#its not too wholesome though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

earthtooz · 1 year ago

Note

Wrio the slay calling reading clingy so reader sleeps on couch …😊 thx

x : DISTANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: you overhear wriothesley calling your affection too much, so you respect his wishes and give him some space. yet, why does he not seem like it?

warnings: 5.6k words (why did it get so long), hurt/comfort, gn!reader and wriothesley are married, pet names, no spoilers but set in canon, misunderstandings and miscommunication af, slowburn??, you might tug your hair out at some parts lol sorry, fluff with angst but happy ending, it gets emotional.

a/n: okay this was definitely not my favourite piece, i was experimenting with writing styles and writing in an omnipresent pov... so sorry if it feels clunky at some bits. overall, i'm pretty happy! also sorry for not sticking to the original prompt

Perhaps today was a bad time, you think as you leave the Fortress of Meropide, anxiety churning in your stomach and doubt weighing on your mind. Despite Fontaine’s sunrays shining brightly upon you, you feel anything but warm.

What started as a visit to your husband with kind, wholesome intentions of delivering some lunch to him on your day off ended with a visit that left you riddled with questions. Coming at a time when he was in a meeting nearing its end, you didn’t even get the chance to speak to him, yet his words rattled around your head, replaying like a broken disc.

“How are you and your spouse?” A rich voice echoes from his office, door slightly ajar signifying that whatever discussion was happening within was coming to an end.

“Y/n and I? We’re amazing, thank you,” Wriothesley answers. “I’m always happiest whenever I’m with Y/n.”

The company, who you have realised is Monsieur Neuvillette, responds. “That’s good to hear.”

“Although, Y/n has been quite… affectionate recently, to the point that it’s borderlining too much-”

The conversation is drowned out by a ring of an alarm on Wriothesley’s desk and the atmosphere from his office suddenly grows in tension. The voice of the two men turn from relaxed to alarmed in a matter of seconds, and that is when you decide it is probably time to take your leave, lest you intrude on whatever emergency has happened.

Dropping the lunch you brought for Wriothesley at reception, even the receptionist was confused by how quick your visit was since they typically lasted for an hour- even longer since Wriothesley likes to push the amount of time he gets with you. They don’t question it, though, merely nodding in understanding when you tell them to drop it off for him on your behalf.

Has Wriothesley always thought of your affection as too much? If it was overwhelming him, why didn’t he tell you? And why Neuvillette, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, of all people? You understood the nature of their relationship- how they both tend to confine in each other with whatever they are troubled by, but why couldn’t your husband come to you about this directly? You made an oath on your wedding day to be fully honest with each other and to never hide anything. Where did that promise go?

Arriving home with a heavy heart, you immediately flop onto the couch, arm covering your eyes as tears sting the corners of your eyes. Perhaps it’s time you lessen your displays of physical affection before you drive the love of your life away.

Wriothesley, looking down at the contents of your boxed lunch, feels his heart warm in his chest at your display of care. How fortunate he is to have someone like you, he thinks before eating, satisfying his hungry stomach that has been aching for food since half an hour ago. He wonders why you didn’t see him personally and dropped it off instead, he would have liked to eat with you beside him.

Whatever the reason, he’ll make sure to drop by your favourite bakery to purchase some conch madeleines as a thank you.

When he returns home later in the evening, you’re asleep on the couch, curled up with only a book on your chest to protect you from the chilly air seeping into the house. Wriothesley quickly lays his coat over you, bookmarking the page you were at before retreating to change into more relaxing clothes. You still have not roused when he returns and as much as it pains him to disturb you, he doesn’t want you napping too late lest it disturbs your sleep schedule.

“Y/n?” He gently shakes you. Slowly, you come to wakefulness, eyes fluttering open as you gaze up at your husband.

“Wriothesley? You’re home?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes whilst slowly sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Nearing six in the evening.”

“Oh my! I didn’t mean to sleep that long! I’ll go get dinner ready, you should rest, you must have had a long day-”

Silencing you with a warm kiss to your forehead, you don’t melt into it like you usually would, his words from earlier slamming back into you like a brick. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, merely brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll cook,” Wriothesley offers, grabbing something he left on the table behind him. “Have some madeleines I bought for you whilst you wait.”

He places a bag of the baked goods in your hands and you smile at him, lips chapped and eyes still drowsy, yet Wriothesley thinks you’re the most beautiful being to ever exist.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” The dark-haired leaves you with another kiss to your temple before turning around to go into the kitchen. However, you stop him with a tug on his wrist which you drop almost immediately when he turns around, acting as if his skin was an open flame that licked you.

“Darling, you have a sticker on your arm.” You reach up to grab the piece of adhesive, ripping it off him in one smooth motion.

“Those melusines,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For how much Wriothesley scolds them, he cannot bring himself to actually get mad at them, letting the little creatures play pranks instead of reprimanding them.

“I’m surprised they keep getting by you. Maybe you need to sharpen your instincts.”

“Quiet, you,” there’s no bite to his words.

“They put a little crab on you,” you giggle. “Must be going through an ocean-themed sticker book. You had a little shell on you yesterday.”

“I did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I find it funny.”

He sits down beside you, dinner momentarily forgotten. “Do you now?” The dark-haired murmurs. “Turns out my own spouse is against me also.”

“If it brings me amusement, why not let the melusines play their pranks a little longer?”

“You are an awful influence,” Wriothesley winds his arms around your torso, pushing you down into the pillows of the couch. There, you almost sink into him, lured by the warmth of his embrace, but the memory of what you overheard sinks into your gut like an icicle, and your smile fades.

You pat his shoulders in surrender. “Shouldn’t you be working on dinner, dear? It’s already quite late.” You pray he doesn’t notice the way you have suddenly altered the mood, drying the playful atmosphere.

If he does notice, he doesn’t comment on it, getting up with a groan before retreating into the kitchen.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There’s a whistle from the doorway to your bedroom, low and appreciative, and the culprit is no one other than Wriothesley. He walks towards you, draping himself over your figure sat in front of the mirror. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Clorinde and I are going to dinner together,” you tell him nonchalantly, as if all of his weight wasn’t on your shoulders right now.

He pouts. “When will you be home?”

“Not too late, that’s for sure. We’re meeting at the other side of the Court of Fontaine, though.”

“An evening without my love, whatever shall I do?”

“You’ll live,” you smile before raising a necklace up to him. “Help me put this on?”

With a huff, he raises himself off your back and gently takes the jewellery from your hands, careful with the jewels that adorn it. His cold touch grazes against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine as he successfully clasps it together. When you meet his gaze in the mirror, it’s full of adoration and admiration, and you have to busy yourself with your hair lest it flusters you too much.

Standing up, you swiftly walk out of the bedroom and towards the front door. Wriothesley trails behind you without much thought. “I’ll get going now before I’m too late.”

“Do you need me to accompany you there?”

“It’s alright, thank you for offering.” Disappointment floods him like an ocean as he watches you put on your shoes. With one final fidget of your clothes, you deem yourself presentable and turn to him. “See you tonight, darling-”

“-Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Your eyes widen in alarm as you begin frantically patting yourself down. “I brought my wallet, keys? They’re here, what am I forgetting?”

Wriothesley pretends like your cluelessness doesn’t hurt more than it actually does. He taps his cheek. “A kiss.”

