#this is in response to an earlier post in the tag but to be clear I'm not mad at them

[kushamisaru]

There's ample proof even in the first game that Sam genuinely loves his daughter so no I don't think that excuses it. Like okay fine maybe you don't buy his personality in the interview. Part of me wonders if you'd have as much smoke for a white man but whatever, not relevant. I get it. People do put on airs when they're being filmed. How do you explain the video where she's reading off demon names disguised as mundane words and the whole time he's advocating for her, saying "My daughter is uncomfortable and I want this to stop"? That video is clearly candid and not made to be distributed to the wider public. Why is it so hard for people to simply take a black man at his word when he tells them he loves his daughter?

[riddlesbunny]

buckle bunny

summary: The new girl in town gives Topper a run for his money and Rafe meets his match.

pairing: Cowboy!Rafe x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: alcohol consumption, semi-public sex, p in v, squirting, creampie 18+ MDNI

note: tagging some moots I feel comfy with bc I feel like my Rafe posts get no traction 😅 @angelspitxx @rafescorpsebride @rafeysbangs @rafesheaven no pressure to read just trying to put myself out there *runs away*

It is a warm Friday night and the annual rodeo was the biggest event of the summer, according to your cousin, Kie. She made it clear you couldn’t miss it.

Being well-versed in rodeo yourself, you take her word for it and check it out. You’re not exactly sure how North Carolina will hold a candle to Texas rodeo, but you decide to go anyway. You pull on your boots, pair them with your tightest fitting denim shorts, and make your way to the fairgrounds. You show up late, but try to enjoy yourself anyway, you just wanted to get a taste, anyway.

The smell of hay and barbecue fill the air, blending with the sounds of laughter and the sharp crack of bullwhips — it reminds you of home.

You take it all in as you stroll past booths selling cowboy hats and fried food. You aren’t quite sure what to expect, but when you spot the bronc riders preparing for their turn, your curiosity gets the best of you.

The large crowd erupts into cheers as the announcer introduces the final rider of the night: Rafe Cameron, apparently a local legend. Your eyes were drawn to him immediately. Tall, broad-shouldered, confident. He climbs onto the massive bucking bronco as if it were nothing. His hat sits low over his piercing blue eyes, and his smirk is unforgettable.

When the gate swings open, the horse explodes into the arena, and Rafe moves with it like he was born for this. You catch herself gripping the railing, holding your breath as he stays on for the full eight seconds– you couldn’t deny you were impressed.

The buzzer sounds, and the crowd goes wild. He tips his hat to the audience before hopping off the bronc, completely unfazed.

After the show, you end up wandering over to the food trucks, hoping to grab something to eat before heading over to the local dive. To your surprise, the cowboy from earlier, Rafe, is there, leaning casually against a truck while talking to a few friends. You freeze for a moment, debating whether to approach him, but before you can make up your mind, one of Rafe’s friends—a loud, blond guy named Topper—spots you.

“Well, look at this,” Topper drawls, a sly smirk etched onto his face, “a little Buckle Bunny comin’ to meet the star of the show.”

Your cheeks burn with anger, "buckle bunny” isn’t exactly a compliment.

“Excuse me?” you shoot back, your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe turns, his blue eyes locking onto yours. His smirk vanishing as his gaze moves to Topper, “knock it off, Top.”

Topper just laughs in response.

“What? I’m just saying—”

“You’re done,” Rafe cuts him off sharpy, stepping closer to you. “Sorry ‘bout that, he’s an idiot.”

You lift your chin, attempting to play it cool.

“S’alright, I can handle myself,” you purr, “just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Rafe’s eyes beam at you, “Well? What’d ya think?”

“Not bad,” you reply, letting a small smile slip through, “but this ain’t my first rodeo, I’ve seen better.”

The guys around him erupt into laughter, and even Rafe can’t help but chuckle at you.

“Alright, new girl,” he says, tipping his hat to you, “you’ve got my attention. What’s your name?”

“y/n,” you reply.

“Well, miss y/n,” he said, his voice softening, “I’ll make sure you get a proper tour—minus the idiots.”

He says this, shooting a look at Topper, who just rolls his eyes.

“We’re all headin’ over to the dive bar right down the road if you care to join.”

“Yeah, I was headin’ over that way anyway, I’ll hop in my truck and head out.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow at you.

“You got your own truck?”

“Mhm, I got my own horse too, and I’m a hell of a ride.”

✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧

The divebar is small, but extremely lively. From across the way you can see Rafe being congratulated, you watch him intently as you sip on your drink.

You can’t help but notice that the mechanical bull is starting up, and you figure this is your chance to show your skills off to Rafe and his friends.

You saunter up to the bull with a grin, making sure the boys, especially Rafe, see you throw your jacket off and pull your hair up into a ponytail.

The operator gives you a nod, cranking up the controls as you swing your leg over the make-shift saddle.

“Hold on tight, buckle bunny,” Topper calls, his voice laced with venom.

As the buzzer sounds, the bull lurches forward. Clenching your thighs and moving with it, you allow muscle memory and pure determination to take over. It spins, bucks, and attempts with all it’s might to to throw you off but you hold on for you dear life.

As your gaze meets Rafe’s you can’t shy away from thinking how it would feel to have him bucking underneath you. Rolling your hips in sync with the machine, wetness pools at your core.

Down girl, focus.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the crowd began to cheer, the bull beginning to slow down: you did it!

The cowboys all went quiet, their smirks fading as you swung off the bull with ease, landing successfully on your feet.

✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧ ⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✮⋆˙ ℧

After that, you find yourself in the grimy, dimly-lit bathroom catching your breath when you hear the door creak open.

“That was quite the show,” Rafe says as he comes in, locking the door behind him.

Your cheeks feel hot as you meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Told ya I knew how to ride,” you say with a smirk.

“You’re dangerous, y’know that?” He whispers, coming up behind you, pressing himself into you.

“Definitely not a ‘buckle bunny,’ you’re the real deal… but a little tease like you makes me wanna lose control.”

You can feel his ever-growing bulge beneath his jeans, taunting you with what’s to come.

His calloused fingers glide underneath your shirt and across the smooth skin of your stomach. Your body trembles, eagerly awaiting his next move. Rafe leans in close, his stubble grazing your cheek, “you want me to take for a real ride?”

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to get out as you bite harshly on your bottom lip.

Rafe’s hands grab your hair, tilting your head back, exposing your neck. His tongue tracing a path up from your jaw to your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

He eagerly spins you around and bends you over the sink countertop. You assist in unbuttoning your jeans as he slides them down your legs with experienced quickness, your panties following suit.

His hands caress your ass cheeks before delving into your soft pussy, coating his fingers with your arousal. You moan loudly, bracing yourself against the counter.

“Spread those legs wide for me, babydoll,” he orders, his breath hot on your neck. You comply eagerly, feeling the cool air hit your most sensitive spot.

Rafe takes no time undoing his belt, eagerly ripping his jeans down and pulling his already-hard cock out from the restraint of his boxer briefs.

He guides himself up to your entrance and slowly pushes the throbbing head of his cock inside of you. You gasp as he fills you inch by inch, until there’s nothing left to take.

A loud groan erupts from your chest as his thickness stretches your walls, making you bite your lip to keep from screaming. Rafe grips tightly at your hips as he begins to move, picking up speed with each thrust. He sets a punishing pace, slamming into you with such force that the counter digs into your flesh. He grunts with every thrust, breathing heavily through gritted teeth.

Your moans echo off the walls as he fucks you mercilessly, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke. Your cunt tightens around his pounding cock, squeezing him deeper as you feel pressure begin to build in your belly.

Within seconds you’re pushing Rafe out, squirting all over him and the floor.

He all but roars in response, in this moment in time his attraction to you is primal, animalistic.

“Fuck!!” he cries as he slams himself back inside of you, his pace quicker than before as he reaches his own release. With one final surge deep inside of you, he groans loudly as cum fills your pulsing pussy.

You feel so empty as pulls out, leaving you dripping, wet, and shaking. You look at each other for a moment, both catching your breath as a sly smile appears on Rafe’s face.

“Well, little bunny… I think I’ve finally met my match.”

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 1: Vocal Cords

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 1,183,932 others

y/n_rb: Bahrain here we come! This is gonna be our season!

view all comments

user1: you’ve got this girl!

↳user2: represent! So incredibly proud to be able to support a woman in f1!

↳user1: it’s been so long…

oscarpiastri: glad to have you here!

↳logansargeant: not sure I’d go so far…

↳y/n_rb: wow logie just say you hate women then!

