in life, but the opportunity is here now. And Alejandro seems ready to support whatever decision you make.

“What if–,” you start, ”what if we keep the baby?”

He cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Then we’ll raise a baby, together.”

“Are you sure? You won’t leave me–”

“No,” he says firmly, ”it took two of us to make this baby. It’s going to take two of us to raise them.”

The look in his eyes is serious. Absolutely no doubt, resolute in his beliefs.

“Believe me, hermosa,” he whispers, ”you’re not alone in this. I’ll go right now and tell your parents that we’re expecting.”

You place a light kiss on his mouth, sinking your fingers in his thick hair. He returns it, cradling the back of your skull and running his thumb on your cheek.

“I think,” you say as you pull back, ”I should be the one to tell them. It’s going to be a shock to them and it’s best if I do it alone.”

It takes a lot of convincing for Alejandro to take you back home. He’s visibly nervous and does not like the idea of you giving them the news alone. This is my responsibility too, hermosa. A real man would show up.

But, you have no idea how they'll react with him there. So after much persuasion, Alejandro drops you off at home, reminding you to call him the moment the conversation finishes.

After a few more okay, one more kiss, you hop down his truck, noticing your father’s car in the driveway. He’s definitely here, you think. Never in your life has walking up to the front porch seemed so scary. Your legs feel like lead, only becoming heavier with each step towards the front porch. You let the door close behind you softly, sealing out the rest of the world.

His bible is placed on the entry table along with the notebook he uses to write the weekly sermons. With cold fingers, you drag them down the front covers of both, praying for a little strength. Adult actions, adult consequences, you remind yourself. Before the burst of confidence leaves, you walk into the living room.

“Hi,” you say in a tiny voice, making your presence known in what suddenly feels like a tiny room.

Your dad looks up from one of his theology books, a warm smile on his face. He takes one look at your anxious form and immediately goes into protective dad mode.

“What happened?” he demands.

“How was it with your friend?” your mother asks, flipping through a fashion magazine, still oblivious to the situation.

“I need to talk to the both of you.”

Your mother finally looks up, startled at your serious tone. The look in your father’s eyes doesn’t waiver, most likely already suspecting something is wrong with his normally bubbly daughter.

“I’m–I’m pregnant,” you stutter out.

Your mom drops her teacup onto the couch, dousing a pretty throw pillow and the seat cushion in liquid. They stay frozen for a few seconds until your dad snaps his book, dragging a hand down his face. Your mom reacts too, shakily grabbing her teacup and placing it on the coffee table.

“Who?” your father asks, his voice just above a growl.

“Who what–”

“Who is the father?” he demands more firmly.

“Oh,” you whisper, finally understanding his question. “It’s um… Alejandro.”

“When–” he starts.

“Does he know?” your mom speaks up, her voice just above a whisper.

You turn to look at her and nod, grateful that she’s interrupting what you assume to be an onslaught of intrusive questions from your dad. “He’s the first person I told.”

“You should’ve told us first–”

“And what did he say?” your mom once again interrupts your dad.

“He said he’ll support me no matter the decision I make–”

Your father makes a disgruntled sound, immediately standing up and walking towards the front door.

“Where are you going?”

He ignores your question but you manage to block his path, assuming he’s walking to pick up his car keys. “Dad, please,” you whisper, grabbing his hand.

“Where–where were your morals? Did my words mean nothing to you? Did the education we provided you at the church mean nothing to you?” he barks out, pushing your hand away.

“No, no, they–they did, dad! Of course they did–”

“I thought I could trust him, but look at what he did to our daughter!” he continues, turning to your mother.

“Mi amor,” she tries to reason, ”let’s calm down and talk about it. Alejandro is a good person, it sounds like he’s going to step up and take care of her. He should come here and talk to us–”

“He will not step foot in this house nor will she,” he points an accusatory finger at you, ”ever speak to him again.”

Tears blur your vision at his words. Not wanting to hear his voice anymore, you turn and walk quickly to your room, ignoring his calls to come back. Your hands shake while pressing on Alejandro’s name in your phone. It only rings once and he’s answering the call, his gruff voice immediately calming you.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa?” he coos. [What happened, beautiful?]

“I told them and it didn’t–I mean it’s–I know they were going to be shocked but this is too much–” you hiccup between quiet sobs.

“Shhh, pack up your things. I’m down the road.”

“Wha–what?”

“I’m down the road,” he repeats, ”pack up your things and stay on the line until you walk out the door.”

It takes a moment for you to grasp what he’s saying. You’ve lived in this house your entire life, only leaving when going on vacation or visiting family, always wanting, but never actually moving out. A sudden pain strikes your chest because with this baby, if you pack up your stuff and leave, you’ll most likely never return.

You hear Alejandro through the phone, asking if you heard him and if everything is okay. Your parents voices outside the door only become louder, and in that moment you make the decision. The most important items, such as personal documents and a few changes of clothes, are dumped in a small suitcase.

I’m outside, nena, Alejandro says through the receiver. You take one last look at the books on the shelf, the desk your dad built cluttered with little trinkets, the mountain of pillows on the bed and turn, opening the door to walk to the entryway.

Your dad beats you to it, having already noticed Alejandro’s truck in the driveway. He opens the front door with enough force that it bounces against the wall, making a loud noise. Alejandro is already walking towards the front door, looking determined as he faces your father.

“I should kill you for what you did to her! She is not leaving this house.”

“We can go inside and talk about this,” Alejandro tries to reason,” I respect and care a lot for your daughter and I will do everything possible to make her happy–”

“She is not going anywhere.”

“You don’t get to make that decision for her,” Alejandro calmly states, stretching his hand out for you to walk to him.

“Go,” your mother whispers behind you, pushing you towards Alejandro.

You walk around them both, ignoring your father completely. He tries to grab your arm but Alejandro blocks his hand, waiting until you’re in the car to keep walking. Alejandro places the suitcase in the back seat as your mother holds onto your father’s arm, preventing him from moving off the front porch.

The drive to Alejandro’s ranch is silent, your body too exhausted to talk or even cry. Alejandro tries to ask how the conversation went down and what happened, but you shake your head, words unable to form in your mouth. Once at the ranch, he leads you inside and up to his room, grabbing a washcloth to wipe the mess of tears from earlier.

“Get in bed, yeah? I’ll bring your suitcase in.”

By the time you strip out of your clothes, Alejandro has brought in your things and has set out a pair of pajamas. In the back of your mind, you think about how efficiently Alejandro moves. He’s a man of action, doing things to make you the most comfortable after such a stressful situation. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back while you curl up next to him, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep.

- - -

“¿No tienes frío?” Alejandro asks, placing a blanket over you without waiting for a response. [You’re not cold?]

You lift the blanket to make room for him and scoot closer to his warm body. The sun is slowly setting, the sky a flurry of different purples. The two of you lay on his patio daybed, listening to the chirp of crickets and the light rustle of wind.

Alejandro kisses the side of your head, leaving his lips there as he breathes in. “He’ll come around, hermosa. He’s just surprised.”

You nod, heart heavy. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“Either way, I won’t let him come speak to you unless it’s for an apology.”

You snuggle deeper into Alejandro’s side, the seed of doubt planted by your father only further blooming. “Do you–do you think this is a good idea? Are we ready to be parents?”

He stays quiet, breathing in your skin. “I don’t think anyone is really prepared to be parents,” Alejandro responds, placing a hand on your tummy. “But, we’re both prepared to give this child all the love and support they need. And even more than that.”

You tilt your head back, locking eyes with Alejandro. He was so quick to offer everything to you: support, affection, a place to live, a place to raise your child. It’s in his nature, you very quickly realize, to give. He’s been single for so long, probably used to freedom and his own space. But there’s no annoyance in his gaze or actions, just a man ready to take responsibility and provide for the mother of his unborn child.

Alejandro’s eyes flit down to your lips and up, over the soft planes of your face. Your lips tingle from how he kissed you before, intense and heavy, the soft scratch of his beard forever imprinted in your skin’s memory. You slide a hand on his arm, bringing it up to his shoulder and down the hard expanse of his chest, pressing your lips lightly to his.

His hand cups your face before he moves his fingers to gently wrap around your neck. He licks at you, running the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip, teasing, before pushing it into the warmth of your mouth.

You circle his wrist with both hands, feeling him tighten his hold only slightly, keeping you still. He trails his lips over your cheeks and eyelids, giving you only a moment to catch your breath before he’s nipping the sensitive skin on your neck. A whimper claws its way out of your throat, cunt pulsing and feeling empty, empty, empty.

“Mi chula,” he murmurs on your skin, letting go of your neck to drag a hand over your achy breasts, “lay back.” [My beautiful]

He pushes off the blanket, maneuvering your body to lay sideways on the daybed while he climbs over you. Alejandro drags your shirt up, dragging his lips over your belly before placing a soft kiss. Goosebumps rise from the light wind, but Alejandro is there to warm you up, his teeth finding the tight peaks of your nipples.

“Ale,” you moan, threading your fingers through the mass of inky, black curls on his head.

He squeezes the tender swells of your breasts with calloused fingers, pulling more whimpers from you. Alejandro moves up, attacking your mouth again. His fingers trail down, rubbing your tummy before snaking through your bottoms and easily pushing aside your thin panties. His fingers lightly skim over your swollen clit and continue down to your entrance. You nip at his mouth the moment he sinks a finger inside of you.

“Traviesa,” he hums, dragging his now slick coated finger up to your sensitive button. [Naughty girl]

Your hands tremble as they travel over his broad back and up to his hair, gripping harder the moment he sinks two thick fingers inside of you. Your hips twist and grind on his hand, whimpering the moment your clit makes contact with his palm. The patio is soon filled with the sounds of your moans and the wet strokes of his fingers between your thighs.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” Alejandro groans against your jaw,” so fucking slick from just my fingers.”

Everything turns to mush in your brain, words becoming too difficult to say, your focus solely on Alejandro and the way he moves, the way he breathes, the way he manages to break you into tiny little pieces and put you back together.

The pressure in your core grows and grows and grows, your hips rolling from the pleasure. Alejandro grinds his bulge into the meat of your thigh, the warmth of his body burning you even through the layers of clothes.

“Come on my fingers mami,” he whispers,” let me feel you.”

His words send you over the edge, pussy tightening hard around his thick digits, covering his hand in your wetness while you come. He traps you in a kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth with the same intensity of his fingers. You shake in his hold, clawing at his arms and neck, any piece of him that you can reach.

Alejandro moves down, giving small licks and soft kisses to your tits, removing his fingers to lightly rub through your folds, calming you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. With his hand free from your pajama bottoms, he brings his fingers up to you, smushing your cheeks to open your mouth.