“Oh, of course. How could I be so careless?” you laugh, the corners of your eyes scrunching with delight. Wriothesley has a remark resting on the tip of his tongue but it quickly dies when you step forward, anchoring your hand on his chin before you press a kiss to his cheek; to both cheeks for good measure.

“Love you,” you murmur when parting.

The desire to keep you home is a burning one, and pleads of ‘stay’ threaten to spill from his mouth. There is nothing more he wants than to be in your arms, to cling to you until the weekend is over in the blink of an eye, but you are your own person, and no matter how needy he is, Wriothesley should not stand in the way of your fun.

“I love you more,” he sighs, holding open the front door for you. “Be back soon.”

“I’ll try. Bye dear!” You blow him a kiss before walking out of your garden.

He watches you leave with a heart heavy with longing, closing the front door once you’re out of sight and tries to sigh the feeling of emptiness away.

Later that night, Wriothesley greets you the second he hears the front door being unlocked, urgent strides allowing him to turn the corner just as you open the door, looking as pristine as you did when you left. There’s a small, tired smile on your face, but you look happy, blissful expression brightening when you see him.

“Hello, love,” you say, slipping your shoes off.

“Welcome back,” he says, embracing you with one, muscular arm whilst pulling you in for a kiss. Your hands unusually fly up to hold his shoulders and Wriothesley thinks he’s imagining the way you push him slightly, as if trying to get him out of your personal space. Yet your grasp on him was so tight, creating temporary divots in his skin that he doesn’t really know what you’re trying to do.

Why are you trying to push him away in the first place? The thought of you not wanting him near is upsetting enough to make him unknowingly tighten his grip around you, causing you to stumble into him from the momentum.

You look up at him, shocked whilst he gazes down at you with a storm of terror gathering in his eyes. For the first time since the two of you got married all those years ago, a rift forms.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Whatever occurred that night isn’t a topic of conversation, ever. The two of you retreated to bed after a quick conversation of how your evenings were before devolving into other topics, like what the week ahead had in store, restaurants you two should visit sometime, new boutiques and bakeries you’ve been hoping to explore- little chats that hold more meaning as the days roll by.

During it all, there was an undeniable heaviness to the conversation that made it slightly uncomfortable. Wriothesley cannot remove the memory of how you tried to push him away and you cannot forget the shocked look in his eyes. The more you picture it, the guiltier you feel, heart sinking in your chest.

You thought that it was what Wriothesley wanted: more space from you, an opportunity to breathe without you overwhelming his space.

So why do you feel so bad about respecting his wishes?

“What a lovely view!” You exclaim excitedly, running toward a patch on the grass that sits a few metres away from a nearby beach, the sound of waves meeting shore a soothing lullaby and a testament to how calm the day is. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you’re out on a picnic with the love of your life.

“Here’s a nice spot to set up, what do you think, Wriothesley?” You ask.

“Sounds amazing, darling,” he responds, setting down the picnic basket when you’ve laid out the blanket. You sit down with an unglamorous huff, leaning back onto your hands to let the morning sun soak into your features.

Morning picnics were one of yours and Wriothesley’s favourite date ideas. The best time to be together was before the sun would rise to its highest peak, bearing hot sunrays that make everything uncomfortable for everyone. Fontaine’s sun is never merciful either, which is why the nation is perfect for diving and all other water-related activities, but when you are simply walking around, it becomes rather suffocating.

The Fortress of Meropide’s administrator takes a seat beside you and you indulge by resting your head on his shoulder, hoping that he isn’t uncomfortable under your touch. The dark-haired hasn’t shaken you off yet, so you keep resting against him.

“How did you discover this place?” You ask.

“Siora told me of it, said that a passenger on the aquabus was talking to her about it. She thought that it sounded like a delightful place to take you to,” he answers and you can’t help but smile, fiddling with your fingers.

Melusines and their wholesome ways. You’ll find a way to thank Siora later. “How kind of her and how fortunate for us.”

“I take it you like it here then?”

“I love it,” you tuck your legs closer to your chest and Wriothesley leans back on his arms as well, letting your hands rest beside each other as the sea continues to crash on the shore before you. There are seals resting nearby too, ships pass by here and there, and seagulls stop near the two of you before flying away, but the only thing that matters to Wriothesley is you leaning on his shoulder.

Sharing with him the breakfast sandwiches you packed, no words are exchanged, merely the sound of waves crashing against the shore occupy the tranquil silence. It’s not until a few minutes later that Wriothesley speaks.

“Will you be visiting me at the office today?” He asks.

You tear your gaze away from the horizon. “Perhaps. Do you want me to?”

“Would I really be asking if I didn’t?”

“Please, forego the sass, your grace,” you snort and he rolls his eyes, an affectionate smile pulling on his lips.

“Seriously though, I would like you to. You know how dreary and boring weekends at the prison get, would be much better having you there.”

“Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, grinning. “Would you like me to bring lunch with me or shall we go find a place to eat?”

“How about takeout? Hey wait, now that I think about it, why didn’t you stay the other day when you brought lunch for me? I would have much rather seen your pretty face than the receptionist’s.”

You ignore the butterflies blooming in your stomach because of his compliment. “An emergency happened just as I reached there. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it, so I left.”

Confusion shines in his eyes, his expression giving away the cogwork ticking in his brain as he tries to pinpoint what emergency you could be referring to. When the pieces click, his eyes widen a little. “I see. You did the right thing, my love,” he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll visit you today,” you whisper, toying with the hem of your clothes as you wait for his response.

“Amazing. I’m looking forward to it, then”

You stay true to your word, walking down the path you recognise like the back of your hand. The guards need not think twice about welcoming you in, guiding you straight in the direction of Wriothesley’s office.

Since being with him, you’ve grown less and less afraid of how daunting the Fortress can feel, adapting to the chill knowing that there is someone in there who will set himself ablaze to keep you warm. Yet, today you walk in with apprehension clasped around your ankles, threatening to pull you under with each step.

It’s ridiculous, you know Wriothesley would never turn you away or shun you, but the mind is the worst enemy and yours can’t stop replaying the conversation you overheard weeks ago. You know Wriothesley could open those heavy doors of his and greet you with something more grim than loving and cast you aside, and you have to hold your breath when the guards knock on your behalf.

Your heart skips a beat when they push open the doors, revealing your husband crouched over his desk, hands mussed in his hair to keep them out of his eyes. He looks up at you and the way a smile manifests on his features is akin to that of fire melting ice, fatigue dissipating as you step inside his office.

“Hello, dear,” you greet, tone soft and controlled, unlike the thrashing of your gut.

“Hi,” he stands up and takes great strides towards you. Naturally, you open your arms for him; unnaturally, you merely hug him instead of greeting him with a kiss. Wriothesley keeps you locked in his arms as he digs his nose into your neck and you feel the way his eyes flutter close against your skin.

“Long day?”

“Draining too,” he murmurs.

“Oh dear, we cannot have your grace tired, whatever shall we do!” You gasp overdramatically, clearly poking fun at him because you are perhaps one of the only people who could do so in this entire building.

The dark-haired accepts it and doesn’t bother to correct your use of formalities. Instead, he retracts his head out of your neck to look at you with hopeful eyes instead. “You could give me a kiss.”

“Did you do anything today to earn it?”

“I need to earn my kisses now?”