↳oscarpiastri: yeah that’s not very feminist of you

↳logansargeant: I’ve been cursed by the universe

↳logansargeant: LET ME BE CLEAR — I DO NOT HATE WOMEN

↳logansargeant: it’s just y/n_rb is every intrusive thought you’ve ever had with a dash of no impulse control or thought-to-mouth filter

↳y/n_rb: hey!

↳oscarpiastri: no that sounds about right — just add a dash of no media training too

↳redbullracing: oh no…

↳y/n_rb: I have a contract! You ain’t getting rid of me so easily!

↳redbullracing: we’re scheduling media training sessions right away

↳logansargeant: good luck!

maxverstappen1: it’s great to have you on the team!

↳y/n_rb: oh my god it’s Max Verstappen!!

↳maxverstappen1: …we’ve met before?

↳y/n_rb: still!

↳user3: it’s not even the start of the season and she’s already bullying both her old F2 competitors and her teammate 😆😆

user4: proud y/n fan here! Having followed her since her F3 days I can say with full confidence that I’m so glad we’re gonna have a new grid terrorist again!

↳fernandoalo_oficial: 🤨🤨🤨

↳user4: besides you of course Mr Rookie sir

fernandoalo_oficial: ¡Hola! ¡Me alegro de verte finalmente aquí! hello! glad to finally see you here!

↳y/n_rb: Mr Fernando sir I’m a big fan! Do you have a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Sí?

↳y/n_rb: score!

↳maxverstappen1: oh no

↳logansargeant: no no no

↳oscarpiastri: please don’t

↳redbullracing: the training book doesn’t have a chapter on what to do now…

↳y/n_rb: smile and wave boys. Just smile and wave

f1

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, liamlawson30, and 2,197,284 others

tagged: y/n_rb, redbullracing, pierregasly, alpinef1team

f1: contact between redbullracing’s y/n_rb and alpinef1team’s pierregasly turned dangerous when y/n flipped! She was quickly freed from her car and airlifted to the nearest hospital. Still conscious during the crash and waving to the fans while taken to the helicopter, no further information is known on her injuries.

view all comments

user5: oh my god that was so awful

user6: I’m still sat in shock

maxverstappen1: Based on the text messages I’ve received in the last 10 minutes, she’s fine.

↳logansargeant: how many did you get? Cause I’ve gotten 82 in the last 3

↳maxverstappen1: 187 in 10 minutes

↳oscarpiastri: 23 in the last minute

↳liamlawson30: too many for the group chat. It broke my phone

↳user7: not even on the grid and still terrorizing them 😂 liked by y/n_rb

user8: why did they have to play her radio though…

↳user9: no that was fucking awful

↳user10: I don’t think I’ll be able to forget her screams

↳y/n_rb: skk food bsny!!

↳logansargeant: and that’s the concussion typing 😆

logansargeant

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, oscarpiastri, 2,284,469 others

logansargeant: “Tell that frenchie that I lived bitch!”

view all comments

user11: oh thank god

↳user12: that was one of the most harrowing crashes I’ve seen

user13: if that’s not a Gen-z response I don’t know what is

↳user14: I’m just glad she’s ok

pierregasly: 😑😑

↳pierregasly: well I guess I’m glad she’s ok

↳logansargeant: “JUST SAY YOU DONT LIKE WOMEN FRENCHIE!”

↳pierregasly: I LIKE WOMEN

↳y/n_rb: qe kniw TROPID$$$ SHIILS CSKL TJE PILICE ON U

↳logansargeant: I’ve taken her phone again but she meant “we know TRIPOD!!! SHOULD CALL THE POLICE ON YOU”

↳pierregasly: oh so she’s good

↳logansargeant: as good as she’s ever been

oscarpiastri: glad to see she’s ok!

↳logansargeant: some pretty shredded vocal cords and a nasty concussion but yeah she’s fine

↳oscarpiastri: ouch! Sending a gift basket!

↳logansargeant: “if that thing has a stupid apple in it I’m gonna save it and stuff it down your throat you stupid Aussie!”

↳oscarpiastri:…🫣🫣

↳maxverstappen1: apples?

↳oscarpiastri: don’t ask

↳logansargeant: don’t

↳liamlawson30: do not bring up that trauma again

↳logansargeant: “🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻”

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @angelluv16 @voidvannie @justaf1girl

[thedevilsoftruth]

Drowned In Lavender

Thunderbolts/senator B. Barnes x Afab! (pregnant wife) reader

Summary: Bucky and Sam accidentally run into eachother in Washington. They make a plan to fly back to Brooklyn a few days earlier than Bucky's scheduled return time to surprise you! However, the surprise kind of spoils when you spot them first, and greet them in a very unexpected way.

Genre: 18+ [ MDNI!! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet. ]erotica, romance, sensual, comedy.

Smut tags/warnings: (6k+ words of pure filth.) Reader is 24 weeks pregnant, Sam being hilarious, Massage gone wrong, mentions of guns, Bucky being an amazing fucking husband, reader is VERY horny and needy, reader wears lingerie, beard kink/beard wetting, pussy eating, face sitting, breast play, vaginal fingering, implied squirting. NOT beta read.

Song recommended: Where Life Begins by Madonna.

An: the last congressman Barnes erotica I do before Thunderbolts releases. Also Im terribly sick rn so I apologize if this seems a bit weird. ENJOY!!

[ my marvel request box is back open. Please check out my pinned post for my request rules. ]

"Dude shut up! "

" Is the coast clear, Mr. Barnes? "

Bucky and Sam tiptoed inside the house, Sam closing the door behind them as he whispered like he was in a stealthy hitman game. In reality, all it was was the two men wanting to surprise you with Bucky's return back home. The plan was for Sam to stay with the both of you during the holidays as extra support for you during your pregnancy, however, from all you knew, they weren't going to be back until the end of the week. It was Friday.

The lights in the house were off. It was not what the two men were expecting. In fact, they were kind of hoping you'd be up. It was only 8 pm, after all. Perhaps you went to bed early because you were hurting?

Sam was wandering the kitchen and living room; he had been in your house enough times to know the whole layout of the place. Bucky set his crossbody bag on the marble island in the kitchen with a sigh. He tucked his phone into his back pocket of his jeans.

" I'm gonna go look upstairs. " He told Sam, nodding towards the stairs.

" Can I go up with you? " He asked with a smile. Bucky nearly laughed.

" No. "

Sam persisted.

" Well I just thought, you know, if we were supposed to be surprising her--"

" Just stay down here. " Bucky cut him off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam nodded understandingly and shrugged.

" Yeah--no, of course. I get it. Husband-wife things. Totally cool. '' Sam sniffed, shaking his hand and clapping his hands together, his gaze averting from Bucky's. Bucky's face contorted in a cringe, and he mumbled something under his breath as he started making his way up stairs.

He made sure that his footsteps were light as he walked up the stairs as to make as little noise as possible and to not make the floorboard creak. His heart was racing with anticipation as he made it to the top of the staircase. He almost had to restrain himself from running up to your bedroom door.

However, when he finally made it to the top of the stairs, all of his plans to surprise you crumbled to dust when he saw you standing in the doorway if your bedroom door. Pointing a handgun right at him. You squinted your eyes at him, trying to make him out through the darkness. He almost laughed. Again.

" Honey, " he called out from the top of the stairs, his smooth, sweet-and-deep-like-honey voice filling your ears with the familiarity of a favorite song.

" It's just me. " He said, his footsteps soft as he approached you. The moment you realized it was him, you wasted no time to throw the little gun down and run into his open arms. Like everytime, he caught you perfectly and gave you that rich laugh you loved so much. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, smoothing out your hair with his flesh hand.

" It seems I've taught you well. " He mumbled against your hair. You grumbled and playfully smacked his chest.

" Don't play games like that with me anymore. You scared the shit out of me. " You told him, looking up at him with a tiny smile. Your hand flattened on his chest, near his dog tags. " I thought you were an evil guy who broke in looking for you. "

A light laugh left his mouth, and he ran his exposed vibranium hand up your back.

" Nah. Its just me and uh.. " he looked over his shoulder. You followed his gaze. " That guy. "

Both of your eyes fell on a certain Sam Wilson standing at the top of the staircase. The three of you stood there silently for what felt like an eternity.

" It's good to see you Mrs. Barnes. " Sam said, his usual calm smile spread across his face. " Surprise? "

You blinked. Bucky coughed. You looked between your husband and his best friend back and forth many times, confused.

" Wait--why is he here? " You inquired, looking up at Bucky with curled eyebrows. A mutual feeling of awkwardness filled all of you, and the silence that came with it was so utterly terrible that you started feeling too exposed and hid into Bucky's arms further. After all, you were wearing one of your favorite lingerie sets under the purple robe tied around your body.

Bucky looked at Sam. Sam looked at Bucky. He was not going to speak up; he didn't have the right words to speak. So Bucky opened his mouth after thinking about it, then spoke.