You suck greedily, tasting yourself. He removes them from your mouth after a few moments, a string of salvia still connected. Alejandro licks it off, moaning at the taste of you. He yanks down your bottoms and panties, then has you sit up to remove your shirt. You’re left bare, the wind cooling your heated skin.

He brings down his pants just underneath his heavy balls, pumping his cock with one hand while he spreads your legs to make room for himself. You slide a hand over the swells of your breasts, and down your tummy, to the wet opening of your cunt.

Alejandro watches the movement of your hand, pumping his cock faster as he sees you slide a finger inside. You moan, feeling how swollen and hot you are.

“Ale,” you whimper,” I’m so empty.”

“You want my cock, traviesa?”

You hum a yes please, and trail a wet finger over his plush head, down the shaft, dragging a ragged moan from him. He moves your hand, placing it on your thigh to help him keep you spread open. He drags the head of his cock from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your bundle of nerves, rubbing until your back arches from the stimulation.

No teasing, you whine, too delirious to wait any longer. Alejandro listens, sinking inside of you, hissing through his teeth, not stopping until the tip reaches the very end of you. You whimper from the stretch, wanting to push him off while also wanting him to fuck you deep. He stays still, head thrown back and hands gripping your thigh, your pussy quivering around his length.

“If you weren’t already pregnant,” he murmurs,” I’d fuck a baby into you right now.”

“Oh my go–”

Alejandro doesn’t wait for you to finish, immediately sliding out to plunge back into you. You’re stuffed full, overwhelmed, wanting more Ale, more, please, more. He leans over you, linking your hand with his and placing it right above your head. You wrap your other hand around his neck, squeezing, begging for him to kiss you.

“Fuck, fuck–” he groans,” do that–do that again.”

You squeeze again, swallowing his moan once his lips find you in a wet kiss, teeth and tongues clashing from the force. He’s slow with each thrust, deliberate and careful in how he fucks you. Every inch, every vein, the entire shape of his cock feels like it's being branded onto the walls of your cunt.

“Ale, faster. Please–”

He tightens his grip on your hand, shaking his head while he trails his lips across your jaw. “No, you take what I give you, mami.”

Alejandro briefly lets go of your hand to tug off his shirt, throwing it to the side right on top of your clothes. His bare skin scorches yours, warms you to your very center. His cologne and the unique scent of him, masculine and fresh, invades your senses.

You pull him closer, craving the scratches from his beard. He groans and whimpers with every bite mark or fingernail indent you leave on his tan skin. Alejandro digs his fingers into your thigh, spreading you impossibly wider for his broad hips.

“Can’t wait until your belly grows with my child,” he moans, moving his hand to caress your tummy.

He leans back, watching where you take him so beautifully. You bring your hand down and link it with his, keeping it pressed to your stomach.

“I can’t wait to have your baby, Ale,” you whine, the need to become a mother only more intense with Alejandro’s words and his actions.

Alejandro speeds up, impaling you with each thrust. You feel it in your spine, another orgasm sneaking up on you. His movements don’t falter, fucking you through it as you throw your head back and grip his hand tight. It lasts forever, well it feels like it lasts forever. You pulse around him, crying from how far he reaches inside of you with his fat cock.

This is only the second time you two are intimate with each other, but as he finishes right after you, filling you with his seed and moaning your name in a broken cadence, you can’t help but think this was always meant to be. He falls on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together, his hips moving in short thrusts as he repeats your name in the soft juncture of your neck and shoulder.

Alejandro gives you another kiss that leaves you breathless and panting. He slowly slides out of you, leaning back slightly to watch his spend drip out of your little hole. With thick fingers he pushes it back and rubs the rest on your thighs.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, then caress the beard on his jaw. He leans into your hand and presses a kiss onto the palm, scooting down until he’s able to rest his cheek on your belly. The two of you lay in silence for a bit, regulating your breathing and cooling down.

“We’re going to make this work, yeah?” he asks, his voice breaking through your sleepy brain. "No matter what your dad thinks, or what the town thinks, we're going to be the best parents we can. Right, mami?"

“Right, Ale."

#alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod mw2 x female reader #cod mw2 smut #shadowlali #alejandro vargas

92 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 4 months

Text

See No Dumbass, Hear No Dumbass (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You guys thought it would be a good idea to take Bob's sister, Aly, to The Hard Deck for some much needed downtime, but you guys learn very quickly on she has neither the time nor the patience for dumbasses

Tagging: @sallyandjack Hailee my love, I apologize that this is so overdue but I hope you'll enjoy it either way. Have a very, very happy New Year my friend

The Hard Deck was starting to get crowded with everyone starting to come in for the New Year's Day celebrations. New Year's Eve had been no less of an eventful night with you and Bob practically making out once the clock had struck midnight.

"Good God I need a drink," his sister Aly signed from the backseat of the truck.

"You want a Dirty Pirate when we get there?" Bob asked her.

"Literally anything at this point," Aly replied with a laugh.

You laughed as you watched them banter back and forth. Thank God both you and Bob had taken up ASL when you did. Aly had been one of the best teachers you could have asked for and it had especially served you well seeing as you had a hard-of-hearing first grader enter your class in the lower grades at the local Steiner school you taught at.

"Thank God it's not as crazy as last night," you sighed, pulling Bob's truck into the parking lot space close to the building. "I thought I was gonna scream trying to get outta here."

"Almost everybody at this point has a hangover sweetheart," Bob chuckled as he helped you and his sister out.

Into the bar you went with all its familiar sights, sounds and smells of drinks being made, food being served and raucous chatter and laughter filling the whole place. To you and Bob, The Hard Deck felt like your Hogwarts or your Camp Half Blood with your best memories having been made right here with all your friends and family.

"Oh look who it is!" Penny greeted excitedly. "Two siblings in khaki and one of the best teachers ever!"

You had to laugh as you, Bob and his sister seated yourselves at the bar. "What'll it be guys?" Penny asked.

"Devil's Purse if you don't mind," Bob answered politely.

"Do you still have that grapefruit and vodka mix from last night?" you asked.

"Absolutely," Penny answered. "And for the other pilot?"

"Dirty Pirate if you can," Aly signed.

"You got it honey," Penny answered.

As soon as Penny had gotten your drinks, she slid the laminated menus your way before the rest of the squad made their way in. All around it was huge hugs and excited remarks as the rest of the Daggers took their seats close by you both.

"Oh my Lord if it ain't Baby On Board's sister!" Jake signed to Aly.

"Hey you're getting better at this, dumbass," she replied with a laugh.

"Stop," Jake insisted.

Everybody joked back and forth about the goings on in their lives, their hopes and aspirations for the new year and of course about upcoming vacation plans.

"Hey, hey honey?" somebody asked. "Can you move? You're in my spot."

Aly gave her a confused look, crunching her eyebrows together.

"The hell's the matter with you?" the girl asked again.

"Well, if it didn't occur to you, Regina George," Jake answered, his words dripping with sarcasm. "She's deaf."

"I wasn't talking to you asshole," the girl informed him, nastily.

"Can I help you bitch?" Aly asked her.

"I'm sorry what?"

"She said, 'can I help you bitch?'" Jake laughed.

"Excuse me?!"

"You fuckin heard me!" Aly shot right back.

The whole bar went a little quiet as Aly and the aptly named "Regina George" in front of her, went at it with Jake translating the insults on Aly's behalf.

"Oh shit," Penny hissed.

"I hope we don't have to break up a fight," you said, wincing.

"Three.......two.......one......." Bob counted down.

One last insult from the dumb bitch down in front had been the last straw for Aly, the two of them lunging at each other and falling straight to the floor near the bar. People jumped back when they went at it, the fight so intense that you and Bob thought you could hear a pair of cats meowing angrily.

"Get her!"

"Get her Aly!"

"Beat the shit outta her Aly!"

There was a collective "OOOOH!" throughout the bar when a shoe went flying halfway around the room. And it was only then that Penny had signaled for Jake, Bob and Rooster to break it up. Aly willingly took her place back at the bar and fixed her hair, but the bitch that had insulted her, ran out with the two lackeys she had come in with, looking like an utter mess.

"Sorry about the fight Penny," Aly apologized.

"Nah honey, it's all good," Penny responded. "Not the worst I've ever seen."

You, Bob and the others all went back to your dinner and drinks, both proud and scared shitless of your sister-in-law.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

70 notes · View notes

shelbgrey · 9 months

Note

I was wondering if you could write a Seeley Booth x reader fic possibly with friends to lovers or just let the vibes take you. Thank you :)

Friends to Lovers Headcanons:

Paring: Seeley Booth x Sweets!Reader, Sister!Reader X Brother!Lance Sweets.

Summary: headcanons about the evolving relationship of Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Y/n Sweets.

A/n: hope you don't mind it being in headcanon form, if you want a short story you can message me with the details or send in another ask for the inbox, I'm all ears :)

MasterList

You two start off at 'right person wrong time'. You didn't really know how to deal with a relationship, nor did you have good ones in the past. Then Seeley had his eyes fixated on Temperance Brennan.

You two obviously had feelings for each other, you just didn't realize it, so you started off as friends. Your the older Sister of Lance Sweets and it took a while for him to gain your trust. You were too busy always worrying about your brother and you didn't really like how Seeley treated him at first.

He calls you Lady Sweets and prefers your comapany above all others. He kinda wormed his way into your heart.

“are you always like this?” you asked half annoyed.

“what are you talking about, I'm a joy to be around”

It started off as jokes to break the ice and soon you relized how much you two had in common.

After a couple of cases that tested both of your trust and patience, you guys were well on your way to calling yourselves best friends.

Then it got to the point that he was the only person you felt safe with.

“I'd die for you.. Ya know?” he told you after he almost lost you. “right back at you”

With that you guys usually open up to each other, mostly about people you have a 'crush' on or wouldn't minde getting in bed with, this of course was just a cover up.

But what took you guys longer to open up about was your home lives and his time in the army. Seeley trusts you with everything, even is own life so it was only a matter of time before he opened up about it.

He talked about his time as a snipper and how he lost the people closest to him during that time.

You'd tell about the awful foster homes you and Lance got sent to and how you always had to protect him. Lance was too young to remember, but you took most of the beating for him.

You started crying when you told him the stories, that was the first time he's ever seen you cry. He didn't care just held you in his arms with zero judgment.

When he started having feelings for Temperance Brennan, you were crushed but still supported him. At the time you didn't know why you felt so angry and sad, but you kept between yourself and your Shrink brother.

“I'm NOT in love with Seeley Booth, I love you Lance but please stay out of my love life”

You also hated how much pain she caused him, you had huge respect for Temperance and even consider her one of your closest friends, but Seeley just couldn't get the hint she wasn't ready for a relationship.

