#cooper family hug!!

[glimeres]

2024 - New York City Center sings Godspeed to Encores! TITANIC The Musical (x)

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

tiny seed of a fic idea: the ghoul and lucy make it to vegas after 2+ weeks of Team Bonding Through The Power Of Life Threatening Road Trips, by now lucy has basically solemnly vowed to help him find his family, and then in homage to the new vegas game, cooper IMMEDIATELY gets shot in the head and dies the minute they enter vegas. he's fine, he'll be fine, he's gonna get patched up by some random good samaritan doctor and come back swinging for incredibly violent revenge. but lucy does not know this. bonus points if it's her shithead dad that shot him

[bughead-in-the-comics]

From Worlds Apart, Betty and Veronica #274 (2015).

[darkdemeter]

THE THREAT OF INTIMACY

⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Angst — insecure reader and depictions of negative thoughts and fear of sexual intimacy — profanity — SMUT 18+ mdni — virgin!reader/loss of virginity — unprotected sex — hurt/comfort — oral (female receiving) — le dasha of body worship —cream pie — mafia bucky being a huge softy for his wife — I think that's it ✎ 7.4k A beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

It’s not so much of a grand show once the curtain falls. There hangs a greed of mischief and ominous silence. He looks at you, blue eyes piercing the exposed skin of your back, the white gown hangs an elegant silhouette on you. Its embroidered sculpts become melded into the fabricated folds as you stop midst the gate of your saunter forwards, each step a reminder drawing nearer as you do to the bed. 

Did you really have to do this? 

It was an era of change after all. But his seniors were old school, and so you expected him to be as well in the matters of the marriage bed. It is expected of you — the both of you. Your hands fish through the elaborate style of your hair, musing it loose and gaining a comforted scalp as you turn away from the bed and walk over to the large windows that extend from top to bottom, overlooking the twinkling space of stars fallen to earth. 

Being far away from it means you are torn from it. Once you step foot back in that place, you are no longer the girl you once were.

You are now Mrs. Barnes. A wolf among sheep. The queen of the Bratva. A cooperation of mobsters who have bought police eyes and silenced officials of the government. But was this status and power worth what is intended to follow? 

You didn’t have a real choice in the matter. Well, maybe you did. You fell for him, you won’t deny it, and you fell hard for him. Other pickings were not as savoury, nor did they explode with the chemistry you shared with him. But this wasn’t the only factor. 

It’d been clear that your hearts were set on one another. With the subtle whispers into the other’s ear, hugging and kissing, fingers entwined, or the more assuring hand on the low of your back. This intimacy had been a flavour sweet – loving – and you came to embrace these softer textures of your life at his side. His proposal was impossibly expected but even then, you couldn’t contain your surprise and eagerly said yes.

You never gave the thought of what came next exactly. The very intimate aftermath. Until his mother pulled you aside, a smile on her painted ruby lips as she guided you to walk with her through the hedged gardens. That conversation is one you will never forget. Her love is shocking, her devotion to her husband and family, you can hardly stand the thought of not loving her in return. 

But that talk shocked you. 

Half of it because of the gory details she regaled, but the other half because of your own mind. Your poisoned mind that festers with anxious insecurities. 

Of course it’s expected. Your virginity doesn’t exactly wave you as an expert, no matter what talks of womanhood you are subjected to. But by the standard of Mr. Bucky Barnes, his former bachelor days had given him what you lack: experience. 

What if I’m so bad that he’s repulsed by me? 

He’ll only need to take one look at me and that’ll be enough.

What if I can’t make him cum? 

What exactly am I supposed to do— I don’t think I’m ready. 

You continue on in your panicked, internal reverie, hand raised to rest your lips against your knuckles, the shine of diamonds catching in the dark reflection, a momentary blindness befalls you that then causes your stomach to writhe with unease.

“Hey,” your husband whispers, breath warm over the shell of your ear and his lips tease the curve of your exposed neck with light kisses. Your body flinches at the suddenness of his appearance right behind you, his chest to your back; you feel tears deep into the corner of your eyes, hot and wet and annoying. The stronghold of air chokes you in the back of your throat.

“Mm, hi…” 

Your forced smile is quick to fade, just barely passing back a glance at him before looking away. He catches this falter. His expression is shadowed by a troubled frown. He noticed the way you flinched before him. And that glistening of tears is hard to miss when it comes to you.  

“Talk to me,” he presses gently, “you okay?” 

His hands are strong and sure as he holds you, turns you to face him directly now, putting the window to your back. Your ring bound hand massages over your face with a breath hollowing out in a deep sigh. 

“Yeah. I’m good, I think we should get some rest. It’s been a big day.” 

Before you can step around him, his hand circles the entirety around your forearm, holding you in place.

“You don’t want to…” At the trailing end of his words with his blue eyes alluding to his meaning, the sting of tears prick your vision again and a flush paints your cheeks and neck red. He lets you walk away with the train of your dress flowing behind you like a silken shadow. 

“I don’t think tonight.”

Or any other night… 

Bucky’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, nodding as he watches you. Always a man who knows what to do, how to maintain composure — his power — he feels that confidence wane like the fading moon. Powerless.

The words brewing on your tongue are tart, poisonous and unpleasant. Not the sort you would ever want to say to your husband, no less on your wedding night. 

You’d ventured over to the vanity by now, you say beneath a shaken exhale, “I’ll look to hire a mistress.”

“Excuse me?” He gasps sharply. 

Your reply, voice short of anything joking or playful. You sit before the vanity and bend forward, unfastening the golden clasps on your heels before you set them aside. “I’ll have a mistress contracted for you. We’ll do everything else together but she will… provide the sexual affairs.”

“And you?” His question makes you pause midway of turning fully towards the mirror, only barely do you see him trail the outskirts of the room, just only in focus of your view. With a sigh, you pluck your earrings out, saying more so to your own reflection than him, “I’ve gone this long without sex, Bucky. I’m sure I can go on the rest of my life without it.” 

“No, no, we’re not doing things like that. I married you — I want you.” Why is that just too hard to believe? You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes in the mirror, so you look away, anywhere that doesn’t meet his gaze. “Honey, where the fuck did this come from?”

You don’t answer. The man is practically brought to his knees before you like a servant ready to obey you like a goddess. Treatment he committed to you, though you don’t feel deserving of. He spins you slowly on your stool until you face him, knelt before you, he tries to find the stunning awe of your eyes only to find you hiding away from him. “Did somebody say something to you? Who was it?” 

Quick to spare someone needless bloodshed, you stand abruptly, almost knocking him back and storm away from him by some feet, putting distance between you both, your voice carries over your shoulder, “Nobody said anything. I just think this arrangement will be better for us.”

You’re blinking back a curtain of tears that threaten to unleash. A wave rises high like a tsunami in your soul with these stupid, incessant thoughts. 

You’re imperfect. 

You’re ugly. 

Let another woman – a beautiful woman – please him. 

He’ll regret marrying you once he sees you.

Fingers ringing the course of massaging your temples, you are slowly being drowned by many, many thoughts like these. They're endless. They’re relentless and they are loveless. Not once do you give yourself the internal piece of mind that maybe, just maybe, there is hope in this relationship. That they are wrong. That he won’t judge or run from you. But who can say for sure?

It’s best to play it safe and keep what dignity you have left. Despite the spitefulness of seeing him become satisfied by another woman, it would be better than depriving him for the rest of his life. And you care more for his own happiness. It’s all you want for him. 

He speaks up again, his voice going stern in his verbal study. “So, let me get this straight: I marry the love of my life, the very essence I love and breath for, only to… fuck another woman. After I swore a vow to you.” 

“Bucky, you’re making it sound—”

“I’ll go without sex for the rest of my life than have some whore in our bed.” 

You spin on your heel, mouth agape. Finally you look at him long enough as he works to slowly approach you and he sees just how badly you’re hurting on the inside. “Bucky—” 

How quick he is to cut you off before you can even utter another heinous thing, now reaching you. “I wouldn’t stand at the altar for just anyone. I gave up that bachelor life to have you. I chose you. I want to have all of you.”

You mutter, mumble off-centred excuses that come out as broken noises on a record, and then you let out a shaken breath, chest feeling like it's being cleaved and ripped apart to the point your body trembles. You try your hardest to suppress your quiet sniffles as the flow of tears begin, fingers hastefully dapping away as to not smear your makeup; your only means of perfection that you’ve felt in a while.

When you saw yourself in the white dress every little girl dreams of for the first time in a bridal shop far too expensive for the average, then again in the dressing room with hair and makeup done to the nines, it all almost made you forget about the gut-wrenching aftermath once the reception concluded. That you were walking down that aisle with a purpose you would never come to regret. 

Was it all a foolish fairytale to idolise this facade of beauty?

The hand bearing his ring uses a force so gentle you think it’s the end, that when you look up, he will be gone. That your wedding dress will fade into your everyday jeans and grandmother’s patchy sweater you treasure too much to throw away, her scent still lingering there to inhale on a bad day. 

He drives your focus upwards until your eyes meet, your vision hindered behind a blur that wets your lashes as you blink. A vibrant colour of blue that once intimidated you now attends to assure you, to quiet your riled fears, but there is a reluctance to let your guard down this time. 

His hands cradle your jaw in his hold with a promise to never let you go. To never let you know this fear again.

“I won’t judge. I won’t run in disgust or whatever you think I’m gonna do. I think my vows can be credited to that, yeah?” 

Your bottom lip sinks inward slightly, teeth biting down hard on the plump of flesh, muttering a softly broken, “I-I guess.” 

“You’re scared.”

It is shame that brings your eyes to falter, chin wobbling until it crinkles. “Yes…”

It’s like he could read you, knowing that your next move is to shove him off – push him away – he leans down and presses his lips to your own. Warm, a little roughened yet still retaining a softened plush of texture, he breathes some sort of cooling flame that soothes you if not for a short while. A rattled, sharpened gasp teeters on the edge of your voice and he parts from the kiss with a low and silky drawl. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. We can take our time with this.” 

You’re hoisted into his arms, strength unyielding as he carries you over to the bed and sets you atop the mattress like porcelain. For him, he’s scared how easily it is to break you, no matter how hard you hide this fragility. You use the outside of your hand to wipe at your nose and exhale loudly, mind prattling on with your swirling thoughts. 

Pathetic. 

He’ll definitely need a mistress after that display. 

And all you’re better off getting is a toy. 

His family will ridicule you. He’s going to tell everyone that his little wife refused to have sex with him on his wedding night.

Poisonous thoughts. They aren’t going away. With a sniffle, you watch Bucky begin to strip himself down, leaving himself to his boxers. However much you admire the act in itself, it’s far too intimate than anything else. The idea of you doing that for him sickens you. You become repulsed by yourself. 

Your mind is a hideous beast. 

Like you.

Shut up!

You make this wedding dress look ugly.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky’s voice breaks through the hazardous cloud like a lighthouse awaiting for you ashore, guiding you to safety. He offers you a smile you try to match only to feel your lips twitch, muscles cringing as you keep the well of tears and cries inside. He invites you to join him and you move up the bed. You can’t bear to shed the second skin of your dress to reveal the lavish, risque lace and frilly lingerie you’d picked out at the encouragement of your bridesmaids.

You never really gave it much thought before until it was too late. This culture of intimacy you perceive as a threat. 

Your husband doesn’t question you. Instead he lays beside you, arms stretched out to invite you into his embrace. An invite you half-heartedly indulge in, inching yourself awkwardly to his side but remaining to keep some inches from him.

Head laid on the tucked shelf of your arms, hair mused to fall over your features, you intend to wallow in silence until exhaustion overtakes you into sleep. 

You’ve ruined his day.

“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?” The question is directed to you, you’re sure. But it also sounds like he’s asking himself for the answer to a riddle he cannot begin to understand. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your day…”

The contortion of his features almost has your body locking up into a tightly wound position, the form of his dark brows bevelling in the middle, eyes widening until the blackened pupils shrink into tiny dots. 

“What?” he sputters, “No– no, honey. This is our day.”

Our day?

There is a storm of emotion battling in his own eyes, however, he is just as quick to hide it from you. He trails again to caress the line of your jaw, his thumb strokes along your bottom lip. “Love, I will never force you into anything. Not your first time, not your hundredth. You hear me, yeah?”

Your eyes only look to stare at him with a stillness, before you absently nod. Then you turn, putting your back to him. You cannot bring yourself to look at him out of sheer guilt that no matter what, he cannot silence the honest and cruel torment of voices in your head. Not forever. They will find something to pick out and gnaw at to send you into this spiral. 

If you could do so without the judgement of your husband, you would cry and howl into your pillow for hours until the perfect mirage of your makeup fell apart, you’d spare the dress from being a ridiculed taint by being on you any longer. You’d be on the phone to your sister pleading for her to keep you company and distract you from this pain, you’d cry into her chest as she held you with all the strength she possessed. You’d ask your parents to call you beautiful, even though it’s a lie. 

But you keep it all in. And it breaks you so harshly on the inside that it cuts you like thousands of shards shredding you apart. 

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed between the void of silence. You can’t sleep. The tyrannical storm of emotion swarming inside you makes it impossible to even try lest you break and let it all out, letting it show. 

“B-Bucky?” you squeak, clearing your throat and you hear him hum immediately in response, the weight of him rolling over until his body is a ghost along your back. “Can I… uhm, can I ask you something?” 

Aside from the odd hiccup and sniffle here and there, you hold firm to sounding as you were before, the bubbly and playful girl Bucky couldn’t help but tease until you were a flustering mess, the girl who attempted to flirt back only to fumble over your words and proceed conversation with a shy smile. The girl he fell in love with. The one he gladly stood at the altar for. Before the voices.

“Of course, doll. Anything.”

 Nervously your fingers flex and wind together, thumbing the fabric over your breasts, the enclosed circlet of cleavage pressed closely together. You wish you could giggle at the way you caught Bucky gawking numerous times in supposed awe of you throughout the day. He often is like that every time he sees you though, now that you come to think about it. 

Supposedly.

Not likely real…

I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?

With a heavy swallow coated heavily in your hesitance, you take a breath in hope that proves to fail to settle your nerves. “You’ve been with plenty of girls before me… you know how to please them, what did…” you pause upon a whimper, “were they all the same?”

The amount of strain behind your vocal cords makes you cringe in disgust. You sound like—

“No, they were all different. Unique to each girl.” You can almost sense the way his head props up to look at you. His eyes staring a cool layer of heat into your back. “Just like you.”

“How can you say that?” Your voice betrays the toxins of a heart and mind poisoned together over far too long. Bucky hears the loathe of self in your words, dry and cynical, unbelieving in his words and your own image. “You’ve never even seen what I look like… you don’t know how I’ll be, I’ve never—” 

Your hands press over your eyes in hope to suppress the tears glassing over your vision. 

“Hey,” Bucky admonishes with a low drawl, tutting you, “hey. I’m not expecting the fucking grandios of perfect sex. I’m expecting you and only you. I want what makes you and your body unique.”

You turn your head to see him, chin wobbling slightly. How he’d crawl through hot coals and glass for you, seeing the beauty of what you see are flaws. He then grins and for a moment, it disturbs you how he could smile when you’re like this. 

“I wasn’t the best for my first time. In fact, I’m telling you–”

“Bucky, no, you don’t have to,” you interject with a stifled cough. You shoot to sit up and your husband follows, chuckling. 

“No, I will tell you I was shit at sex. Horrible. My first time—”

Your hands paw and pat at his mouth to silence him to no avail, your chorus of hiccups and sniffles turn into shy giggles. 

“I–couldn’t–”

You giggle a little louder this time. “Shush, Bucky! No-ho!” 

“Couldn’t even– find the cl—”

Your fingers are a heavenly pillar even as they hold his lips prisoner from speaking aloud. He smirks behind them and plants delicate kisses to them, enamoured by the faint smile on your face and the softness of your eyes. Seeing you cry and be tied to these human emotions makes a fire burn in his chest. Like for the longest time, he’s finally found someone who can make him feel whole. If only he could help you feel the same. In the make of those blue, puppy dog eyes, you crack and scoff out a snort. “New York’s infamous Mob Lord…” 

He beams from ear to ear at the unfinished implication, taking the time to fall so hard in love with you all over again. He leans his forehead against yours with a rumbled, “Mhm.”

Mascara smudged under the barrage of wet lashes and tears, your lips part with a shaky breath. “Bucky?”

He hums again, so you press on, throat suddenly tight. “Do you think you could make me feel that way?”

His response is instant, deep voice trailing along the bridge of your neck, much like it had done earlier as his arms circle the lower curve of your arse and hoist you until you balance atop his thighs, keeping his weight on his haunches. “Moya zvezda, that and more.” 

Your arms drape over the burly muscle of his shoulders, breath mingling with his in hot gusts laboured with anticipation, you hear him groan as you ever so slightly lower your hips against his and he pushes you that little higher on the pedestal he holds you on, it’s height greater than any earthly accomplishments men can dream of. 

It’s why you’re his star. 

I love this man.

With all my heart. 

His front presses fully into you, he works to weave one hand beneath the shower of your gown and feeling along the sheer stocking attached to your garter; he groans again, more feral sounding in his sensational marvel of how perfect you are. How blessed he is to be the one to touch you like this. To hold and have you so intimately. 

At his touch, your body erupts with a shudder, momentarily staggered by the electric push and pull and thriving buzz between your legs; though the stir of arousal isn’t foreign to you, it certainly is a stark contrast with his attentive action. 

His lips smother the embers of your trembling gasps with a kiss, passion tasting as a fine wine on his tongue. The kiss is paced slowly to attend to your cautious nature, an utter surety that he won’t make any move against you. You take no part in stopping him as he pushes aside the obstructive barrier of your panties. 

The way his fingers are gentle to stroke your core has you keening, teetering on a choked whine, his work deliberate in focusing on the pearl of your sensitive clit and the slickened beginnings of your folds. His hands that have sinned many times now amend themselves with the purity of worshipping every inch, exploring you with the intent to please. His thumb rolls in drawn circles, eliciting from you mewls and heated pants of air too heavy to stay in your lungs, cooing at your slow induction. 

“Atta girl.”

I’m alright. 

“You’re doing amazing.”

I’m safe. 

His two fingers run along your entrance, causing your spine to arch slightly and he smirks, pulling from the kiss. 

“You like that, doll? Yeah?” he asks smoothly, seeing you nod shakily with eyes half lidded. 

Your hands entangle themselves to the bedded roots of his hair, tender as you can to pull with each spark that has your stomach tying knots and your muscles tensing, his thumb begins to roll a little harder and faster. At hearing the apparition of a moan escape you, he applauds you with his encouragement despite the way your hand covers over your mouth to silence these noises.

“Fuck, please again, zvezda. Please.”

“I want to hear you.”

“Please… fuck you sound so beautiful…”

In your stun over his pleas, your hand lowers away and you continue to let your moans lull him, hips moving at a slow crawl against his fingers that press to your core and with a single look you let him know you’re willing. He fights the tantalising grip of your fingers to reach your lips as he pushes two fingers past your folds. Your gasp is a sharp sound to his ears, one of alert that he seeks to comfort you through the kiss.

The trajectory to pull your hips away stabilises and you begin to find that rhythm with each grind and thrust onto his fingers, the waves of pleasure coming from your clit has your stomach tightening. 

“B-Bucky…” you whisper and he swallows your words with a deep moan. Your walls clench around the intrusion of his fingers, moreso when he adds a third, curling them as if to beckon your body furthermore to his touch, to yield your fears and let him set alight that bloom inside your core and unto your bliss. 