" We were both in D.C, obviously. He had some business to take care of at the White House, and I was at Capitol Hill--as you know, for some very important business. " Bucky began, looking down at you, nodding his head along at he spoke. You were gripping his red wine tie and looking down at your feet, trying to ignore the warm feeling you had been getting in your lowe abdomen all day. Now that he was home, it was only worse.

" We ran into eachother a couple times while up there, and decided that since the holidays were coming up, we'd surprise you with an early visit and stay around for the next few months until you're due. " Sam took over the conversation, explaining to you the details--though you found it very hard to pay attention to him with your mind so fogged up. Bucky's hand lulled up and down your back, making goosebumps rise up your skin.

" And also all of the work that I need to do for the rest of the month will be done from home. " Bucky told you, his hand stilling somewhere on your lower back. It did not take long for him to notice the way you were avoiding his gaze.

" You okay, honey? " He asked you, his voice low like he was asking you directly and didn't want Sam in the conversation. You met his gaze finally and let go of his tie.

" Yeah, I'll be okay. " You responded, your face heating up. You had no idea where this odd feeling in your abdomen was coming from. Just a moment ago you were pointing a gun at him because you thought he was a random dude who broke into your house. Now you were all curled into his body and gripping onto him like a cat to a cat tree.

Bucky hummed and kissed the top of your head again.

" Well now that our plans have been spoiled, what are we gonna do? " Sam asked from afar, fiddling with his hands like he had nothing else to do. Your mind was already going to work, searching for many ways you could respond. Now, you didn't want to be selfish, but your husband had just came back home to you after a long two and a half weeks, and all you wanted was some alone time with him. The mere fact that Sam was even there only fueled that need to be alone with Bucky.

You looked up at Bucky for help, your mind caught in a cross roads. You tapped your fingers against his shoulder for his attention. He immediately took the message as you needing to tell him something important, and he ducked his head down so you could whisper in his ear. Your stomach churned in excitement, and you cupped your hand around the shell of his ear for extra security.

" I need you in the bedroom. " You told him. It was all you needed to say, really, but you weren't even sure if it was entirely what you wanted. Bucky's vibranium hand tightened around it's spot on your waist, and he leaned back so he could whisper his response in your ear.

" Why? What's wrong? "

" I don't know I'm just... Aching and sore--but at the same time you're back home and that does something to me... " You told him quickly, looking over his shoulder to see Sam facing the complete opposite direction of you two.

" Just please... meet me in the bedroom? " You begged him, looking up at him with big eyes. He pulled back a little so you would be face-to-face with him.

" Are you sure? " He asked, his eyebrows curved in worry. You gripped the sleeve of his suit jack and tugged on it.

" Yes I'm sure! " You whisper-yelled into his ear, your teeth gritted.

Sam stood in the background silently, blinking, utterly confused by the whole scenario. He checked his watch for the time, then looked away from the whispering couple and scratched his ear. Obviously he wasn't meant to be listening in on the conversation, but they weren't exactly good at whispering.

Bucky looked at Sam then back at you.

" Okay. Go inside, and I'll be there in just a moment. " He leaned down to peck your lips. " I love you. " You smiled warmly at the kiss and the ' I love you. ' You felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you pursed your lips to hide the smile creeping on your face and tilted your head down.

" I love you too. " You responded quietly before picking up the tail of your dragging, opening robe and ran towards your bedroom. In an instant, the door was slamming shut and you were gone.

And God help him, Sam was trying so hard to be respectful. He was looking at his watch again, like he was actually doing something on it instead of eavesdropping on his closest friends.

" Sam. " Bucky called out for him, almost making him jump. Sam fake coughed and looked up at him, sweating in his suit. Bucky's voice was stern and knowing. Sam gulped hard.

" You should go to the guest room downstairs." Bucky told him, blinking slowly and pointing his index finger downwards as he spoke those last words. Sam couldn't fight the smile that was threatening to spread across his face.

" Alright. I'll do that. " He said, his lips twitching. " But while you two are at it, you might want to spin her that Marvin Gaye vinyl I got you last Christmas. And if you need lube, just hit me up--"

" Ooh, duuude that's weird. We're not gonna have sex with guests over. " Bucky groaned, his face scrunching up in disgust. "Now get the hell out of here before I push you down the damn staircase. " Bucky threatened, his cheeks heated with embarrassment from his friends comment. Sam was cackling at his reaction, clapping his hands together as he turned his heel for the staircase. Bucky inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and mentally preparing himself for what was going to happen the moment he opened the bedroom door.

" Lord help me," he muttered under his breath, curling his fingers into fists by his sides as he walked into the room.

~~

The door opened and shut with a soft click. You were already laying in bed, propping yourself up by your hands, waiting for him. Bucky gave you a soft smile as he took off his suit jacket and placed it down on the blue bean bag next to the door--which the mere sight of gave you, a pregnant woman, a heart attack.

" You okay, honey? " He asked you as he stepped out of his dress shoes. You huffed.

" You ask me that again, and I swear to Odin, James, I will rip your fucking head off and feed it to Alpine. " You warned him in a very flat, very stern voice that made your point clear quickly. Bucky stopped midway through getting undressed, his finger stilling on the top button of his vest when you started speaking. Nothing scared Bucky, but you did whenever you were mad.... and pregnant, apparently.

" Yes ma'am. " Was all he said, along with a fat gulp. He faced you and shimmied out of the black vest. The both of you locked eyes, and that warm feeling inside you intensified. The way his muscles rippled under his white button down as he moved? Basically pornography to your brain.

And the second he was out of the vest, he was on your shared bed and sitting on the edge of it. He sat in front of you with his legs crossed.

" You said you were aching and sore? " He asked, scooting closer to you, grabbing both of your calf's and smoothing his hands over them.

" Yeah. " you sighed, unsure of how to exactly explain to him that you were horny. It was just odd to you because most mom's in your parenting/birthing classes had shared that they found it hard to have a high libido and get wet while pregnant. But here you were, over-sensitive and needy like you were in heat.

And who knows? Maybe your husband already knew what you needed. He was pretty good at reading you, and often told you that you were an open book. Besides, you membered reading online and hearing from the dad's at your birthing classes that pregnancy was a pretty big turn on for them. Maybe Bucky was just as turned on as you were; which got you thinking about the night you started trying for your baby and how crazy and wild he got with you. Just thinking about it was enough to--

Oh no.

You were getting wet again.

" Baby?" Bucky's voice broke you out of the sex-dazed trance you were in. You blinked twice than looked back up at him.

" Yes? " You responded.

" Where are you sore? " He asked you, his sweet voice laced with worry, his lips curled into a frown while he looked at you with his head tilted.

You grumbled.

My pussy, you dumb fuck. You almost wanted to tell him.

" I don't know, " You paused to think. " Everywhere? " Bucky chuckled.

" Baby, that doesn't help." He said. His hands drifted down to the backs of your feet. You shivered.

" Is it your feet? Your back? " He asked, trying to pin point the cause of your issues.

" I mean.. I guess it's my feet. " You mumbled, averting your gaze from his shyly. Bucky made a low sound at that.

" Baby," his eyes raked up your body sympathetically. " Were you on your feet all day? "

His hands ran down your calves, trying to ease any tension in your muscles. The little hairs on your body stood on end with goosebumps as he touched you. You wanted to speak, but you couldn't. So you nodded. He frowned.

" Honey... You know standing all day can put tension on your back and feet. " He told you, his tone now low and serious instead of light and sweet like before. You gulped hard, excitement running through your body.

" I know, I just--I knew you'd be back soon and I didn't want the house to be a mess. " You told him with a pout. Bucky's hummed and leaned down to kiss your calf.

" Well, " he muttered, looking around like he was trying to figure out what to do. " Why don't you lay back and let me relieve you, yeah? "

He smiled at you, kind and charming. You looked back at him and returned the smile as he propped your legs onto his lap.

The moment you felt the cool metal of his vibranium hand and the warm heat of his flesh hand on your skin, you immediately melted. Usually, the temperature differences would make you flinch, but you had been with him long enough that you were used to it.

He ran his thumbs up the arch of your foot, in a straight line, his other fingers dragging along the back of your foot. You shivered and audibly groaned. He smiled.

" My poor baby," he purred. " all swollen and sore. " He thumbed at the ball of your foot, his eyes almost never leaving yours.

" S'okay though. Gonna take it all away. " He mumbled, kissing your knee. You shivered, the tiny wet spot on your panties under your robe becoming unmistakable at that point. It was just the way he was speaking to you. The words he chose along with the tone he chose; it was like he wanted you to squirm in your seat.

And you were.