And sometimes Temperance doesn't realize what she's saying... To literal and honest that girl.

You hated seeing him so upset. “honey, she's not good enough for you anyway”

The more he hung around with you and the more cases you went on together, the more he realized you may be ✨the one✨... But he's not quite sure, with you, Bones, and work he's not sure what to do and it bugs him big time.

Everyone around you knew what was going on, they saw the way he looked at you and vic versa.

“two genius both in love with this same guy” Hodgins said.

“Brennan isn't in love with Seeley” Cam sighed shaking her head. “my money is on Y/n”

“I have to take Brennan's side on this one” Angela sighed, you don't turn your back on a best friend so you don't blame her.

You always felt a pit of jealously when Brennan was around. You either got incucure about your intelligence or if she was around Seeley, you got shy about your looks. She of course doesn't know and in the end she's a good friend.

But no matter what Seeley thinks your the most beautifulest and smartest person he's ever met. Your an Angel in his eyes.

When things got a little too cosy with Bones and Seeley you spilt your guts out to your little brother. “I'm in love with Seeley Booth”

Lance nodded, not shocked at all. “yeah..”

“what do you mean 'yeah'?”

Lance sighed with a soft smile. “it's obvious... On both sides even, don't you see the way he looks at you?”

You kept that conversation on repeat for about a week and then you and Seeley had a case together. It was easy and you of course solved it.

You were quiet the rest of the night trying to figure out how to tell him. “you okay? your really quiet tonight”

You took a deep breath and looked into those brown eyes you loved so much, so gentle and kind but could be blazing with anger in the next. You loved how much emotion they held.

“I lo... I'm just tired” yup... You chicken out, but don't worry new years rolled around pretty fast and your brother was getting tired of you being scared.

It just started off as a simple new years party, you and Seeley stuck close together and just had a good time, your almost confession didn't even cross your mind. But you couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked, in black dress shirt and leather jacket.

Then the count down started... The 5,4, 3, 2,

And just before one showed up Lance dropped the bomb shell “y/n is in love with Booth”.

All your friends looked at you and all you wanted to do was Shrink into your skin. “happy new year” you said sarcastically and blew your party thingy.

You left without another word, you didn't get to far because Seeley grabed your wrist stopping you.

You sighed and turned around. “wha-”

He pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, it held years of built up tension and emotion was poured into that kiss.

“I love you too” he said, resting his forehead on yours.

Your relationship grew stronger than ever and there was so much weight being lifted from you guys.

You were always kinda touchy-Feely with each other, but now since your his girl he can't keep his hands off of you.

With you, he's like a big teddy bear.

He's super over protective, more than usual now, if you thought over protective best friend was just wait for over protective boyfriend.

He knows you can take care of yourself and he knows your a total badass, but he just wants to keep you safe...let your man's arms be your safe place.

He loves you and would do anything for you.

I think starting off as friends is what made your relationship strong and unbreakable, you love each other through the good and the bad.

“it was worth the wait” he said.

#Seeley Booth x reader #Seeley Booth #Bones headcanons #Seeley Booth Headcanons #Bones imagines #Lance Sweets #Temperance Brennan #Agent booth #David boreanaz #Seeley Booth imagines #Friends to lovers

123 notes · View notes

dreams-and-drabbles · 1 year

Note

A fellow Honkai fan!! Could I request hcs for Mobius and Elysia seeing someone flirting with their s/o and getting jealous? I am suffering serious Mobius brainrot rn... hope you have a good day!

[★] Absolutely!!! 100%!!! I do not blame you in the slightest!!! All the Flame Chasers are just so—fhdhsjsisjajai.

Elysia was known to have the patience of a saint— Her kindness was said to have no bounds, and she was often put on a pedestal by others. In reality, this couldn’t be less true. No one person, could be that kind or patient all the time— Elysia knew that she wasn’t as kind as others made her out to be, nor was she as patient— Not really. Most of it was a front, something she did to help others feel more comfortable. In a world overrun by Honkai, true kindness was rare— There were only two people she could think of as truly kind. Eden, and then— You. Oh, how she adored you— As such, she found herself in her current predicament…

She could tell you were surprised by the attention you were receiving, given your awkward laughter, and attempt to divert the other person’s attention— She felt a rush satisfaction, seeing you spurn their attempts to flirt with you. You, after all, were her dearest— So long as she held her place in your heart, she would not accept anything less than your full devotion. Of course, she was fully devoted to you, as well. Oh, it was no secret that she was entirely enamoured with you, which was a huge factor in what made this little even so frustrating!!!

Did her kind demeanour, by any chance, make others think that she’d be okay with something like this? If that was the case, then she was more than willing to show how cold she could be, as well. Not to mention, this person—still trying garner your attention. Did they have no self control?! Not to mention, you were taken, by her!!! Yet— Yet they flirt with you in a place that she also works, knowing that she’s in a relationship with you, and you’re clearly uncomfortable, as well!!!

Elysia’s fists clenched as they reached for you, and she very briefly considered a small slip of her hand— It would be so easy, too, but she reserved such things for the Honkai. No matter how mad she may be, seeing this, yet that didn’t mean she couldn’t intervene in other ways…

“Dearest, I didn’t expect to see you here!!! I thought you had today off~!” Elysia chirped, bounding over to you with a cheerful smile on her face.

Her violet eyes were chilly, as they landed on the person next to you.

“Oh? I’m sorry to interrupt, but my partner and I made plans for this evening ~! Isn’t that right, darling?” She inquired, her tone as thick as honey and equally as sweet.

You, to your credit, nodded—

You were thankful for the interruption, although, a bit surprised at the obvious shift in your girlfriend’s demeanour. The other person stammered their apology, as Elysia steered you away, a hand clasped tightly around your shoulder—

When the two of you were out of earshot, she released her grip on your shoulder, and sucked in a deep breath.

You met her gaze, an apology forming on your lips, but she cut you off by pressing her lips against yours.

Your cheeks burned at the unexpected action, and she pulled away, with furrowed brows.

“You were uncomfortable, weren’t you?”

She asked, her tone hushed, and you nodded at her words. It was difficult, at times—

You were used to fighting monsters, not talking to other people…

“I was too…When I saw them pushing you like that…I was livid.”

She admitted, averting her gaze, her cheeks tinged a soft pink.

You swallowed at her words, taking her hand in yours, with a small smile.

“Next time, I promise you won’t need to save me.”

She nodded at your words, her eyes softening, and she squeezed your hand lightly.

“Even so, I’d like to be there regardless.”

You’d always been far too nice to others. Mobius had told you that a multitude of times, and she would continue to tell you that, until you stopped letting others walk all over you— It was an irritating habit of yours, yet equally endearing. You tried so very hard to do what was best for the people. She’d been like that too, once, but the Honkai were as strong as ever— Even for one such as herself, it seemed to be a pointless struggle. You were different, though. Your persistence inspired her, in some ways, and she found it easier to conduct her research in your presence. She appreciated your presence, but not so much the presence of others— Especially, particularly nasty pests who dared to encroach upon your quality time…

She watched the person’s sad attempts to flirt with you through narrowed eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to put an end to their pitiful display— Really, she’d been ever so clear that you were her muse, you were her favourite subject, and she hated it when others messed with anything that she’d deemed her own. Not to say, that you weren’t your own person— No, you were very unique, and Mobius wouldn’t have liked you nearly as much as she did, had you not been anything but yourself. She had very little patience for those with no sense of autonomy.

That being said, she also had very little patience for those without an ounce of self control— Such animalistic behaviour was better fitting of the Honkai, not her fellow human beings. The second that beast extended their hand towards you, she saw red, as she made her way over to intervene.

“[F/N], you were going to help me run a few tests, correct?”

She spoke, her tone of voice eerily calm, as she approached your location.

Her eyes landed on the person beside you, and she offered them a predatory smile.

“You’re welcome to join us, as I happen to be in need of a guinea pig.”

Mobius purred, and the person beside you shuddered, before hastily excusing themselves.

You glanced at Mobius, who offered you a playful smile, her eyes narrowed in delight.

She resembled a cat, who’d gotten a hold of a particularly plump mouse.

“Oh, come now. It was rather entertaining, was it not? Did you see them scurry off like that? They’d have made a wonderful guinea pig.”

You shook your head, an amusing smile on your lips. “Thanks for the extraction, Mobius.”

Mobius hummed, her eyes twinkling mirthfully, as she extended a hand for you to take.

“Of course, [F/N]. Still, you’re way too nice to these people, at times. I must ask, are you trying to make me jealous? If so, it’s working rather well for you.”

You took her hand, your cheeks flushed at her revelation, and you shook your head in vehement denial. “No, no—!!! Of course, not!! You’re—“

Mobius chuckled, her eyes glinting mischievously, and you frowned.

“You’re such a tease, Mobius.”

She pulled you closer to her, her fingers still tightly entwined with your own, and she brought her other hand up to cup your cheek.

“You’re one to talk, [F/N].” She murmured playfully, trailing her thumb over your lips.

You opened your mouth to protest, but she pressed her thumb down, a sly expression on her face. “Ah, ah— I’m not finished yet. You’ll still help me run those tests, correct?”

She spoke, removing her thumb from your lips.

You nodded, offering her a small smile.

“Of course, I did promise.”

Mobius smiled, her expression one of delight.

“Mm. Yes, you did, and I promised it would be fun this time… Well then, shall we?”

#thanks for the ask!#mobius x reader #elysia x reader #honkai impact #honkai headcanons #mobius honkai #honkai elysia

220 notes · View notes

idv-sunsxin3 · 2 months

Text

Horropedia// Valentine's Day with S/O

Note// Valentine's Day... Not like i would often celebrate much, but that's why i have my pookies with me./ih

___

Before dating you, I think Valentines' Day wouldn't cross his mind much at first. Besides the idea of buying a gift for his grandpa... or treat himself by using his break looking through horror Galleries and book sections.

It is wrong to say that Valentine's Day is just meant for couples. It's a day for celebrating love in all its forms, from self-love to love between friends and family members after all.

I guess he haven't experienced much about giving gifts to other kinds of people. Like it's sometimes rare to see people give gifts to friends during Valentines' unless they are big BFFs-- Horropedia doesn't have a lot of people to talk with about his interests, nor seeing to be as close to anyone in an extent of being more intimate. Until he got to know you, then established a relationship with you.

"I used to not like this holiday much, you know?" Horropedia would say on every February 14th. Having this smile that seems to be recalling a nostalgic feeling.

"You remind me every year, honey." You would half heartedly say the same.