You pant harder, “B–ngh… Bucky… th-there.”

“Right there?” He asks with a sultry grin. Your voice comes out in a strangled response. “M—mhm.”

The voice of your whine is his commandment. He installs a level of dedication at gently fucking you with his fingers right where you needed him – wanted him. That swell inside you grows and grows, furthering into a maelstrom that leaves your body shivering, unexpected of where this sudden burst will implode. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so well, doll,” he praises with a low timbre, groaning with a prided grin when you tug a little harder at his hair, your softer nature betraying to act out this darker side of yourself; this almost forbidden wanton. 

I feel…

Your hips move to become greedy and much to Bucky’s approval, feeling the swollen bulge of his cock straining against his boxers has you weak and some instinct to move against it drives you, a louder moan slipping past your lips. Bucky’s mouth leaves a heated trail of passionate nips and teasing flutters of kisses against your neck, spoiling you. 

You gasp and your hands fly to his shoulders to hold you at bay, the sudden shockwave a prelude to ride as your orgasm ascends upon you, he hears the feverish whimpers you make and he purrs, pumping his fingers, “That’s it, love, let go. C’mon, let me feel you cum for me. I’ve got you.”

The suppression of a scream hides in your chest, leaving only a choked sob to rack through you as you thrust and claim your first release, a hot flush of white behind your eyes blinds you, your muscles convulse in tensing and relaxing as you ride out your high. 

Your arms that wound around his shoulders squeeze a little tighter in your recovery, your breath timed to slow down after a few minutes but your body remains to quiver against him. The form of his aroused cock clear and unhidden has your core weeping for more.

“There you go, that’s it,” he coaxes softly with a smile while he eases a kiss to the corner of your lips, “how’re you feeling?” 

“G-good… really like… wow.” The words come out jumbled to you, as if you were still influenced by the strong wine at the reception, having made you reserve your consumption to a very limited amount. 

Bucky hums and withdraws his fingers, leaving you to mewl at the loss. The sight before you has you in some chokehold, a crimson heat flushes into your cheeks and down your neck, rendering your blood into fiery rivers beneath your skin, a sudden jerk picking up in your heartbeat as Bucky cleans the slick of your release from his fingers, the crystalised shade of blue dimming with a certain darkness as the taste of you rolls over his taste buds. 

He’s tasting me…

He moans with a thunderous growl. “Fuck… you taste amazing,” he grins, teeth gleaming with that cute, charming esteem. 

I do?

The warmth in your cheeks glows ten fold, bringing a sight for Bucky to admire. That cute girl who’s face becomes rosy with embarrassment. It’s like he could read your mind and the way he says your name has you at a loss of breath, drawing your attention back to the shine of his eyes. 

“You are exquisite…” 

Following in action as the continuation of his proclamation, his hand finds the spine of your dress and upon reaching the apex between your shoulders. He seeks to pause and his eyes seek out your permission, brows slight to bevel. “May I, Mrs. Barnes?”

The crescents of your palms brush the exterior of his stubble, every inch of your hands covered by the sensational prickling that leaves you like putty. How he stares at you with this amass of love and fondness that feels overwhelming at times. 

He’s just so… perfect.

The return of tears glasses over your eyes and you smile, brightly and toothy and nod, cupping his jaw in your hands before you press a softened kiss to his lips. You feel it in unison with him; it steals the breath from you both. 

“You may, Mr. Barnes.”

With your approval, he draws the zip undone. Anticipation lines your nerves like a trail of gunpowder ready to be set ablaze. He’s testing the waters, ensuring that this is what you want and when you give no indication of refusal, he glides the dress from your shoulders, revelling in the delicate sculpt of your body; the warm, ambient light hitting the surface creates a heavenly glow upon your skin. With the overhanging light above, it frames a golden halo around you as his sights steer upwards. 

Your gown drapes a sultry form over you, accentuating the mounds of your breasts pushed close together and the nakedness of your shoulders and neck. Bucky growls under a vice of hunger. But something lays in the glassy waver of his stare. 

“Please be real?”

His voice barely rises above a near shattered whisper. A man who fears losing you just much as you fear losing him. His voice pleads with you. Your lips part, jaw coming to drop slightly as your eyes widen.

Please be real for me?

“I-I am, Bucky. I’m real…”

The man before you exhales loudly, gasping for breath to keep himself drowning. “Good. Because I want this to be real.”

He doesn’t waste another moment. His mouth clashes against yours, hunger succumbing as he ravishes you with the heated intensity of his kiss, tongue running a pleaful line along your bottom lip. You part them and he awakens the stir of arousal flooding through your veins, tongues dancing in an artistic battle for dominance he undeniably wins. You moan a muffled song and he drinks every lyric of it, intoxicated by it. 

His hands are wild in their exploration, peeling your dress lower to reveal the laces and frills of your lingerie, not permitting you to shy away and hide from him this time, his hands feel every inch of it, mesmerised by the way it fits to you so beautifully that even the most talented of sculptures would struggle to capture your raw and enticing beauty to its complete and apex design. 

Your hands scour to claim the roots of his hair again. This time, you hold no restraint and he loves it. He loves the radiance of confidence you find in every following second. You are claiming what is rightfully yours as his wife. As his one love that he will kill and die for without question. Though time and mortal breath dares to intrude and part you, you find ways around the schemes, momentarily gasping for air within the clash of your lips, too far entranced to pull away. 

His hands glide up your sides until his thumbs are able to tease your stiffened nipples through the thin fabric, groaning at the noises you create from it, his touch sending those blissful tingles throughout your body. When time comes to see you both departed from your kiss, you each still remain to linger, tasting one another in the inch spared between you, chests heaving madly and brushing together. Dress pooled to a rolled belt over your waist, Bucky drinks in every detail of your body. 

Why does he look at me like that? 

His nose buries into you, nestling into the warmth and softness of your body as he utters phrases of praise to your skin, a trail of his devotion painted upon your skin with the invisible ink of his love and adoration for you. 

“You feel what you do to me?” he asks, strong hands guiding your hips down to roll in unison with his, the swollen mound of his erect cock still suffering in confinement has you hiccuping in your stun.

Though your voice is light, you nod as you answer. “Yes.”

“That’s how fucking hot you are,” he says with a deep, velvety drawl, his words slightly muffled by the way his mouth caresses you. “You have me so hard right now, fuck, the things I wanna do to you, doll.”

His confession has you blushing. 

He can’t possibly mean that…

He can’t help himself. He’s a man enslaved at your whim. Though you try to bring this madman to his senses with an embarrassed huff of his name, he only leans in to claim your lips with his, the melding of hunger brings you both into that feverish haze again. Tongues entangled with one another, Bucky’s hands paw and pluck the garments of your lingerie from your form, peeling away the details of floral patterns and lacy sheer to feel the heat of skin below, the way your muscles twitched under his touch. 

You moan between the kiss and allow your hands to feel the soft tresses of his hair between your fingers, carefully weaving through the darkened locks and nails scratching at the roots against his scalp, a rumbling purr escaping him. 

The rock of your hips move together, a desiring fire burning in your core to the point it borders on a painful ache between your legs. Your dress is discarded, left aside with your undressed garments to be reclaimed at a later time. He lays you on your back, your head nested atop the plush cushion of the pillows, bodies flush together without leaving so much as a morsel of space apart. 

Entrapped by his lustful kiss, you thrust and grind your heated sex against him with shocking eager, a whine is tugged from your throat, unsure.

Bucky is quick to assure you of your arousal, that its intoxication is a vice wanted. He uses one arm to support his weight above, caging you, as his other takes hold of your thigh and gropes at it fervently while somewhere in the mixture haze his boxers are tossed aside. His swollen tip oozes with glistening, droplet streams, his size heavy and long that has a gasp escaping you. 

W–will he fit?

Such worrisome thoughts are snuffed out like speckled embers as he deepens the kiss, tongues gliding together and moans and limbs entangle. His tip brushes over the sensitive spot of your clit and your hips take languid actions against his practised thrusts. 

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he mutters across the skin of your jaw, “but it won’t for long. I’m right here, moya zvezda, I promise.”

A crystalline glint appears on the waterline of your eyes, a tender smile on your lips as your lips connect with a chaste kiss. 

“I’m ready, Bucky…”

His blue eyes take the time to carefully read your expression. For a man so immersed in being so gentle and caring with you, you have come to know that with the very same hands he caresses you with – he has broken jaws, bloodied and bruised noses and strangled the very life of more than one person. He can tell when a man is lying just by looking into his eyes. 

He sees you’re telling the truth. That you want this with him. You want him. Cock nudging at your folds, you push your legs a little wider to better accommodate his size after hearing him chuckle at the crimson blush creeping into your face, flustered at the thought of his entire cock sheathing inside you. 

“Gonna fit all of me, my sexy little wife?” he’d teased with a wink. 

His eyes retain their focus with yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your cunt, meeting the slight of resistance and surged forward, a sigh heavily laced on his breath that has his head bowing to press his forehead to yours, eyes scrunched tightly. 

A hitched note on your throat is silenced, cut out with a high pitched whine as he sinks deeper and deeper, breaching past the wall of your hymen. Your nails mark their bite into his shoulders and down his back with angry red scars, tracing over the blackened inks already imprinted there. 

Your walls constrict around the intrusion of him with a searing pierce that brings your tears to streak down your temples, chin slightly trembling, you feel Bucky’s lips hover over yours. 

“O-ow,” you mewl, “It hurts…”

“I’ve got you, zvezda, I’m here.”

Your chest feels tight, suffocated, but his words comfort you. You cling to him tighter, thighs trembling at his sides and you feel his hand resume its place there, gentle to knead and rub soothing circles as he coaxes you through the blight of your pain. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he whispers to your lips, the crinkle of a smile forming on his features. Just as quickly as it had come, the pain subsides and you feel so full at the point where your bodies meet, you finally nod for him to continue. 

He goes slowly. 

He sets a rhythm paced to ease you into the forcing motion of his cock gliding through your hot, velvety walls that clamp and shudder with each movement he makes. Your gasps turn to softly sung moans as you begin to grind your hips to meet his and he smiles down at you. “There you go, love. That’s it, you’re taking me so well.” 

“This body… so perfect, so beautiful… I love it, I love you.”

Another moan escapes you. He heaves a deep breath with every thrust, still focusing hard to keep this steadiness, until you moan for him, 

“Bucky… please, I-I need…”

“What do you need, love? Tell me.”

“I– need more– please.”

He groans, the thought of ruthlessly fucking you with abandon crosses his mind in flashes, the way you’d look spread out while being pummeled by his cock that ruts into your pretty pussy until you’re stuffed full of his cum that it overspills as a creamy ring around his girthy base. 

To fuck you the way of a mafia lord. 

“You want that, sugar?” he asks, his voice sudden to drop lower into a silken, deepened purr with a darkened smirk. “You want to be fucked the way a mafia queen should be? H–hmph, you want it harder? Faster?”

You choke on the release of your words, sounding breathless, “Y-yes!”

Your walls clench tight around him, a series of moans spilling from your parted lips as he then picks up his pace, the incentive of your permission driving him to thrust harder, his hand fists and squeezes the flesh of your thigh within his grasp, holding you fast to him as he strikes deeply into your pussy. His muscles bend, curve and tense and your hands greedily explore every single portion of him, granting you this chance to be upheld by the prison of your thoughts that may hold you back later.

You howl, whine and cry – all for more, for him to keep going, to not stop. His body arches over yours, hands now ahold of you at the hips he uses the advantage of his strength and position to forcefully piston himself back and forth, back and forth until you’re writhing beneath him  Your hands attach themselves to the veiny reins of his wrists, your hips arched up until your lower half is lifted for his leisure to fuck into that spot that has you seeing an galaxy of stars.

“Bucky– Bucky, oh Bucky!” you cry out. 

“Fuck— yeah baby, fuck you sound beautiful, shit— baby, keep screaming my name, I want to hear you.” Each word is intensely laced with an exerted breath or guttural groan. “Fucking hell, zvezda, you look fucking amazing like that—” 

“You’re taking my cock so well.”

“I’m never getting over the sight of this.”

His eyes burn with lust at the sight of your breasts bouncing without restraint, the shudder of your body with each clash of your thrusts, how your face contorts so beautifully with pleasure and the holstered grip of your legs hooking around his waist repeatedly only to falter each time after several pumps, only kept upright by his hold. A knot coils inside you, a tidal wave of pleasure coursing through your veins that sets your nerves aflame and your vocal cords to strain with every sound you make. The more and more he slams his cock into you, your neck is forced to arch back against the pillows with a pleasured shriek. 

You call out to him, “Bucky, I— I’m gonna… ah!” 

“Cum for me, doll, I wanna feel how tight your pretty pussy is around me.” Your back arches further as his tip continues to hit that spot and the sensational toying of his thumb rolls on your clit, eliciting a flourish of sparks to ignite until you’re suddenly overcome with a flush of white, that euphoric hit crashing over you while heat pours into every inch of your skin with your eyes rolling back.

You chant his name like a sacred prayer, the meaning of your vows imbued within your slurred, intoxicated mantra. He pants, hot and heavy in your ear,

“Shit, shit— fuuuck, baby— ‘mgonna cum, gonna cum for you. I want my seed in you, I want it in you so bad.”

His thrusts increase, the sound of skin slapping skin is erotically loud. You don’t want it to stop. You don’t want him to stop and so you beg him to keep going. 

You continue to whine, low and cooing, walls stretching and clenching around him, milking him of his release that sweeps over him with a long, baritone and throaty moan. His head presses into the crook of your neck to suck at the skin of your collarbone, marking you with dark bruises of his love and possession as he paints your pussy with his seed. The air is faintly filled by the sound of oozing slick of your combined orgasms that leak and drip around his still thrusting cock.

The erratic pace in which his rhythm held eventually wanes, instead he moves to a slow-crawling grind to ease you off your combined highs. His chest rises and falls and you allow your eyes to admire his form above you, A balance of skin and ink layered in a thin coating of sweat, as is your own, the muscles of his body rippling with each motion he makes. 

His hands release from your hips after he’s lowered you back down to the bed, allowing your body to succumb to the exhaustion undoubtedly taking hold of you. Your gaze meets his own, the colour of them haloed by the shine of tears and his heart yearns for you. 

He fears he’s done something wrong and his hands quickly raise to caress your face, thumbs stroke over your cheeks. 

“Moya zvezda, are you—”

“I’m…” you trail off, blinking rapidly to see him through the watery veil and you grin up at him and nod. He’s relieved to see that smile, coming to mirror it himself. 

She’s okay. My girl’s okay.

You reach your hand up, the warmth of your palm contrasted by the cool adornment of your ring. Bucky leans his face into your touch. “You stayed… you didn’t—” Though your words fail you, Bucky sees what you mean to say in your eyes. 

“Of course. You’re everything I ever wanted…” Your brows furrow, touched by the sincerity in his words. Before you is a man whose heart is held in your very hands. And his heart is one you wish to cherish, hold dear and never break. To think you almost bargained him off to another woman— 

“Have me again tonight, zvezda. Have me any other night. I promise, I will be there every time, every moment.”

He doesn’t want a mistress. He wants me. 

Those voices are gone, replaced by newer, kinder ones.

You’re perfect. 

You’re beautiful. 

I’m not scared anymore. Not with him. 

You now realise that intimacy was never the threat. The voices in your head were. 

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Did you want some tissues?

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos @mrsnikstan @floralwsloki @mcira @schneeflocky @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 1: Dinner Time

Prologue

TW: Past neglect, death, violence, mention of blood, drinking

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

"Eight years in hell. . ."

You were seated on top of a desk playing with a snow globe in your hands.

"Can really make you go crazy." Your head hits the wall behind you, slowly turning to the bleeding man on the ground, once again receiving a blow to the face from a man dressed in dark red.

"P- please. . . I don't know anything. I swear." The man whimpers as he begged.

You sighed. "You're lying. I really, really hate liars' doctor." You through the snow globe onto the ground, shattering the glass. The man in red took your small fit of rage as a signal and pulled out a gun, pressing it against the doctor's head.

The bleeding doctor felt another type of fear the moment he felt the cool metal against his temple.

"W-wait! Wait! Please! I have a family; I'm begging you please!" The doctor cried and begged. The man in red glanced to you, you sighed and waved you're hand off. The man in red put his finger on the trigger, about to shoot.

"WAIT- Gotham hospital! She was at Gotham hospital!"

The man in red paused and glanced over to you.

You walked closer to the doctor, crouching down to the man's current level, as the man in red slowly pulled the gum away, the doctor felt a large wave of relief wash over him.

"Are you sure?"

The doctor nods "She s-saw Doctor Hill, that's all I know, I promise that's all I know."

You stay silent for a moment before standing up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The Doctor felt relived. Wanting to go back to his wife and kids, hug them as tight as he could-

BAM!

The Doctor fell with a thud. Blood slowly seeping out of his body as you tossed the gun you used to shoot the doctor to the man in red.

"That's for lying" You mumbled as you stare at the doctor's body with indiffrence.

You've been out of Arkham for almost a month now. You should be relaxing, try to fit back into society. But no, your mother was missing, the Falcone's didn't know where her whereabouts were, some made comments of her abandoning you the moment you got out, which coursed them to have a slow death for their crude comments.

Your mother loves you, and you know she would never abandon you. So now you're searching. But you aren't getting to her fast enough. And your growing impatient. You wanted to come back out into the world and run into the arms of your mother, but your just met with Gotham's ugly mug. It angered you beyond words.

The man in red, Rex, works for the Falcones, but has come to be loyal to you. Rex followed behind you as you walked out of the room and down the halls.

"Give doctor hill a visit for me, will ya?" You spoke coldly as your heels clicked loudly walking down the empty hall of an abandoned building. Rex nods before speaking up.

"What about you Miss Falcone. Are you going back to the Falcon manor?"

Ah, yes. You took your mother's last name. All done in paper. No more, Y/n Wayne. That little girl is dead.

". . . No, I need to grab a few things."

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Alfred knows you have been out for a month, so why have you not come back to the manor?

Alfred tried to keep in touch as much as possible during your time in Arkham. Every phone call, he could hear that sweet innocent girl he knew fade. He has tried to phone you multiple times but no use. Even tracking you down with was difficult, Alfred has tried to tell Bruce about his worry for you not coming home, But Bruce seemed to almost immediately shut down at the mention of your name.

He's worried for you, he just wants to see you, and make sure you're okay.

There was a met Gala being held today. Preparing for it was exhausting, but it was like that every time a gala had to be held. Everyone scattered all over the manor.

With a heavy sigh, Alfred entered the kitchen, the gala's close to an end, the rich of Gotham turning in for the night. But Alfred comes to a stop when he noticed a woman in the kitchen, dressed in a dark red dress, her back faced to him as she picked up a glass of wine.

"Excuse me ma'am, you're not supposed to be in the back here." Alfred spoke firmly with his usual stoic expression. The woman in red slowly turns around with the wine glass in hand. Then she spoke, the face, Alfred surely does not recognize, but the voice. He knows your voice.

"I rather be away from the crowed, if you don't mind." You gave the older man a small smirk as you see the realization hit him.

"Miss Y/n?"

Your small smirk cracked even wider. Alfred walks closer, shocked to see you here, in the kitchen munching on some sweets, just like you used to when you were younger.