" Feels good. " You rasped, the back of your hand splaying on your forehead as he slowly kneaded his thumbs into your skin. He stayed like that for a moment, creating different patterns and switching his hand placement frequently until he moved his attention to your other foot, which was arguably worse.

Bucky's mind wandered as he massaged you, his eyes falling down on your stomach as his worked his hands against you. You had gotten bigger since the last time he saw you. You were now on your 24th week, and still as beautiful as ever. In his mind, he started to map out exactly how your baby shower would go, while all you were thinking about was how much you needed your husband.... Mentally and physically.

His thumbs lowered to a certain pressure point on your foot, and your body almost jolted and you moaned softly at the contact. He kept his fingers there, rubbing rough circles into you tight muscles. He looked up and you caught his gaze.

" Right there? "He asked. You hummed, your cheeks heating up at at the warmth in his voice.

" Yeah, " you sighed. He started rubbing harder, his strokes long and persistent. " Oh god, James." You sighed into his touch, letting yourself melt like butter. He smiled proudly.

" I'm glad you feel good. " He said, continuing to work out your sore muscles. " Your pleasure is my top priority. " He told you, all with another kiss to your skin.

That was your breaking point. You needed him to fuck you.

"Baby," you whimpered, your fingers reaching out to tug on his wrist. He knew that voice like the back of his hand.

" Yes? " He looked up at you, rising his head slowly.You bite your lip, your heart pounding. His hands stilled on your ankles.

At a very eased and deliberate pace, your fingers traced up your stomach until they fell down to the knot of the belt that was keeping your robe closed shut around you. You undid the knot quickly, almost like you couldn't bare the thought of wasting another minute with it off. Once the robe fell open, so did your sweet husbands mouth.

You laid there underneath him, now in nothing but a cute little lingerie set that punched the air out of his lungs. It was a see-through babydoll top that was a lavender color and was paired with matching laced panties. The top was cut low, thin and floral laced, and the straps were in frills. The actual cup size was a bit too small for you, and your full breasts were spilling out of it. It was safe to say that it fit you better when you weren't pregnant, but you weren't complaining and neither was he. The opened slit straight down the under bust to the end of the top drove Bucky absolutely Insane. His mouth was open like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Oh. Baby," he groaned, running a hand down your baby bump, which had only grown since the last time he saw you. He lifted you leg and gave your ankle a soft peck before he crawled up your body, settling between your thighs. "Is this why you wanted to come in the bedroom?" He inquired, looking you up and down hungrily, drinking in your appearance like it was the last time he'd see you.

You couldn't do anything but nod. His breath hitched.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner? You know I'd drop everything if you would have told me." He asked, running his hands down your thighs smoothly. You bit your finger.

" 'm sorry." You apologized, your face heating up as he touched you. He clicked his tongue and crawled up your body, bracing his arms at the sides of your head.

"Don't say that, honey." He told you, his eyebrows curling upward worriedly. He leaned in and pecked your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

His tone was reassuring and he ran his hand over your hip, squeezing it gently. Your hand snaked up his vibranium forearm, and curled around the white sleeve of his button down. Bucky dipped his head down to your neck and pressed a hot, wet kiss there, his flesh hand drawing circles over the waistband of your panties.

"I left you too long, hm?" He purred into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. Shivers went down your spine and you uselessly nodded. He lifted one of your legs and spread it wider around his waist, making your hips stretch out in a way that made you moan.

" Sweet girl," he mumbled, planting wet, sloppy kisses all over your collarbone. "You gonna be good and let me touch you? Yeah?" He inquired, looking up at you through his brows. You reacted so quickly that it shocked the both of you.

" Yes--yes--please, oh god. Yes." You gasped, nodding your head frantically and grabbing him everywhere like he was threatening to leave you. He chuckled and sat up a bit so he wasn't directly putting pressure on your belly.

"Lift up for a bit." He told you, momentarily pulling away from you so he could collect a few pillows from the bed. Since you both found out about your pregnancy, a significant amount of pillows had been added to your collection, which Bucky found funny. You sat up, allowing him to fix the pillows underneath you and add more onto it to help support your back.

"There you go." He grunted, stealing a quick peck of your lips before he settled back between your legs.

"Comfy?" He asked. You hummed in response and nodded. He shifted on top of you, placing one arm by your head as he hovered above you. You gulped, the anticipation of what he was going to do to you sparkling through your veins.

Your bottom lip sunk between your teeth as you looked up at him. A cold, metal hand came up to cup your warm cheek, and gently removed your lip from your mouth. Bucky ran the pad of his thumb across your wet bottom lip, caressing your skin lightly before he leaned down to kiss you.

You almost immediately moaned into his mouth the second it was on you. His left hand slipped down your cheek and onto your stomach, his touch feather-light as he rubbed your exposed skin gently.

"Fuck, I missed you." He groaned, his metal hand trailing up your body until it reached your breast. A pitched moan left your mouth when he cupped your breast into his hand, massaging your flesh through the very thin fabric of your lingerie. He could already feel your nipple hardening, the tiny bud nearly peaking out of the top of the lace.

Bucky's lips left yours with a little noise, and he leaned back a bit to get a good look at you; disheveled, messy, panting, the lace wrapped around you doing nothing to hide the beautiful body that lay underneath it.

"Loook at you." He chuckled, his voice gruff and rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. Your top was pulled downward on your left breast, threatening to spill out, but that was okay. He hooked his finger into the lace and tugged the lace down by the middle, letting both of your breasts spring free with a little bounce.

"So beautiful," he praised, running his palms down the curve of your breasts. "These perfect little things..." He went on, taking them into his large hands, cupping them by your under boobs, purposefully avoiding your nipple. "Feel so heavy in my hands now." He gave them a few gropes before he leaned down and let his hands fall by your sides, keeping himself steady above you.

Bucky's lips hovered above the peak of your breast, kissing your skin gently, his lips tip-toeing around your areola. His beard lightly scratched your skin as he moved his lips against you.

Your body was heaving up and down with his touches greedily, wanting more and more of his love, arching into him, begging for more. His lips dragged across your under boob, to the little spot on your torso where the skin of your breasts met the skin of your stomach. He dragged the tip of his tongue around your areola, the wetness,warmth and pressure of it making your nipple immediately rise up and harden. He repeated this a couple times before he finally wrapped his lips around your tiny bud and began suckling gently.

You nearly scrum and your hands shot to his head, tugging on his hair. Bucky shook his head and hummed In disapproval.

"Gotta stay quiet, babydoll." He told you, looking at you through his lashes. He released your tit with a little wet pop, then gave the whole thing a little grasp.

"I told Sam that we wouldn't be having sex, so shh." He whispered, already moving on to your other breast with a sly grin.

"Think this one wants my attention too?" He said smugly, keeping his vibranium hand on your left breast while his lips were already toying with your right one. For a moment, you mind was flogging with heat and your intense need for your husband, but through the midst of the fog, that last sentence ran through your mind curiously.

"Wait why would you tell him that?" You asked, your eyebrows furrowing. He looked up at you with a confused expression.

"He made a joke about us having sex and I told him he was gross and that we wouldn't do it with him here..." He responded honestly before going back to work, licking at your nipple like it was his only purpose. The moan you made almost immediately shut your mouth.

"Aged nicely, huh?" He joked, later on laughing at his own joke.

"Now c'mere, baby." He said with a grunt, lifting your legs up by the backs of your heavy thighs. "Let me get a nice taste of your beautiful little pussy, yeah?"

The words went straight to your cunt, making you ache for him even more. You made a little noise as you nodded eagerly, watching as your husband slowly lowered his body down yours.

Large, strong hands spread your thighs apart, and Bucky dipped his face between them, eyeing at the little wet spot on your panties.

"Oh baby," he moaned. "So wet," his flesh fingers ran down your slit, making you shiver. "All that just from some harmless touching." His fingers pressed against your center, and you could feel the coldness of the wet, think lace up against your warm slit.

"Feel that?" He moved his two middle fingers side to side on your clothed folds, taking your breath away.

"Yeah," you gasped when you felt his middle finger dip into your entrance, entering you kind of far for being behind the barrier of your panties. You were not expecting things to feel this good. You thought everything was going to feel different with being pregnant. In a way, it did. Primarily because you were more sensitive to his touch than usual, but it didn't feel a bad kind of different.

Bucky lowered his head down onto you more, and kissed your throbbing clit through your panties. You gasped, your fingers threading through his long, thick hair while he mouthed at you.

"This little thin thing," he scoffed, like your underwear personally offended him. "Don't do shit to hide this little pussy." With that, Bucky pulled the elastic band of your panties around your pelvic bone, and let it tap against your skin with a loud snap. Then he gave up and pulled the thing to the side, giving your now exposed pussy a wet kiss before he sat back up.