“You should shut up sometimes,” you murmur before placing your hands along his jaw, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He smiles against you, biting back a quip when his hand comes to the base of your neck, holding you against him. You can tell he needed the proximity, judging by his little exhale and the way his shoulders slouch, so you let him take his time and ignore the nagging in your heart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Wriothesley is losing his mind. He has been since you left the Fortress of Meropide, and was left to freeze in the ache of your lack of affection. A goodbye kiss is customary between you two and when you didn’t give him one before leaving, it felt like a slap to the face. He would have much rather you just slapped him, actually, so what gives?

You’re not rejecting his advances, but you’re not explicitly initiating anything either. Does that mean he should back off, too? Did he do something to upset you, and if so, when? All this thinking and speculating is making him feel like a pathetic headless chicken who can’t even talk to his spouse-

“-Wait!” You exclaim, just as he was about to grab the knob to the front entrance and step out. Instead, Wriothesley turns around to be greeted by the sigh of you frantically scrambling to him, and his heart can’t help but come alive, silencing his thoughts.

Stopping to a slide before him, he can’t hold back a soft grin. Despite just wrangling out of the claws of sleep, you’re so breathtaking, delicate in the mornings when no one else is around but him. The dark-haired is grateful that only he is able to witness you like this, that you trust him with this vulnerable side of you.

You don’t meet his gaze, eyes pinned to his chest instead. “Your tie is crooked,” you murmur hands reaching out before he even gets a chance to look down. “Let me help you.”

How can he deny such a kind request of yours? You’re gentle with him, undoing his knot and weaving it together until it looks proper, but Wriothesley couldn’t care what his tie looks like. You could be making a total fool of him and he wouldn’t care, too entranced by your glow to tear his eyes away from you. There’s a little scrunch in your forehead as you concentrate, mouth slightly parted and you’re not oblivious to his gaze either, too familiar with the intensity of it to get shy.

Finally satisfied with your work, you let go, patting his shoulders and smoothing out any wrinkles in his garment. “There. All done.”

“Thank you, dear,” he murmurs.

Wriothesley is expecting a kiss from you, waits for the moment that you’ll rise onto your toes and place a peck on his lips to fill him with some energy for the day. He waits for the familiar feeling of your lips pressing against his, and waits for the rush of adrenaline that your touch always manages to ignite.

Except it never comes, and it hurts most to confess that some part of him preempted this. You step away from him without another word, or kiss, and his heart burns at your retraction, unease fluttering the lining of his stomach when you turn around to retreat into the living room. Wriothesley moves without thinking, a hand coming up to your waist to stop your steps as he forcefully pulls you back to him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one far more intense than the ones you usually give this early in the morning.

You notice the desperation that bleeds from him; a certain fervour uncharacteristic in situations of morning domesticity.

There’s a bright glimmer of surprise in your eyes when he pulls away, as if he had kissed away all your fatigue and shocked wakefulness into you.

“Have a good day at work,” you murmur, barely able to choke the words out.

“I will,” he replies, opening the door. You stay and watch him go, still trying to recover your breath over his passionate display of affection.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day his racing thoughts get to him is the eighth day of this strange treatment of yours. At this point, he’s become insatiable, barely able to hold it together as you remain in the centre of his world. He wants your affection again, he wants your displays of love, he wants you near him so badly that it’s driving him up the walls of the Fortress.

It’s irrational for him, a grown man, to skirt around his problems as if he was a teenager. For some reason, Wriothesley has no issue locking up and containing some of Fontaine’s most dangerous criminals, yet when it comes to you, he becomes a lovesick fool who craves everything his partner can give.

You still are not initiating any displays of affection, keeping to yourself unless it is him acting first.

But after being locked in his own study for hours, unable to distract himself from you when he was really meant to be reading some new court documents from Neuvillette, he snaps. Pushing his chair out with more force than necessary, he searches for you in the living room, where you are curled up in the corner, reading.

“Is everything alright?” Wriothesley’s interruption shocks you, and you jolt your head up to meet his gaze.

You are met with the sight of him leaned against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Why wouldn’t they be?” You ask, not letting your gaze linger for too long on his arms before sitting up just a little straighter.

“Dunno. Just double checking.”

“Okay,” you hum softly, nodding. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” How could you switch this up on him so quickly?

“Yeah.”

“Fine, amazing, just dandy.”

You raise an eyebrow at your husband, not truly believing him but you decide it’s best not to press on. “Alright… but if anything is wrong, don’t be afraid to tell me.” You go back to your book and your hair falls perfectly in front of your face to hide it from him.

Wriothesley shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to find the words to speak up and ask why you were acting so weird. It’d been two hours and twenty-four minutes (and counting) since you last saw him when he disappeared into his study, were you not concerned for him in the slightest? Sure you dropped off a plate of fruit and refilled his teapot with hot water, but normally your check-ins would be a little more frequent, and a little more encouraging than just a morale boost through food.

Where was the cheek kiss you always gave him before you left?

Deciding not to press on any further, your husband sighs before leaving, his arms and heart feeling emptier than usual. You are only in the next room, but why do you feel like you’re on the other side of Teyvat?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day Wriothesley snaps is the day Sigewinne asks him to be nicer to the guards of the Fortress because his foul mood is darkening the already glum prison. His subordinates must have sent her knowing that he couldn’t possibly lash out at her, and they were right, but she really didn’t need to comment on the way his veins have been more prominent recently, or how creases are forming on his forehead from how hard he’s been scowling. To top it off, she said that he should delay the appearance of wrinkles for as long as necessary, because there’s a good chance they’ll come earlier than he wants.

He’s not even a day over thirty, and yet, he is being reprimanded for ‘ageing’. But he knows the problem, and he’ll be damned if he lets it drag out for another day.

“Welcome home, baby-” your greeting is cut off unceremoniously by your husband, who practically drags you into his embrace, closing you in with no space for you to breathe or move. Your cries of alarm are muffled against his chest, and he easily picks you up before striding the path to your shared bedroom. There, he all but throws you onto the bed, your neck resting on the pillows as he climbs on after you. “Wriothesley?”

He shushes you.

“What-”

“-I need this,” he wraps around you like a vine and breathes you in with the fervour of a man starved.

When you try to shuffle away from under him, or at the very least sit up, Wriothesley groans, borderlining a growl as he tightens his arms around your middle. You don’t question or disobey his wants, merely sinking your head into the pillows in understanding that he must have had a particularly rough day.

So instead of repelling his touch, you give in and let a hand snake up to his hair, playing with it as you let Wriothesley lay atop you. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders melts away, and the way you’re scratching his scalp is enticing him to rest, except there is a barrier keeping him from reaching a haven of dreams and he won’t rest peacefully until he’s broken through it.

“Why have you been so distant lately?” He garbles, voice a lot shakier from the usual stoic Wriothesley that you are used to.

You heard him loud and clear, but a pathetic ‘pardon?’ slips past your lips.

“I said, why have you been so distant lately?” This time, he’s firm, determination seeping into his tone as a hand of his sneaks out from underneath you to search for your hand. After patting around, he finds it and holds it gently, raising it to press a long kiss to your knuckles.

It’s silent. You don’t have anything to say in response and it’s past the grace period where you can give an excuse and make it sound like the truth, and Wriothesley looks up at you with expectant eyes. There’s hurt in them but as much as you’d like to mend the heartbroken expression of his, admitting the truth is difficult, because it has eaten you alive, gnawing at your heart for days on end.