You shrugged with a small giggle slipping from your red lips

"The one and only"

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"Miss Y/n, come, Master Bruce must know your home!" Alfred might not show it a lot, but he is overjoyed to see you in the manor again. You've grown so much.

"Ah, well I was hoping to just grab some things from my old room and head out." You try to walk off to the back staires

"Nonsense, come, come." Alfred needed you to meet the family. For the family to see you. He touched your back as to lead you out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

You immediately flinched away.

Your negative reaction causes the butler to coil back.

"Miss. . .?"

You let out a weak cuckle.

"Sorry, I'm not fond of being touched." You began to meekly rub your hands together. Alfred comes to realize your time in Arkham has damaged you in some way's he might not be able to know yet.

"No need to apologize miss Y/n." Despite the small awkward moment Alfred still managed to have you walked out to see the others.

You felt an immense amount of DeJa'Vu. The walls, the detailed engraved in these walls. These walls haunted your dreams. Only half of your childhood was spent in this manor. You remember running down those stairs once Bruce came home from work. Skipping through these halls after getting a solo part in choir, something Bruce never really paid mind too.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Almost everyone was here tonight. Jason, Dick, Cassandra, Tim, Damian and Duke. Steph couldn't make it. Barbra was spending time with her father. And. . .

Bruce watched as his children chat, argue, laugh. He smiles to himself as he takes a sip of his glass of white wine.

"Where's Alfred?" Damian spoke up as he turned his head in search for the butler that is always usually hovering around. Bruce shrugs

"Most likely in the kitchen."

Suddenly, the doors open, in comes Alfred with a smile on his face.

"Alfred." Bruce can tell Alfred seems to be in a more chipper mood than he was in half an hour ago.

"We have a visitor." Alfred's words confused the others. Then you stepped up. You scanned the room. Some faces new, some old. Others were still confused, either not recognizing you due to the years that have passed, or the fact they simply didn't know who you were.

But Bruce didn't take long to recognize you. And the way he paled at the sight of you, it just made you smirk at his reaction. Dick was quick to follow the realization.

"Y/n . . ." Bruce mumbled.

Jason's head whipped to Bruce once he heard the name. Looking back at you then to Bruce.

"Y/n, we thought you were still . . ." Dick tried to speak, but he seemed to get more uncomfortable with just thinking of his words.

You wait for Dick to say the words, but clearly, he was still in shock to say it.

"Arkham? I've been, rehabilitated." You say this with a soft smile.

Jason, trying to process what the actual fuck is going on right now stayed silent. Damian also confused spoke up.

"Father who is this woman?"

Your eyes snapped to the young boy, your head tilt for a moment. Walking closer to the table. Your heels click as you kept your eyes on the young boy, and Bruce kept his eyes on you. Still not believing you were out.

"I'm his daughter. Blood, daughter." You spoke as you kept a playful manner to yourself. The Damian frowns. "Imposible. I'm fathers only blood child."

You paused for a moment. You seem to be analyzing the situation.

"Is that what dear old daddy said." Your chuckle, almost darkly, as you sipped on your glass of red wine. Alfred pulled up a seat at the end of the table, across from Bruce. You took a seat.

The room that was once filled with chatter and warm air was now silent and tension filled the air. You leaned back into the chair; Alfred re-fills your glass.

"Thank you, Alfred." You kept a small playful smile on your red lips. You let out a small sigh before speaking

"So, what did I miss?"

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢?"

[hajimesh]

mama's day. gojo satoru

fluff. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ parents au, non sorcerer au, mom!reader, family fluff, two unnamed sons and one baby girl. a little gift for myself ! ᡣ𐭩

little sunshines au

satoru has a plan for your birthday—a very detailed one.

step one. wake up the nuggets

it takes him less than two minutes to get the oldest out of bed, and there's really no point in waking up his baby girl since there's not much an eight-month-old can do.

the problem is your toddler.

"c'moooon, don't you wanna give mama her gifts?"

satoru's tone grows exasperated the longer his son refuses to cooperate, kicking his legs and throwing his nemo plushie at his face.

"no!"

the five-year-old immediately shushes his baby brother, only making the latter whine even more, tears now running down his chubby cheeks.

satoru feels his face fall upon seeing his son so upset, he should've expected the little ones not to take it too well to be woken up at six in the morning.

"hey," he tries softly this time, caressing the soft blond hairs of his toddler, "I'm sorry, mochi. can you forgive papa? go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when breakfast is ready, okay?"

the sobs end and now there's only small sniffles coming from the sleepy kid.

"oki."

step two. make breakfast

"like this?"

satoru leans down to inspect his son's work, brows furrowing as he tries, and fails, to read whatever gibberish his son tried to spell on top of the freshly made waffles.

with a loud smooch on the kid's cheek, satoru squeezes him in a tight hug, grinning proudly the way a father would. "a masterpiece. mama's gonna love it."

dad and son work surprisingly silent, focused on their own tasks. it doesn't take them long to have plates full of food and fruits, as well as freshly made juice.

"why don't you grab these," satoru hands his son two bags with the names of expensive brands on them, "while I go get your siblings. okay?"

"on it!"

step three. gifts

"happy birthday, mama~"

"ma-ma!"

you wake up with a start, surrounded by four pairs of blue eyes staring down at you.

"happy birthday, love of my life, mother of my kids, my one and only!"

satoru pecks your mouth as your brain processes the beaming faces of your three nuggets. your boys sit next to you, one on each side, while satoru holds the baby in the air right above your face.

your confused face finally eases into one of happiness (and relief).

"thank you, my little babies!" you smile drowsily, urging yourself to blink the sleep away as you smooch the faces of all three of your children. "mwah, mwah, mwahhh–"

your husband can't help but smile upon seeing you smothering the kids with kisses. and with his hold still on his baby girl, satoru tugs her away from you and nods at your lap.

"open your gifts, baby. we got you aaaall of your favorites." he winks at his son and the little one covers his mouth behind his tiny hand, giggling. "and we also made breakfast for mama, right?"

with a pointed look from satoru, your toddler remembers the plate of food on his lap.

"eat waffu, baby." your two-year-old offers you the plate full of waffles, pushing it towards your mouth, insistent. "eat it."

step four. spoil her rotten

your two boys happily run across the gardens while your baby girl crawls on the grass, squealing right behind her brothers.

"liked the surprise?"

your husband's arms wrap around your middle from behind. his hold is the greatest comfort you could've asked for.

"you mean waking up with three of your clones staring down at me while I sleep?" you snort, but there's no real bite in your tone. "I loved it. especially their drawing of me surrounded by blue-eyed mochi."

your eldest had insisted on drawing their little family—with you right in the center—and satoru thought it'd be funny to add the mochi instead of the kids.

"oh, but I'm not done yet, sweetheart." he spins you around in his arms, now grinning at you. "an entire weekend. you and me. what do you say?"

a groan slips past your lips and he immediately frowns, indignation clear on his face.

"c'mon, pretty. it's been a while since it was just the two of us." satoru goes for the puppy eyes, knowing that by doing so he already has a fifty percent of chance of winning. "you're not only a mother, but also a wife. let your doting husband pamper you."

"and who's watching over the kids? the baby??" you try to reason, glancing at your nuggets as they giggle their little hearts out as they play together. "satoru, we can't just leave."

"sweetheart, relaaaaax. ijichi got us covered."

oh, that poor man.

you make a mental note to give nanami a call.

[percys-princess]

Dating Walker Scobell ( actress!reader)

♡ you two knew each other through social media as he got very popular through playing Percy Jackson, while you got very popular by playing Lucy Pevensie in the new series ' The Narnia Chronicles '

♡ you two first met through your mutual friend group ( consisting of Momona Tamada, Mckenna Grace, Malia Baker, Aryan Simhadri, Dior Goodjohn, Charlie Bushnell, Leah Sava Jeffries, Xochitl Gomez )

♡ Walker being the fun guy he is, instantly charmed you, just as you charmed him with your sweet, bubbly sunshine personality

♡ puppy love / friends to lovers energy

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡ getting teased by your friends, yet they absolutely adore you two together

♡ venting to ech other and understanding the stress of being well known at such a young age

♡ lots of hugs and cuddles ( 🤚he is a cuddler, fight me on this 🤚)

♡ playing with his hair and him just relaxing in your arms

♡ forehead kisses ( especially since he keep growing and growing)

♡ A LOT of ship edits before you got public and especially after going public

♡ getting asked about each other by fans and interviewers

♡ supporting each other and each other's projects more than your own ( and getting slightly scolded for it but doing it either way :) )

♡ talking about each other to family,friends and sometimes to fans ( and them gushing over your cuteness )

♡ being a power couple

♡ getting called the " young Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively " bc 1) you two are just as cute as them 2) Walker reminds everyone of Ryan where as you charming lil cutie remind people of Blake 3) both famous young actors

♡ lots of texting and phone calls once you're both filming your own projects

♡ resulting into being quite clingy with each other when you reunite again

BONUS: shows / movies I had in mind for y/n :

Abby Litmann ( Ginny & Georgia ) , Enid Sinclair ( Wednesday ), Lucy Pevensie ( Narnia movies ) , Violet Baudelaire ( A series of unfortunate events ), Katie Cooper ( Alexa & Katie )

I hope you liked it ♡

~ princess 🌸

[sanarsi]

Birthday present

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Columbia's godfathers. Agent Peña decides to surprise you on your twenty-fifth birthday. Warnings: +18, MDNI, protected PIV, car sex, age gap (10y), reader has tattoo, pet names (baby, cariño, princesa), dirty talk, mention of corrupt family, violence Wordcount: 5,3k An: English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry for possibly misunderstanding. Hope you’ll enjoy xx Music I worked with: MAMACITA - Black Eyed Peas, Ozuna, J. Rey Soul / Alibi - Sevdaliza, Pabllo Vittar, Yseult / LA FAMA - ROSALÍA, The Weeknd

Masterlist

Javier's informants usually did not disappoint.

And he was one of those who often put everything on one card. Either he will succeed or will have to try hard to succeed.

That's what led him to this moment. An opportunity to get closer to you than ever before. To get you to cooperate.

Latin music played softly on the radio as Javier calmly drove away from the city center. From time to time he glanced in the mirror to fix his mustache and hair. He had to look good enough to catch your attention. He had to try harder for a while even though he wasn't being paid for it. But Javier was as dedicated to his work as anyone else. Sometimes it could be called his flaw but he didn’t cared about what others thought.

The car stopped in one of the side streets leading to a seaside bar. The bar where you celebrated your birthday.

Javier looked at his reflection one last time and dabbed his skin with aftershave. A strong masculine scent wafted through the car. The perfect weapon for his hunt for an evening companion. He didn't doubt his abilities and that he would be able to woo you too.

Relaxed, he moved towards the muffled music. He was passed by several people who clearly wanted to continue having fun in a more private place. Javier smiled to himself, feeling that he would be lucky today and his intuition never failed him.

From a distance he could already see the outline of people dancing on the dance floor. The music was getting louder and people's conversations began to drown out his own thoughts. Even though he was tired, this was what brought him relief. Finally, his attention was focused on something other than work. Even if that's exactly what he came here for. Work.

Javier walked up to the bar and nodded to the bartender. “Whiskey,” he said, and wasting no time, he started slowly looking around at the people standing closest to him. You weren't here.

His eyes immediately fell on the dance floor. A lot of people. Definitely too much for a small bar by the water.

Javier might have been fooling himself a lot, but he couldn't deny that he loved the energy here. Or at least the energy from the people who simply live here. Having fun and living life to the fullest. If it weren't for all the crap he dealt with, Columbia would be heaven.

Barman placed a glass of whiskey next to him, so he handed him a few bills and took his first sip of alcohol. This was what he needed after a long day at the office.

He slowly savored his drink when his eyes fell on the girl in the middle of the dance floor. He tilted his head to get a better view between dancing couples and slowly ran his gaze down her entire body. The blood red dress hugged her body tightly and several ruffles fluttered with every movement of her hips. His gaze stopped for a moment on her lush hips, which had a lot of life in them.

Javier gulped as he watched how the dress barely covered her ass. Still, she didn't seem to care and was definitely testing the durability of the piece of fabric that gave a lot to the imagination.

His eyes moved lower to her legs and black high heels. A small tattoo on her ankle caught his attention. A light immediately went on in his head. His instincts never failed him, and this time was no exception. It was you. He spotted you like a predator and wasn't going to waste any time from attacking you.

He drank the entire contents of the glass at once and took a deep breath before moving towards you. Someone bumped into him several times, but no one even bothered to notice. Not that Javier cared. His attention was only on you.

The way your fingers disappeared into your hair.

The way your hands slid down your body.

The way your lips moved with every word of the song.

Oh he could get high from this view…

The song changed and this gave him the perfect opportunity to attack. His hand placed itself on your hip, which caught your attention. You opened your eyes, pulled out of your dancing trance, and looked over your shoulder at your attacker.

With a smirk, Javier slowly walked around you to face you. Your eyes immediately began to carefully scan his face to assess whether he was worth your time.

"Such a beautiful woman shouldn’t dance alone," he spoke first. A smile appeared on your lips as this text quickly convinced you to him. You glanced to the side so Javier did the same.

Away from the crowd stood a man watching you carefully. All you had to do was gently nod your head towards him and he immediately relaxed and sat down at the table and started talking to another guy. Javier immediately calculated in his head that there were two bodyguards with you.

Nothing he couldn't handle.

“So let's hope you can dance,” your voice caught his attention. His smirk widened as he tightened his grip around your waist, bringing your frames together. You placed your hand in his and wrapped your other arm around his shoulder. You lifted your chin to keep eye contact with him as he slowly started leading, making your hips move.

You danced the first song in silence. Javier knew you were judging his skills as you stared into each other's eyes with every move. Your noses were brushing against each other and there was almost no space between you.

You felt his thigh between yours as he guided the movements of your hips and you liked the fact that he can lead in dancing. You could finally have fun with someone who lived up to your expectations. And that's what convinced you to continue having fun with him.

“I'm surprised men can still dance,” you said with a laugh as he turned you around once again and pulled you closer to him. Javier was smiling widely as he looked at you, and he'd be lying if he said he was having a bad time.

"Real men can do this and more," he replied with his professional pick-up tone.

You raised your eyebrows with a wide smile, amused by his words. You knew this tone in men very well.

Javier spun you around a few times and pulled you closer to him again. He had to admit that he loved the closeness of Latin dancing. He could shamelessly hold your hips tightly against his and grind you against his thigh.

“Care to tell me what you mean?” you asked innocently, observing his eyes closely.

Javier spun you around and pulled your back against him. You felt his hard chest on your back and after a moment his arms wrapped around you tightly again, making your hips move. You smiled to yourself as you felt his hot breath on your neck.

“A real man will take care of a woman not only in dancing,” he whispered in your ear and his hands slid to your hips, digging his fingers into your skin. You smiled wider as he turned you around to face him again in one move. You wrapped your arms around his neck and Javier leaned closer, nuzzling your nose. You rocked your hips in silence for a moment, watching each other.

“Oh, I see,” you nodded with a soft laugh and let him turn you around. He embraced you and grabbed your hand, slowly taking steps to the beat. "You mean yourself or..."

“Myself,” he cut you off halfway through. You smiled and nodded, hitting your heels and the dance floor with every step.

“You have a high opinion of yourself…” you started to say and stopped at the end, raising an eyebrow.

“Javier,” he finished for you.

“You have a high opinion of yourself, Javier,” you repeated so as not to forget his name in a moment.

"It's just the facts, baby," he said, wanting to sound indifferent.

And he sounded... like an overconfident pick-up artist.

You raised your eyebrows with a smile and nodded. Javier sensed that you were allergic to idiots who wanted to get you into bed. He had to do something more.

“Why have I never seen you here before?”

“I rarely come here,” you replied with a shrug and a soft smile.

“So today is a special occasion I assume,” he noted, slowly leading you across the dance floor. You laughed sweetly at his words, making him smile too.

“Yeah, actually,” you nodded, “it's my birthday today,” you explained. Javier was a born actor, so he had no problem feigning surprise. Of course, you believed it.

“Well well,” he smacked his lips in the air and ran his eyes down your entire body, “But I'm not surprised at all. You don't come across women like you every day," he added with a smirk and pulled you closer again. “Let me buy you a drink.”

"I don't know if—"

“As a birthday present,” he interrupted you, raising his eyebrows encouragingly. He looked at you like a dog, waiting for you to submit to him. And you gave in. You laughed sweetly, shaking your head.

"Let it be."

Javier smiled broadly and grabbed your hand before heading towards the bar. You sat down at the bar with a wide smile and Javier was not shy about being close to you. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, gluing himself to your side. He waved towards barman and you watched his every move carefully.

The way his face became serious when he ordered you drinks.

The way his gaze immediately stuck to your eyes right after.

The way his thumb gently traced your hip.

It was all intended to distract you.

“So what birthday is it? Eighteenth?” he asked, looking down at you. You rolled your eyes at his words but snorted under your breath anyway.

“Twenty-fifth,” you replied, wrinkling your nose with a smile. Barman placed the drinks next to you, so Javier immediately downed one for you.

“Then let's drink to your eighth-eighteenth birthday,” he toasted with a smile. You laughed at his words and clinked glasses with him. You both tensed without breaking eye contact. You grimaced at the taste of strong alcohol and he chuckled.

“It was supposed to be a drink, not straight vodka,” you noticed with laugh and took another sip. Javier watched you carefully, hoping you were weak in the head because, unfortunately for him, you didn't seem stupid.

"It's not appropriate to refuse a gift," he noted with a smirk, slowly sipping his drink. You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your damn strong drink with feigned pleasure.

“Thank you for the present, Javier,” you said with forced politeness. He chuckled at your reaction.

"De nada querida."

Thanks to his gift, you were tongue-tied pretty quickly and you spent half an hour talking nonsense at the bar. Javier listened with interest to everything you said and responded to make you say even more and it wasn't until you finished your second drink that he took you dancing again.

And if Javier thought you didn't limit yourself before, you were a beast now. Latin dance has only now gained everything it was about. And it was no longer an ordinary dance. It was literally just sex.

Your noses touched, breathing heavily against each other's lips as Javier guided your hips. Another bead of sweat was already dripping from his forehead after dancing a few songs intensely. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself because he hadn't spent such an intense evening, out of bed, with such a beautiful woman for a long time. And he would be lying if he said that your proximity and the alcohol didn't affect him.

He turned you around, and only when you clung tightly to him again, you feel that he was half-hard. And it certainly didn't stop you from rolling your hips right next to his. Javier couldn't help but let out a soft moan that disappeared into your hair. You smiled blissfully, knowing the effect you had on him and you couldn't have expected how much it stroked your ego.

His hand covered your lower abdomen and the other covered your chest. You felt trapped and didn't complain at all. You deliberately moved under his touch and movements, even when you felt his lips near your ear.

"You're playing dirty," he whispered in a hoarse voice and then placed a gentle kiss just below the ear.

A wave of shivers ran through your body at this act of closeness, and you were unable to resist as your head fell on his shoulder on its own. Javier immediately took advantage of the situation and ran his hand from your chest to your neck. His lips slowly began to place wet kisses on your neck and you smiled widely as his closeness bounced between your thighs.

“I got it from my dad,” you replied in a whisper, not really thinking about what you were saying.

“Is he naughty too?” he asked next to your ear and gently bit the lobe. You sighed louder and murmured a quiet affirmation. Now you didn't trust your words anymore. “He should teach you how to behave,” he continued and pressed his hand harder against your stomach. Your hips pressed further into his, allowing you to feel him more clearly. You parted your lips so as not to moan and swallowed saliva, which he immediately felt under his hand.