He would be most likely a bit awkward when it comes to looking through that certain holiday- wondering if he should give you something in your first Valentines' together as couple.

I feel like he wasn't too active in the first year of relationship until the time goes by as he slowly finds himself hanging out with you more often.

You both probably didn't took much of a deal when it comes to the holiday, going on with your lives as you interact with one another normally like an everyday manner. You both didn't ask much from another besides each other's sweet company.

Eventually, he convinced himself in your 2nd-3rd year dating to get chocolates or even a squishable, like ones of a ghost, plague doctor, or a kitty grim reaper;;;;

Valentines Day will often be the day where you two still have to follow your daily routine. So, during work on his break, he would sneak the gifts on your desk or at your suitcase room before quickly coming back to his spot - rather than giving them to you personally.

4th year is when he decides to give gifts to you personally now, feeling more confident and comfortable in the lovely relationship he has with you.

5th year is when he would happily offer to go to some new place with you after your duties before coming back home to have a sleepover.

So on... some things seem to be done differently after the previous.

Dating Horropedia likely happened after you both knew each other so well since you were at the orphanage, taking care of the grades while also doing these kinds of teenage sillies for the last few years there.

Instead of plants, I would imagine Horropedia giving random mushrooms or a jar of bugs in your locker as a gift of affection(....help)

Either if after that went well or not, he would apologize if you point out that you are not a fan of that stuff- your patience will be well-appreciated as sometimes he can't even read the room himself... 😭🫠😔🥺

But well, during those orphanage years, there are few times during February where you both try out each other's boxed candies or chocolates during lunch period. Sitting together in the cafeteria and trying out the delicacies as Horropedia would randomly infordump whatever he brainrots in those hours/ih

And even currently, while now older, you're still pretty much following that tradition with him.

"See, Josh? This is the true meaning of Valentine's Day!" You would chirp at him as you try the new limited edition of your favorite dessert brand.

"Horror romance movies... a box of wine, and enough candy to kill a horse???" Horropedia notices the now big mountain of sweets with only 2 bottles of wine on the shared tables. Adjusting his glasses by the sight.

"You heard me!"

"Babe, I love you, I do. But If I eat one more piece of chocolate- I think I'm going to throw up."

Nonetheless, you both continue on and just enjoy whatever the limit that seems good enough for the both of you. I had these deep but pleasant conversations and got a bit tipsy in each other's arms on the couch. You both watch these classic and modern films together.

I think Horropedia probably would try to take one single flower arranging class- just to see if he can even make the ideal flower bouquet for you...

It went not so great, effort counts though./ih

One funny story as well is that Horropedia once gifted you something... huge in your 7th year during the orphanage years. Like some kind of ghost busting backpack-

As seniors to the arcanists, juniors couldn't judge much at the sight, knowing you too as they look up to you. Whereas the fellow seniors merely take quick, confused glances before minding their own business, going to their lockers, or rushing their butts to their next class.

Like he suddenly came up to you as you opened your locker and present you the bag sized item that is wrapped in a red bow...--

"Thank you--- but I can't even fit this in my locker, Josh! What should I do?

"Well, looks like you'll just have to carry it around all day! Everyone will know you’re all mine." ;)

Kidding, he'll help you carry it around if it's too much for you to grab- Or even a couple of textbooks as e escorts you to your classroom;;;. X')

I have the feeling that sometimes, I think Horropedia is attractive enough to lure some people in the orphanage during the teens/ih

There would be times when some girls would ask him if he's free to go somewhere with them during the love holiday- but his answers will always be the same. Even after the graduation.

"I'm sorry... Y/N already asked me out- Also, wanna take a look at this horror novel? Pretty cool, huh?" :D

"Oh? A hang out on friday? Ahhhhh,,, sorry, I have plans with Y/N for 3 days starting Friday.... Maybe next time???" <:)

"Date? Oh sheesh, sorry, I'm taken. And I'm very faithful. I will say." :)

"Oh- sorry, dude. I have a haunted mall date with Y/N- and when I say haunted mall, I mean that abandoned, haunted mall from 10 blocks away from here. I'm sure it'll be fun for us- they even plan to bring a picnic basket for lunch! *sighs* i like them so much;;;." <33

Yes. You're the one driving. There are times he would drive normally, and other times he would drive ✨️extreme✨️...

Yes. He'll ramble stuff about "horror" and you in the one same sentence. He just finds that very appealing for some reason-

And if not, he'll probably would seem to be the type to not get too interested in Valentine's Day, often still seeming to behave the same as every other day.. The ones who know him very well can describe otherwise. They would already notice the change on his plans as they seem to have you more involved than usual.

#horropedia x reader #horropedia #reverse: 1999 x reader #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #r1999 #r1999 x reader

26 notes · View notes

shibaraki · 2 years

Text

HONEY TRAP ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

tags: suggestive, GN reader, mild descriptions of violence (excessive force + dislocation of shoulder), reader is a vigilante (with unnamed quirk), brief criticisms of hero system and quirk discrimination, sexual tension, strangers (enemies?) to lovers, kissing, morally grey relationship

wc: 2.3k

If it weren’t for the shift in atmosphere, you wouldn’t have ever known he was near. You can feel how the dipole between your bodies pulls taut, a frisson of excitement dipping the length of your spine. There’s an inexplicable magnetism begging to close the distance, an urge you want to indulge in but can’t, lest you have your arms broken three different ways.

Instead you acknowledge him quietly, a breathless murmur, “Eraserhead”.

You’ve been trying to bait him for over a week now. The initial embarrassment of it soon dissolved and you’d become admittedly shameless about using his patrol routes, even going as far as replicating his personal ciphers on every villain you apprehended so he would receive credit. He’s a stubborn man, busy too, so you knew you’d have to shorten his wick enough that he felt compelled to deal with you himself.

“This was all a bit much, don’t you think?” he rasps.

There’s a low drawl to his voice, an air of sarcasm that releases the tension in your shoulders. You’re poised on the rooftops edge overlooking Naruhata, crouched with fingers hooked like talons into the brick wall, ready to leap over to the next building if his patience wore thin. Eraserhead was known for being more lenient on vigilantes than his daylight counterparts, but you also knew he wasn’t one for nonsense or disruption in his work. Both of which you were skilled at.

At the very least, he didn’t seem angry. Exasperated at most — and you can’t help but to latch onto the slight endearment in his tone. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at,” you reply blithely.

He huffs, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh, “This one-sided cat and mouse game you’re playing is becoming a nuisance”.

You feel yourself pouting, avoiding his gaze and focusing on the streets below. Illuminated by dim white light, throngs of people stumble home arm in arm, pink cheeked and loose lipped. The night is cold, and you envy the sake warming their veins.

“Mean,” you murmur, relinquishing some of your inner restraint to cast him a sidelong glance. He’s closer than you thought, standing two feet away with his arms folded across his chest. Despite your vision being adjusted to the darkness he still appears like a shadow. You’re surprised he hasn’t fallen into a defensive stance, nor does he have a hand ready on his capture weapon.

Egregious yellow goggles pushed up onto his crown, dark hair no longer curtaining his face, this might be the most you’ve truly seen of him. The first time you crossed paths he’d wasted no time in grappling you; the scarf had been around your ankle and violently sweeping you off your feet without preamble. Though you couldn’t blame him, he had found you in a small warehouse full of Trigger after all.

Eraser readily dislocated your shoulder that day, seating himself on your back to keep you pinned as you explained what you were doing there, ignorant to the pain. Just reconnaissance, just gathering information to hand off to the police anonymously, nothing more. At that point you’d only been participating in vigilantism for half a year, having slowly worked yourself up from good deeds that escalated with each favour. Every fight, every win, every life saved filled your belly until you were drunk with it.

He didn’t believe a thing you said, but before he could interrogate you any further the yakuza lackeys had returned for the goods. You ran after helping to disarm them and felt the phantom of his weight for weeks.

Admittedly, you were more than a little intrigued. The way he’d incapacitated you — bowing forward to speak roughly into your ear, his stubble scratching the cartilage as he spoke — still lingered under your bedsheets. By the third meeting he had taken to reminding you of the law. You appreciated that it felt informative, from a place of concern rather than condescension, but you were well aware of the legalities and told him as such. By the fifth he seemed resigned to accepting your tenacity, instead criticising the makeshift armour you wore for protection and asking about your quirk.

Seeking infrared eyes over the lower half of the Oni mask worn to conceal your identity, you’d curved forward into his space until your chests touched. “You sure want to know a lot about me, don’t you?”

He didn’t take well to flirting or to sudden contact, you learnt that sooner rather than later. Less that he didn’t like it, more that he didn’t know what to do about it. The broad, stern and scary Eraserhead would tuck his expression away behind his scarf with shoulders hunched to his ears, and your heart would swell.

You didn’t get to see each other as often as you’d like. A few times a month at most. But with each encounter came the slow acknowledgment of a real, tangible connection between the two of you. He still manhandled you on occasion, amidst the adrenaline. Restrained or pushed aside whenever you got too reckless. Sometimes you bruised and sometimes you didn’t — you would exaggerate the injury regardless, and he would play along knowing it was a lie, just for the excuse to touch you again.

Last you saw him, the months long build up crested. You’d removed your mask and kissed him, caked in dirt and blood in your teeth. He’s been avoiding you ever since.

Thus, you turned to drastic measures.

“This is hardly one sided,” you grin behind the mask and hope he can see it in your squint, “you chased me down in the end, like you always do”.

“Forced me up here kicking and screaming more like,” he grumbles. The sole of his boots scuff against gravel once he approaches, the soft hair at your nape standing on end. You allow yourself to straddle the border of the roof as Eraser mirrors you, relaxed by his usual demeanour. No cuffs, no anger, no sign of taking you in. Just him, exactly how you wanted.

“If you keep this up Tsukauchi will have you taken into custody. You've escalated. The villain you intercepted yesterday will never be able to use his right arm again,” he warns.

Feigning innocence, you shrug under his pointed stare, extending your leg to gently nudge his calf. He doesn’t move away. “Good. Should’ve been both, so he’ll never put his hands on someone without their consent again,” you reply.

He hums, the sound reverberating over distant drunken laughter. “That’s not your call,” turning his body to observe the group as they stumble past, you think he’s inclined to agree with you, even if he can’t say it.

“Then who’s call is it?” you exhale through the frustration, “sure as shit isn’t the daylights. Patrolling here gets them no coverage”.

You feel him push back against your foot, rubbing along your ankle. “It’s not your call,” he reiterates, soft but firm with his instruction. “I don’t disagree, and I’ll gladly leave you to it with the excuse of self defence. But I can’t do anything once you’re arrested for using a quirk with intent to cause grievous bodily harm”.