“I…I don’t have it in me to tell you,” you murmur quietly, looking away and slipping your hand out of his, but Wriothesley is tired of this dance of yours and chases after your touch, this time roughly grasping your wrists. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you rooted.

“I didn’t do anything, did I?” He asks, raising your hand to his cheek.

Your voice is quiet when you confess. “If I said you didn’t, I’d be lying.”

The dark-haired stiffens. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough.

“No, Y/n, be honest with me here.”

“You’re going to laugh at me, or find me ridiculous.” Wriothesley’s heart clenches at your admittance, frowning at the fractures of insecurity piercing you like glass, but most of all, he hates that he can’t stop you from feeling this way. “I thought what I did was what you wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Some distance, just- not me crowding your personal space all the time.”

“Why would I ever want that?”

“I can get overbearing sometimes, and I don’t know, just assumed that would annoy you.”

“You’re not telling me everything, I can tell something happened to make you feel this way. Please, darling, just tell me the truth. I promise you I won’t judge or think differently of you.”

You sigh. “I… I overheard you and Monsieur Neuvillette the other day- when I dropped off lunch. You said that my affection was sometimes too much, and that I was making you uncomfortable, so I thought that you wouldn’t want me to be around you anymore. I didn’t want to drive you away so I, y’know…”

Confusion fills him stomach like water and it takes a few moments before it hits him, the memory coming back to him. You heard his conversation out of context- he wasn’t complaining about you, no, quite the opposite, but it just seems that you weren’t there for the parts that mattered most, and now you can’t even bear to look him in the eye.

“Honey, please look at me,” his voice thins into a vulnerable whisper that pleads for you to glance his way so you can see how he is head over heels in love with you.

When your gaze finally meets his, he almost cracks under the weight of your sadness, and it dawns upon him that you can’t feel the adoration he holds for you, dripping from his heart into your hands. You can’t see the mountains he’d overcome just to end the day resting in your arms. You don’t know the extent he would go just to win your love.

It’s a fact that kicks at his knees, shuns him down and bruises his heart. If the Fortress of Meropide has taught him anything, it’s that there is no point holding your feelings back from living fully. There is no point to contain the human heart that has every desire to live with others, he has seen the sorrow of prisoners saying goodbye to loved ones, and how they dwell over words they should have said. Even his own time as a prisoner taught him so, because everytime he sat behind those bars, the faces of people he should have been more open to kept him awake at night.

Wriothesley would rather drown in primordial water than see you, the most important person in his life, hurting over his own negligence. You have been feeling half-loved because of him and he doesn’t know how he can make it up to you.

“You misunderstand. I wasn’t talking about you negatively, I was talking to Neuvillette about how loved you made me feel that way, and how grateful I am to have someone like you as my partner,” he confesses earnestly, eyes pleading for you to believe him.

You blink at him, comprehending his words carefully. “Really?” You ask.

“I would never think otherwise,” he whispers.

As if a weight was lifted from your shoulders, a smile pulls at your lips and suddenly, a laugh spills from them, causing your expression to scrunch up with joy, looking the most lively Wriothesley has seen you in a while. He laughs with you too, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you confess through dying fits of laughter. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that, how stupid.”

He shakes his head, “you have nothing to apologise for, you’re not at fault. But I beg you, never hide things like this from me again and tell me whenever something bothers you.”

You nod, “I will.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never ever think that I want to be away from you,” Wriothesley grumbles, hiding himself in the crook of your neck. “That was the worst week of my life.”

“Sorry for putting you through all that.”

“Stop apologising.” He demands. “Just, no more secrets.”

“I love you, Wriothesley.”

He sighs shakily, relief tangible in his tone. “I love you more.”

A damp patch forms on your collar bone right where his tears would fall, and you place a kiss on his forehead for each drop you feel on your skin. There is still much to discuss, much to mend between the two of you, but his hands run along your skin like he’s trying to memorise and mark you, so you never doubt his devotion again.

*sighs and puts hands on hips* i don't really like that ending either so don't judge lol

#genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader fluff #wriothesley x gn!reader #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff

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thevillainswhore · 8 months ago

Text

The Ties That Bind Us

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, small amount of angst, mutual pining, jealousy, kissing, smut, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink, p in v sex, derogatory names, spitting, happy ending.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“You look so pretty, Mama!” You caught your son’s reflection in the mirror, his bright blue eyes wide and in awe as you finished the final touches up of your makeup.

You were about to respond, but the words died on your tongue at the sight of Bucky’s large form rounding the corner into the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over one another. “She absolutely does, cupcake.”

The intensity of his stare made you gulp silently, and you diverted your eyes back to your son.

Bucky had been doing that a lot recently —looking at you differently, more longing in his eyes than usual.

“Thank you, baby,” you said, ignoring Bucky in favour of showing your appreciation to your son. The knot in your stomach was wound too tight to try and unravel the conflict that ravaged in your mind. “You’re going to be good for your Dad tonight, aren’t you?”

Your son did his best to try and hide the cheeky smirk on his lips — one that resembled his father a little too much. “Of course Mama, I be a good boy.”

Unable to help the smile growing on your face, you brought him into your embrace, snuggling him tightly until he let out a loud squeal when you tickled his stomach. “I mean it, trouble. No staying up late and no ice cream before bed.”

Instantly, his puppy eyes fell to his father, an innocent pout on his lips. “But Dadda—“

“Sorry kid,” Bucky held strong. Glancing to you before looking back to his son, “Mama’s rules.”

“Oh, shucks,” your son sighed as you laughed.

From the outside looking in, the three of you seemed like a perfect family. Picturesque and ideal — white picket fences enclosing a home that was full of love and laughter, wholesome family dinners and celebrations for each loved one.

But things were never as simple as you wished.

The sobering thought made your laughter die in your throat, and you checked the time on your lit up phone screen. It was almost time for your date and you were wary of being late. “Okay, cupcake. I’ve gotta get moving so I can make it on time.”

“Aw,” your son whined, and you ruffled his hair as you made your way out of the bathroom. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you squeezed by Bucky, the scent of his aftershave he had worn since you first met him filled your nose and overtook your senses.

You barely suppressed a moan, a sinful combination that your mind begged you to inhale one more time, while another internal voice scolded you. The lingering touch of his fingers ghosting over your waist made it even harder to listen to sense.

Once you reached the hallway, you shook yourself and grabbed your bag from its hook by the door. The coat over your arm was warm and comfortable as you slipped it over your shoulders.

The telltale patter of feet over the hardwood floor bounced towards you, along with another set of heavier ones not too far behind. “Where you going this time, mama?” cupcake asked.

Smiling, you leaned down and tucked a stray lock of deep brown hair behind his ear. “Just for dinner, baby. I won’t be out long and I promise I’ll be back to make you pancakes in the morning, okay, sweetie?”

He nodded before stepping closer and tiptoeing up to whisper in your ear. “Make sure he treat you good because you deserve whole world.”

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging on to your waterline. You blinked them away quickly before your son could notice.

Though, Bucky did.

You kissed his forehead, and leaned back to look into his eyes. “You got it, cupcake.”

Stepping forward, Bucky spoke up. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Mama and go get a movie set up, huh pal? I’ll be with you soon.”