He had you in his grasp.

“If your dad didn't teach you this, I'll be happy to do it for him,” he whispered and gently bit into your neck.

You smiled broadly and blissfully at the feeling, but it quickly disappeared when Javier spun you around again and this time you fell into his arms, not expecting such a sudden move. You giggled to yourself, hugging his neck again as his hands moved to your hips. You looked up at him, immediately noticing that he was no longer smiling. He looked at you… thirsty. And you couldn't help but have fun.

You ran your fingers along his neck, following your every move with your eyes. You touched his jaw until your thumb was able to graze his lower lip. You smiled when, without any resistance, he opened his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on your fingertip.

Javier might have complained, but he could honestly admit that he was enjoying the game of cat and mouse. It was a nice change from the prostitutes who did whatever he wanted. It was nice to have a taste of winning someone's heart from time to time.

“Ven conmigo,” he whispered without thinking. He liked the tension between the two of you, but he honestly couldn't and didn't want to resist the urge to claim you in his bed or anywhere you let him.

“If only it were that simple…” you sighed with an innocent smile. Javier moved closer to you and ran his nose over yours. He kept his eyes glued to your mouth as his mustache brushed against your lips. His hot breath bounced off your skin as you watched him closely.

You didn't even notice that you had been just standing in the middle of the dance floor for some time. Everyone around was dancing exuberantly and you were absorbed in each other as if there was no one around.

“It wasn't a question,” he whispered against your lips and you both locked eyes at the same moment. Your pulse quickened as you realized you might have gone too far. You've never allowed yourself so much but apparently you forgot yourself a bit this time.

“Trust me, you don't want this,” you tried to discourage him but still you couldn't pull away or even push him away.

“Why wouldn't I?” he asked, completely unconcerned by your words. “If you had a boyfriend he would be here with you so it's definitely not that. I don't see any other reason why I would give up the opportunity to turn those sweet eyes inside out," he purred, nuzzling your nose.

You smiled and looked away for a moment. You had to admit to yourself that you wanted him. He was charming and you were too susceptible to that. You looked back at him, feeling reluctant that you had to reject him.

For his own good.

“My father doesn't like it when men want to claim me,” you started, hoping it would discourage him, but he didn't seem bothered by your words. “I want to spare you a bullet in your head,” you added, raising an eyebrow with more certainty.

“I'll take a chance,” he replied with a smug grimace, and without waiting for your response, he pressed his lips to yours. You were in shock for a moment, but it quickly passed, replaced by desire.

Javier sighed contently as you kissed him back. His hand quickly found itself in your hair, pulling you even closer. You didn't resist when he slipped into your mouth like it belonged to him. He tasted like cigarettes and mint unlike your sweet lips. He kissed you lazily and deeply. He took his time tasting you and took advantage of every second you submitted to his movements.

He finally pulled away from you, but only for a moment. He glanced to the side to see where your bodyguards were, so you did the same. They were busy talking to each other instead of keeping an eye on you.

This was his chance.

He grabbed your hand and leaned close to your ear.

“Give me fifteen minutes,” he whispered and pulled away to look at you. You glanced at the security guards again and back at Javier. It took you less than a second to make your decision. You nodded gently, which was immediately met with his reaction. In a few seconds, you were out of reach of the dancing people and out of the sight of men who were supposed to protect you from such situations. Luck was in the agent's favor.

You tried to keep up with him, but your shoes were of no help. Javier glanced at you over his shoulder and with a smirk on his lips, he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly to help you a little.

You glanced over your shoulder towards the bar but didn't see anything that might catch your attention. They haven't noticed you've disappeared yet. You smiled to yourself because it meant you actually had a chance to have some fun.

Before you knew it, you stopped at one of the cars. Javier unlocked the door and opened it for you. With an encouraging smile, he offered his hand to help you inside. You accepted his help like a proper lady. Your pulse quickened as the door slammed shut and Javier appeared in the driver's seat. You swallowed, watching as he closed the door and pushed his seat back. He straightened up with a sigh and looked at you with a smirk.

“Fifteen minutes, start,” he said and leaned towards you, connecting your lips.

This time he started more aggressively. He tangled his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss, which gained momentum with every second. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the lack of air begin to cripple your lungs. And that's when Javier pulled away, only to grab your thigh and pull you on top of him. He did it so naturally that you didn't even have to make an effort when you sat on his thighs. His hands were immediately on your hips, pulling you even closer. You spread your legs further as he pressed you against him and connected your lips again.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling it, making him growl against your lips. The sound echoed between your thighs in a wave of tension.

His hands immediately went to work, pushing your dress up to your waist. You moaned into his mouth as he squeezed your cheeks.

“So soft,” he murmured against your lips and moved his hands down to your thighs. His fingers squeezed every inch of your body that happened to be within his reach.

You didn't have to wait long before you felt his fingers trailing down the inside of your thighs. You didn't even hold back your panting into his mouth due to the sweet anticipation that was pulsing throughout your body. You inhaled louder as his two fingers ran from the very bottom up your pussy, collecting all the wetness that had managed to escape from you. Javier growled, gripping your hip tightly.

“You haven't worn damn panties all evening,” he announced, running over your wet hole once more. His cock twitched in his pants at the thought of having you at his fingertips all evening, and you who knew it very well. “Shameless girl,” he growled, sliding two fingers into you.

You moaned, throwing your head back and he immediately attacked your neck. He placed wet kisses and nibbled at your skin as his hand worked wonders between your legs. His fingers slowly moved in and out of your pussy. Wet sounds and your moans filled the car, instantly raising the temperature.

Javier didn't waste time because he didn't have enough of it.

Enough to satisfy you but not enough to enjoy you.

He reached with his free hand towards the glove compartment and took out a pack of condoms. You were too busy to even notice that his mouth disappeared from your neck for a moment so that he could open the package with his teeth. His fingers worked wonders inside you, slowly flexing at the point that made his palm wet.

You opened your eyes as you began to miss the feeling of his lips on your skin. You looked down just as he finished putting on the condom. Your pulse quickened even more when he looked up at you.

“Come on, baby,” he encouraged, pulling his fingers out of you. “Lift your hips for me,” he ordered, running them over your clit.

You moaned softly and immediately obeyed his command. You felt him shift restlessly beneath you, positioning himself perfectly at your entrance.

You didn't need his command to slowly lower yourself onto his cock. For a moment, you lacked the strength to make any sound. Only when you sat on him with your full weight, you moan loudly. Javier watched with parted lips and heavy breathing as his cock disappeared inside you.

“You're so fuckin’ tight, baby,” he moaned and pulled you closer to him, connecting your lips in an intense kiss. You tightened your fingers in his hair and he gripped your hips. “Dance for me,” he whispered against your lips and dug his fingers into your flesh, forcing you to move.

You slowly began to ride him as his lips stayed on yours and his arms held you tightly against him. You moaned softly into his mouth as you set the perfect pace, rolling your hips on his cock.

But it wasn't enough for him. That's why he started pushing his hips towards you. You both began to pant heavily into each other's mouths as Javier entered you with strong thrusts.

“Oh… fuck yes, baby,” he growled, feeling you tighten around his cock with every movement of his hips.

You leaned back against the steering wheel, trying to follow his movements. His gaze fell between your bodies and he watched contentedly as his cock disappeared into your pussy again and again. The wet sound that accompanied it was like something from pure porn.

“She's so pretty with my cock inside her,” he said, his voice laced with sex and you could only moan louder. Your hands grabbed onto anything they could to give you a sense of stability. Javier began to moan softly as he entered you faster and faster.

Your eyes fell on the inside of the car for a moment. You panted heavily, looking around until your eyes landed on something shiny. Despite the darkness, you were able to easily make out the shape of the badge. Your hip movements began to slow down as you looked back at the man who was currently inside you. You breathed heavily, looking at him carefully.

“No, no, baby. Don’t slow down,” he groaned in disappointment and looked at you. Only after a while he notice that you were looking at him as if you were seeing him for the first time and, what's worse, you froze in silence. Javier frowned, breathing heavily. "What’s wrong, cariño?" he asked confused.

"What do you do for living?" you asked simply.

Javier was silent for a moment, then he understood. He turned and looked at the badge lying on the backseat. Fuckin’ hell. He sighed heavily and looked at you again. There was no point in lying.

“I'm a DEA agent,” he told you, his cock twitching inside you in anticipation. You slowly calmed your breathing as everything that was happening started to sink in.

You were fucking an agent who probably wanted to get information from you.

You felt a wave of cold wash over you, making you involuntarily tighten around his cock and he groaned at the feeling.

You straightened up slowly, keeping your cold gaze on him and with one movement you swung your hand, hitting him on the cheek. His cock twitched inside you again at the sudden blow, but he didn't speak. For a moment, he didn't even dare to look your way.

But when he did and opened his mouth to speak, he was hit a second time. This time he had to move his jaw to relax, and only then did he look at how calm and angry you were at the same time.

“Maldito hijo de puta…” you started, wanting to call him the worst names, but he quickly cut you off. His hands tightened on your thighs, which caught your attention.

“I just want to help you,” he started gently and you frowned. You didn't know whether to laugh or punch him in the face again.

“I don't want your help,” you growled.

You felt his arm wrap tightly around your waist, holding you in place. Not that you were struggling, but he wanted to make sure you wouldn't pull away when his other hand pressed between your bodies.

“It wasn't a business proposition, princesa,” he said confidently. You opened your mouth to argue with him but you felt his fingers on your clit; instead of words and curses, a surprised moan came out.

Javier watched your reaction carefully, slowly massaging the small spot that could render you speechless.

“I can get you a new life,” he continued, completely indifferent to the fact that you were trying to catch your breath. "Away from the crap your father deals with."

“Vete a la mierda,” you choked out and he pressed his fingers harder. You moaned louder as you felt his movements begin to have the desired effect.

“That's what I'm doin’,” he replied confidently. He watched carefully as your eyes closed and your lips parted in pleasure. He felt everything he was doing to you, every squeeze of your pussy made him shiver. “Think about it, cariño, new identity, no killing and no drugs. Normal life." He sped up his finger movements, feeling your hips thrust towards him. Your body sold without much problem, but at least you could think straight.

“You want me to sell myself like a puta,” you pointed out. Javier growled under his breath, but not because of your words.

“I want you to buy a better life for yourself with a few pieces of information.”

“Nicely said,” you snorted under your breath in disdain at his words.

“You're a smart girl, I believe you know deep down that my proposal is mutually beneficial,” he continued, but your attention was focused on your building orgasm. You started breathing faster, focusing on him, afraid that one wrong move and you would lose the long-awaited fulfillment. "You have to promise me that you will think about my proposal."

"Or what?" You raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response, but he just stopped moving his fingers. You felt your orgasm slowly fade into oblivion. “Mierda… okay, okay, I will think about it,” you growled, furious. Javier smiled with satisfaction because it was enough for him for now.

He moved his lips closer to you and touched your clit again, the feeling of your orgasm building again. You didn't need much this time. You started rocking your hips gently for additional stimulus that was still deep inside you. Your slow movements of your hips and his fingers combined in a pleasurable race for fulfillment. You mentally cursed how much you hated yourself and the agent under you. You felt like a traitor, but luckily his touch drowned out your remorse.

You moaned softly into his mouth and he drank it like the most expensive whiskey. Your hips sped up a bit, chasing the pleasure that was about to reach its peak at any moment.

“Oh yes, baby, I can feel she wants to cum,” he moaned into your mouth. These words sent chills throughout your body, straight to your crotch. "And I will only let her because I am close too."

You moaned louder and your hands quickly found their way to his hair. You clenched your fingers tightly, moving your hips faster. Chasing your orgasm, you even ignored the way Javier gently stroked your back in anticipation of your fulfillment.

“Come on, baby,” he moaned and began to move his fingers more intensely on your throbbing clit.

A few moves and it was all over.

A few movements of your hips and you froze motionless.

A few movements of your hips and your body shook with shivers of fulfillment.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling your hips shake from your intensely sweet orgasm. You tightened around his cock again and again, making him groan throatily.

“Fuck— good girl,” he choked out, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. You moved your hips once more to get comfortable on him. This, combined with the passing orgasm, finished him off as well.

You felt his cock inside you start to throb again and again and his kiss became harder, almost crushing your lips. You squealed softly, but he drowned you out when he finally growled throatily in satisfaction.

You stayed in silence for a few minutes, calming your breathing and collecting your thoughts. Javier was furious at his mistake because he hoped that your conversation would turn out differently. But there was nothing he could do now to change the past.

But all you cared about was that you fucked a fuckin’ DEA agent.

“Will you consider my proposal?” he finally asked and pulled away to look at you. In silence, you glanced at his eyes and face and nodded gently.

"Yes."

But you weren't really going to spend even a second on it.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 4

Summary: After their reunion at the Atomic Wrangler, Cooper decides that he wants more than just a quickie out of his wandering trader.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Drug use and Alcohol. Fluff and Smut. Little longer than the other ones ❤️

DHGP Masterlist

Cooper sits on the side of the bed, inhaler in hand as he stares down at the chem. You are still asleep behind him, body tangled in the sheets, exhausted after the exciting reunion between the two of you. You had been a breath of fresh air for the ghoul, especially after finding out the truth behind the fate of his family, and then Lucy, the vaultie, had left him too. Gone back home to her vault to save them from those goddamn Bud's Buds.

Cooper had elected to stay in Vegas. He likes the city, and the booze was cheap, and the chems were even cheaper if you knew where to get them. However, now that the ghoul was borderline sober, and with you by his side, Cooper realized that he'd had something to look forward to. To live for again. You.

Every time the two of you had crossed paths, you never failed to send the ghoul's black heart racing. You were a wastelander through and through, but you were good, and Cooper didn't want to let that go. No. He would hold on tight, and nothing in heaven or hell would get him to let you go.

First thing first, however, was to show you that he was serious and that he cared for you beyond a quick fuck and drug transactions. Cooper turned in the bed and leaned over you, tucking his knuckle under your chin and kissing you until you woke up. A soft sigh escaped you when the ghoul pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see him above you.

"Well, that's one way to wake a girl up," you murmur, and shift to your back, opening your arms so that Cooper can fall against your chest, his face pressed in the crook of your neck. You hum softly and press a kiss to his bald head, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Cooper buries himself against you, shoving his arms under you so that he can hold you close. He listens to your heartbeat, and the sound of content he makes sounds more like a cat purr than anything else. He debates with himself before deciding to hell with it.

"Let me take you out. On a proper date," He began, and the more he spoke, the more he felt like his old self, Cooper Howard, before the end of the world, "You deserve it after everything you've done for me."

You eyed him, though your lips were already turning up at the idea. Who knew your ghoul was such a romantic? You tilt your head to the side, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Cooper rises to his elbow and admires how your hair halos around your face. You are beautiful, even sleepy-eyed, and dressed in nothing but your panties.