This is starting to sound frustratingly familiar. “You don’t know that, you’ve never even seen me use it. It could be that I don’t have one at all”.

That gives him pause. He blinks away the dry irritation, brow pinched with genuine contemplation. “You’re quirkless?” he asks.

“Would it be a problem for you if I was?” you return sharply, a test of the waters. You liked him, attractive and reluctantly indulgent with you as he was; most of all you enjoyed how different he seemed in comparison to any other hero you knew. Sometimes you could see yourself reflected in him, as if you were both closer to the blurred line than you realised.

It would be disappointing if he held baseless prejudice.

But where another might begin to spew insults or back away with uninformed fear, he is so clearly searching for the right thing to say. “Of course it wouldn’t. Obviously you’re more than capable without,” he blinks again as a chill is blown across the roof, sweeping the clouds above along with it and deepening the shadows beneath his eyes. “I’m just curious”.

You nod, his answer relieving the defensive tension that had slowly wound itself back into your limbs. “You know, centuries ago humans made it to space. They climbed mountains and explored the oceans all without quirks…” a wistful air imbues your rambling, fingers wrung together and fidgeting in what felt like an unusually intimate moment. “I’m not quirkless, but I don’t rely on it all that much. I’m more than just that”.

The corner of his mouth curves upwards and he regards you tenderly. “You really are something else,” he mutters, “I wish you’d stop being so careless”.

Drawn towards the warmth in his voice, you stretch across to brace your palms atop the weathered edge, closing the distance. He doesn’t flinch. “Worried that you’d miss me if something happened?” you ask, tilting your head to play coy.

“No,” he says, though it doesn’t hurt, because he’s leaning forward, imperceptibly, just enough that your lungs stutter. “Though I’m sure you would miss causing me problems”.

“You like it though”.

His jaw shifts, cheeks slightly pink and chill-bitten as he snorts, “Jury’s still out”.

“Mean,” you quietly repeat, the old brick sharp beneath the pads of your fingers the more pressure you give. The only obstruction now is your mask; you reach behind your head to loosen the strap, letting it fall and hang against your sternum. Left behind is a tight sensation over the bridge of your nose, where the plastic had cut into skin.

“If not, then why are we still sitting here? Shouldn’t you be putting me in cuffs?”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

His stare lingers where you wet your lips, still wearing a barely there smile on the end of an amused exhale. You don’t know him all that well — don’t really, truly know the person that he is underneath the hero Eraserhead — but you can gather that he’s a man of few words. The subtle kindling of want in his expression tells you plenty.

“I guess you’ll just have to shut me up”.

His fingers are rough along your inner wrist as he idly traces the length of your forearm. You’re still steeped towards him, waiting as he weighs the consequences. If anyone were to peer up at the skyline, they’d find two solid silhouettes turned into one another, teetering on the edge of something more.

“Any way I can do that without jeopardising my hero licence?”

“You could be a coward and run off like last—!”

Your lips part minutely as his nose bumps your cheek, nuzzling gently into the skin. Eraser lingers there, his breath ghosting the exposed curve of your throat, purposefully slow to unwind the spool of heat in your belly. Pressing a barely-there kiss by your mouth, you feel him grin at your sudden silence.

“Troublesome,” he rasps, hand rising to cup your jawline and keep you from chasing for more. “I don’t think you appreciate what a risk this would be for me”.

He’s big, warm and calloused; his hands say more about him than he realises. “I do because it’s exactly the same for me,” you sigh. Surrendering to his grip, you turn into the cradle of his palm like a contented cat, peering at him through half lidded eyes. “For all I know you were sent here to seduce me for information. Your charm has already tricked me into revealing my face”.

“That’s some imagination you’ve got,” his laughter rings in your ears, a low rumbling in his throat that leaves you aching. Eraser angles himself just right, still smirking as your mouths fit together. Any initial hesitance quickly dissipates, the seam of your lips parting to meet his tongue, the hand by your cheek sliding to rest searing against your throat with a thumb pressed to your pulse. Greed swells and you feel insatiable; senses heightened as the breeze passes, strumming your centre of gravity. You fist the fabric of his jumpsuit with a sharp inhale, first steadying yourself on the edge, then feeling the firm muscle behind it.

Cognisant of your precarious position, he wraps his other arm around your waist and cages you further into his space. You pull away for breath yet still whine his name in complaint — Eraser — and he clucks his tongue before dipping to briefly kiss you again, teasing and with finality. You knew he had to get back to his patrol, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“Aizawa,” he corrects. When you squint in confusion he adds, “next time call me Aizawa”.

“Aizawa,” you mumble, rolling the name around your tongue and understanding the weight of what it means to hold it. Next time, he’d said. You watch him get back to his feet with a sense of restlessness, but the trust he’s given you is enough to sate the dissatisfaction. “Is it really alright for you to tell me that?”

He glances back at you, all teeth as he readies himself to jump over to the next roof, “Why, should I be scared?”

Following his leave you bring your mask up to cover the lower half of your face, and subsequently, your lovesick grin. Just as the clasp is secured at the back of your head, a drunken brawl begins in the narrow alley across the street. In your descent, you can’t help but to laugh at his parting words.

“If anyone’s the honey trap here, it’s you”.

#bnha x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #mha x reader #m.aizawa

452 notes · View notes

lullabyes22-blog · 6 months

Text

Snippet - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Honey with a Thousand Stings

Silco finally begins to get the upper-hand on Mel...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

(May do a whole-ass analysis later of the dozen levels of Narcissistic abuse at play in this conversation...)

Snippet:

Confidential: State Files – Piltover & Zaun.

Memorandum of Encrypted Telephone Conversation

Subjects: Councilor Mel Medarda & First Chancellor Silco

Declassified and De-encrypted Under Authority of the Intra-agency Security Panel

E.O. 12596 Section 5. B(y)

Councilor Medarda: Chancellor?

Chancellor Silco: Councilor. To what do I owe this pleasure?

Councilor Medarda: I am told Viktor has returned to Zaun.

Chancellor Silco: Yes. Two days ago.

Councilor Medarda: I am also told he has taken up residence at Emberflit Alley. With a secondary base of operations at your headquarters. Is that correct?

Chancellor Silco: I suppose. Then again, my intelligence network is not quite as nosy as yours.

Councilor Medarda: Don't be disingenuous.

Chancellor Silco: Disingenuous? What I am is monumentally busy. You know. With all the work that comes from having a city that isn't under someone's boot.

Councilor Medarda: Yes, it must be tiring indeed. So tiring that you neglected to mention the Hexcore is now in your pocket?

Chancellor Silco: Is that what that Rubiks cube is called?

Councilor Medarda: Do not try my patience! It's no accident you kept the Council out of the loop. What does Viktor plan to do with it?

Chancellor Silco: From what I can gather? Improve the lives of Zaunites.

Councilor Medarda: And you expect me to believe that?

Chancellor Silco: Forgive me? Are you questioning my integrity—or his?

Councilor Medarda: Do not misunderstand. I hold great esteem for Viktor. But if the Hexcore is perceived to be under Zaun's control, it will rattle Piltover's investors. Already, they are expressing concern that Zaun's chem-tech will surpass theirs.

Chancellor Silco: The Hexcore is not patented by your city. Nor is Viktor's work tied to your jurisdiction. His liminal status as Fissure-native saw to that. He has always been at liberty to take his inventions anywhere. Why not home?

Councilor Medarda: Existential arguments will not matter once stockholders turn tail. We are a nation of ideas. Hex-tech is our lifeblood. Now you've taken one of our pioneers. The question is, why? Is this the beginning of a hostile takeover? Or are you inviting economic sanctions?

Chancellor Silco: Neither. It is an overture of friendship.

Councilor Medarda: Friendship?

Chancellor Silco: If your investors are afraid that Zaun’s profits will outperform theirs, perhaps they should consider giving our businesses a whack. Better yet, start a little friendly competition.

Councilor Medarda: Do not make a mockery of this!

Chancellor Silco: Mockery? I am deadly serious. As Chancellor of Zaun, I welcome all trade.

Councilor Medarda: Then you admit it? You lured Viktor away for economic benefit?

Chancellor Silco: Lure? Viktor is not a rabbit. He is a grown man. He has dedicated years of service to the Council, and to Piltover. Surely, he has the right to choose where he spends the rest of his time.

Councilor Medarda: You mean the last of his days. His health is in decline. Such circumstances drive men to dire straits.

Chancellor Silco: And that's where we must differ.

Councilor Medarda: What do you mean?

Chancellor Silco: Only that his mind is sharp. And the rest of him, still young. One may yet salvage the other.

Councilor Medarda: Do you realize the furor this has caused? Already, the Council are up in arms! The move will cut holes in our coffers. Coffers that, since Zaun's separation, are already hemorrhaging gold!

Chancellor Silco: I have made it no secret that Piltover must loosen its chokehold on the markets. What you decry as hemorrhage, I see as a balancing of scales.

Councilor Medarda: I have worked tirelessly to ensure that Piltover is a source of economic stability in Runeterra. A place where foreign traders can find new beginnings. You would risk decades of my effort with the stroke of your pen?

Chancellor Silco: If your stability came at our expense? Then: yes.

Councilor Medarda: Our partnership is mutually beneficial. To throw it away for petty conceit—

Chancellor Silco: But who benefits more? A war-gutted backwater finding its feet, or a nation that sits upon the pinnacle of progress?

Councilor Medarda: It was my belief that you wanted Zaun to succeed. That you were working toward the same ends as I.

Chancellor Silco: I am.

Councilor Medarda: And yet you have taken advantage of Viktor's deteriorating health! He would never have returned had you not swayed him!

Chancellor Silco: The way you talk, it's like you think I slithered up from the depths, and hypnotized him with a bag of candy in my hand. With such paternalism, is it any wonder he left? Or did you pay him with head-pats and gold stars during his tenure as Hex-tech cofounder?

Councilor Medarda: If this snideness is a demonstration of your sincerity, then I will bid you goodnight.

Chancellor Silco: You may bid me whatever you wish. The fact remains that Viktor is free to move as he chooses. We spoke during the gala. I told him—plainly—that the doors of his hometown would remain open. And that, if he contributed to Zaun's development, he would have a seat at the table. He made his own choice. If his convictions are at odds with Piltover, it is because your agenda had no interest in including him.

Councilor Medarda: I am at pains to point out that an open door proves the most successful enticement of all. You lay your choicest cards on the table, and wait for the opponent to make the gamble.

Chancellor Silco: I am also, as you take pains to note, a zealot. I believe in Zaun. I believe in the Fissurefolk. Viktor is the greatest living example of our potential. He has contributed immeasurably to Piltover's success. Now, he has returned where he's needed. If Piltover is as great as you claim, it can bloody well manage without him.