"Lift up, pretty girl." He instructed, waiting for you to lift up your hips. When you did so, his hands were immediately on you and tearing the useless garment off your body. Once it was off you, he was on you, running his hands up your thighs, eyeing the little mess between your thighs.

"Jesus fuck," he whispered, his eyes running down your wetness. You felt your face heating up In embarrassment, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. You tried to snap your thighs shut when his fingers drifted down your slit, but he just pushed them back open.

"Nuh-uh, baby. Still haven't tasted you yet." He scolded, dipping his head back between your already shaking thighs. The authority in his voice just made you crave him even more.

And god, help you, because the way you moaned when he licked that first stripe up your pussy, was loud enough for anyone within a 500 mile radius of you hear you. And god, help you, with the way his tongue was flicking up and down your aching clit so soft and gently like he was afraid of breaking you.

Your taste flooded his mouth like a favorite treat, making him moan desperately against your mound as his tongue swirled around your folds. Bucky pulled his head back a bit and ran two thick metal fingers down your dripping cunt by the back of his hand like he was petting you. His knuckles dragged across your flesh, the cold band of his wedding ring on his ring finger coming in contact with your pussy perfectly, reminding you of the life you shared together.

His fingers dipped into your entrance, finally, and you welcomed him in--not so easily at first--but welcomed him in regardless. You let out a little displeased moan at the stretch of his fingers, and his hand immediately stilled.

"Baby?" He asked, looking at you wordily. "Are you okay? What's your color?"

You struggled for a moment. Thee muscles in your pussy involuntarily contracting against his fingers, like your body knew that it wanted to be ready for him.

"Yellow? I don't know." You told him, your brows twitching in frustration. Your voice was broken up, like you were about to cry. Buck was immediately in action to relieve you.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay." He told you, kissing your inner thigh, and dragging his fingers against your walls just about an inch before stilling. "Just let me love you, okay?" He kissed the spot on your inner thigh that connected your pelvis to your thigh. "It might feel a bit weird, but thats okay because your body is changing. Just let me make you feel good."

You nodded your head understandingly, your eyes watery as he slowly moved his fingers into you. You winced again, but he made up for it with a kiss to your clit. He gently nipped at it as he slowly, very very slowly, dragging his fingers in and out of your cunt.

It had been months upon months since he last made love to you like this. He was always busy with Congress--senator stuff, always out of state, and never really had enough time to put on the side for you for intimate moments like this. Hell, he even had some work that he had to take care of the next day downtown super late into the afternoon. But that was fine. He didn't need to worry about it as long as he was between your thighs.

After a while, you started to opened up to him as he sunk deeper, and when he did, your moans grew louder. His fingers curled against a soft, almost squishy spot inside you that sent you flying. Your hands shot into his hair, curling your fingers into fists, your hips bucking against his face as he repeatedly hit that same spot.

"James--oh, baby--oh, fuck!" You moaned, your head flying back and your back arching. Bucky gave you a cocky grin, the sound of his name on your lips, all with that cute little moan running straight to his cock. But he knew he couldn't have his fill yet. Your pleasure always came before his, no matter how long it took for you to cum, and especially no matter if he didn't get to cum either.

Your already sore hips trembled against his face, your knees going weak as you desperately started grinding against his face, seeking more and more friction.

"Right there, babydoll?" He asked, his voice gruff and low, his finger curling and pushing in and out of that special spot repeatedly, drawing out long, needy moans out of you.

"Yes, fuck! Don't stop, baby. Ooh." You begged through broken up cries. He grinned and wrapped his lips around your twitching clit, sucking on it harshly and making you scream. Usually, he would want you to scream like that and go crazy, but at the moment, you both had company. His best friend kind of company.

"Shh, baby." He hushed. "what'd I tell you?" He questioned, stilling his fingers and pulling back from your core just a bit. You whined at the loss of contact, and he gave your wet pussy a little smack as a warning. You yelped, your eyes opening back up.

"Told 'm to be quiet." You responded, your breath shaky and your words slurred.

"Good fuckin girl." He growled through gritted teeth, putting his mouth back on you--rougher and messier than last time. It did not take long for his finger to find that special spot again. His fingers worked with his mouth In perfect harmony, his tongue flattening against your folds while he shook his head.

You had to muffle your moans by biting the heel of your hand, your thighs trembling around your husband's head out of control, your hips jerking.

God damn, everything felt like heaven. The little scrape and drag of his beard against your flesh as he ate you out only added to the sensations even more. But that was fine, because you preferred him with a fuller beard.

Your mind was so hazy and foggy as he absolutely devoured you, and for a moment, you felt like you wouldn't be able to speak anything until--

"You're growing your beard out." You commented. He hummed against your cunt, not hearing you the first time with the way your thick thighs were squishing his head and blocking his ears.

"Hmm? What was that, babydoll?" He asked, his heavy lidded blue eyes looking up to meet your gaze. You were so fucked-out that you almost forgot that you had even said anything.

"You're--fuck, mm... Growing your.. beard out." You repeated, this time between heavy moans. He grinned.

"Oh yeah? I thought you'd like it." He mumbled against your clit, punctuating his words with little suckles. He looked up at you again, grinning, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening.

"You wanna come sit up on my face and wet it?" He asked you, nuzzling his lips over your clit with a slight shake of his head. You gasped at his words, an electric shock of lust running straight to your core.

"Wha--"

But it was too late. He was already pulling away from you and sitting down on the bed next to you.

"James--"

"Come on, pretty girl." He said, his tone condescending and almost mocking. "You brought this upon yourself. Now get on." He persisted, laying down on his back, adjusting himself near the headboard. You stammered, shocked, your mind going through so many different emotions.

"But i--"

He cut you off. Again.

"If this is anything about your weight, I don't fucking care. I tell you that everytime." He told you sternly with knitted brows. "Now come sit on my face, baby. Wanna feel your weight all on me."

His strong hands went to your hips, lifting you up gently. You wanted to protest, but your body betrayed you and moved before your mind did. Your knees dug into the silky lavender sheets underneath your bodies--the ones that you personally picked out, of course--and the bed creaked under you softly. Bucky was already moaning before you even lowered your face onto him.

"Mm, that's right, sugar." He moaned, placing his hands on your hips, positioning you onto his face perfectly, before he forced your body down onto his mouth.

"James!" You squeaked, gripping the headboard, feeling it rattle under your moving bodies.

"Shh, baby." He hushed you again, giving your sensitive clit a kiss. "Just let me make you feel good. You need this." He groaned, lapping his tongue around your cunt. You couldn't even protest him. Not with the whimpers leaving your lips and the way your pussy twitched whenever he kissed you too gently or pulled away from you.

Your poor little cunt was just too sensitive at that point. Any slight movement he made sent you down a spiral of primal need. So, you started rocking your hips against his face. This position let you feel the little facial hair on his jaw even better, snd each time it brushed against you, your eyes rolled back snd your thighs clenched around his face.

"James..." You whined his name, the sound going straight to his cock.

"Yeah baby?"

He licked a straight line up your cunt. You gasped.

"Never ever shave your beard, you hear me?" You told him, your voice low and threatening. He chuckled, the vibrations making your pussy ache. You whined.

"Will you cut off my head and feed it to Alpine?" He joked. You huffed.

"Oh I'll do so much more than that." You laughed darkly, driving against him faster and harder despite the very obvious ache in your hips and stomach.

He moaned against your cunt, his grip on your hips growing tighter. He forced you to still for a moment. All so he could suck and kiss your tiny little over-sensitive clit.

And there it was. Your breaking point presented to you on a silver platter.

Your head lulled back and your eyes shots into the back of your head. Your hand went down to tug at his scalp.

"Yes, yes!" You gasped. "Right there, baby--f'me. Mmmah! There. Fuck." You babbled, repeating the same words over and over through broken sobs. Fuck, Bucky had promised himself that he'd be quiet during sex, but he just gave up at that point from how hard he was getting off at your moans.

"Yeah? That's the spot, honey, huh?" He smiled, placing wet, hot, sloppy and open-mouthed kisses in your pretty, pulsating cunt. The tip of his tongue circled around your tiny bud and--just like that, you were gone.

The insides of your pussy convulsed, and your thighs snapped shut around your husbands head as you absolutely fell apart on his tongue. Your poor pussy spamsed violently as you came hard, your cum spurring all over his face wildly.

Bucky could not fight how happy it made him to see you like that, falling apart for him in a fashion as intense as this. He held your body down on his face until he almost suffocated, all so he could drink from the fountain between your legs.

"Fuck baby. So fucking messy." He moaned, closing his eyes, letting a little bit of you drip right into his mouth before he was back on you.