"We're in Vegas, Baby. Let's make the most of it."

~~~~~

Mick and Ralph's had a surprising number of preserved prewar clothing, and you picked through the dresses looking for the perfect fit. You spotted a cute, blue number that would hug you in all the right places and billow out at the waist. Mick even had a cute pair of kitten heels that he gave you on the house.

Cooper had also done some digging around and conveniently found one of his old set costumes. The colors were faded, but they looked brand new compared to the get-up he always wore. Dressed to impress, the ghoul admired himself in the cracked mirror. If you ignored the obvious, Cooper looked like he'd just come off set of A Man and His Dog.

He wold whistles when you step out of the back room, and even though you're custom to his flirty behavior, you still blush bright and give Cooper a tiny grin. You've never had an opportunity to wear something so nice before, and it made you feel different, but not in a bad way.

"Well, look at you, Darlin'. All dressed up and beautiful for little ol' me," He crooned and snagged your hand, spinning you in a slow circle so that he could admire you from all angles. You give him a smile so full of fond amusement that Cooper’s heart stutters in his chest.

"Only for you, Cowpoke," you say and curl your hand behind his head to tug him down for a quick kiss that Cooper melts into.

After paying Mick and Ralph, Cooper escorts you to the gate of the Strip where the securitrons let the two of you by after flashing the passports you'd paid the shop owners for. Inside, the flashing neon lights made you squint, and you did your best to take it all in at once.

"A lot's changed since the last time I've been here," Cooper comments and casts his gaze around. It's been over two hundred years, but the Vegas Strip still felt the same. The two of you bypass Gomorrah and the Ultra Lux, and instead, head for the Tops where a man with blonde, slicked-back hair greets them with a suave grin.

"Hey, hey cats. My name is Swank. Welcome to the Tops Casino. The floor is open, and Tommy's got some real class acts tonight on stage if you're interested."

The two of you hand over any weapons that couldn't be concealed and head upstairs to the theater. A live band is playing on stage, and a place has been cleared in the middle of the room for dancing. Cooper leads you to a corner booth and drops to kiss your brow before he lopes off to order you both a drink.

From there, the night goes off without a hitch. The two of you drink til you feel tipsy and brazen enough to tug the ghoul out to the dance floor where Cooper upstages you and everyone else there. He twirls and dips you, leaving you a giggling mess and eyes only for him.

At some point, Cooper gets the grand idea to spend some caps on some chips, and you stand beside him as he cleans the blackjack table, coming away with more chips that you have to help him carry back to the exchange desk. The two of you eventually stumble out of the Tops and mosied back down the road to Gomorrah.

Their weapons are confiscated once more, and Cooper pays the receptionist for a hotel room for later on. He doubted that they would be sober enough to leave this place later on.

His hunch was right hours later when the two of you stumbled to the elevator. Coop's arm is tight around your waist, holding you close to keep you from tipping over. You cling to him, giggling as you wind your arms around his neck, and he catches your eyes, glassy from the jet that one of the dancers had given you.

"Your eyes are so pretty, ya know that?" You slur, and Cooper snickers as he leads you out of the elevator and down the hall to the room he'd rented. He's not nearly as gone as you, but he chalks that up to being used to the substance abuse.

You plop on the bed and reach back for the zipper of your dress, feeling too constricted in the blue fabric, and get stuck with it halfway off. Cooper laughs at you and comes to help, tugging the dress away and tossing it behind him before he pounces.

His lips meet yours in a slow kiss, a gentle give and take that turns heated when you bite his lip hard enough to hurt. You sooth it with your tongue, and groan when Cooper curls his own around the slippery muscle, the kiss wet and sloppy. He looms over you, keeping himself propped up with his elbow, while his other hand grips your waist, and rocks his hips down.

Cooper groans into the kiss when his clothed cock meets the heat between your thighs. You buck against him, whining into the kiss and demanding he take his damn pants off already.

"Patience, young grasshopper," Cooper rumbles above you and slides off the bed to button his shirt and jeans. He folds them almost reverently before he turns back to the bed and crawls on top of you, "Great things come to those who wait."

You scoff at him, though your lips are tilted up in amusement, "I've been waiting forever, Coop."

Your legs fall open and wrap around his waist. You are so wet that the ghoul can see slick glistening in the low light of the room where it clings to your puffy folds. He swallows harshly when you reach down and spread them, giving him an excellent view of your clit and twitching hole.

"Now I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

Cooper doesn't need to be told twice and spits in his hand before wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself twice before he lines up and sinks down to his balls. Your cunt throbs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and he falls forward, hips humping forward as you cling to him.

Coop fucks you like it's his last day on Earth. He shifts to his knees, and his cock slips even further, pressing against something inside you that makes stars shatter. You curse loudly, Cooper’s name falling from your lips like a mantra as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and bends you over. The new position makes it hard to breathe, but all you want is more.

"'M close," Cooper grunts in your ear, and you lock your knees around his head, meeting him thrust for thrust as you work for your release. He unlocks his jaw and bites into the hollow of your throat. The pain is enough to send you over the edge, your pussy fluttering and gushing around the ghoul's cock.

"Ah-fuck," He snarls and follows you right over the edge, pumping you full of seed until it dribbled out from your stuffed cunt. He finds your lips kissing you as he rides out his orgasm, hips jerking when you tighten around him.

Cooper lays there, breathing you in and curling his arms tight around your waist. He is far too tired to move, and you don't seem to mind the extra weight with how tightly you hold him back. The ghoul feels at peace as if a part of his life he'd been missing has slotted back into place. He raises his head just enough to catch your eyes, and you reward him with an adoration-filled smile, but it's your words that cause his heart to explode like an atomic bomb.

"I love you."

You don't expect Cooper to pull you in for another kiss, this one soft and slow. He rests his brow against yours and wonders how he ever made it this far without you.

"I love you, too."

Holy moly, that got way sweeter than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it!❤️

[chaedomi]

𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 ✦ twtptflob

fem!child!reader x the blue pedelian (platonic!yan), kidnapping, mild injury, implied violence, unhealthy relationships; flowers don't attract butterflies alone. suddenly, others are gravitating to you, expanding your long list of obsessive admirers. pt. 1 ꨄ — masterlist

HOW DID it end up like this? It all happened in the span of one night while you were asleep. And when you reopened your eyes, you quickly discovered that you were no longer inside your bedroom. You had time to explore every place in your manor, so when you couldn’t identify which part of the manor you were in, you began to panic and overthink.

Your distress got worse when a silver-haired female burst into the room and grabbed you into a hug as if there wasn’t some problem with this. At this point, you began to cry, fully convinced that you were kidnapped, pushing the woman away from you, and startling her. It was in chaos for a while, your screams mixing with your words as you wailed for your freedom. The woman tried to reassure you with sweet words, inclusive of the maids present who stepped in to assist by dangling pretty jewelry in front of your face to distract you.

Unfortunately, their efforts to appease you only increased your wails. When a masculine figure barged into the room this time, it was only then you stopped crying, in favor of blinking at him while the stray tears fell from the corner of your eyes. Staring at the male, you knew he looked familiar, your panicked mind just couldn’t identify who. 

When he approached you with a gentle smile, patted your head, and began this monologue of ‘protecting’ you, you finally put the pieces together; this male was no other than the heir of The Blue Pedelian, CASSIS. Oh, boy…

In truth, your kidnapping was all ROXANA's fault, and she had no choice but to admit that. God forbid if her family found out that she was the whole reason for your disappearance, it would even make her kind-hearted mother hold some form of grudge against her and result in her execution. Luckily, no one was able to trace the doings back to her… except her red-eyed freak of an older brother.

Satisfying her curiosity was not worth it. As they say, it killed the cat. Now, she was stuck reaping the consequences of her stupidity; distraught over your disappearance, and additional work that could have been avoided, in her plan.

…If her life didn't depend on his, you bet she would have already retaliated without mercy. How foolish, she gave him an inch and he took a mile.

But, who is to blame other than herself? To explain, it was a fleeting thought that crossed her mind one morning to which she initially paid no mind… till it stubbornly stuck inside her brain. From what she remembered, in The Abysmal Flower, Sylvia displayed extreme and obsessive feelings toward you, despite being the enemy, willing to risk her safety to keep you by her side. Due to her intervention, however, Sylvia remained out of the picture. Still, she began to wonder.

If Sylvia wasn’t immune to your adorable charms, could it possibly be the same for Cassis? And thus, it marked the beginning of her little experiment. It came as no surprise to her that Cassis was on guard when she first introduced you to him. After all, almost every Agriche child was a demon spawn.

Regardless of the precautions Cassis took, his guard quickly crumbled once he was exposed to your innocence and purity, much to Roxana’s amusement. His hostile attitude quickly evaporated, he even held you on his lap (with Roxana’s permission), reciting stories that would intrigue a child your age. …She wished he was that cooperative with her as well.

She continued this pattern for a few weeks… every day, she would spare some time to take you to Cassis and observe how it played out in the distance. And each time, it never failed to entertain her. A righteous and kept man like him becomes nothing more than a slave for a child, an enemy’s child. She was long satisfied with her discovery, it’s just that Cassis was always in a better mood and more willing to listen after he spent his time with you.

But the day Cassis got too comfortable and had the guts to refer to you as one of his SIBLINGS, she realized, she may have spoiled him too much. She never had a problem when Sylvia referred to you as her ‘little sister.’ However, that was BEFORE she was thrown into the novel world. Now that she had the opportunity to experience your kindness herself, anyone who tried to make their claim on you outside the family is nothing LESS aggravating. And that was the end of your little visits.

That’s when it went downhill. Of course, Cassis was quick to pick up on your sudden absence throughout the days. He tried to ask, but once Roxana's tone progressively got more aggressive the longer he persisted, he finally got the hint. He wasn't seeing you again.

Roxana was grateful that Cassis had shut his mouth after a while. But, she found it odd how compliant he remained without your presence. More so, she hated the way he stared at her, a hidden intent she couldn't figure out in his eyes. It intensified when she gave him a map of the manor, a faint sighting of a smirk ghosting his lips. …Out of all people, Roxana would have never expected Cassis to kidnap someone. Trust no one, as they say. What an arse… Repaying her good deeds with this.

And so, the manor of The Black Agriche was thrown into a frenzy, having lost something very precious. Unless Roxana wanted to stir more trouble with hasty actions, she must sit quietly for now. …At the very least she didn’t need to worry about your safety. Unlike The Black Agriche, The Blue Pedelian will never torture their captives, let alone a young child like you…

Meanwhile, you were having your own crisis. This was a very drastic change. Although the violent nature of your family often terrifies you, you have grown used to it… kind of. Now, with the serene environment of The Blue Pedelians, you've grown antsy, anticipating some form of chaos to arise.

Ignoring how he took you without your agreement (no matter how hard he tried to justify his actions in a good light), you felt more comfortable being around CASSIS than the rest of the family. You weren’t sure if the times spent together back in your manor contributed to your lack of fear around him or relieved over the fact that your situation could have been very worse, and you didn’t care all that much. Cassis's attitude toward you didn’t change from when he was held prisoner, instead, his doting habits only increased now that his actions were not limited and monitored. He spoils you a lot, more than he spoils his younger sister. He will try his hardest to provide whatever you want, as long as it stays within the 'reasonable' range.

And by 'reasonable' he means, stop asking him to return you home. Suddenly, he understood Roxana's frustration. Is this what she felt when he continuously persisted? He doesn't get why you would want to return home out of all places; your family is vile.

It's not like you wanted to return, you had to. Although you wished to run away and never return, the odds were still not in your favor for you to make your escape plan. Something also told you that residing in The Blue Pedelian Manor was its own kind of hell…

The possible feud that can brew if your whereabouts were revealed made your skin crawl with fear. Knowing your value between the two families as well, you would be caught in the crossfire, and who knows what would happen to you then… You were trying to make things better for you, not destroy all your chances.

Cassis still didn't listen to your concerns (he never does), shutting down your complaints with a stern glare. …You just hope whatever war was to break out, it would happen later rather than sooner…

Just what was wrong with you? He’s trying his hardest to get you accustomed to your new surroundings, spoiling you with gifts, spending time with you along with his sister, anything to put you at ease. Yet, you just didn’t care! All you did was flush his efforts down the drain. He thought he was making progress with you, so he would never expected it, hell, even imagined it. But, when he caught you creeping around the exit gates, your freaked-out expression said it all. Now, here you were, leg chained to the bedpost back inside your prison-like bedroom. Seeing you chained up reminded him of himself, and it was interesting to see the roles switch to some extent. Truthfully, your tears pained him, but, he didn’t see the point in you crying. He wasn’t doing anything bad and he wished that you’d stop acting as if he was.

"Why can’t you understand that this is for your benefit?"

Oh? SYLVIA adores you? Why, that's no secret and is obvious to anyone who witnesses the interaction between you and her. Why wouldn't she love you!? You're everything she ever wanted in a younger sister… well, minus the looks, but, she can get past that!

MORE doting than Cassis, it's overbearing, honestly. Ever since your first encounter, you don't remember a time when you were left alone; it's always some lousy excuse to be around you. She hugs, kisses, cuddles, squishes, and any affectionate gesture she can think of, she does it to you. It was like she was trying to merge herself with you.

Honestly, her compassion spooked you. Her behavior reminded you a lot of your second stepmother, Maria. So, you weren't surprised when she had some hostile reaction whenever a maid would unintentionally interrupt your 'bonding' time. The sweeter they are, the more aggressive. Well, at least there weren't any dead bodies scattered on the ground…

Have you ever been so upset that you began to cry? Sylvia is a perfect demonstration of that. Perhaps you were right to compare her to Maria, the rage evident on her face was akin to the deadly glare your stepmother wore when she was furious. Flashbacks clouded your mind of how Maria snapped when a servant accidentally spilled milk on your gown. This situation was much different; a maid somehow cut your hand with the teacup. The one time Sylvia thought it was a good idea to let you get some fresh air outside your room, the fun atmosphere was ruined by something silly as this. It’s no surprise if your family lashed out, but to see a sophisticated woman such as Sylvia spew out words of profanity and behave so hostile was unexpected. At the very least, you appreciated she held back for your sake. With the way her hands shook with rage the longer she chewed out the maid, you had the impression Sylvia wanted to do much more than a stern talking to.

“There you are! I looked for you everywhere. I was beginning to worry that you’ve run away, but, you won’t do that to me, right?”

Your fear of RISCHEL was reasonable. Given his position inside his household, you two never met that often. However, the rare times you do meet, his piercing gaze never fails to make you shrink back on yourself. If you think about it, his hateful attitude made sense. You were one of the many offsprings of his biggest enemy, Lante, and said enemy kidnapped his son and tormented him mercilessly. Some of his son’s many torturers included Lante’s children, so you could just imagine the many scenarios that went through his mind. You don’t blame him if he was tempted to torment you, solely for Lante having a taste of his own medicine.

While Rischel’s expression came across as wanting to bury you six feet under, in truth, he was very much intrigued by your existence. It was confusing to see his son return with an unconscious child after escaping. And for a moment he feared that his son went mad when the child held in his arms was an Agriche and pleaded for your protection.

He was hesitant (for good reason) but ultimately agreed in the end. If his son saw something valuable in you, then there must be some worth in keeping you around. However, it didn’t mean he automatically trusted you. Without your knowledge, he monitored you, planting eyes everywhere. Any suspicious activity he was informed of would be enough validation for him to throw you out with no hesitation.

…So how exactly did his wariness morph into overwhelming softness toward you? (like father like son) The feeling just dawned upon him and he noticed it all: your mannerisms, your innocence, it slowly rubbed on him in a positive light. This was strange. He wonders if you had used a spell on him, no one should fall under anyone’s whims so suddenly as if you possessed this charm that melts even the hearts of the cold-blooded. But, oh, did the feeling around you feel so nice. And soon, he simply gave in to the desire to love you and protect you.

You realized how much more tolerable he became of your presence, to your relief. Even so, the feelings you saw on the outside couldn’t begin to compare to the rapidly developing obsessive feelings he harbored for you. And by the time you began to pick up on the dangerous signals, the damage was already done.

You were beyond speechless when you looked into the reflection of the mirror, staring at someone else entirely. Her hair was a shade of pure silver, and her eyes resembled the golden rays of the sun. As you reached your hand out to touch the glass, your body froze as reality sunk in. This was not another person, but rather you, with a new appearance and identity you were forced to carry. Looking over your shoulder, you glanced at the faces of Rischel, Cassis, and Sylvia, hoping for all of this to be one big joke. But, the pleased glances they returned alerted you that this situation was far from a joke, and you had to accept your new fate.

“Sylvia was correct. This look suits you perfectly.”

You were stressed and rightfully so. How could all of this happen? And why did it have to be you? You were still young and didn’t deserve to deal with these problems. In such a short amount of time, along with new obsessors formed, you temporarily resigned to a new lifestyle, switching from agriche to pedelian.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[princessoflalaland]

Fiancé Nanami

content: fluff and smut, some degradation, oral (m), doggy style (our second fave position), creampie (I told you I want his babies)

a/n: this is reminiscent of how i was raised by a single parent, so that’s why the dad is not involved. thx to @teddybeartoji for giving me the idea based off this post.

surprisingly, your family had only met Fiancé Nanami a handful of times, despite you two practically being joined at the hip. it was those seldom interactions that planted the seeds of doubt in his mind that he wouldn't be able to appease to your mother.

Fiancé Nanami who, while fussing with his favorite tie in the mirror as you two prepared to drive across town to have dinner with your mother, couldn't help but to grow frustrated when his clothes wouldn't cooperate. this caused you step in and fix it for him, trying to calm him down as you do.

"you really don't need to worry, honey. my mom will love you, I just know it." that cliché line managed to soothe the worst of his nerves. he held your hips and watched you earnestly as you tightened his tie.

"thank you, darling. I just...I don't want to disappoint anyone tonight, especially not the woman who raised my beautiful wife-to-be." his deep, silky voice and sentiments made your heart skip.

Fiancé Nanami who, despite your encouragement, still felt worry linger in the back of his mind. he was rigid the entire drive to your mom's place.

Fiancé Nanami who could barely keep his eyes off you as you two made your way up the stairs to your mom's cozy townhome. the way your dress hugged your body, the sweet perfume you wore temporarily distracted him from how his stomach had knotted itself too many times for his liking. you could practically feel his anxiety beneath his warm skin, so you gave his hand a squeeze and offer him a bit more reassurance.

"I need you to look at me," you demanded softly. you two were right in front of the door, crickets beginning their evening symphonies filled the air. your fiancé could feel his heavy pulse in his ears, but brought his attention to you anyway, finding comfort in your steady, gentle gaze.

"everything is going to be fine. even if she doesn't like you, which I doubt because you're the greatest, most respectable person i've ever known, that won't get in the way of our plans. i'm still going to marry you, I'm still going to be Mrs. Nanami and have all your kids." his heart swelled at your words, and he leaned down to kiss you.

Fiancé Nanami who kindly and gently shook your mother's hand when she opened the door. he was a tall individual, so your mother's head moved up and down as she gave him a once over. he swore his tie began to strangle him under her careful stare. after introductions, you two were lead inside to the dining room, his hand still secured in yours.

Fiancé Nanami's articulate speech and gentlemanly mannerisms won your mother over quickly. they engaged in deep conversation about his career as a successful CEO and your mother's career, as well as the current status of your relationship. he took this as his opportunity to gush about how enamored he is with you. your mother would glance over at you from time to time as if to telepathically say: "I don't know where you found him, but i'm glad you did. he's definitely a keeper."