Councilor Medarda: The Hexcore is integral to our projects! It was created in Piltover!

Chancellor Silco: Now Zaun will repurpose it.

Councilor Medarda: So you admit it? Your goal is to destabilize our markets?

Chancellor Silco: There you go again. If my city gets one-fifth of the pie, do you starve for the lack of the other four-fifths? If we have one brilliant engineer, and you have one hundred, is our innovation an impediment to your success? For a woman of such wealth, you are fixated on a fistful of coins.

Councilor Medarda: Coin is how you build a foundation. Without it, you have nothing.

Chancellor Silco: You have your mind. You hands. You will. Coin is the means, not the end.

Councilor Medarda: And yet you risk the Treaty between our cities, in a bid for more!

Chancellor Silco: By what standard do you measure a Treaty? You've sanctioned fair trade between our cities. Our markets are a two-way street. But yours has been the tight-fisted hoarder. Ours? The beggar with his hand out. Your Hex-Gates have kept our industries stagnant. Your decrees have kept us locked in. Your monopolies have kept our brightest from ever seeing the light of day. Now we are crawling our way out. But first, we must recover from the old scars.

Councilor Medarda: I have done my utmost to keep your city afloat! Referrals, subsidies, contracts. I've coaxed the Council to look past their prejudices. Cajoled the chariest stakeholders into lending coin to your industries. My efforts have been beyond reproach. And what do you do? Swipe my silver like a thief in the night!

Chancellor Silco: If Piltover sees the loss of one man as theft, then perhaps your faith in your city is unfounded. Zaunites are not thieves. We only take what we are owed. Now we will use it as we see fit.

Councilor Medarda: And how, pray tell, will you use the Hexcore? Sell its secrets to the highest bidder? Or hoard them, like a miser, to build an arsenal that reduces both our cities to rubble? If conquest was your aim—

Chancellor Silco: Conquest?

Councilor Medarda: You speak in absolutes. Winners and losers. Beggars and choosers. March forward—and damn the consequences!

Chancellor Silco: You are the one speaking in absolutes. I see a simple solution to all of this. Let Zaun keep the Hexcore. Because that's the only way we can achieve parity. Our economy has finally freed itself from your city's shackles. My Cabinet is undertaking reforms to stem excess liquidity. We're encouraging worker co-operatives by establishing a national credit union. We're offering incentives for independent start-ups. All of this is but a fraction of what's necessary to strengthen our markets. But we are trying. We are fighting every step. We are not asking for handouts. Only the right to succeed. On our own terms. With our own people.

Councilor Medarda: I have heard enough.

Chancellor Silco: Have you? Or are you afraid what I say makes sense?

Councilor Medarda: I expected, after everything, that we'd share a modicum of trust.

Chancellor Silco: Trust—or intimacy?

Councilor Medarda: ...

Chancellor Silco: Apologies. Was our encounter in the obelisk to go unstated?

Councilor Medarda: My feelings on the matter are not the issue.

Chancellor Silco: I think, by your silence, they are. What did you believe? A few kisses, and suddenly, I'd be yours for the taking?

Councilor Medarda: We did more than kiss!

Chancellor Silco: I didn't say we didn't. I asked what you believed? Did you imagine I would turn into a puddle, and fall at your feet? You, who have lacked for nothing and never been denied, thought a moment's affection would turn me into your lapdog?

Councilor Medarda: My affections were genuine! Unlike your reciprocation! You took advantage of my state of mind! My honesty, my trust—

Chancellor Silco: I did nothing of the sort. In fact, I gave you every opportunity to walk away. You chose to stay. I neither invited you, nor held expectations beyond the moment. You're the one who seems to think desire is a debt, and intimacy a contract.

Councilor Medarda: Intimacy? If the word were a dagger, you'd be holding it!

Chancellor Silco: It appears, then, that you've stabbed yourself.

Councilor Medarda: Why are you doing this?

Chancellor Silco: Doing what?

Councilor Medarda: Turning on me.

Chancellor Silco: I've done no such thing. I warned you from the outset that my first priority was my city. The welfare of my child. I will compromise neither.

Councilor Medarda: But you'll make a bedfellow of Viktor.

Chancellor Silco: Bedfellow? Is that what this is about? You believe my attention is suspect.

Councilor Medarda: Do you deny it?

Chancellor Silco: My dear, the boy is in poor health. I'm not sure what peculiarities you shared with Talis—

Councilor Medarda: Leave Jayce out of this!

Chancellor Silco: —But the fact is, I am not interested in seducing a man in his last days. In fact, the prospect is downright ghoulish. Unless, in Noxus, this is the done thing?

Councilor Medarda: Watch how you speak to me.

Chancellor Silco: You've accused me of taking advantage of a sick man. Seducing him, no less. What is this, if not a bid at easing your own guilt?

Councilor Medarda: Guilt? You dare talk to me about guilt? Do you realize how distraught Jayce has been, since learning of Viktor's defection? He's refusing to work. He's refusing to speak. He's a wreck!

Chancellor Silco: Nothing cuts deeper than a brother's loss.

Councilor Medarda: We made a bargain for Jayce's safety!

Chancellor Silco: And I am honoring it. Unless you believe Viktor is the latest in a line of hidden threats?

Councilor Medarda: I do not know what to believe.

Chancellor Silco: This is not about belief. It's about trust. You're fine sharing a bed with Talis. You've no qualms stringing a dozen men on a leash. But the moment you encounter a rival—a real one, not the puppets you call lovers—suddenly it's a conspiracy. That is not how fair trade is done, Councilor. You cannot play my equal one moment, and then clutch your virtue like a jilted little girl the next.

Councilor Medarda: Then return Viktor to Piltover! The Council will overlook the theft of the Hexcore. We will negotiate a fair compensation for its exchange. Two million. Three, if you like.

Chancellor Silco: You take away our own, then hope to pay us up front?

Councilor Medarda: Four million. Five-and-a half. Any price—within reason. Viktor is integral to our city. His and Jayce's Hexcore is a prime investment. If they split ways, our shareholders—

Chancellor Silco: Listen to yourself. Price. Investment. Shareholder. This is the not the vocabulary of partnership. It is the language of acquisition. Viktor is not yours to buy back. Nor is he mine to sell. He is a Zaunite. He is free to work wherever he chooses. And if the Council is threatened by that, it's their business. They can clutch their pearls and wring their hands. Or—

Councilor Medarda: Or, what?

Chancellor Silco: They can have their cake and eat it too.

Councilor Medarda: Meaning?

Chancellor Silco: Meaning they are invited to dip their fingers in the Zaunite pie. The chem-tech. The sextech. The Shimmer. Our market is open.

Councilor Medarda: You'll pardon me, if I have difficulty taking you at your word.

Chancellor Silco: Then permit me a gesture of good faith.

Councilor Medarda: What?

Chancellor Silco: You'll get to pop the cherry.

Councilor Medarda: ...

Chancellor Silco: Apologies. Is that vulgarism not permitted Topside? Should I say, You get to cut the ribbon? They are tantamount to the same.

Councilor Medarda: Namely?

Chancellor Silco: House Medarda will be the first beneficiary of our new tax policy. You'll have leverage over controlling shares in Zaun's biggest chem-cultivation companies. Medicinal, agricultural, cosmetic. No tax audits for the first five years. Free access to our ports. Unlimited export. Your name holds great clout with investors. Use it. Viktor's departure may well rattle the markets. But this way, Piltover will have a fallback. Your shareholders will rally. Your Council will be intrigued. You will have an unprecedented chance to share in Zaun's spoils.

Councilor Medarda: What of the Hexcore?

Chancellor Silco: Whatever Viktor does with his intellectual property is his choice, and his alone.

Councilor Medarda: If Zaun were to manufacture Hex-weaponry—

Chancellor Silco: We already possess an arsenal. The same we used to liberate our city. Since then, we've not fired a single shot against you. We've no interest in war. Our priority is progress. Shared progress. That's what the Treaty was for, after all.

Councilor Medarda: The Treaty was meant to foster trust between our cities.

Chancellor Silco: As equals. Now's your chance to prove it. Show the world that the Council isn't afraid of Zaun's independence. Demonstrate that you believe in your own philosophy. Allow Viktor to pursue his goals in Zaun. He'll still benefit both our cities, in ways we have yet to quantify.

Councilor Medarda: The Council will require surety. You cannot expect me to win your points by fiat. I am not a miracle-worker.

Chancellor Silco: All the more reason to take the leap.

Councilor Medarda: What if Viktor proves unable?

Chancellor Silco: As in: dead? Or disinclined?

Councilor Medarda: The latter is a scenario. The former—a sad outcome.

Chancellor Silco: Then you'll have your Hexcore back. And a pile of coins to boot. I fail to see the downside.

Councilor Medarda: You have a diabolical gift for speaking in circles.

Chancellor Silco: Because the solution is obvious. Viktor will succeed. His work is the key to his longevity. And the breakthroughs he makes will be integral to our shared success.

Councilor Medarda: I'll expect to be kept apprised of developments.

Chanellor Silco: Naturally.

Councilor Medarda: I'll also expect a private tour of your chem-cultivations once they've ripened.

Chancellor Silco: With luck, they'll taste as sweet as you.

Councilor Medarda: That's quite enough.

Chancellor Silco: Deal or no deal, Councilor?

Councilor Medarda: I still haven't forgiven you.

Chancellor Silco: For neglecting to mention Viktor?

Councilor Medarda: It wasn't neglect. It was payback. I checkmated you with the Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative, and Violet. You did the same with Viktor.

Chancellor Silco: That's the nature of politics. But—if you'll forgive the vulgarity—vis a vis myself and Viktor...

Councilor Medarda: Yes?

Chancellor Silco: Fuck, no.

Councilor Medarda: ...

Chancellor Silco: Your jealousy is flattering. But unfounded.

Councilor Medarda: It is not jealousy.

Chancellor Silco: What then?

Councilor Medarda: A woman in my position must defend it. And if she must do so with ferocity, so be it. It's the same way one defends a city. There is a saying in Noxus. 'A man who is not ready to die for his nation, is not ready to live in it.'

Chancellor Silco: Is that why you left? Was Noxus not worth the price?

Councilor Medarda: I did not leave. I was cast out. There is a difference. Noxus is my homeland. But Piltover is my home. I will not let her fall. Even if a little jealousy is what it takes to defend her interests.

Chancellor Silco: And Talis too, I'd wager.

Councilor Medarda: This is not about my relationship with Jayce.