Before your son left, he hugged you. “Bye Mama, I loves you.”

You smiled as he ran off. “I love you too, baby — and remember to be good!”

Only Bucky and you were left by the door, your blanket of comfortability was gone and you felt his eyes that held too many memories burning through you.

“You really do look beautiful,” he vowed.

Fuck, you internally cursed.

You tried not to look into his eyes while you fumbled with your dress. “Thank you, Bucky.” You quickly shifted the conversation. “If he doesn’t settle then text me, okay? My phone will be on loud and I’ll answer straight away—“

“As much as I— We would like you home, I’m sure we’ll survive without you for a couple of hours,” Bucky said, recovering from his hiccup smoothly.

Your gazes met — you had always gotten lost in his eyes and even all these years later nothing had changed.

Snapping out of your reverie, you shook your head and unlocked the door. “I’ll um— I’ll be back later.”

Before you could leave, Bucky caught your hand. “Have fun, Doll.”

And with all the strength you had, you delicately took your hand out of his, taking note of the tan line of where his wedding ring used to sit. “Bye, James.”

The date went as expected.

Your company for the night wasn’t a problem at all. In fact, this was the third date you had both been on together. However, the spark you had so badly tried to ignite through bland conversations and one already ringed out similar interest fell short.

Every date you had been on since your divorce with Bucky seemed to lack a certain something for you. Although in recent light, you had come to terms with the fact you that no one’s eyes had the same shade of blue you were familiar with. Or made your heart jump in your chest from excited nerves years after your first meeting.

Simply, you hated the fact you compared every single man to Bucky.

With a sigh, you unlocked your door, careful to make as little noise as possible as you walked into your home. It was quiet, almost silent, apart from those damned footsteps that eased the weight off your chest and yet caused goosebumps to cascade down the bare skin of your arms.

Bucky rounded the corner from your kitchen to the open plan living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand in the orange hue of the darkness, provided by a single lit lamp.

“Hey,” he greeted you, the expression on his face imperceptible. “How was your date?”

You cleared your throat, struggling to keep your composure from the sight of his tight black T-shirt and denim jeans that deliciously hugged his thighs. “Um yeah— it was— it was okay.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Just okay?” He laughed. “Come on, give me more than that.”

You sighed in defeat. “I told him it was best if we didn’t see each other anymore.”

Unfortunately, there was only so much of a facade you could fake until it became noticeable to your date. It was an amicable decision with no hard feelings. But, it didn’t help to settle the confusing thoughts in your head.

Bucky took a swig of his drink, placing it on the hallway side table before he began slowly pacing towards you.

You couldn’t discern the look in his eyes, the way they feasted on your thighs or your waist. Backing up against the door until you physically couldn’t break free from the heat of his gaze, you could only watch as Bucky drew closer, right until you were a breath apart.

He brought an arm up, over the top of your head to lean against the door. “Any reason why?” he asked, a husk to his tone that granted you no favours.

A sudden pulse shot through your nerves, the ache between your thighs intense. It took everything in you to not rub them together. He would notice that you were sure of.

Desperate to escape what was sure to be a dangerous situation, you quickly slid out of his invisible hold and hastily made your way to the kitchen to pour your own drink. Bucky joined you only seconds later.

“How was cupcake?” you asked instead, attempting to switch the conversation to a safe topic. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“He was good as gold,” he instantly replied, staring you down. A beat later, “He whined about the ice cream situation, but I promised I’d take him out for it tomorrow and he was out like a light — we had fun.”

You slightly faltered as you poured the whiskey into a second glass. You didn’t miss his small innuendo of spending more time together.

“Thanks for looking after him tonight. I know it was pretty useless anyway, but—“

Bucky trapped you against the counter as he placed his hand over yours, his deep baritone rumbling in your ears. “Don’t thank me for looking after my own son, you know I’d do it all the time if I could.” He took a deep breath. “If you would let me.”

No. You couldn’t do this.

You immediately dropped the bottle of whiskey onto the kitchen countertop, ripping yourself away from his touch to walk away.

Bucky reached out as he followed you. “Babydoll—“

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you scolded, fury in your voice.

Bucky however, wasn’t deterred. “Doll.”

“No—“

“Will you just—“ he caught you with a firm grip and spun you around to face him. “Will you stop running away from me.”

The two of you were out of breath from sudden adrenaline, harshly breathing into each other's mouths. The look in Bucky’s eyes was wild, untamed — tortured.

“Tell me you’ve never thought about it — us getting back together.” He gripped onto your arms, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me I’m delusional and I’ll walk out that door right now and we’ll never speak of this again.”

The ache in his voice broke your heart as much as the day you signed the divorce papers.

“Bucky—“

“Please.” He cupped your face with his hands, glancing between your eyes and your lips while his thumb slowly rubbed over them. “I’m a desperate man, baby. I’m desperate for you.”

You gulped, emotion bubbling over into your voice. “We broke up, Bucky. We’re divorced.”

He laughed wetly, but there was no humour in his tone. “And that means we can’t try again?”

The reasons for your separation seemed to blur under his stare. All the ways you weren’t good for each other leaving your mind and only making room for the good.

“Where the hell is this coming from, Bucky?” You deflected once again.

Your hands shook as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand the thought of seeing you go out with another man again,” he whispered, painfully. “It’s killing me, Babydoll. It should be me.”

Tears rushed over your cheeks, you were too overwhelmed to hold them back any longer. You sniffled as you glanced down the hall where you son currently lied fast asleep and obvlious. “I can’t hurt our son, Bucky — I can’t.”

He smiled sadly at you, the crinkle in his eyes ever present but they only made you swoon for him even more. “There’s a reason all those dates don’t ever work out.”

You couldn’t hear it, couldn’t take what he was trying to say. “Stop it.”

“I know you’ve been holding back as much as I have.”

He was pushing you, like he always did and as much as you wanted to curse him, it was working. “Please don’t make me—“

The point of no return came in the form of your most hidden secret spilling from Bucky’s lips. “You still love me, Babydoll.”

Ice ran through your veins, hearing those words out loud that you hadn’t dared let yourself believe. Your mouth gaped open, unable to find the words to deny his accusations until your tether broke.

“Fine! I’m ruined for anyone else!” you shouted, frustrated and scared — a wild animal trapped in a corner. “You’ve ruined me — is that what you want to hear?”

His plump lips, soft and pink curled up. “It’s exactly what I want to hear.”

Leaping forward, Bucky crashed his lips against yours.

He was feverish as you both collided into each other. His hands, unrelenting yet gentle mapped out each and every slope of your body as you stood in the living room, feeling each other for the first time in years.

“Fuck,” he groaned between kisses. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby.”

Your head spun, dizzy with want. You hadn’t been touched in so long by anyone, never mind your ex-husband and your heart pounded erratically with nerves, excitement and longing.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, Bucky kissed you like he was starved, as though you were his only salvation. He ran his fingers through your hair, tugging it harshly to pull you closer to him even though there was no longer any distance between the two of you.

“You’ve got no idea how bad I need you,” he whined into your mouth. “Need to fuckin’— I just need you.”

Without you realising, Bucky had pushed you up against the nearest wall and even through denim jeans you could feel the hard shape of his cock while he unabashedly grinded against you.