as the night wore on, however, Fiancé Nanami was finding it hard to focus when your hand casually rested on his thigh under the table. what started off as a mere touch of endearment became much more. rubbing your palm up toward his crotch, letting it simultaneously slide inwards, your fiancé had to fight to keep up his respectable demeanor.

Fiancé Nanami who was finding it harder to focus on the topic of discussion because your hand had so callously wandered over his bulge, your manicured fingers tracing the outline. he cut a glance over to you find you completely unfazed; in fact, you looked invested in what your mother was saying. meanwhile, he was doing everything he could to keep his breath steady and the pink tint out of his cheeks.

Fiancé Nanami who looked both ecstatic and bewildered at your mother's offer for the two of you to stay the night. with the way you were teasing him, all he was able to think about was getting you home and ravishing you until dawn. your mother broke through his thoughts: "it's late, and I wouldn't want you two to worry about the drive home. please, stay, I insist." who could turn down that kind, motherly tone? certainly not the two of you.

Fiancé Nanami who only marveled at your girly childhood room and its keepsakes for so long before you threw yourself on him. he returned your deep, fervent kisses, tasting your mom's cooking on your tongue.

"darling, slow down," he huffed against your lips as you fumbled with his belt and he with your dress zipper. "we can't make too much noise..."

you responded with a simper, one that had him straining against his dress pants. "then you better keep quiet."

Fiancé Nanami who was reminded how pretty you looked with your painted lips wrapped around his cock. you left mauve lipstick marks on his thighs, his pelvis, his dick. it was almost like art to him, the way you painted his skin like it was the most lewd canvas. he covered his mouth with his palm, his eyes fading in and out of focus as you slurped him salaciously.

"m-my love," his muffled words managed to reach your ears over the sounds your mouth made on him and your soft moans. "this is so wrong, doing this to me i-in your mother's home. nngh, God- ease up, I-i'll cum..."

Fiancé Nanami who quickly disregarded the risk of getting caught and possibly receiving a tongue-lashing great enough to make God cry, as you bent over your old bed, ass perked up for him. all he could think of now was how wet you must be at this point, how you've probably been thinking of this since y'all left home. hot puffs air condensed around his lips as he rubbed his tip against your slick folds.

"so wet. this what you wanted, love? to be fucked senseless in your old room, your mom just outside?" his husky, carnal voice only made you wetter. "am I really making a woman so slutty my wife?"

Fiancé Nanami who had to fight himself and you to keep you two covert. a big calloused hand was clamped harshly over your mouth that couldn't seem to contain its wanton vocalizations. his thrusts weren't as powerful as they usually are, the sound of slapping skin usually enough to let your neighbors know what you two got up to in the late hours of the night. his deep, slow strokes still had the same effect of making you want to remind those beyond your room walls who you belonged to.

"told me to me to keep it down..now look at you, fuckin cryin on my dick." you loved when he got vulgar, it made you clench around those inches of him inside you. "I know you want it deeper, honey, you want it harder, I know. we can't, c-cant make too much noise though." "but you'll still be a good girl for me right? you'll cum all over me like the good slut you are..." how could anyone resist that gravelly voice in their ear when he's balls deep in you?

Fiancé Nanami who lets go with a shudder and guttural groan, filling you to the brim with his cum, as your tight walls spasmed around his length. you cried behind his palm, eyes rolling back, toes curling. he littered kisses all over your neck and back, not daring to leave marks anywhere visible. with each heavy breath he released, he made it known how much he adored you.

"...love you..y'always so good to me, always make me feel like no one else has...I love you so much, my beautiful, beautiful wife..."

Fiancé Nanami who made sure you two took proper precautions before going to bed. he made you go pee while he bashfully sought out your mother, in his hastily put-on clothes, to see if she had clothes for you to sleep in. when he returned with one your mother's nightgowns, he'd heard the shower running.

"I got you some clothes from your mother, they're on the counter." he informed you before approaching the steamy translucent curtains. "can I join you?"

Fiancé Nanami who held you close after you both have washed up and have dressed as best as you can for sleep. he planted kisses over the crown of your hair, your temple, the corner of your lips. the feel of your fiancé's smooth lips on your skin helped you drift off faster. his low, silky voice was the last thing you registered before you were nestled comfortably in the embrace of sleep.

"sleep well, my love. thank you for tonight and all the wonderful nights to come."

[bellarkeselection]

Hiii!! I saw that you wrote for Georgie Cooper from you Sheldon and I was wondering if you would write for him again 😊 Can I get Georgie with a latina gf that loves to cook, whenever she goes over to his house she's always bringing food from her culture (I'm Mexican so Mexican food ofc) .

Culture Cooking

I am not Latina so I hope I wrote this correctly 🤗 and a very short request in my opinion but I hope you still enjoy

Coming out of Missy’s room that used to be Georgie’s old bedroom, I had decided to get up early and make the family breakfast. I had stayed the night after my date with her older brother, and we didn’t get back till really late, so she said I could sleep over in her room. Walking down the small hallway and into the kitchen, I got lost in thought, thinking of the ingredients that I needed. I have been bringing over some spices and stuff when I would come over here. I loved cooking for Georgie, and he always seemed to enjoy my family's food. “Hey…uh what are you doing up this early?”

Whipping my head around away from the stove I saw Georgie stumbling his way into the kitchen. “Oh hey. I thought I’d make the family my kind of breakfast.”

“Sweet.” He smiled sitting down at the table watching me go back to cooking. My family had moved to Texas after my father got a new job here being the assistant principal.

One day after I was leaving from English class I had been walking down the hallway and accidentally bumped into Georgie. All of our notebooks went flying and that’s how we met basically. Turning the oven off I put the whole meal together on a plate and slid it across the table to him. “I present to you one of my families favorite things to eat for breakfast.”

“Woah this smells really good.” Georgie gave me praise picking up his fork and dove right in. He took a big bite making the same noise he does whenever his Meemaw makes brisket for dinner that he loves.

Georgie stared at me with a mouth full of food. “So what’s in this?”

“Let’s see it’s a fried tortilla topped with salsa. And there’s eggs, pulled chicken, cream cheese and bean included inside it too.” I chuckled sitting down and taking some bites out of the one I had made for myself with him.

Georgie took a few minutes to finish his food wiping some sauce that was left on his plate. I bite my lip trying not to laugh at seeing some cream in his hair where I moved one hand up wiping it away. “Awe dang it! I guess you are a really good cook if I get it in my hair.” He chuckled back at me.

“Yeah suppose so.” I responded moving our plates off the table hearing someone else entering the kitchen seeing it was Missy.

She squealed hugging me by the waist. “Hi Y/n. What did you make for breakfast?”

“She made a fried tortilla.” Her older brother said forking some more from the pan onto his plate.

Missy gave me a confused look. “A fried tortilla?”

“Yes but it’s actually called Chilaquiles.” I told her before she sat down and I made her a plate of her own.

Georgie finished his second plate putting his plate up in the sink then came over to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me closer to his chest with that same cheeky grin. “Even if I can’t pronounce your food half the time. You’re still a really good cook. Everybody in the family enjoys it. So thank you for this and all the other meals.”

“You’re welcome, Georgie. I always love cooking for y’all.” Draping my arms over his shoulders I grinned up at him kissing him slowly where he tightened his hands around me deepening the kiss.

He moved one hand into my hair and the other on my waist. We we’re getting caught up in the kiss that we almost wound have gone further if it wasn’t for his sister being in the kitchen with us. “Eww. If I knew you two were going to kiss after you ate I would have eaten my breakfast in front of the tv.” Missy made a look of discomfort.

“Awe I’m sorry Missy. I can’t help if he’s a good kisser and likes my food at the same time.” I shrugged my shoulders with him draping an arm over my shoulder so I laid my head on his shoulder since he was slightly taller than I was.

Georgie looped our hands together sending me a smirk. “Best of both words, my darling. You’re pretty awesome Y/n.”

“Stop being cute or I’m gonna barf my food.” She whined at us with her tounge sticking out.

I gasped remembering that their parents were already at work for the day so that left Sheldon in our care. Snapping my fingers at Missy I questioned his twin sister worried he needed to eat. “Missy, go tell your brother that I made breakfast.”

“Sheldon, Y/n made breakfast!” She spun around in her seat hollering towards their bedroom causing me and her older brother to start cracking up in laughter. Squeezing Georgie’s hand in mine I always enjoyed anytime I got to cook for this family.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[nataliasquote]

Double the trouble | Yelena’s day | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

Summary: it’s finally Yelena’s turn to babysit the twins… a big responsibility for a usually messy Russian.

Age: 4

Warnings: none

wc: 4.3k

note: Double the trouble is back! The twins are back, and so is the cuteness. Sorry for making you wait so long!

-⧗-

“Mama’s got to go, Y/n.”

“Mama go, Y/n go!”

Why was she even arguing with a four year old at this point? Natasha was crouched by the front door, her work purse resting against her calf as she held onto a whiny four year who was pouting hard.

“Aunty Yelena is coming today, you’re going to have so much fun!” Despite how animated her voice was, Y/n was not impressed and she pushed herself further into Natasha’s arms, grabbing the collar of her suit jacket in her little fists. “Come on baby, please.”

“No!” Great. She was still in the ‘no’ phase, much to the moms’ disdain. “No Lena, only you!”

Natasha sighed and stood back up, absentmindedly smoothing over her daughter’s curls as she looked over to the kitchen. Yelena was going to be there any minute and Wanda was packing the last few snack items into her purse whilst Isla showed her a drawing she’d done for her favourite aunt. She was a lot more accepting of extended family members and had been babbling about Yelena’s visit for weeks… until Y/n threw a barbie at her head.

With a sigh, Natasha hauled Y/n up to sit on her hip and wandered into the kitchen with a soft smile at her wife who looked so gracious in her red summer dress.

“Any word from Yelena?” She asked, holding Y/n tight. “This one isn’t too happy we’re leaving.”

Wanda approached the pair and kissed her daughter’s head, laughing a little at her scowl. “Should be any minute now, I hope,” she replied. “Do you girls want a snack?”

“Fruit roll ups?” Y/n was now suddenly interested, her head lifting from the comfort of Natasha’s shoulder. Ever food orientated, she was.

“I want fruit roll ups too!” Isla chimed in, finally putting her markers down as she added the finishing touches to her drawing. “Strawberry one?”

“I’m sure I can manage that,” Wanda said as she turned around from the cupboard, two snacks in hand. Y/n wriggled out of Natasha’s grip and ran over, but not before Wanda instructed her to sit at the table like normal. Snacks were never eaten standing up in their house, it was the paranoid mothers’ number one rule.

Natasha checked her watch anxiously, watching her time slip away as she waited for her sister. Punctuality wasn’t Yelena’s strong suit, but as the clock struck ten, there was a loud knock at the door and Natasha was pulling it open before the twins could even react.

“Where are my munchkins?” The loud blonde announced, tossing her bag by the door and completely ignoring Natasha as she stepped inside. But the redhead was used to people bypassing her and Wanda to get to the twins, she knew how gorgeous her daughters were.

“Hello to you too… again,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than her sister who was too busy trying to call the twins as if they were dogs.

Isla was the first to greet her favourite aunt, her arms and legs flailing as she launched her small body at the blonde Russian, giggling as she was caught and spun around. Y/n was still chewing away at her snack but she watched their interaction from her seat, shaking her head at Wanda’s offer to go and see.

Y/n was bubbly until she was around anyone who wasn't her moms. Then she clammed up, often ducking behind her curls to avoid eye contact or hiding behind Natasha’s legs if she was close by. She didn’t trust anywhere near as easily as Isla did and was always the last one to approach.

“Y/n? Doesn’t Aunty Lena get a hug?”

Y/n’s eyes darted between her Mama and her Aunt, debating hard. With some reluctance, she slid off her chair and wandered over to Yelena, but only for Natasha’s benefit. The last thing she wanted was her Mama getting mad at her over not cooperating… again.

“What are you eating?” Yelena asked, gesturing to the small piece of food still clutched in the young girl’s hand.

“We had fruit roll ups!” Isla exclaimed, grinning widely at Yelena’s animated expression.

“No way!” Even Y/n was smiling now, waving her snack up at Yelena. “I loved them as a kid!”

Natasha smiled fondly at the scene in front of her. She knew how much Isla loved Yelena, she babbled on enough as it is, and she also knew of Y/n’s hesitancy. But seeing her now, almost completely out of her shell, talking over the top of her sister in an attempt to hold Yelena’s attention, Natasha felt pride blooming in her chest and she wished to capture this moment forever.

Wanda appeared at her side, her smile mirroring her wife’s as she took her hand. “Ready to go?”

Natasha nodded and squared her shoulders in her fitted suit jacket. “Yelena, we’re going to be late. Do you have everything you need? We’ll be back at 6, there’s lunch in the fridge, all you need to do is heat it up. And don’t let Y/n run too much because she has her heart check up next week- oh and Isla can’t have raspberries because she’s allergic so don’t-“

“Yes yes,” Yelena waved her off, effectively pushing her sister out of the door. “You worry too much, we’ll be fine, won’t we girls?” Isla cheered and Y/n copied, luckily too engrossed with her sister to notice her moms were leaving.

“If anything happens, I mean anything, call me and we’ll be back as soon as we can.” Natasha was a typical worried mother and she hated leaving her girls alone, even if they were in the questionably capable hands of Yelena.

“Nat, honey, they’re going to be okay,” Wanda tried to reassure, rubbing her hand up and down her wife’s arm. “It’s only a few hours and you need this deal to go through. You deserve it baby.”

Natasha bit her lip, watching the twins who were running around chasing each other in the hallway. She so desperately wanted to stay with them as much as she could before they started kindergarten, but her business in the city was for a deal with a bank that would allow her to open up her very own dance studio, as opposed to the small rented rooms she was currently using. It was her dream and she couldn’t give it up now.

“I know, I know,” the redhead muttered, more to convince herself than anyone else. With a final smile from Wanda, the couple disappeared down the driveway and used the twins’ moment of distraction to make a tear-free getaway.

“Right, rascal 1, rascal 2, who wants to go to the park?” Yelena clapped her hands together as the door shut and the girls halted in their steps.

“Me! I got the wiggles!” They chorused.

“Well we need to get those wiggles out, don’t we!”

Yelena inspected their outfits and quickly concluded that their matching dungarees was an appropriate park choice. She would never admit it to Natasha, but she’d been reading books and online articles ever since Natasha asked her to babysit. Making a good impression was the one thing the blonde wanted so desperately, and she was determined to make sure everything went right.

After tying both pairs of converse to two sets of small feet and retying one of the pigtails in Isla’s hair, Yelena checked her backpack for her supplies and they were ready to go. It was an indescribable feeling to have her nieces clutching her hands as they walked down the street and Yelena finally understood how her sister had such a hard time leaving her daughters.

Isla babbled away for the whole ten minute walk, mainly talking about Fanny and how she wished she was here with them. Y/n listened happily, more than content just fiddling with the rings on her aunt’s fingers as they stopped at a crossing. It had been a month since they’d last spent time with their aunt and almost a year since their first meeting, and Y/n had definitely warmed up to her in that time. Which gave Yelena immense pride and huge bragging rights.

The sun really had chosen the right day to shine and Yelena made sure both girls were lathered in sunscreen before she allowed them to run free, laughing as they both made a beeline for the swing. Isla climbed up on the horse shaped seat just beside the swing set easily, her giggles echoing through the park as it began to move.

Y/n didn’t have quite the same luck. She couldn’t quite reach the swing she wanted and turned back to Yelena with a pout, her hands grabbing at the plastic.

“Hold on malyshka, I’m coming.” The blonde ran over and scooped up her youngest niece, tickling her stomach a little before slotting her legs in the holes of the swing. Y/n’s pout disappeared as quickly as it appeared and she chanted ‘higher’ as Yelena gently pushed her.

Yelena didn’t let her go too high, but she watched as Y/n stretched her legs out in front of her and lifted her arms, almost as if she was flying.

“L’Isla look!” She yelled at her sister. “I’m flying! I’m a birdie!”

Isla looked for a moment but was far too invested in her own activities to care too much, so Y/n just kept shouting for Yelena to push her higher, to which her aunt obeyed.

They were content on the swings for a while until Y/n got distracted by the slide. Yelena was grateful to give her arms a break, even though she’d have pushed her nieces for hours if they’d have asked. Taking a seat on the bench beside the slide, she watched as the energetic four year olds ran around and slid down the slide, wriggling the whole way down.

It was adorable the way they played together, often hand in hand as they circled the giant wooden structure. Isla always climbed up first before helping her sister up the last section, taking her ‘big’ sister duties very seriously.

“Aunty Lena, watch!” Y/n yelled, holding onto the red handle by the little slide as she tapped her feet together. “I’m gonna go fast!”

“I’m watching, little bug, go on.”

Y/n let go and slid down, stopping at the bottom with a grin as Yelena clapped. She raced over, breathing hard, and grabbed her little water bottle to take a sip.

“That was very impressive,” Yelena said, taking the bottle from Y/n when she was done. “Look, let’s watch Isla now.” She put her arms around Y/n’s stomach and held her in place as they watched Isla slide down before she too came running over, asking for her water.

“Have you both been practising your slides?” Isla nodded between sips.

“Mommy takes us to the park after pre-k.”

“And she gets us ice cream.” Y/n flashed a cheesy grin, trying to win over Yelena even more than she already had.

“Well, if we see the ice cream truck, then maybe.” A chorus of ‘yay’s sounded and Yelena felt like the coolest aunt on the planet. It didn’t matter that the girls already loved her to pieces, every time they smiled at her it thawed her heart and she was sure that one day she would be charged with kidnapping for stealing them both. If she barely coped with them now, prom night and graduation would hit her like a truck.

“Can we go play again?” Y/n asked, bouncing on her toes like she was eager to run off. Yelena gave them the all clear and she sprinted away with Isla yelling her name as they approached the climbing frame. Y/n scrambled up the smaller side and whizzed down the slide before Isla could stop her.

“Y/n!” Isla yelled, running back over to her sister who was sat at the bottom of the slide. “You can’t run!” She tapped her sister’s chest where her heart was before taking her hand and dragging her back to the steps. “Slowly. Mommy always says slowly.”

“I just want to play,” she huffed, placing her palm on her chest. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll tell Mommy!” Isla didn’t really understand what she was supposed to tell Wanda, but the threat was enough and Y/n walked away scowling to find the sand pit. It was slightly sludgy from the rain a few days ago so she wandered around the park again before going back to Isla and giving her a hug.

“You play on the bridge with me?”

“Only if I get to be the pirate!”

“I’ll be mermaid.”

Yelena watched from her spot on the bench, her phone resting in her hand as she filmed the girls playing. The park was relatively empty, only three other children were playing. But they looked older than the twins and so kept to themselves, which the blonde was grateful for. She wasn’t all that trusting of other people’s kids.

There was something relaxing about watching them play. It took her mind off everything else and every time the girls flashed her a smile she felt herself soften. Her sister really had won the family lottery and she felt so grateful to be an established part of their lives as they grew up. Swearing off having kids forever, this was the only way Yelena would purposefully interact with children and she was totally okay with that. The best thing about her nieces was that she could spoil them as much as she wanted and then let her sister deal with the inevitable sugar rush that followed.

An hour went by before Y/n and Isla trudged over once more, significantly more dishevelled than they were before. Long gone were the pigtails, their curls now wild about their shoulders, the colour almost matching their rosy cheeks.

“Did you have fun?”

“I think I got a rock in my shoe,” Y/n whined, standing on one leg like a flamingo. Isla went to sit on the bench as Yelena sorted out Y/n’s shoe, shaking the pieces of gravel that were stuck to her sock. “Ice cream?”

“I don’t think the ice cream truck is here, malyshka,” Yelena admitted, her heart breaking at their disappointed faces. “But we can get some at home, how does that sound?”

“I don’t want to go home!” Isla pouted, folding her arms in a little tantrum. Y/n copied her, leaning against Yelena as she stood between her legs. “Want to stay here forever!”

“Are you guys not hungry? All that running around, I’m sure your bellies are grumbling at you.” To prove her point, she tickled Y/n’s stomach, mainly to hear more of the adorable giggles she loved so much.

After some reluctance and agreement that cookies will be provided with lunch, they made the slow walk home. Y/n was dragging her feet, begging to be carried despite Yelena saying no. She couldn’t carry both of them, even if it was evident how tired Y/n was.

To brighten their mood, she started singing an old Russian song, making everyone march in time with her singing as they turned down the final street. The twins had no idea what she was singing about but their spirits were lifted and they marched happily, swinging their arms and nodding their heads as best as they could.

A quick clean up was needed as they got back home to wash away the park germs, but with soap bubbles and a mini water fight, Yelena managed to make even the most mundane activities interesting. She distracted the twins with some colouring pages whilst she located and heated up the pasta dish that Wanda had left in the fridge, instructions written on a bright yellow post it note.