Chancellor Silco: Isn't it? Everything you've said so far, can be traced back to it. You were his lover for nearly a year. His closeness with Viktor was common knowledge. I imagine you were sometimes put in an awkward spot. The unwitting Delilah. You are an intelligent woman. I don't doubt your political acumen. But you're not unbreakable. Whereas the bond forged between two brothers in the crucible...

Councilor Medarda: What are you implying?

Chancellor Silco: I'm implying nothing. I'm asking, plain. Do you fear the dynamic will replicate itself? That my interest in Viktor forebodes something deeper?

Councilor Medarda: Don't jest.

Chancellor Silco: It is a bit gallows, isn't it? Livewire urges and dying men…

Councilor Medarda: Gods, you are intractable.

Chancellor Silco: Then allow me to be frank. Your suspicions stem from hurt pride. You've been exiled from your homeland. You've struggled to achieve every inch of prestige. But belonging... that is the true challenge. With Talis, you had it. But his closeness with Viktor...

Councilor Medarda: ...

Chancellor Silco: Shall I drop the subject?

Councilor Medarda: No. You—

Chancellor Silco: Speak freely.

Councilor Medarda: You aren't wrong. Jayce and Viktor—

Chancellor Silco: Had a connection.

Councilor Medarda: Yes. Sometimes, Jayce would stay late at his lab. I was accustomed to finding him and Viktor together. I thought nothing of it. I had no reason to. They were as close as family. Like brothers. But sometimes...

Chancellor Silco: Hm?

Councilor Medarda: That closeness was extraordinary. They never touched. Not the way Jayce and I did. But their intimacy was more than skin deep. Deeper even than the heart.

Chancellor Silco: The soul?

Councilor Medarda: Perhaps.

Chancellor Silco: Did it trouble you?

Councilor Medarda: I envied it. It's easy, when one has prestige, to be desired. It's not so simple to be loved. Not that way. Between Jayce and Viktor, it was effortless. A fusion that went beyond flesh. And that... frightened me.

Chancellor Silco: Because your place with Talis was threatened?

Councilor Medarda: Because it felt like mine wasn't the love he needed.

Chancellor Silco: And you fear history is repeating itself.

Councilor Medarda: I—

Chancellor Silco: For a woman with everything, your estimation of yourself is low indeed.

Councilor Medarda: It's not estimation. Merely—

Chancellor Silco: Past experience. You've mentioned.

Councilor Medarda: You must find this a very peculiar conversation.

Chancellor Silco: It's not every day you're accused of seducing a dying man.

Councilor Medarda: I apologize.

Chancellor Silco: For what, precisely?

Councilor Medarda: My past entanglements have been—complicated. I'm afraid the wounds are rather fresh, and I—

Chancellor Silco: —Have the right to feel whatever you feel. You do not owe me explanations, Mel. But, if a listening ear helps to settle your thoughts, I am here.

Councilor Medarda: That's the first time you've called me by my name.

Chancellor Silco: Is it? I beg your pardon.

Councilor Medarda: Don't. I—I like it.

Chancellor Silco: So do I. Short for Melika, isn't it?

Councilor Medarda: Yes.

Chancellor Silco: Targonian for Honey.

Councilor Medarda: That's right. My father, in his wisdom, named me after his forefathers' bee farms. My mother, in her temper, would say: 'A Medarda needs no honey. Only an army of a thousand stingers.'

Chancellor Silco: And thus: Mel.

Councilor Medarda: Mmm.

Chancellor Silco: Honey hiding a thousand stings. How very apt.

Councilor Medarda: And you? What's your name short for? It's not a line I've heard before.

Chancellor Silco: Zaun puts no stock in lineage. Our names are what we are born with. And, if we're lucky enough, what we die with. Mine is no different.

Councilor Medarda: Your mother never gave you a moniker? A pet name?

Chancellor Silco: None worth repeating.

Councilor Medarda: Surely you exaggerate.

Chancellor Silco: Would you prefer: "Bastard", "Motherfucker", or "Dirty Little Thing"? Take your pick.

Councilor Medarda: ...

Chancellor Silco: That'll teach you to pry.

Councilor Medarda: That isn't prying. This is conversation. Between equals. From a place of trust. Or is it easier to keep people at arm's length? To pretend you have no past at all?

Chancellor Silco: I've never made a secret of my past. Some aspects are simply best forgotten.

Councilor Medarda: Like a difficult mother. I can commiserate.

Chancellor Silco: Better a madwoman's son than a warlord's daughter.

Councilor Medarda: A warlord's leavings. House Medarda does not take its bloodline lightly. We cast out the unfit, lest they tarnish the family name. So, in a way, I put no stock in lineage, either. We are what we make of ourselves. That is the choice Piltover offers. It's why I love this city. Why I would fight to protect it.

Chancellor Silco: Something we've in common.

Councilor Medarda: Did we not always? From the moment of our parley, we've locked horns. But our ends are the same. A bright future. For Zaun, and Piltover.

Chancellor Silco: One where sons are not condemned to the fate of their fathers.

Councilor Medarda: Nor daughters, their mothers.

Chancellor Silco: Then we are in accord. The Hexcore, and Viktor, remain in Zaun.

Councilor Medarda: On certain conditions. First, we will establish a formal framework for collaboration between our scientific institutions. Second, all Zaun-based import and export of Hex-tech will be subject to inspection by a joint oversight committee. Third, there will be no development of Hex-tech weaponry without the prior approval of the joint oversight committee.

Chancellor Silco: Is this meant as a slap on the wrist?

Councilor Medarda: It is a gesture of trust. Repay it in kind.

Chancellor Silco: You mean: Welcome the Peacekeeper Exchange Initiative.

Councilor Medarda: Accept the officers as they are. A declaration of togetherness. And Violet—

Chancellor Silco: Ward of your state. Fruit of mine.

Councilor Medarda: Let her become the bridge between us. Let her reconcile with her sister.

Chancellor Silco: Violet is not a child. She is a grown woman. If she wishes to see her sister, she is free to do so.

Councilor Medarda: Does that apply to Jinx, too?

Chancellor Silco: I've never barred Jinx from anything. Only the dangers at the door.

Councilor Medarda: Then let's make sure they're gone. For good.

Chancellor Silco: You have my word.

Councilor Medarda: When you say it in that tone, I'd almost believe you mean it.

Chancellor Silco: You make it hard not to.

Councilor Medarda: And is it so hard?

Chancellor Silco: As the night.

Councilor Medarda: You are shameless, Chancellor.

Chancellor Silco: Silco. Let's dispense with the titles. Makes it easier to keep things straightforward.

Councilor Medarda: Or harder to forget.

Chancellor Silco: I'm from Zaun, Mel. Secrets born here have teeth.

Councilor Medarda: I am trying not to hold that against you.

Chancellor Silco: Try to understand. My city is still raw. So is my child. Both need a close eye. Until the dust settles, any distraction would be a disservice. To them. To myself. To the future.

Councilor Medarda: Distraction?

Chancellor Silco: I mean no insult. But you are that. A maddening, delightful, and altogether impossible distraction.

Councilor Medarda: You flatter me.

Chancellor Silco: The truth flatters itself.

Councilor Medarda: I can't decide any longer if it's devilry or sainthood that drives you.

Chancellor Silco: Sainthood? Please. If I were, you wouldn't be half as interested.

Councilor Medarda: I'd be intrigued. But not compelled. Not—

Chancellor Silco: Go on.

Councilor Medarda: I did not grow up on a goosedown bed. I've had my share of admirers. Most have been eager. Some, desperate. All have been... less.

Chancellor Silco: I'd wager that has more to do with the quality of the suitors, than any imperfections on your part.

Councilor Medarda: My point is that it's not easy for me to open myself. To give in to impulse. And yet, you inspire it. Effortlessly.

Chancellor Silco: I hope you know you're in safe hands.

Councilor Medarda: Skillful? Yes. Safe? Never.

Chancellor Silco: Best take care then.

Councilor Medarda: Am I in danger?

Chancellor Silco: Of succumbing? Time will tell.

Councilor Medarda: And trust?

Chancellor Silco: That, you must give willingly.

Councilor Medarda: Willingly, but with my eyes open.

Chancellor Silco: Always.

Councilor Medarda: Mine are presently growing heavy. I must retire.

Chancellor Silco: Schlaf gut.

Councilor Medarda: Not sweet dreams?

Chancellor Silco: Depends on where your imagination takes you.

Councilor Medarda: I'm starting to suspect you're a monster after all.

Chancellor Silco: Zaun has a surplus.

Councilor Medarda: And do they banish the darkness, or walk with it?

Chancellor Silco: That's not a question to ask in the dark, Mel.

Councilor Medarda: Am I forewarned?

Chancellor Silco: I'll let the darkness answer.

Councilor Medarda: Träum schön, First Chancellor.

Chancellor Silco: Pass gut auf dich auf, Councilor Medarda.

37 notes · View notes

junosartsthetic · 1 year

Text

The Babysitter

Headcanon-style fic detailing babysitter!afab!reader and everyone’s favorite gilf, Joseph Joestar.

Warnings: penetrative sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, slight mention of pregnancy, fingering, joseph being a cheater, age gap, rough sex, praising, use of pet names (sweetheart, honey), mdni, minors do not interact, all characters are 18+, smut

I should be ashamed of myself. But I’m not. Anyway.

You’re hired as a long-term babysitter for young Holly.

Her mother is often away on business, with her father only stopping in every so often.

It starts out innocently enough, but soon Joseph’s touches on your shoulder, and hands on your waist to get by you turn into more.

He’s a very attractive man, with scattered silver-haired dotted in his hair and beard only adding to his appeal.

You are well aware he has a wife.

And you are well aware that when he asks you to step into his bedroom to talk for a moment, more is on the table.

You should deny his request. Tell him to have a nice evening and that you’ll be back tomorrow to watch over Holly.

But you don’t.

Despite how wrong it is, you can’t help the excited fluttering of your chest as he shuts the door behind the two of you.

“You’ve been such a good baby-sitter for my Holly,” he explains, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I try my best, Mr. Joestar.”

“No need for that. Just call me Joseph. I think we’re close enough for that, don’t you?”

You swallow, nodding. You can feel your entire body trembling with anticipation.

“Good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His hand migrates down your arm, caressing your bare flesh.

Your tank top provides ample room to touch your revealed skin, prickling in the cool room.

“Since Suzie Q rarely comes home, I’ve been struggling on my own. I’ll be honest. It gets lonely for me, you understand?”

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that. Is there any way I can help?”

You know the implication of your words.

And so does he.

He says nothing as his hand slips under your clothing.

You shiver as his large fingers trace along your stomach, gliding up to gently squeeze your breast.

You notice a shimmer of hesitation.