You broke for air, gasping as oxygen rushed to your lungs. “You have me, Bucky.” He trailed sloppy kisses down your neck as you panted, desperate to stain your skin with any trace of him. “You can have anything you want.”

He growled, a sound that caused a gush of wetness to soak your panties. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, sweetheart.”

Ripping away from you, he grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the laundry room on the other side of your house. You struggled to keep up with his fast strides in your heels, but you just about managed as he shoved you through the door and locked it behind him.

His back was turned to you for a while and you stood nervously fidgeting, waiting for him to face you. His back rose and fell with breathless heaves, as though he was holding back — a feral beast ready to pounce.

“Babydoll,” he said suddenly, rough and graveled. “I need to know you want this before I fuck the shit out of you.”

Holy fuck, the mouth on this man. Your mouth grew dry while you struggled to think clearly in his aura. “I— I do—“ you stuttered, lamely.

He slowly turned around, a wolfish gleam in his eyes with adrenaline surging through his veins. He was tense as he took a deep breath. “Say it like you mean it.”

When you stayed quiet, too hazy to speak, Bucky stalked towards you, lifting your chin up to look him directly in his eyes. “Say. It.”

Closing your eyes, you cleared your mind and swallowed before whispering, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name, Bucky.”

He smirked, the kind you knew all too well — deadly. “Atta’ girl.”

You sqeauled as he suddenly hiked you up into his arms, hands under your thighs so he could place you on top of the washing machine. Laundry detergents and other products you didn’t care to take note of fell from the shelves around you as he pounced on you once again, devouring you whole with his sinful lips.

“Do you know how much I’ve had to restrain myself, Doll — Mm?” he pressed, covering every inch of bare skin you had to offer with his kisses. “How fuckin’ hard it’s been to not drag you back in the house and take you right then while you get dressed up for someone else?”

You did. Because you understood more than anyone the pain of having to force yourself away from Bucky when all you had ever wanted was him.

He unbuckled his belt, the telltale sound of the leather snapping against his hands and the jingle of metal sent bolts of electricity straight to your cunt.

Your mind couldn’t keep up, your vision blurry with the sudden turn of events. All you knew was that you needed Bucky.

“Hurry, baby. Please,” you whined.

Bucky groaned with delight, his eyes rolling to the back of his head while he bit his swollen bottom lip. “Oh, how I’ve missed you begging for me, pretty mama.”

Rushing to take off his belt, he slid the material through the loops of his jeans and threw it on the floor, not long after hurrying to unzip his fly and shuffle his pants down along with his underwear.

The tip of his cock peaked out of his black briefs and instantly you let out a high pitched moan, even shocking Bucky enough to look back up at you drooling over him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, slightly condescending. “Don’t you worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

Bucky revealed the entirety of his cock, the length just as long as you remembered and the girth as thick as you had imagined in your nights alone with your toys that couldn’t compare.

The slight curve that you could feel the ghost of pleasure from to this day caused you to bite your lip and squirm in your place.

Without waiting for Bucky, you began shifting the bottom of your dress up your thighs, too impatient to wait for him to undress you. It gave you immense satisfaction when he followed the material, slowly revealing more of your skin. His mouth gaped open while he fell to his knees, the thud that sounded surely must have hurt, but there was no other expression on his face than greed.

You stopped your dress just before Bucky could peak at your red panties and you almost laughed when his head shot up, aghast that you had interrupted the show.

The power you held, you smirked. “You want more, Daddy?”

Bucky dropped his head onto your thighs, his breath travelling up to your covered mound — your eyes fluttered, though you kept your breathing steady to not seem so desperate.

Stroking your fingers through his fluffy hair, you murmured low, “Does it hurt to know my pussy is right here and you can’t have it?”

You felt his muscles quickly lock up, his head snapping up to you with a speed that was frightening and exhilarating all at once. The blue of his irises darkened, dilating as he chuckled, “You’re very much mistaken, sweetheart. Because this pussy right here,” he shoved your dress up, spread your legs and breathed into you. “She’s mine, baby girl. And you’ve kept her from me long enough.”

A chilled blast of air hit you as Bucky tore your panties from your waist and held them up. “You wore these slutty panties for that fucker, huh?”

You gasped in shock when he brought them to his nose and inhaled the gusset deeply. He grunted as he closed his eyes in bliss. “Cos’ I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s got you this soaked.”

Your keens amused him greatly. “Bucky—“

“That’s right, mama,” he laughed with pride. “My name sounds so damn heavenly coming from your lips.”

Bucky pocketed your underwear, not caring to be discreet and his thumbs came up to your cunt to spread you open to his eager eyes. “My god, baby,” he gasped in awe. Your hole clenched at the vulgar display. “You’re just as tight as the last time I had you.”

He tested a finger over your folds, running it through the embarrassing amount of slick that coated you.

“No one,” you breathed, shaking your head while willing your scrambled thoughts to formulate into words. “There’s been— there hasn’t—“

Bucky looked up at you from his knelt position, a small slither of vulnerability shining through his lust-hooded eyes. “Just me?”

You gulped and nodded, staring into his wide blues with honesty. “Just you.”

A moment passed between you. The charged air filtered down to that spark that had always been buried through the heartbreak you both endured in your divorce.

Bucky swallowed before placing a single kiss to the inside of your knee. “Then let me make up for that.”

You leaned your head back against the shelf behind you as his lips traveled up the meat of your thighs, yelping each time he gently bit you.

He murmured obscenities you could barely respond to as he edged closer to your pussy. You offered yourself freely, on a platter, as your legs opened even wider for him — the only man who ever truly owned you.

His lips whispered over your mound, a hint for what was about to come. “I’ve been waiting to taste you again for years.”

You moaned aloud, unhinged and unapologetic while Bucky licked a fat stripe up your cunt. Your nerves were alight with pure fire and you instantly grabbed onto the back of his head to push him further into you.

You didn’t care if the action was needy — one single touch of him and you were a goner once again.

He feasted on you, not coming up for air as he switched between sucking your clit and slurping your juices. “Oh my god— Bucky, baby you gotta— holy fuck.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Bucky wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and dragged you closer to him — all too happy to suffocate between your legs. “Sweet as a fuckin’ apple pie,” he murmured into you, the vibrations only deepening your pleasure.

Looking down at him, his eyes were homed in on you, watching your every expression. They were blown out, wild while strands of his hair stuck out in every direction.

Pulling away slightly, his heavy pants blew over your throbbing clit. “Daddy makin’ you feel good, Babydoll?”

You hardly had time to reply as he immediately shoved his tongue into your clenching hole and fucked you with it.

“Bucky!” you screamed to the ceiling. However, a harsh slap delivered to your thigh snapped you back to sense.

“You know that’s not what you call me,” he barked.

Whining, you corrected yourself. “Daddy, please!”

You felt his smirk plastered over your pussy as he hummed into you, “There’s my good girl.”

Your legs began to shake as you felt your climax creep to the surface and Bucky only doubled down with his sinful tongue that you somehow had forgotten he was way too talented with.

“I’m close,” you whispered as your vision began to blur. “So close — please, please don’t stop.”

Bucky continued his ministrations while your pussy fluttered around his tongue. Your release was within reaching distance and you gripped the washing machine, ready to let go until suddenly his presence was gone.

You almost fell forward before you caught yourself with your remaining strength. The pent up tension that was wound in your stomach hadn’t loosened and it took you a second to realise you hadn’t cum.