The mothers really had thought of everything, which made the Blonde’s job ten times easier as she sectioned the food onto the twin’s trays. Pink and orange, just the way they preferred it.

With two tired out toddlers seated at the table, hands washed and lunch served, a quietness descended on the house as they tucked in and Yelena allowed herself a moment to breathe. Natasha and Wanda must be superpowered, she thought to herself, because doing this everyday must be exhausting. She couldn’t wait for a nap.

But when was Yelena’s life this idyllic for long? It certainly didn’t last and the blonde had just finished her pasta before she heard the sniffles beginning. Isla looked happy enough, but the same couldn’t be said for the red-eyed and teary girl beside her.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” Yelena asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Do you not like it?”

“I want Mama,” she spluttered, her bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down her cheeks. She brought her fists up to wipe her eyes but it didn’t stop them much. “I want Mama!”

“Oh malyshka, she’ll be back soon, I promise.” But Yelena’s words did little to comfort the young girl. “Do you want to eat a little bit more?” Her plate was hardly touched, only a few pieces of cucumber and pasta gone from her portion.

Whilst her sister cried, Isla looked at her own empty plate and back at Y/n’s, the little cogs in her head turning. Having such empathetic mothers had rubbed off on her and she looked at the little chocolate chip cookie sitting on the dessert section of her plate for a second.

“Y/n/n, do you want my cookie?” She grabbed it and pushed it towards her sister who stopped sniffling for a second to nod, taking the treat even if she had her own on her plate.

Yelena had to stop herself aweing out loud and she pulled her phone out as quickly as she videoed as much of the interaction as she could for Natasha and Wanda.

“That was kind of you Isla, well done.”

“She’s just noisy,” Isla answered back, her lips curling up in disgust that looked quite comical. Clearly she hadn’t changed and her sister crying was still just as annoying.

Yelena stifled her laugh and stood up to grab another cookie to replace Isla’s lost one. Her attitude at four years old was a clear indicator that Wanda and Natasha were going to have their work cut out as she grew up, especially combined with her ‘older sister complex’.

Y/n had eaten half of the cookie, the distraction working, before she quickly realised why she was crying in the first place. She locked eyes with Yelena and let the tears fall once more, wanting nothing more than a hug as her active morning caught up with her.

“Y/n it’s okay, it’s okay,” she tried to comfort once more, rounding the table to give the young girl a cuddle. “Why don’t we all go and find a movie to watch, hm?

“Mermaids?” Y/n asked between sobs, holding on tight to Yelena’s t shirt as she was lifted into her arms.

“Isla, do you want to watch The Little Mermaid?” The girl nodded, hopping down off her chair and running into the living room.

“Come on, big girl, let’s go get comfy and you can have all the cuddles you need, yeah?” Y/n sobbed into Yelena’s neck and held on tighter, more like a koala than a child. But Yelena never refused hugs from her nieces, not whilst they were still young and small enough to want to spend hours on her lap.

Isla had dug through the dvd shelf, leaving a mess on the floor, to find the most worn case holding their current favourite film. She passed it to Yelena and jumped onto the couch, sitting beside Y/n who was holding the corner of the soft blanket to her chest with a frown.

“Don’t be sad, we can see Sebastian! And Ariel.” Isla suddenly gasped, turning to her aunt crouched by the dvd player. “Aunty Lena!”

“Yes, lenya?” (Sunshine).

“Ariel has hair like me and Y/n/n! Does that mean we’re princesses?”

Yelena smiled to herself and settled on the couch between the two girls, Y/n immediately crawling onto her lap as Isla snuggled into her side.

“Of course you’re both princesses. What does that make me?”

“The evil queen,” Y/n mumbled, giggling as Yelena gasped dramatically. The opening credits of the Disney movie sounded in the background but no one paid attention as the twins erupted into laughter over Yelena’s expression.

“The evil queen? What!”

“Yes!” Isla squealed. “Evil queen!”

“Your mama didn’t tell me you both are little terrors!” She exclaimed, grabbing Isla by the foot so she couldn’t wriggle away. “I can’t believe you!”

“I didn’t say it!” Isla tried to defend herself, but Yelena was having none of it. “Please, Aunty Lena please!”

Yelena let go of her foot and turned Y/n around so she was facing her on her knee. “Okay then, what about Mama? Is she a princess?”

“Mama always a princess!”

“Okay,” Yelena said, wondering how her sister would take anyone but her daughter calling her a princess. “Is Mommy a princess too?”

Isla nodded frantically. “Yeah! We all princesses!”

“But Aunty Yelena isn’t?” She faked an offended expression, sending Y/n into another giggle fit. Which was a lot better than the tears that had dried on her cheeks.

“No you’re the evil queen!”

“Or S’bastian!”

Yelena paused, tapping her fingers on her chin in thought. “So… a singing crab, or a witch? That’s all I get?” The twins both nodded before Y/n stood on the couch and leaned to Yelena’s ear.

“S’bastian is my favourite,” she murmured before flopping back onto Yelena’s lap, her arms leaning on her chest. Yelena felt her heart clench, why were these kids so goddamn cute?

Only thirty minutes into the film, Isla had stretched herself out along the couch so Yelena wrapped both arms around Y/n whose head was flopping to the side as she tried to fight the sleep. But the combination of hearing Disney songs and feeling Yelena stroking her stomach had her falling asleep in a matter of minutes. Isla was watching, but barely. They really had tired themselves out for today, which made Yelena’s job a lot easier.

The jingle of keys in the door woke Yelena from her accidental nap and her heart shot to her stomach momentarily before she realised both twins were still asleep safe and sound. With Y/n’s dead weight sprawled out across her chest, she could do nothing but wait for Natasha to find her, the overplayed soundtrack of the title page luring the attentive mothers towards the living room.

Natasha had her suit jacket hanging over her arm and her white button up shirt was unbuttoned slightly lower than normal, but she still looked professional in her black slacks. Yelena craned her neck over the back of the couch and pressed a finger to her lips, gesturing to the sleeping redheads surrounding her.

“What did you do to them?” Wanda whispered as both women rounded the front of the couch. “They’re flat out.”

Natasha crouched down by Isla and studied her face momentarily before looking at Yelena with a small laugh. “I’ve never seen them so tired. What happened?”

“I let them run out their wiggles in the park,” she began, careful to not disturb Y/n. “And then we had a little meltdown so Isla picked a movie.”

“She got upset?” Wanda asked, concern lacing her tone. It wasn’t like her to get upset at all, which set alarm bells ringing in the mothers’ heads.

But Yelena quickly clarified that Y/n was the one with the tears, to which both mothers looked less concerned about.

“She just kept asking for her Mama, but that’s probably down to tiredness, right?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at her sister, slightly unnerved at the calmness that she radiated. Yelena was not a calm or collected person, so this was a weird sight.

“Who are you and what have you done to my sister?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Shut up. I just did my research, that’s all.”

Natasha went to tease her about it but Y/n shifted on Yelena’s lap, the voices disturbing her sleep. She rubbed her eyes softly before blinking them open and almost launching herself at Wanda with a squeal.

“Home! You’re home!” She squeezed Wanda tight in a hug, the woman melting into her daughter’s embrace as she held her close. There was something so special about welcome home hugs and Natasha didn’t feel left out as Isla woke up only seconds later and attacked her Mama with cuddles.

“Oh my big girls, we missed you!” Natasha peppered Isla’s face in kisses, having missed the way she squirmed in her arms. “Did you have a good day?”

“The best day! I love Aunty Lena!” Isla jumped back onto the couch and hugged Yelena tight, allowing Y/n a moment to shuffle over to Natasha and completely lean against her. Nothing would ever beat her Mama’s hugs. Ever.

“I missed you, babygirl. Are you okay now?”

“Missed you too Mama.”

Natasha stood up and brought Y/n up with her, holding her tightly on her hip as she stretched her legs. She smiled at the familiar feeling of her daughter fiddling with the necklace that lay on her collarbones - she always gravitated towards jewellery.

“You’re staying the night, right Lena?” Natasha clarified, watching Isla’s face light up as her aunt said yes.

“More Aunty Lena time!”

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve won them over,” Wanda added, shaking her head with a smile. She didn't mind what it was, as long as her girls were happy, she was too.

And no one was injured after Yelena’s first babysitting adventure, so there would be many more to follow.

[togrowoldinv]

Time

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When you visit the Bartons with your family, you and Natasha spend some quality time reconnecting

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, fingering (R receiving), oral (N and R receiving), being needy, some fluff too

Note: Enjoy this hehe

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Are we there yet?” Your youngest daughter asks from the backseat of the car.

You’ve been driving for hours to reach the Barton farm. Natasha wants to visit while the kids are on spring break.

“The answer is still no, sweetheart,” Natasha answers patiently.

“We’ll tell you when we get there, Taylor,” Ali, your oldest, jumps in. She’s annoyed by the constant question and her tone doesn’t hide that.

“Be nice,” you remind her.

“Yeah be nice, Al,” your oldest son says. The two oldest kids start arguing, but Nat stops it quickly.

“Hey, none of that,” she says, expertly parenting. “This is a family trip. We will be kind to each other and we will have fun. Understood?”

A few nods follow.

“Understood?” Nat repeats.

That gets her the answers she was waiting for. A chorus of yes ma’am’s resound from the backseat. You turn up the radio and try to make the last hour of the trip enjoyable.

When you pull in the driveway, you look back at Taylor.

“Ask the question again, baby,” you say.

“Are we there yet?”

“We are here,” you reply. “Come on let’s go have some fun.”

You all unload from the car. Nat refused to be a minivan family, so you settled for a three row suv. The Bartons come outside to help.

“Hi Nat,” Laura greets your wife. She hugs her tight. There’s only a handful of people in the world that Natasha trusts as much as she does Laura and Clint.

“And hi y/n,” she greets you as well.

You’re corralling the babies at the moment and can’t hug her, but the warm smile on her face feels like a hug.

“Go see Auntie Laura,” you say to Belle and Taylor, the two littlest girls.

The girls run to her and hug her tight. Ali is catching up with Lila while Ivan, Jack, and Cooper reconnect.

“Well, I guess it’s just us to unload,” Nat comments. She walks around to meet you at the back of the car.

“What’s new?” You joke.

“Hey, while we have a second alone,” Nat begins. She presses you against the back of the car, running her hands over your shoulders and arms down to your hands. “Thank you for coming. And I love you.”

“I love you too, Natasha,” you say, feeling your face flush from how close she is. You can smell her perfume and her fresh hair.

She’s so close to you that it hurts. You want to devour her.

“I’ll show you later just how much I love you, okay?” Her voice is low, sexy as it could be.

Nat leans in and steals a quick but deep kiss, leaving you wanting more.

You pout when she pulls away, but she just laughs. You’re too easy.

Later that day, Clint drives everyone out to the field where he’s got a new pig pin. The kids love chasing the pigs around and playing with them.

Natasha shares a look with you about an hour into the fun that tells you she wants to get back to the house and have her own type of fun with you.

“Clint, we’re going to head back,” she tells him.

“But Mama we’re having fun!” Belle says.

“They can stay out here with us. I know you two are exhausted from the drive in,” Laura says. She winks at you. Maybe you weren’t so slick earlier behind the car.

“Thanks Laur,” Natasha says. “Be good, babies.”

You both kiss each kid before you start walking back to the house with Natasha. You’re hand in hand as you walk through the field. You love seeing Nat like this. So free. So happy.

Your smile must reveal that to her. She stops and turns to you.

“What is it?” Nat asks.

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me differently,” she replies.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say. “And you’re even more beautiful out here.”

Natasha kisses you softly. She is so in love.

“We better get back to the house before I take you right here in this field,” Nat says.

“What would be so wrong with that?” You say, surprised by your own boldness.

“Oh,” Nat remarks. “Did my wife, my sweet, sweet, innocent wife just say that she wants me to fuck her right here outside where anyone could see us?”

You know she can see the way she’s making you feel. An absolute puddle for her.

“Come on,” Nat says, grabbing your hand again and pulling towards the house again.

By the time you make it to the porch, you’re tripping over each other as you try to make out while walking.

“Upstairs now,” Nat says.

You move as fast you can into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Natasha pulls you to her and turns you to back you into the bed. You fall back a little harshly, but Natasha’s lips connecting with yours distracts you from the slight pain.

“Fuck,” you moan into her mouth.

Nat’s strong hands pull your shirt over your head. You barely have time to process it before you’re entirely naked underneath her.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Nat asks.

“Yes,” you say. She takes a nipple in her mouth while her fingers slip between your legs. “Fuck.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” Natasha says.

Her fingers enter you quickly. She swallows your moan with her kiss. You want her to be as undressed as you are. You reach for her shirt hem, but she pushes your hand away.

“Just you right now,” Natasha says. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you say.

Her fingers continue to pump in and out of you at a fast pace. You can feel yourself slipping into a blissful state.

“Natasha,” you mumble. It’s all you can say right now.

“I love you,” Natasha says. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You let yourself come and come hard for your wife. It’s the best sex you’ve had in months, maybe years.

“That’s right, baby. You’re so good,” Nat says as she works you down. “So good for me.”

Natasha drops a kiss to your forehead and lies beside you. You come back to reality at the feeling of her hand circling yours.

“God, I have missed that,” you say.

Nat chuckles. She has too.

“Shower with me?” She asks.

“Gladly,” you agree.

Nat helps you out of bed and essentially carries you to the bathroom. You start the shower.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to her clothes. You want to be the one to take them off.

“Please,” Nat says.

You lift her shirt over her head. It never ceases to amaze you how beautiful she is. You unclasp her bra and kiss her shoulder softly.

“Gorgeous,” you whisper, placing your head in the crook of her neck.

You move your hands down her abs and to her waist. Slipping your hands down the jeans she’s wearing, you find her dripping wet for you.

“Getting me off really turns you on, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” You ask her.

“Mhm,” she says. “But I’m in control here.”

Nat takes a step back and pulls her own pants down. She takes your hand and leads you into the shower.

“Why deny yourself, Nat? You know I’d kneel for you right here and now.” You ask her.

Natasha smirks. This was exactly her plan. To have you begging to make her feel good.

“Then kneel,” Natasha says after a long pause. She presses on your shoulders just enough to make you feel the pressure.

Grinning, you drop to your knees. You can’t even remember the last time you were in this position with her. God, you love farm Natasha.

“Right there, detka,” she says. “Yes.”

You hum in pleasure at the taste of her. You’re the luckiest person in the world to be here with her like this.

“Yes! Fuck, y/n, yes!” Natasha groans out. You can’t see her but you know she’s biting her lip. She’s close. It doesn’t take much longer for Natasha to be trembling at the feeling of your mouth all over her.

“I’m coming,” Nat says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You help her ride her high and lick her until she’s pushing you away. You stand back up and she kisses you immediately.

Her tongue mingles with yours. The taste of her orgasm on your tongue turns her on even more.

“How long do we have?” She asks you.

“Not long I’d bet,” you say. “It’s almost dinner time.”

“I’ll make it quick,” Nat says.

She pushes you to the edge of the shower and you sit down, spreading your legs for her.

“All for me,” Natasha says. “Look at this.”

“All for you, Nat. Only you,” you reply.

She buries her face between your legs. You can’t help but lift your hips up at the feeling. Natasha holds your hips and helps you move them. Soon enough, you’re riding her face.

“Natasha,” you say over and over like it’s a prayer. “Natasha!”

You hold her head with one hand and keep yourself steady with the other. She eats you out like it’s the only place in the world she wants to be.

You come hard against her tongue. Nat moans successfully and pulls away to let you come down.

She grins at your blissed out face. She loves making you feel so good.

“I love you,” she says softly. It’s a sharp contrast to what you were just doing. “I hope you know how much I love you.”

“I do, baby,” you say, caressing her cheek. “I love you exactly the same.”

You kiss each other gently. Nat helps you stand back up and you actually shower. The water isn’t hot anymore, so you hurry up.

Once you get out, you get dressed and go downstairs. The family is just getting back from being outside. Perfect timing.

“Enjoy your alone time?” Laura asks.

“We sure did,” Natasha replies. She wraps an arm around your waist. You share a soft smile.

For the rest of the trip, you and Natasha soak up every moment with each other and with your family. It’s absolutely an amazing week.

[traumasurvivors]

I see a lot of conversations surrounding consent and wanted to talk about it a bit.

When most people think about consent, they think about sexual contexts.  In reality, consent is important in non-sexual situations, too.  You need consent before you borrow or touch someone else's stuff, get in their personal space, or show up at their home.

When it comes to consent, it should be a freely-given yes. This means it is not threatened, guilted, manipulated or coerced in anyway. And silence is not consent. This means that things like "maybe", "I'm not sure" or even flirting are not consent. Consent must be a freely-given yes, and not what you assume is a "yes."

Another thing to consider is whether the person is capable of consent. If someone is high or drunk, they cannot consent. Children can never consent to sexual acts. And consent must always be informed, as in the person knows what they are consenting to.

Consent should also be for the specific thing you're about to do. Someone consenting to kissing does not mean they consent to touching or so on. Someone being in a relationship does not mean they automatically consent to anything else. Consent should also be for this specific time. As in, if someone has consented before, then that doesn't mean they consent this time. A person's comfort level may vary, or they just might not be up to something and that's okay.

With that said, sometimes people have different standards of consent in their relationship. And that's okay. For example, a couple may decide that in their relationship, someone doesn't need a "yes" every single time but is free to proceed unless someone says no. They've mutually agreed that it's okay to assume the answer is "yes". For them, they've decided their consent is 'no means no' instead of 'yes means yes'. Another example in a platonic relationship is that some friends might decide that in their friendship, hugging without asking is totally okay.

One example is that I have people in my life that are allowed to hug me without asking unless I ask them not to. My partner went to hug me when I was upset the other day, and that's okay because he has been told he can do so unless I say "no" and in this case, I did say "no" because I was upset. And he respected it, and we moved on. I let him know when I was up to being hugged again.

However, when agreeing to different standards of consent in a relationship, the same rules apply. It should be a freely-given yes to the new standards, and the person should be capable of consenting. They should also be fully informed of what they are agreeing to.

One last thing I want to touch on is that consent can be withdrawn at any time. Even if you're right in the middle of something.

Consent can be incredibly complicated, and if you are ever not sure, ask. There is nothing wrong with checking in and making sure someone is okay with the situation.

It's especially important to be careful in how you navigate consent with children.  Modelling healthy consent in non-sexual contexts with children helps them understand that their bodies are their own and they have the right to feel safe and comfortable, too.  It protects them from predators as children, and sets them up to navigate consent in healthier ways as adults later in life.

Consent for hugs is frequently ignored with children.  Many children are forced to give or accept unwanted hugs from family members and told they're being rude or unfriendly if they don't cooperate.  This teaches them that their bodily autonomy doesn't matter, and makes them vulnerable to sexual predators.  By allowing children to set their own boundaries around what kinds of non-sexual physical touch they are comfortable with, when they want to receive that touch, and from whom, it helps them learn to recognize and enforce their own boundaries.  Those skills are incredibly valuable later in adulthood when they begin to navigate sexual consent both with their own bodies and with the bodies of their sexual partners.

[0mg-bird]

Sister’s Mister ~ B. Bradshaw x Seresin Sister Reader

Summary: When Jake’s little sister pays a visit, Bradley gets himself into a sneaky situation where he might want to be the sister’s mister.

Warning: 18+ content ahead, language.

A/n: Very Nickelback coded, argue with the wall.

There was a feeling of uncertainty among the men in the locker room as they showered and cleaned up. Jake left early to pick up a package, that package being his dearest little sister. You.

“He’s bringing her to Payback’s birthday party.” Fanboy states and he pulls a clean shirt on.

The rest groan, asking Payback why he’s allowing it. He just shrugs. “Dude, I felt bad, alright? She’s coming to stay for a month, I don’t want to start off on a bad foot.”

Bob, who was currently pulling his civilian shoes on, shook his head. “Hangman’s enough, what are we gonna do when a second him is going to be hangin’ around?”

They moan about that, all making claims about what you must be like. Things like spoiled, arrogant, and self centered all came up.

Bradley runs his hands through his hair a few times. “Which sister is this anyway? He’s got about five of them.” He asks.

“Big families are common in the south.” Bob reminds.

Coyote is there to answer his question. “I think it’s the one born after him? They’re the closest ones out of the seven kids.”

“Seven!” They all exclaim, cursing with wide eyes.

Bradley shuts his locker. “Six siblings might be the reason Hangman’s a head case.” He claims, making the others laugh.

“Yeah, let’s just hope the sisters not the same way.” Omaha chuckles.

~~

At the airport, you look for the tall head of blonde hair that is your brother. Suitcase rolling along behind you, you pass security and immediately see him.