Your hand moves atop his, feeling it through the fabric of your shirt.

You squeeze it.

Any caution he had is thrown into the wind.

Of course, he never had any to begin with.

Within moments, his lips mold against yours.

His facial hair is scratchy against your face, but you pay no mind as you deepen the kiss.

He massages your breast with his hand, his other wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

You tangle your hands in his hair, desperately pushing yourself closer to his muscled physique.

You don’t remember your top being thrown off, nor your shorts falling to the floor as you’re pushed closer to the comfortable bed sheets.

Your back touches the blanket, and you’re pinned down as Joseph kisses your neck harshly.

Hickies form as he trails down your body, teeth finally hitting the waistband of your panties.

He wastes no time in pulling them down your thighs, giving him a clear view of your dampened cunt.

He falls to his knees, smiling up at you as your breath hitches.

Teasingly, he licks up your folds, only enough to have you squirming in impatience.

“Please,” you whimper, already overstimulated from this sudden turn of events.

“Please what?” he questions, his hands spreading your quivering thighs apart.

“I, I need you, Joseph.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Use your words.”

“I need your tongue inside, inside me,” you choke out, face burning in embaressement. “Please!”

“Good girl,” he purrs, tongue returning to explore your entrance.

He does so delicately, barely sliding inside before retreating.

It’s not enough.

You need—

“More,” you mumble, your hands finding grasp in his hair.

“Patience is not a virtue of yours,” he teases.

Suddenly, two fingers are thrust inside of you.

You let out a silent gasp, breath hitching.

You barely have time to register the digits before he begins to move them, his other hand playing with your clit.

Any words are caught in your throat as he picks up the pace, your hips bucking desperately upwards as your legs tremble.

Before you can think, a wave of breathlessness washes over you, orgasm flooding your senses.

Cum leaks from your overwhelmed cunt, covering Joseph’s fingers as he eagerly tastes your release.

You try to calm yourself, but only get a moment’s relief before Joseph rises from his spot, his muscled arms flipping you on your chest.

Your breasts push against the mattress as he unclips your bra, throwing it carelessly across the room.

Your dripping cunt feels overwhelmed, clit brushing against the silken sheets as Joseph pushes your back further down.

“Take a breath, sweetheart,” he instructs, pulling down his bottoms and boxers to reveal his hardened cock.

You do as he says, lungs taking in as much as air as they can, only to gasp it all out as he roughly slides himself into you.

Any gentleness has been tossed aside, leaving him to buck into your overworked cunt mercilessly.

“Jo—Joseph,” you pant, hands desperately clawing for purchase on the sheets. “I—”

“Shh, honey,” he moans, leaning overtop your writhing and desperate form. “You’re doing so so good for me.”

His praise halts your overwhelmed cries, leaving you to babble incomprehensibly as his fast pace begins to stutter.

You can feel every twitch of his dick inside of you, walls clenching harshly around him as he slides himself completely inside, reaching places you didn’t think possible.

You know what’s coming.

You know you should beg for him to pull out.

But a part of you moans at the thought of his cum inside of you.

Becoming more than just the babysitter.

“Don’ worry,” he huffs, barely holding back a groan. “‘m sterilized.”

WIth that, he cums violently, the warm liquid painting your walls as you reach your own high for the second time.

Your intrusive thoughts about becoming pregnant reside, a big part of you relieved at the new information.

Your entire body relaxes, muscles unconstricting as he pulls out of your leaking cunt.

You barely register his gentle hands picking you up as he carries you to the bathroom.

“Let’s clean you off, sweetheart.”

You let out a weak hum, eager to feel the hot bath water soothing your already aching core.

286 notes · View notes

thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed · 1 year

Text

Family meetings

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: requests here , here and here

Warnings: none

Pairing: Wednesday X Fem!Reader

There you go! This is the story with the three requests combined. Hope you like it!🖤✨

———

When you were a little kid you lived in the spookiest neighborhood of town, known as “the outcasts neighborhood”. You never understood why it always had such a bad reputation, you were happy to live there and you were raised by your mother as a very educated little girl. Your mother was a lone wolf who was exiled from her pack because she fought with the alpha, so when you were born it was just the two of you. She always took good care of you and you loved her so much.

Luckily the two of you weren’t completely alone, your mother’s best friend, Morticia Addams, would always invite you two at her house so that they could chitchat about old times and so that you could play with her daughter Wednesday. You two grew up very close with each other, and eventually when school started she didn’t do really good in school because she was always thinking of something else so you, being older by two years, would always help her and eventually ended up playing. You were still kids after all. One day as you two were studying, Morticia came in to bring you two some mid-afternoon snacks.

“Thank you aunt Morticia!” You told her. Since you spent most of the time there at their place, you had started calling her aunt and she didn’t mind that. The woman smiled kindly at you and put a hand on your shoulder, that’s when she had a vision. She saw you and Wednesday, all grown up and in Nevermore’s uniform. You were looking at her the same way that Gomez looked at her. There was so much love in your eyes, she knew that you two were meant to be. “Auntie are you okay?” You asked her, she heard you because her vision finished. She smiled at you and her daughter again. “Yes I’m more than fine Honey. Enjoy your snack” she kissed her daughter’s forehead and left the room, leaving you two alone.

One day though you had to start high school. Of course you would have to go to Nevermore, but you had to move. After saying your goodbyes to Wednesday and Morticia, and having told them that you wouldn’t forget them, you moved to Nevermore with your mother, only you never saw or heard from Morticia nor Wednesday again, for two years. The day Wednesday started high school you immediately recognized her and went to hug her. She had recognized you but moved back from you.

“Wednesday it’s me, it’s (Y/N), do you not recognize me?” You asked her, furrowing your brows and pulling away from her “I do recognize you. I just don’t think it’s necessary that we hug. I’m allergic to physical contact” she told you. But eventually you grew even closer than how you were as kids. You could say you were best friends, even though she never allowed you to hug her. You never tried hugging her because you respected what she said, but you missed her hugs, you missed feeling her close like when you were kids. The situation they had as kids had also reversed. Now You were the one needing tutoring and even though Wednesday would constantly lose patience with you she’d still help you.

You slowly grew to fall in love with her. Maybe you had always been, but now you were mature enough to understand that this feeling was different from any others. The love you felt for her wasn’t the love friends have, it was stronger. The way you looked at her was just way different, and you couldn’t actually figured out if how she looked at you was love or well, nothing. She definitely cared about you, but the way she showed it was very hard to understand.

Eventually parent’s week came and you couldn’t wait to hug your mother again, but she didn’t show up when everyone else did. You had to admit you were sad, you didn’t know if she would be coming, she might as well not to since that this was the week with the full blood moon and she always was weird and couldn’t actually control herself. However as everyone went to their parents you just walked in the quad, finding some place to sit.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” You turned around to see who called you, and you smiled brightly when you realized that it was Morticia. You speed/walked over to her and she embraced you in a hug which you reciprocated, Wednesday looking at you and rolling your eyes jokingly, but it was hard to recognize that. Eventually you pulled back from the hug, god you had missed the woman so much and she was just as beautiful as the last time you saw her. “Mrs Addams it’s so good to see you again” you said smiling brightly and she kept a hand on your shoulder “my dear you can quit the formalities, let me remind you that just a couple years ago you were calling me Auntie” she said as she ruffled your hair. You have always been like a daughter for her. Being a single mom, your mother raised you with Morticia.

You giggled and fixed your hair before the woman in front of you started talking again “so, how have you been?“. In the meantime Wednesday had moved to talk to her father and brother “I’m fine actually, this last period has been quite.. exhausting” you said kind of chuckling as you looked at Wednesday with a small smile, Morticia following your look. “Let me guess, now she’s the one tutoring you and she has no patience” the taller woman told you and you nodded laughing. “Where’s your mother anyway?” She asked looking around “she’s not arrived yet. This week there’s the full blood moon. You know how she is when it happens..” you looked down kind of sadly, but you knew it wasn’t her fault.

That day you spent it with Wednesday’s family, and the next day when you went to the quad to where everyone else you saw your mother looking for you. “Mom!” You ran to her and hugged her happily. She hugged you tightly and rubbed your back “I thought you weren’t coming!” You said and pulled back from her. “I managed to. The full blood moon is on sunday so we have all the time we want” she said smiling. “Tell me how have you been? Everything alright with Wednesday?” Of course you had been sending her letters talking about the girls, so her informations were up to date. “Yeah, we’re spending a lot of time together just like when we were kids. I’m glad she came here too” you told her and turned to look at her, who was now talking to Enid.

Your mother saw how you looked at her. She has been thinking for a while already that you weren’t straight, she had realized it by how you spoke about Wednesday in each letter you would send her. Of course she accepted you as she loved you so much and knew that Wednesday was the perfect girl for you. However she didn’t say anything. “So, is Morticia Here? I would love to say hi to my best friend after two years” you smiled at her words and led her to where she was. Yours and Wednesday’s family ended up having lunch together, until your mothers talked and decided it was time for them to switch. You spending time With Morticia and Wednesday with your mother.

“So Wednesday tell me, how are things with my daughter going?” Your mother asked her. Of course you and Morticia where somewhere else “Alright, she sucks at math and in every other subject, but she’s fine, no offense” Wednesday started. “None taken” your mother said smiling. She noticed how Wednesday would look away from her. By now she knew that when Wednesday did this it was because she was hiding something, especially her feelings, but your mother decided not to push on it. “Well aside from study, (Y/N) has a lot of other positive stuff. For example, did you know she likes to play the piano?” Wednesday’s eyes turned at that and with them her head “really?” The brunette replied “yeah! She always insisted on not telling you because she wanted you to feel special, but she’s really good!” Wednesday hinted a smile as your mother kept talking to her about you.

In the mean time you were spending time with Morticia instead. “Can I tell you something (Y/N)?” She asked you. You were looking at Wednesday with heart eyes but Morticia distracted you and made you turn to look at her “yeah sure go ahead” you said, smiling at the woman in front of you. “When you two were kids I had a vision. You and Wednesday were here at Nevermore” she looked at you and you smiled “well that was pretty obvious right?” She looked at you shaking your head with a smile. “You were looking at her the same way Gomez Looks at me. Eyes full of love and admiration and all sorts.” You blushed and looked down turning to look at Wednesday, who was now smiling slightly at your mother. God she was so pretty.

“You love her don’t you?” She asked you, once again turning your head to look at her “n-no I don’t…” you lied, but it was obvious from your face and Morticia knew that. “My dear, you know I can see right through you, do you?” You smiled at her, turning once again to look at Wednesday who was now looking at you.

And you two finally realized and accepted that you were in love with each other.

#jenna ortega #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

117 notes · View notes