"Just can't help yourself, hmm?" Bucky cooed, lapping up the rest of your juices. You whined, shaking your head, biting your finger and drooling all over it while you helplessly whined at his touch.

When he was done, he gently guided you back down onto the bed next to him.

"Easy, easy." He said sweetly, his touch light and loving as you laid back down on your back. He kissed you deeply once you were settled and comfortable. You didn't realize how sore you were until you were immobile. When his hand drifted back down to your hip, you groaned into his mouth.

"You sore, baby?" He asked, kissing your cheek. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably.

"Yeah." You sighed, hating that aching sensations you were feeling. Your breasts had gone tender and your lower back had that awful pain running through it. But what was there to fear when your husband was there with you.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to keep your legs open that long." Bucky chuckled, gently kneading your sore flesh in his hands. You chuckled too.

"That's okay. We really needed that. Plus, I really enjoyed myself." You told him, your eyes sleepily fluttering shut while he random his hands over your sides. Bucky hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"That's good, baby. That's all I need to hear." He said, kissing your belly--which happened to be the best decision he had made that night because right when his lips touched your skin, you both felt a little movement in your belly.

Your eyes shot open. He looked at you shocked. You looked at him shocked.

"Did you feel that?" You asked him. The look on his face was the very obvious answer to your question.

A soft smile spread across his face. He could not believe what he had just see. It was mostly insane for you because you hadn't felt the little one kick in the past two days. Hey here they were, moving against you like it knew their daddy was there and missed him as much as you did.

Bucky looked up at you with a dopey smile.

"Yeah." He said. "We're gonna be parents."

[jaythes1mp]

5628 words, 31564 characters, 328 sentences, 133 paragraphs, 22.5 pages.

Tag list: @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk

No idea how I’ve been constantly making a chapter every day and posting straight away.

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Tim had been observing you from his seat across the table, his keen eyes taking in your focused state as you immersed yourself in whatever it was on your laptop. You had been at it all day, your gaze fixed intently on the screen, your fingers tapping away at the keys. There was a hint of determination and concentration on your face, yet there was also a tinge of anxiety mixed with it. He was curious, to say the least.

Tim had to repeatedly pull your focus away from your device. In each class you shared together, he would notice you glued to the screen, your eyes fixated intently on whatever you were working on. Despite repeated attempts to divert your attention, you kept getting pulled back into your work, your focus unwavering. It ticked him off. His deep blue orbs piercing through your form. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips, dark brows furrowed. Alfred was going to be here in ten minutes and you hadn’t averted your attention towards him once. He hadn’t joined this low class university for you to not spare him a glance.

He clears his throat, pocketing his phone and resting his chin against his palm.

Your attention diverts, finally. His frown twitches up. You send him a soft grin then look back down to your computer. His eye twitches.

Tim casually leans across the table and closes your laptop without warning, his fingers moving swiftly to shut it down. Quickly pulling back before you have a chance to swat at him. He leans back into his chair, just out of your reach, anticipating your reaction. His eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint, remaining just out of range.

You shoot Tim a glare, your annoyance evident on your face as you take a swipe at his arm. However, he's a little too quick for you, dodging your punch with ease and moving out of your reach before you can connect. He grins at your frustrated expression, clearly enjoying the reaction he's gotten out of you. Reviling in the attention.

“What.” You demand, exhausted. You flex your fingers, suddenly acutely aware of the subtle aching from constant typing.

Tim casually lies, claiming that his phone is dead and that he needs your attention. The words roll off his tongue effortlessly, as if twisting the truth had become a natural reflex for him. "My phone is dead," he says matter-of-factly. "Give me some attention."

Your sour expression whittles down to a begrudging smile. “So demanding.” You pretend to huff, opening your laptop to click save then stuffing it in your bag carelessly.

Tim smirked at your response, silently pleased with himself for successfully derailing your focus from your work to him. He watched as you pack your laptop away, his deep blue eyes tracking your every move, his gaze almost lazy.

As you finally give him your full attention, he leans further back in his chair, his pose nonchalant. "Well, you were pretty immersed in your laptop earlier. I had to do something to get your attention."

He feigned a wounded expression, a hand clutching at his chest dramatically, his words dripping with mock hurt. "I was feeling a bit neglected, to be honest."

You snort at his reaction and roll your eyes. “Oh shove off, you sod. It wasn’t that bad.”

Tim chuckled softly, his smirk remaining as he raised an eyebrow at your response. "Oh, it was definitely that bad," he teased. "You looked like you were having a more engaging conversation with your laptop than with me."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "I swear, I could hear you whispering sweet nothings to the keyboard.”

You scowl at Tim's playful words, not entirely amused by his demand for attention. Your expression is tinged with irritation, but there's also a hint of fondness beneath it. You know this is just his way of getting under your skin, and although you may not want to admit it, you can't help but find it slightly endearing nonetheless. You lean over and lock your leg around his chair so he can’t get away as you pinch his side.

He yelps in exaggerated pain, immediately recoiling away from your grip. "Hey, that hurts," he protested, rubbing at the spot on his side that you had pinched.

Despite his feigned agony, a hint of a playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips, betraying his true feelings. He was enjoying this back and forth between you, the way you easily fell into his teasing banter.

He quickly recovers and feigns a dramatic pout, his blue gaze meeting and holding yours. "You're being so mean to me," Tim whined, his voice dripping with fake hurt.

You roll your eyes at Tim's exaggerated overdramatic voice. His puppy dog eyes and feigned hurt expression are all too familiar to you, and you know exactly what he's trying to do. Nevertheless, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt as he accuses you of being mean. "Oh please," you scoff, your irritation momentarily overwritten by his pitiful act.

Tim senses your moment of guilt and capitalizes on it, his pout deepening as he continues to play the part of the wounded damsel. His voice is laced with mock hurt, "You don't feel bad for hurting my feelings, do you?"

He places a hand on his chest, his expression one of exaggerated despair. Inwardly, he knows he's being ridiculous, but the way you react to his antics is just too amusing for him to resist. He lets out a dramatic sigh, feigning exhaustion from your callousness.

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to laugh at Tim's over-the-top antics. His pathetic expression and exaggerated despair are absolutely ridiculous, and yet somehow, you can't help feeling a hint of guilt creeping up on you. With a resigned sigh, you roll your eyes and reply, "Oh, I feel terrible."

Your sarcasm is blatantly obvious, but there's a hint of genuine concern in your expression, a sign that you're not completely immune to his playful manipulation.

His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he senses your guilt, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He's fully aware of the effect his puppy-dog eyes and dramatic flair have on you, and he's not afraid to use them to get your attention and sympathy.

He leans even closer, resting his chin on the palm of one hand, "You should feel bad," he responds, his voice filled with mock arrogance. "I've been sitting here all day, begging for your attention, and you've been ignoring me for that stupid laptop of yours."

You let out a sigh, rubbing the side of your neck as you feel a hint of awkwardness creeping in. Although Tim's demeanor is still laced with his typical playful demeanor, you sense a touch of seriousness beneath his words, a subtle hint that his request for attention is not entirely a joke.

“Sorry. I’ve been...” You nibble at the inside of your cheek in thought, trying to find the right words without blurting out anything you’ll regret. “... stressed.”

Tim's expression softens at your words, his teasing facade dropping for a moment. He notices the way you nibble at your cheek, his observant gaze not missing a single thing. He senses that there's something more to your stress than meets the eye, but he doesn't press you for answers just yet. Instead, he puts up a facade of understanding, his concern for you genuine.

"Stressed, huh?" he repeats, his tone gentler now, but his eyes are studying you intently. "What's got you all twisted up?" He puts up a facade of nonchalance, his expression not displaying his internal worries in the slightest. Why were you stressed? Should he get Bruce to pay off some of your professors again? Were they putting too much pressure on you?

You bite your cheek, torn between being annoyed at Tim's overprotective tendencies and appreciating his genuine concern. Part of you wants to brush off his question and avoid revealing the source of your stress, but another part yearns for the comfort and support that he seems to endlessly offer.

You give in, admitting quietly, "Yeah, I'm a little stressed. It's just been a lot lately, with classes and assignments piling up... I’m starting to worry about rent too. I know that Jason can cover for me this month, but I just feel bad. Y’know?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair anxiously. It was easy to open up to Tim. You never knew why, but he just always seemed to know when something was bothering you. He’d text you right as a panic attack sprouts, or just when you wake up in the middle of the night from a heart drenching nightmare. He always seemed to know.

Tim listens intently as you speak, his eyes never leaving your form. His keen mind absorbing every word, noting every nervous gesture and anxious sigh. He feels a pang of worry in his chest as you mention your struggles with rent, and his hand clenches into a fist instinctively, but he manages to keep his outwardly calm demeanor.