“W—what?” you mumbled shakily as you blinked your eyes open. Bucky stood there, his cock pulsing and viciously purple, with a smirk on his face, wiping his slick covered mouth with his arm. It disorientated you.

“I haven’t—“ you swallowed the dryness of your mouth. “You didn’t make me—“

Bucky’s cock bobbed as he closed the distance between you, dizzying you even further with a passionate kiss. “No I didn’t, baby.”

You whimpered in despair, the ache worsening. “But Daddy—“

“Nu-uh,” he breathed while lining his cock against your hole. “You’re only gonna fuckin’ cum when I say you can.”

Recklessly, Bucky pushed his full length into your pussy. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into him as the sheer size of his thick cock winded you enough to wail out.

“Shit,” he cursed, a strain in his voice as he firmly gripped your hips. “Fuckin’ hell— Babydoll, how the fuck are you still so tight.”

Impatiently, you fidgeted. Whether it was to escape how full he made you or try and force him deeper into your cunt you weren’t sure. All of it was too overwhelming to process.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, tears building over your glassy eyes. “You’re too big— Bucky, I can’t—“

“Yes you can,” he declared with conviction while he lifted your gaze to him. “You can take it, sweetheart.”

Slowly, Bucky began to ease out of your cunt. His cock was coated with your wetness and he moaned deeply at the sight. He grinded back into you, his curved tip hitting every sensitive spot.

“There we go,” he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead, praising you. “Taking my cock so good, Babydoll. Just like always.”

His touch was familiar, yet new — all consuming and claiming — and you melted into him, smothering his neck with a litany of kisses as he continued to gently thrust his cock into you.

“M—Missed you,” you confessed, drunk from lust and emotion. “Missed you so much, Bucky.”

The motion of his hips sped up as he began pounding into you with more force. “Yeah? You missed being a sweet little wife for me?” He taunted with an evil grin. “You loved being Daddy’s little slut, didn’t you?”

“Mhm— Always your slut, Daddy!” You sobbed into his skin.

His pace turned unrelenting, fierce after too much lost time. He fucked you as though he would be left out to dry after he was done.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, Babydoll,” he grunted. “Don’t care who’s fuckin’ taking you on dates. You belong to me.”

Nodding your head, you fell mute, mouth gaped wide as you felt the knot begin to build up in your stomach once more.

Bucky looked down to watch his dick glisten with your slick. The obscene sounds created from the amount of your juices leaking out only caused his cock to throb. Your cunt squelched with each thrust he made. But it wasn’t enough for him.

Gathering saliva in his mouth, Bucky spat to where the two of you connected, groaning as it clung to your pussy and stringed out with his motions.

Your squeals of pleasure began to get louder as the coil tightened, “I’m gonna—“

Before you could rush the words out, Bucky pleaded, “Tell me you love me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, more alert now. He didn’t falter, only fucked you with more abandon.

“Tell me you love me,” he repeated once more, a demand this time.

“Bucky, I—“

“I know you do, Doll.” His hips started to twitch, his telltale sign that he was also close to cumming. However, you had an inclination that he wouldn’t let himself go until you gave him what you wanted. “I know you remember how good it used to be. Let me come home and I’ll fuck you this good whenever you want.”

You gurgled around his fingers as he suddenly shoved them into your mouth, collecting the drool gathered on your tongue to bring them down to your clit. He didn’t ease them against you, instead rubbing tight circles rapidly, bringing you closer to the edge faster.

It was impossible to escape his dark eyes or the fierce hold of his hand at the back of your neck. “Feels so fucking good, Daddy!” you blurted.

“I know, mama,” he assured as he drove his cock into you even harder. “Your cunt feels like heaven.”

“I wanna cum,” you cried. “I need to cum.”

“You know what you’ve gotta do then, don’t you, Babydoll?”

You squeezed your eyes closed. The pleasure started to blend into a mix of pain and you were only slightly ashamed that it only turned you on more. “I—“

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want.” A few more punishing thrusts and you were treading the line of your impending orgasm. Your thighs shook violently and beads of sweat dripped down your chest. But when Bucky grounded out his next words, you fell apart. “Be a good wife for Daddy and tell me the truth.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer, the balance of your orgasm tipping over along with the truth you tried to withhold. “I love you, Bucky!”

Instantly, you felt the pulse of Bucky’s cock, a warm shoot of his load filling your cunt while you silently screamed and shook with the intensity of your climax.

Everything fell deaf to your ears as you fought to catch your breath, slumping against Bucky. His heavy breaths blew your stray hairs sticking out from the sweat gathered on your head while his hips continued to slowly pump into you from the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

You were brought back to the present with the gentle touch of his lips pressing against your cheeks, kissing your skin delicately. “Hey there, Babydoll.”

While you would have normally been nervous, the energy that he had drained you of allowed your inhibitions and walls to crumble, leaving you to smile drunkenly at him. “Hi,” you whispered.

Bucky checked you over, darting his eyes over your face. “You feeling okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, bringing your thumb up to swipe over his stubble you had always been fond of. “Freshly fucked and never better.”

The corner of his lips curved up, a small mirth of laughter escaping him. He licked his lips and you detected a hint of nerves that crossed over his features. “I um— I’m sorry if I—“

You placed your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him. “You didn’t go too rough.” Slowly, you brought your finger down, hooking it into the collar of his shirt. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Good.” He brought one of your hands up to his mouth to kiss the palm of your hand. “Good.”

The two of you barely noticed his length still deep in you. All that you cared for was the weight suddenly released from your chest.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asked, cutting through the peaceful silence. He was defenseless, all guards down with a shimmer of hope twinkling in his ocean eyes.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and you inhaled deeply before you replied, “I did.”

He swallowed thickly, his emotion clear though his bright eyes. “I love you too — so fuckin’ much.” He nuzzled into your neck as your hand held him close to you. “I’ve missed you.”

A lump gathered in your throat once more. Breathing in Bucky’s scent freely, without guilt this time, you sunk into his embrace even further.

“Can I come home?” he whispered into your skin, a desperate plea. “I’ll do whatever you want — I’ll go to counseling with you, we can take things slow. I just need you back, Babydoll.”

The answer was simple. You knew in your heart there was no one else for you, no one better. No matter your differences, everything would always lead back to Bucky and you were willing to give the two of you a second chance.

“Okay,” you answered softly.

His head shot up, eyes wide and red from the tears you felt gathering on your neck. “Okay?” he repeated hopefully.

You smiled, kissing him gently on the lips before you muttered, “Come back home, baby.”

The pan sizzled on the stove as you cooked the last pancake, a stack already piled high on the counter next to you for breakfast.

Music played softly on the radio and you swayed your hips side to side, covered by a long T-shirt, while you hummed to yourself.

You were interrupted from your task when a pair of thick arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you from behind tightly. “Yknow, I could have had my breakfast in bed,” Bucky grumbled into your ear, his deep morning voice causing your eyes to slightly flutter.

You huffed a laugh before you mumbled, “I bet you could, greedy.”

The bristles of his trimmed beard tickled your skin as he playfully nibbled your neck. “Can’t exactly blame a man when his woman tastes so sweet, Babydoll.”

Your head started to feel heavy as you gave into his kisses, leaning back into his hold and opening yourself up for him.