Jake leans against a pillar, looking rather bored until he sees you approaching. Then, he’s walking to you with a smile.

“I was hoping you’d accidentally board a flight to Mexico instead.” He teases as you hug him.

“Oh c’mon now, don’t act like you haven’t missed me.” You smile, air getting squeezed out of your lungs as his strong arms grip you.

He pulls away and takes your suitcase and backpack. “Hard to miss someone whose face is plastered on magazine issues. But it’s good to see ‘ya, sis.”

The two of you leave to get a bite to eat, then Jake drops you off at the small house you rented.

“We’re going to my buddies birthday party tomorrow night.” He tells you as he checks the place.

You roll your eyes at his effort to make sure no crazy people are hiding behind the curtains, then open up your backpack to unpack some things.

“Which buddy is this?” You question.

“Just someone on my squad.” Jake explains.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Yay, a barbecue in the park.”

Jake glares at your fake enthusiasm. “It’s not a barbecue, and I feel personally victimized by that stereotypical statement.”

“Ooh, Jakey’s using big words.” You fake gasp.

He isn’t amused.

“We’re going to a club, okay? You know all about those, huh?” He teases, making your brows furrow.

“Is that what you think I do all day? Go to clubs with rich people?” You ask, to which he shrugs and nods. You scoff. “I do have an actual job, I just happen to know how to party.”

Jake sits at the kitchen counter. “So do we. Look, it’ll be fun and you can meet the crew.” He says, making you give in.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

He hums. “You never had a choice but I appreciate your cooperation.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out of my house, Seresin.”

~~

“Where’s Hangman?” Phoenix asks as she greets everyone in the parking lot.

They all wait to go inside the club, ready to get drinks down and watch Payback get wasted, but the only problem was they were waiting for the last two to join.

“Fashionably late.” Bradley huffs, checking the time. They agreed to meet at ten, but the minutes continue to tick by.

“Hey, what’s this chick’s name?” Phoenix asks, looking down at her phone with a face of confusion.

They all rattle off names until one clicks.

“Yeah! That’s it.” Coyote agrees, looking at the faces of surprise. “Why?”

She shrugs. “I’m Facebook stalking her.”

Though they want to call her crazy, they huddle around the phone as she scrolls through the profile. Bradley rolls his eyes at the antics.

“You guys are being ridiculous.” He states.

“Holy shit…” Fanboy exclaims.

“She’s gorgeous…like insanely gorgeous.” Payback finishes the thought.

Just as Bradley turns to look, Jake’s truck rolls into a parking spot. Phoenix scrambles to put her phone away, trying to act natural as Jake gets out. He walks around the truck and opens the passenger side door.

Two long legs step out, they all watch with anticipation. The door is shut to reveal you in full.

Long, curled hair, a short black dress. You smile as you approach, it reflects in your blue eyes.

Bradley stands in a daze as you get introduced to everyone. He’s trying to think of a time when he’s seen someone more beautiful than you but he just can’t.

“This is Rooster.” Jake finally gets to him.

Bradley snaps out of it and smiles, shaking your perfectly soft hand.

You let your eyes rise from his shoes, all the way up his jeans and white tank top under his unbuttoned shirt. When they meet his eye, you take in a small breath at the way he gazes at you.

“Hi, Rooster.” You speak with a subtle southern accent, introducing yourself.

Then, you’re pulling away from him, his hand falls back at his side and he sees you turn to Payback.

“Happy birthday.” You say and hand him a small gift bag. “Jake helped me pick it out.”

He reaches into the bag, thanking you and saying that you really didn’t need to get him anything. He takes out a velvet box and opens it to reveal an expensive looking watch. The crew lowly whistles at it.

“Damn…my birthday’s next month by the way.” Coyote tells you, making you laugh.

Inside the club, the group of you gather in the reserved booth with a first round of drinks. Bradley sits directly across from you, watching you intently as you answer different questions.

“What do you do for work?” Phoenix asks, making Jake cut in.

“Stripping.” He says with a serious face, making you slap his arm.

“Stop telling people that.” You scold before looking back at Phoenix. “I model.”

That sparks a roar of interest, the whole time Bradley just watches your movements. Your fingers toy with the skinny straw in your glass as you tell a story about being in a rock music video or of doing an issue for Vogue two months ago. He sees your pouty bottom lip get caught between your pearly teeth when you laugh at something and his mind is flooded with thoughts he cannot speak out loud.

Here he was, worried you’d be a stone cold bitch when he should have been worried that you were gonna make him grip the table to ground himself. All you were doing was sitting there and he was already getting pulled in.

You’re Jake’s sister.

He has to remind himself of that as you are dragged into the swarm of clubbers by Phoenix and Halo.

“So…we’re just going to ignore the fact that she was a bunny?” Coyote mentions, making Jake cringe.

“Hey, asshole, let’s not talk about that when I’m sitting right here. Besides, it was like one issue, and she wasn’t buck naked.” He corrects, chugging his beer at the odd topic this has come to.

“You seen it?” Fanboy cringes.

“Our mom sent it to the family group chat! I was horrified.” Jake gags.

Bradley laughs at his reaction, then shifts his eyes to Coyote who finishes his drink. He sees the smirk he has and knows that there’s gonna be a comment to follow.

“She was hot, dude. I feel a little star struck, actually.” Coyote chuckles.

Jake points an angry finger at his friend. “I love you man, but say anything like that again and I’m putting you through this table. Got it?” He spits.

Bradley looks at his glass.

He better just keep his mouth shut, because if Jake hears the things he’s thinking, he’s as good as dead.

“What do you mean she was a bunny?” Bob questions, defusing the tension. “I thought she was Jake’s sister?”

The guys let out a sigh, Jake races off as it has to be explained to the pilot.

Lights and music pulse and as you dance along, Bradley’s jaw is ticking back and forth. You appear like a phantom, arms up as you laugh with Phoenix.

“I’ll be back.” He tells the guys before heading for the bathroom.

He locks the door behind him and leans on the sink, trying to get himself together. Then, he pulls out his phone and Googles your name.

Hundreds and hundreds of photos appear on the screen, all in which you look sinfully good.

How could he not know of you before? He feels like he’s lived in darkness this whole time.

Bradley splashes water on his face and tells his reflection to get it together. With a deep breath, he goes to the bar, trying to get his head straight.

Things with Jake were finally fine, there was a truce made. The last thing that Bradley needs is to start another war by getting too close to the miniature Seresin.

Leaning on the bar, waiting for the bartender to get to him, he’s suddenly joined.

“You weren’t gonna offer me a drink?” You ask with a playful smile.

He turns his head, looking down at you and he internally curses. Of course you’d find him, life was never easy for him.

“I figured you were a big girl and could get yourself something if you were thirsty.” He states, swallowing hard.

You let out a small chuckle, then wave the bartender over.

“Whatcha’ need sweetheart?” The bartender asks, leaning forward with a wink.

“Vodka with a diet redbull, if you wouldn’t mind.” You order, then turn to Rooster with an expectant look.

“Oh, uh, just whiskey on the rocks.” He mutters.

The bartender gets right on it, leaving the two of you alone once more.

You run a manicured hand through your hair and look up at him. “So, Rooster, you got a real name?” You ask.

He nods, avoiding eye contact. His fingers flex into fists and back out again because you smell like cherry and vanilla, it makes him feel woozy.

You laugh. “Yeah? What is it?”

Blowing out a breath, he tells himself he’s stronger than this and looks to you.

“Bradley.” He says, aching as you hum and try the name out for yourself.

“Bradley. I like that.” You nod, taking your drink as it is given to you.

Your lips wrap around the straw and slowly sip as he drinks his whiskey, focusing on the taste of it washing down his throat.

You watch the veins in his arms and the way his adams apple bobs. He’s the perfect picture of fine, the wheels are turning in your head as you establish that he’s what you want.

“You want to dance with me, Bradley?” You ask as he finishes the drink in silence.

He shoots his brown eyes down at you, but doesn’t answer. Your straw slurps as you reach the bottom of your glass. “It’s a simple question.” You state.

“No.” He shutters.

“No?” You clarify.

“I do but no, I won’t.” He says weakly.

“And why is that?” You question, lips pursing.

The way you squint your eyes makes him want to drop dead. He clears his throat. “You’re off limits, sweetheart. The last thing I need is your brother ripping my head off.”

You smile. “I’m a big girl, I can make my own decisions.”

He turns to fully face you now. “I don’t think that matters to Hangman.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I’m standing here talking to you and he hasn’t come found me. I don’t know about you but to me, that seems like it’s okay for you to continue talking to me.”

You were being extremely difficult.

He sits on the chair behind him, motioning for you to do the same. Slowly, you sit, crossing one leg over the other. Your thumb nail gets caught between your teeth for a moment before he reaches out to pull it away. You lightly gasp at the action, then fold your hands together in your lap. “Wanna talk? Let’s talk.”

The two of you exchange friendly chatter, both very aware of the space shrinking between you. The sound of your voice is addicting, the longer you talk, the longer he adores it. All those silly things they guys assumed about you were entirely false. You were smart and kind, you were actually hilarious.

“You still don’t want to dance with me?” You ask after a breath, your fingers running over his thigh.

He sucks in a breath. “You just want me to be killed, don’t you?”

You look at the mass of people. “If I know one thing, it’s that my brother is probably all over some little blonde right now and way too distracted to worry about me.” You state, moving your fingers now to the back of his hand, slowly tracing shapes on his skin.

“What about the others?” He asks.

You shrug. “There’s a swarm of people, I doubt they’ll notice.”

He fights his inhibitions, then decides he’s aching to feel the silk of your dress under his hands way more than he is scared of getting caught.

Bradley grabs your hand, it’s strong as it guides you off the seat. You smirk to yourself as you follow behind him. He strategically places the two of you in the crowd, the lack of space makes you press yourself to him. Your arms hook around his neck, you feel the warmth of his palms on your lower back.

The different colored lights make the silhouette of you sharp and enticing. Though the two of you start out calm, your movements aren’t subtle. One hand in his hair, the other smooths up his chest. You’re hot, blame it on the people around you but the way he’s looking at you isn’t helping. The size of his hands on you, the way his hair gets messy, it has your knees feeling wobbly.

One movement forward, you’re pressed right against him, giving a delicious contact to the crotch of his jeans. His fingers grip your hips tightly, he leans down to press his lips to your ear. Your eyes widen as the heat of his breath washes down your neck.

“Don’t.” Is the only word he utters.

And you aren’t used to being told no.

You do it again, creating that aching friction as you rub against him. “Why not?” You whisper back.

Bradley shuts his eyes, trying to stay strong in the war he is not winning. “Don’t start something, sweetheart.”

You reach down to grab both his hands and slide them behind you. He grabs your ass instinctively.

“What if I want to?” You ask, anything but innocent.

He pulls away from your ear, shaking his head at you like it’ll change the situation. He’s saying no because it’s the smart thing, but really all he wants to do is slide his hand under your dress.

Your hand braces one side of his neck while you lean to the other. Slowly, like you aren’t sure if he’ll push you off or not, your lips press to his skin.

Bradley wants to curse, the way your tongue tastes the salt on his skin has him grinding you against him on his own accord. You make your way up to his jaw, then pull back. His eyes are entirely dark, you open your mouth to speak but he’s kissing you roughly.

You sigh contently as you start to feel like you’re buzzing on more than just alcohol. It only lasts a few seconds, like he just needed a taste. Bradley pulls away with a huff, you feel like you’re going to fall over.

“Still scared of Jake?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “This isn’t smart.”

“But you want it.” You say, hand sliding up his chest.

He wants it, fuck he wants it. You can see it in his eyes, that’s why you take his hand and pull him out of the crowd.

In the secluded hallway of the bathrooms, in the low red lighting, you’re grinning as you’re backing him into the wall. You inhale deeply, fighting with his lips as he holds your waist. It’s feverish as you kiss, the way you gently press against his waist has Bradley biting back moans. Suddenly, he’s pushing you back, walking you until you hit the opposite wall.

“Don’t be a tease.” He warns lowly, hand gently squeezing your jaw.

Your smirk is victorious. “I won’t be a tease if you take me back to your place.”

He tightens his grip slightly before swooping down and devouring your lips. His strained jeans rub against you. “That’s what you want?” He asks, pulling away again.

You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “I’m up for anything you want to do, actually.”

His thumb pulls that lip down. He looks at it in awe as he makes his final decision.

“Text your brother, tell him that you called an Uber home.” He says.

“Jake already said he was taking a girl home and sent me the cash for a ride.” You breathe.

It’s all a sudden blur, the way Bradley’s dragging you out to the parking lot, helping you into the passenger seat of his Bronco. He’s definitely breaking traffic laws as he races to his one bedroom house.

He struggles to get the door open as you suck at his neck. Once he does get it open, he’s tugging you inside and slamming it shut.

Down the hall, you’re shredding his layers. His button shirt is thrown over the couch in the living room, his belt lands on the coffee table. As you pull his white tank off, your breath catches.

“Fuck.” Is all you can say, looking at how toned his upper body is. His biceps make you want to wrap your hands around them and squeeze.

Bradley smirks, feeling good about himself. “This is what gets you to shut that mouth of yours?” He asks.

You run your eyes over his abs. “You’re like…insanely hot.”

He grips your waist, then backs you up into the kitchen counter. “Says the one with the million dollar body.”

Your fingers dance over his bare skin. “Art appreciates art.” You shrug before devouring his kiss again.

At this point your lipstick is gone, Bradley wears some of it on his skin like you’ve branded him. His hands brace under your thighs, easily lifting you to sit on the smooth kitchen counter. You sit with a huff, spreading your legs wide enough for him to slot between them. The smooth material of your dress bunches on your hips, giving him a perfect view of the pretty pink thong you wear.

He breathes heavy in excitement, gazing down at the lace like it’s a prize. That’s before he’s tilting your head back and kissing down the column of your throat. You mewl softly at the feeling, how he dances down the tops of your breasts that threaten to spill out of the dress.

Then he’s sinking further down, you watch him slowly lower himself to become eye level with your core. You gasp softly as he grips your thighs and places warm kisses to them. It stimulates you, the way his lips feel. His hot breath fans over your aching center, he’s kissing the lace fabric like he’s praising it before he grips the top of it.

“You still sure you want this?” He checks one last time. “Because I don’t know if I can stop after I start.”

You grow impatient, flexing your hips to move your heat closer to him. “Bradley, I don’t want you to stop.”

That was enough for him to yank the panties down your legs, letting them hang on one ankle. He keeps your heels on, enjoying the way they press against his upper back as your legs drape over his shoulders.

His tongue comes to run up your center, you take in a sharp breath. He tastes your arousal, immediately becoming intoxicated off of it. Fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs, he keeps you spread open for him as he dives in, eating you out in a way you haven’t experienced before.

Your head falls back, hand wringing in his hair, holding him close to you. A moan tumbles free from your throat. “Oh fuck, you’re good at this. Fuck! Like that.”

He can’t help but grin wildly, stimulating your erected clit before stretching two fingers inside of you. Your hips buck at the feeling, you’re humming out, panting at the feeling. He eats it so good, you don’t even think to muffle the sounds you make.

“Ah, Bradley.” You breathe, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“You like it, pretty girl?” He vibrates against you, making you cry out.

His eyes lift to look up at you writhe. You’re perfect, open mouthed and grinding against his tongue, reacting when he curls his fingers.

“Yes.” You encourage.

The sound is wet and lewd as he sucks on your sensitive skin, your eyes widen as you feel your finish coming on.

“Rooster, I’m close.” You whine slightly, it only makes him focus more and get you closer.

“You want to cum? Do it, finish for me.” He encourages.

Your chest heaves, you tighten your grip in his hair as you clench around his fingers. You curse loudly, feeling the orgasm build and build until you finally snap. You shudder, your thighs clench around Bradley’s head as you feel the wave wash over you. He’s there through it, cleaning you up with his tongue, sucking his fingers clean.

You lick his lips, tasting yourself on him before kissing him.

“Come on, pretty girl.” He coos, helping you off the counter, chuckling at your uneasy legs as he guides you to his bedroom.

The door is clicked shut behind you and Bradley’s pulling you against him, cradling your face in his hands as he clashes his tongue with yours. His pants are pushed off by your greedy hands, then he’s watching you crawl onto his perfectly made bed. Your eyelashes fan perfectly as you stare at him, slowly pulling your dress off and dropping it to the floor.

Fuck.

You’re perfect.

Sitting pretty for him, he lets his eyes roam over your perfect skin, how great you look in his bed.

He’s in trouble.

Your leg extends out, lifting your foot up expectantly. With a pleased smile, he comes forward to the foot of the bed, unbuckling the heel, then the other. He tosses them carelessly behind him, they hit the floor with a clatter.

“Those are expensive.” You warn as he tugs at your ankles, making you gasp and fall onto your back.

“Yeah? I’m sure you have five more pairs just like them.” He states, crawling up the bed to hover over you.

Slowly, the two of you share the same air. You lay, looking up at him. “Come on, Bradley, I won’t tell if you won’t.” You tease.

He could devour you.

“You do this often? Target your brother’s friends?” He jokes back.

Your nails run down his scalp. “I can’t stand my brother’s friends. You on the other hand, you’re different.”

Tongue in your mouth, he’s moaning, sitting up to pull open his nightstand drawer. The foil of the condom is cool in his fingers, he pulls back to sit on his knees as you sit up. You pull his boxer briefs down his toned legs, breathing heavy as his full erection is freed. It aches against his stomach, the tip dripping with precum. You swipe your thumb over it, making him groan.

Completely infatuated, you pump your hand over his length as he rips open the condom package.

“I’ll cum if you keep doing that.” He grunts out, pulling your hand away so he can roll the rubber on. “Get on your stomach.”

The direct tone of his voice has you a mess between your legs, you roll over, legs spread, yelping in surprise as he tugs your hips, positioning your ass in the air.

“Is this okay?” He asks, warmly rubbing your back.

Hair falls in your eyes, he moves it away. You look back at him and nod. “It’s more than okay.”

His dark eyes gleam, then he’s positioning himself at your entrance. You feel the tip of him run down your folds, nudging your clit, making you mewl lowly and grab the pillow.

He pushes halfway in before you gasp, he slowly enters your walls to make sure you’re relaxed enough for him. The pressure his size gives you has you breathing hard already.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart.” He says lowly, letting his head fall back as he finally bottoms out.

Adjusting, you can feel how good he fills you. “Oh god.” You pant, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly pulls back and pushes into you again.

“You sound so perfect.” Bradley says, slack jawed.

He kneads your ass, gripping it as he sets a pace. The way you lay out on front of him, arched back and taking him so good, he wants to cum inside of you in that moment.

“Mm, like that.” You guid. “You’re so fucking deep.”

Hearing those dirty words from your perfect lips, his vision threatens to go blurry.

“Yeah? Is this what you wanted the whole night, my cock buried inside you. Fuck, you’re so tight, it’s amazing.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling your hips, he fucks you back into him. As you meet his thrusts, broken sounds are coming from your throat.

You’re picture perfect, he’s going to be getting off to this image for weeks.

Mind completely cloudy, you mutter your words, they slur together. His fingers snake down to rub your clit and it has you choking on a sob, burying your face into the pillow at the build up inside of you.

“There you go, baby.” He breathes, picking up his pace. His hand stretches to gently tangle in your hair, his thrusts are hard, jolting you.

His name is muffled as you chant it, warning him that you’re oh-so close. You can’t even turn your head to look back at him, you just lean your head back and cry out as you clench around him.

“Holy shit- I’m almost there, hang on.” He grunts, edging himself closer and closer.

Your body shakes. “Bradley.” You whimper out, then you’re coming all over him.

The shout of him is what makes him push fully inside of you one last time and release. He bucks against you, riding his high out.

You’re collapsed onto the mattress now as he pulls out of you, mouth open as you pant, face and hair a mess.

“Holy fuck…” He runs a hand over his face, moving to lean back against his headboard.

He looks down at you, thinking you’re utterly spent. His gentle hands pull you up to him, slowly kissing you, trying to comb your hair down.

You learn how affectionate he can be. Especially after another round, where you’re watching him fuck up into you as you ride him, and genuine tiredness overcomes the two of you. You both clean up, then you try to decide what your next move is.

Hookups weren’t something you were too familiar with, you’ve only ever slept with your previous boyfriends.

Were you supposed to go back to your house? Did he expect you to leave?

The answer is decided when he shifts to his worn side of the bed.

“Come back to bed.” He says, watching you stand in the doorway, looking at your shoes.

Your eyes lift back up to him and his heart stops for a moment, you’re wearing a genuine grin.

Tangled in his sheets, not bothering to get dressed, the two of you talk until you eventually are lulled to sleep. You tried to fight it, but he’s so warm as he holds you, his voice is such a perfect tone, he’s rubbing your head and doing everything a hookup doesn’t do.

He’s well aware of this.

And when you’re snoozing peacefully, tucked against his chest, he curses and looks up at the ceiling.

He was already in too deep.

Part 2 here