He shifts closer in his seat, reaching out to gently rest his hand on top of yours, trying to provide some comfort. "Hey," he says, his voice soft and reassuring, "you know we're all here for you, right?" The words slip past his lips before he has the time to register them.

You pause, your hand falling from your hair and landing in your lap. Taking your other out of his hold. There's a moment of silence as you gather your thoughts, your eyes dropping to your fingers as you idly pick at the skin around them. You let out a soft murmur of doubt, your voice laced with uncertainty and question. “... All?”

Tim raises a brow as you withdraw your hand from his own, his eyes tracking your movements, taking note of the way your fingers nervously pick at your skin. The pause in your conversation causes a flicker of worry to flash across his features. He had inadvertently let slip the secret in his attempt to console you.

He watches as you murmur that one word, 'All?' and feels a pang of guilt in his chest. He mentally curses his slip-up.

“Yeah,” he confirms, his voice hesitant. “All.”

He shifts his chair closer, “Your roommate, me, your friends. We’re all here for you. I’m sure they are.” He attempts to poorly explain, relived when you seem to believe him, nodding.

"Yeah... all..." You respond quietly, the implications of your words heavy in the air. Doubt laced in your tone.

Tim takes the moment of silence to mentally berate himself for his careless slip-up. He hadn't meant to reveal anything that you weren't ready to know. He opens his mouth to speak, wanting to clarify something, anything, but he's interrupted by the familiar sound of Alfred's voice.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting something." Alfred's voice cuts through the tension as he approaches. His expression is unreadable, his gaze flickering between you and Tim.

You glance up from the Drake, your eyes meeting those of his butler, Alfred. A small, sad smile graces your lips, an acknowledgment of both the man's silent presence and the care he provides. Despite the circumstances, you can't help but feel a pang of loneliness, knowing that your own parents were nowhere to be found while Tim was fortunate enough to have an attentive and kind caretaker. You knew deep down that your thoughts were a bit silly. You were an adult now, independent and capable of taking care of yourself. There was no point in yearning for affection from parents who had never cared enough to show it in the first place. But the ache for acceptance and recognition remained, a constant whisper in the back of your mind, an echo of the neglected child you had been.

With a forced smile, you push yourself to your feet, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. The weight of it is heavy, both physically and emotionally, a constant reminder of the load you're carrying. "And that's my cue," you say, a tone of resignation in your voice. You're eager to escape the situation, desperate for a moment of solitude to sort through your thoughts.

Alfred's eyes flicker with a hint of concern at your forced smile, noting the resignation in your tone. His gaze scans your features, taking in every subtle shift and twitch, his astute mind already noting the burden you seemed to be carrying. He opens his mouth to speak, perhaps to offer a word of reassurance, but Tim cuts in before he can.

The young man rises from his chair, his movements smooth and controlled. He steps forward, standing between you and Alfred, his tall frame acting as a physical barrier. “Wait,” he says firmly, his blue eyes locking with yours.

You pause at Tim's firm command, your gaze locking with his intense eyes. There's something about his tone and the way he steps forward to block Alfred's view of you that makes you hesitate, a sense of unease creeping in. Despite your desire to flee, his presence and the command in his voice keep you rooted in place.

The air in the room crackles with tension as Tim holds your gaze, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that is both unexpected and unsettling. His hand moves to grip your elbow, fingers gently but firmly wrapping around your arm, as if to prevent you from escaping.

Tim’s eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes you feel both uneasy and exposed. His body is taut, his broad shoulders serving as a physical barrier between you and Alfred, effectively cutting you off from the older man’s line of sight. You flinch subtly as his hand suddenly lunges out to grip your elbow, his fingers wrapping firmly around your arm in a manner that feels almost possessive.

He can't help but visibly startle when he notices your flinch, Tim’s eyes widening in surprise. He quickly bites his lip to contain himself from cooing at you, resisting the flood of gentle words and reassurances that threaten to spill out. The words almost accidentally slipping past his lips, the instinct to protect and comfort you strong within him. Seeing your fear, whether it was a direct response to him or not, causes a pang of guilt to stab at his heart. He wants to pull you close, to wrap his arms around you and whisper that everything is okay, that he'd never hurt you, that it's alright, little bat.

You exhale softly, your voice filled with a quiet apology. You don't quite understand why your body had reacted so instinctively to his touch, why you had flinched at the sight of his hand reaching for you. It was Tim, your best bud, someone who had always been there for you, he’d never hurt you. But there was something about the intensity in his eyes, a look that you couldn't quite shake off. You shake your head, pushing aside any lingering doubts and trying to forget about it.

You hesitate for a moment before slowly wrapping your arms around Tim, enveloping him in a gentle embrace. Your voice is filled with a mixture of uncertainty and affection. "I'll see you on Thursday," You murmur. That’s when you next had class with him. "Text me when you get home, yeah?"

The moment you wrap your arms around Tim, his tense muscles relax almost immediately. He relishes in the feel of you against him, basking in your warmth as it fills his senses. He returns your embrace quickly, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest. A breath he didn't even realize he was holding escaped his lips.

“Yeah," he responds softly, his voice a low murmur against your ear. He can't help but bury his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent, his body relaxing as you hold him close. "I'll text you right when I get home, I promise."

Alfred watches the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. His gaze flits from Tim to you, simply observing quietly.

Once you return to the threshold that is your apartment, you instantly notice the pure chaos that greets you. The place was a mess, with items scattered everywhere, and your eyes widened at the sight. In the kitchen, you spot Jason pacing back and forth, his expression etched with tension.

You hiss, dropping your bag on the couch and picking up your speed to the kitchen. You give no warning before wacking the older males side.

Jason recoils at the unexpected blow to his side, spinning around to face you with a scowl. “Hey, watch it,” he grunts, rubbing his side.

He crosses his arms, his eyes darting around the living room before settling back on you. “Before you go off on me—“ he starts, but he’s cut off by the glare you give him.

“Did the place get raided while I was gone!?” You yell, eyes piercing through his form.

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands of white that had fallen into his eyes.

Jason scoffs, rolling his eyes at your outrage. “It’s not that bad,” he mutters, gesturing around the living room.

In reality, it is bad. There are papers and clothes everywhere, and it looks like a tornado tore through the place. But compared to some of the messes he’s made in his life, this is nothing.

You give him a pointed look, your jaw clenching.

Jason lets out a sigh, seeing the irritation in your expression. He knows he’s in trouble. “Listen, I had a few people over and…” He trails off, his excuse dying in his throat. He sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, it’s a mess. I’ll clean it up, alright?”

You cross your arms, a stubborn expression on your face. “Damn right you will,” you mutter, eyeing the chaos around you. “And I swear, if I see another used cup, I’m going to shove it down your throat.”

Jason rolls his eyes again, a smirk playing on his lips. “So violent,” he teases, taking a step closer to you. “Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, zooming past Jason in the kitchen without sparing him another glance. You stride out onto the cramped balcony, arms crossed as you lean against the railing. Your head rests against your arms, a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion etched on your face.

You had looked forward to having some peace and quiet once you finally made it home, but your relief was quickly replaced by frustration upon seeing the state of your apartment. The sight of the mess caused a wave of annoyance to wash over you, which you tried to squash down. Letting out a soft exhale then leaning back. The air, less than fresh, stinging your skin. You close your eyes.

—

After a solid two hours, Todd knocks softly against the door frame leading onto the balcony, a sheepish smile perched on his lips.

He stands awkwardly in the doorway, holding your favourite tea out in front of him. He knows he messed up, and he knows you’re still mad at him. He can see it in the tension in your shoulders, in the firm set of your jaw.

He clears his throat, taking a small step forward. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice gruff but hesitant. “I brought you tea.”

You don’t turn around at the sound of his voice, but he can see the slight shift in your frame. He takes another step forward, approaching you slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal he’s afraid will run away.

He stops when he’s close enough to touch you, but he doesn’t. He holds out the cup of tea, the steam wafting up in front of you. “It’s your favourite,” he mutters, his voice apologetic and tentative.

Your shoulders relax slightly, and he can see the tension in your face ease a bit. You still don’t turn to face him, but you reach out to take the cup from his hand, and he considers that a victory.

He stands there silently for a moment, watching as you bring the cup to your lips and take a small sip. He wants to say something, anything, to break the silence between you. But he doesn’t know what to say.

The silence stretches on, and he shifts awkwardly on his feet. He’s not used to feeling this unsure around you. Around anyone, really. But you’re not just anyone. You’re you, and he cares about you more than he wants to admit.