“There’s a good girl,” Bucky praised you. “You just let Daddy—“

Peaking an eye open, you watched as his hand crept forward, about to pinch a pancake from the pile. He yelped as you swatted his hand away, a pout on his lips while you grinned.

“Nice try, Daddy,” you teased, smugly.

Before Bucky could retort back, a sluggish set of small footsteps sounded over the floorboards and you whipped around to find your son, still sleepy, making his way to the dining table.

“Morning, cupcake!” you greeted him cheerfully.

With difficulty, he climbed his way onto one of the chairs, huffing with the effort and sinking down once comfortable. He looked towards you, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Mornin’, mama—“

Frowning, your son looked towards Bucky, finally noticing him too. “Dadda?” he asked, confused.

“Hey, pal.” Bucky treaded, carefully.

Your son’s gaze fell to the lack of distance between you and Bucky, his hand still lingering on your waist. Keeping your composure, you waited nervously for his reaction.

“He treat you good, mama?” he asked all so innocently with a hint of fierceness in his bright blue eyes.

You watched with bated breath as Bucky stepped towards him, leaning over the table with his palm up to your son. “I’m gonna take good care of mama, “ he promised with sincerity.

Your son deliberated for a moment before nodding his head and reached out to hold his Dad’s hand. “Okay, can I have pancakes now?”

You sighed a breath of relief. “Of course, baby.”

It was silent for a moment, in your small kitchen while you plated up breakfast for your family. Bucky and you shared an intimate smile until your son spoke up once again. “Just don’t forget about the ice cream you promised me.”

Laughter filled the entirety of the kitchen, a home once again bathed in love — your perfect little family.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction

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xotaemintol · 12 days ago

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Obsessive perverted Hyuck x reader//short/oneshot

WARNING: this contains obsessive behaviors, stealing, Somnophilia, unprotected sex, masturbation, oral sex, nipple play, and breeding. Please do not read if any of these thing trigger you, thank you so much. Minors DO NOT interact.

Sorry it’s short ☹︎ I low-key have writers block and its beating my asssss but I still wanna post, bc I missed all of October I'm using November to post anything spooky/dark so bare with me PLEASE! Also, I will be posting asks soon so if you've sent any then please look forward☺︎

wc: n/a

Hyuck being so overly touchy with you when he isn’t glued to his phone, sniffing you and asking if he can have your underwear. Its no wonder how you came to find out that he was obsessed with you.

Of course if you said yes, you knew what he would do with them and didn’t care. Just like you expected he takes them home and cums into them—using them as a rag from that point on. It didn’t take long for those to become completely ruined, immediately after he asked for another pair, but when you said no he just snuck into your room and stole a pair; the prettiest, softest pair he could find.

Even stealing one of your bras and a bottle of perfume so he can smell you when he jerks off. He becomes such a pervert that your perfume, underwear, and bras just aren’t enough. So he started taking pictures of you for him to jerk off to, asking if he can record when you give him head.

You knew he used them to jerk off. But you couldn’t imagine how far he was going, playing the videos while he humps the pillow he put your bra and underwear on, after spraying the room with your perfume. Staring at his wall that is decorated with the nudes you sent. Along with pictures that are more wholesome—like ones of you smiling, your outfit, date nights, and even pictures of you sleeping.

The wall became more of a shrine as time passed, he even tapped a loc of your hair—after collection a bunch of tiny strains; to the wall with underwear, napkins you’ve used to wipe away your lip gloss, and even pairs of your discarded lashes—now covered in his cum.

Eventually though, he had to move it to his unused guest room because you decide to go to his place for a change. And he hid it thinking that you haven’t noticed all of your missing things—of course you noticed. His secret obsession was never as secret as he thought, but poor, sick hyuck just can’t get caught being the sicko he truly is.

But he also can’t stop, which leads him to groping you as you lay beside him sleeping. Slipping his hand underneath your loose top and brushing his fingers over your harden nipple, trying his hardest to breath quietly as to not wake you up.

Eventually, he moves on to something more risky when you remain in your sleeping state and decides to push your shirt up so he can see your boobs. He quickly goes from just touching them to kissing them, sucking your nipples and only stopping when you begin to stir in your sleep.

His lack of self control might be the blame for the way he carefully slides your underwear off, practically moaning when he notices how wet you are. He can’t help but stop to sniff your underwear, wrapping them around his cock as he jerks off over your body.

He never imagined he’d do something so deprived and desperate, but he loves you so much and thinks you’re just too pretty.

It’s not until he sees you move again that he realizes what he’s doing. Feeling ashamed he starts to try putting your underwear back on him, but as he’s pushing them up your calf’s you stop him. Not revealing that you’d been awake the whole time, only asking him what he was doing.

In his humiliated state he tries to string together some sort of lie, anything to dig himself out of the hole he’s in—but he can’t, and he doesn’t have to. Instead of shaming him like he expected, you tell him to continue; making him eat you out while he desperately grinds against the bed.

He’s so in love with eating you out that he doesn’t even stop when you finish. Continuing to please your body to the point of overstimulation as he gets high on the sounds you make and the taste of you. Not even when you try pushing his head away or closing your legs does he think of pulling away, you have to pull him by his hair—yanking his head away in order to stop him.

By this point, he hadn’t cum himself. He was too busy eating you out to focus on his own release, but you couldn’t let it end there. Luckily for you though, you didn’t have to ask.

Before you could say anything he began begging to fuck you. Caressing your legs as he looked at you with hazy eyes, his face flushed and his cock throbbing—twitching and leaking between his legs. His longish curly hair, is messy and he’s sweating before you can even say yes. The second you do, he’s practically crying in pure joy and desperation.

Hyuck savors every second of entering you. Rubbing his cock against your folds, slapping it against your pussy and slowly rubbing it against your clit until he finally puts it in.

He breaks as soon as the tip goes in. A soft cry leaves his lips, his voice cracking as he whimpers out your name. He tries to start of slow but he’s so sensitive from anticipation alone that he just can’t wait anymore. Not even seconds after he’s inside of you and he’s already slamming into you, not as fast as he wanted—but hard enough to make his headboard hit the wall with every thrust.

Even then he’s still stuck admiring you, the way your breasts move and the way your eyes roll. He loves seeing how you grip the pillow under your head and the way you try your hardest not to be too loud. It turns him on so much. So much that he feels like he’ll melt.

The sounds of skin clashing, moans, and panting fill the air, a hint of your perfume and sweat tangling with his own. It makes him feel like he’s on cloud 9, like he’s dreaming. It doesn’t take long before he’s trying to warn you that he’s close. Proclaiming his love for you as he fucks you, calling you beautiful and slurring is words together as he possessively calls you his.

He knows he should pull out at that point, but the thought of you being his—baring his child, telling people that he’s your boyfriend, that he’s the one who got you pregnant. That thought is enough to make him risk it and keep going. He’s always wanted to be a father anyways—why not make the woman he finds the most beautiful the mother of his first born?

In his mind-numbed state he doubles over, kissing you as he cums inside of you. Against your lips he mumbles soft ‘I love you’s over and over again unto he’s finally finished.

After this is when you finally find the shrine, to your surprise; it’s much smaller and a lot more wholesome than you thought as after that night, he removed your underwear from it. But it was only because he made a separate on that he keeps in his basement.

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