“... Why was the place really trashed?” You question, breaking the silence for him. Your voice didn’t hold any accusations, just simply curious. You know that he hadn’t really held any gathering. He barely tolerates when the neighbours get too close to the front door, Jason was fiercely protective of his personal space, and you couldn't imagine him willingly inviting strangers into the sanctity of his home.

Jason hesitates for a moment, his mind racing for a plausible excuse. He could tell you that it was just a rowdy party, and that he’d underestimated how much damage the guests could do.

Instead, he opts for the truth. “I was... looking for something,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Bruce had gone against their deal. Planting cameras in areas other than your bedroom. He had planned to sort it out before you had arrived, but you had come home earlier than he had anticipated.

He watches as you turn to face him, your face a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Your eyes narrow at his answer, and he knows you could see right through him. You were too damn smart for your own good.

Jason holds your gaze, his eyes silently pleading with you to accept his answer and drop the subject. But he should know by now that you were relentless, unwilling to let anything go without a thorough explanation.

You raise a brow, your serious expression cracking, a fit of giggles escaping past your lips. “No shit.” You nudge his side. “You have a girl over?” You wiggle your eyebrows in teasing question. Immediately assuming he was scrambling around for a condom.

Jason rolls his eyes at your assumption. “No,” he says firmly, a bit too firmly. “It wasn’t anything like that.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face. But underneath the scowl, he’s more than a little embarrassed by your question. Of course, you would assume that the only reason he would trash the apartment was for a quick hookup.

You snort, taking a long sip of the tea and raking your eyes over his form. “Sure, Sure.”

Jason lets out a huff, his scowl deepening. “I’m serious,” he grumbles, his face heating up.

He doesn’t know why he’s so defensive, or why the thought of you thinking he had a girl over bothers him so much. He’s probably had dozens of girls - and guys - in that apartment. Before you moved in. And yet, the idea of you thinking he had a random stranger in the apartment irks him. You’re going to be his younger sibling. You shouldn’t think of him in that way.

You smirk, seeing him get all flustered and defensive. It’s cute, in a way. You’re not used to seeing him like this – he’s usually so aloof, tough, and carefree. But seeing him all red-faced and embarrassed is a rare treat.

You take another sip of your tea, savouring the flavour before speaking again. “You’re acting like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.” You snicker softly.

Jason scowls at your laugh, his face growing even redder. “I’m not!” He protests, his voice raising slightly. “I just-“

He stops himself, realizing he’s only making it worse. He lets out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair again. He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him, like a cat toying with its prey. It bothers him more than he cares to admit.

The older boy bristles at your insistence, his hands gripping your shoulder blades as he guides you back inside. "Get your ass to bed already, kid." He mutters, his voice gruff. "You barely had three hours of sleep earlier."

You let out a small squeak of surprise as he abruptly spins you around, pushing you back into the apartment with a firm grip. He’s being oddly firm and protective, and you can’t help but feel a little rattled by his sudden change in attitude.

Before you can protest, he’s already practically shoving you down the hallway. “Go to bed,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

You open your mouth to protest, mindful of not spilling the tea in your hand. "It's barely eight!" you exclaim, your tone edged with a hint of disbelief.

Jason practically rolls his eyes at your protests. "And?” He counters, his tone unamused. “You need to rest. You’re acting like a damn zombie, kid."

He steers you towards the bedroom door, his grip firm but gentle on your shoulders. “Just go to bed. I’ll clean up the mess and then make dinner, alright?”

You scowl, about to continue your argument but Jason had effectively shut it down by pushing you onto the soft covers. He smoothly takes the cup from your hands, placing it gently on the side table. A huff of annoyance escapes your lips, but the cozy warmth of the bed strangely beckons to you, tempting you to surrender to its comfort.

"...Fine." You concede with a resigned sigh, a small pout on your lips. "But I'm only doing it because I choose to, not because you’re telling me to," you quickly add, your voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Jason snorts, an amused expression taking over his features at your protest. He runs a hand through your hair, mussing it up playfully. “Yeah, sure,” he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

He pulls back from the bed, his hand falling from your hair, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Get some rest," he orders, his tone brokering no room for argument. "I'll wake you up when dinner is ready."

You grumble a bit, pulling the blankets up to your chin and snuggling into the pillows. Despite your protests, the soft bed is too comfortable to resist, and you can already feel your eyelids growing heavy.

"You better not burn the food, or I'll kick your ass," you mutter sleepily, your voice muffled by the thick wooly blankets.

Jason chuckles, a playful smirk on his lips. "Don't worry, I'll give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money."

He lingers by the bed for a moment, his gaze lingering on your form as you snuggle into the blankets, his chest feeling strangely warm at the sight. He shakes his head at the feeling, clearing his throat before speaking again. "Get some rest," he repeats, his tone gentle. "I’ll wake you up later."

He gives you one last look before turning to leave the room. As he walks out, he flicks the lights off to the bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack. He wanted to make sure he could hear you in case you needed anything. He couldn’t risk watching through the cameras, just in case you leave while he’s mid mixing something on the stove and see it.

You respond with a faint hum, already starting to drift off to sleep, the plush bed pulling you into the realms of unconsciousness.

As Jason leaves the room, he can faintly hear your soft, steady breathing, a small sign that you’re drifting off to sleep. He stands in the hallway for a moment, listening to the quiet sighs and puffs of breath that escape past your lips.

After a few moments, he finally turns and heads into the kitchen to start dinner. He mentally goes over the plan, planning to call Alfred to get him to talk Jason through the steps to make a simple noodle dish that he knows you’ll like.

He sighs, shifting through the cupboards for what he’s looking for.

Once he’s prepared, Jason stands in the dimly lit kitchen, a small bowl of ingredients and utensils laid out in front of him. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he reaches the one he was looking for: Alfred Pennyworth.

Before he can hit the call button, Jason hesitates for a moment. Asking Alfred for help wasn’t something he did often, he liked to be a self-sufficient person who could handle things on his own. But this was for you, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t mess it up.

He takes a deep breath and reluctantly hits the call button.

After an excruciatingly long phone call with Alfred, Jason manages to get the instructions he needs to follow to make a simple yet delicious pasta dish. He’d had to endure a few cheeky quips from the older man, who couldn’t help but rib him for asking for help with something as simple as cooking.

Jason places the two plates on the table, a small grimace on his face as he glances at the food. It doesn't look quite like the mouthwatering photo from the restaurant's website that Alfred had shared, but oddly enough, it still looks appetizing. If anything, it’s edible. And he can handle a quip or two from you if it really is that bad.

With a huff, Jason makes his way back to the bedroom, a hand firmly on the handle of the door as he enters. He finds you snuggled up in your bed, fast asleep, the blankets tucked up to your chin. He can’t help the affectionate smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, a small, fluttery feeling in his chest. He’s never really had anyone he’s felt this protective of, not even his other siblings. And seeing you so defenceless in bed brings out all sorts of strange feelings.

He approaches quietly, gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed. His deep grey eyes study you for a moment, listening to the soft, steady breaths leaving your parted lips. You look so damn peaceful, so damn vulnerable, and it’d be so easy for him to reach over and touch you. Brush some of the hair away from your face, or trace the arch of your brow with his finger.

Jason sighed, poking your cheek softly. Your skin squishing under his calloused finger. You had always looked so fragile in your sleep. Something the family was fond of watching through the cameras, your defencelessness just fuelling their obsession. He’ll have to adjust the dosage of the drug he slipped in your tea. They just couldn’t risk you staying up all night again. You needed rest, and the thought of you accidentally running into him in his vigilante suit gave him a headache.

He had been careful not to give you too much yet, needing you at least conscious for dinner, but he had made sure to administer enough to keep you in a state of drowsiness and mild disorientation. Making sure you would stay tired enough to slip right back into bed after eating.

He pokes your cheek again, a little harder this time. "Wake up, shithead," he mutters, his voice gruff. "You've gotta eat something."

You stir slightly at his touch, a small groaning noise escaping past your lips as you slowly start to wake up. Your eyes flutter open sluggishly, still heavy with sleep and your vision slightly dazed and unfocused.

You blink a few times, trying to clear the fuzziness from your mind. You feel groggy and disoriented, your brain still in a state of haze as you try to wake yourself up enough to sit up. But it’s hard, your body feels sluggish and heavy, and the room seems to be spinning slightly.

Despite the drowsiness, you managed to muster up a weak glare and toss it at Jason, silently expressing your annoyance at being torn away from the peaceful moment of tranquility which was your sleep.

The older boy grins at your weak glare, completely unfazed by your attempted display of annoyance. "Don't give me that look, kid. You gotta eat if you wanna stay healthy."

He pokes your cheek again, his touch light but insistent. "You can go back to sleep after you eat. I made you dinner."

You grumble something unintelligible under your breath, shifting in the bed as you try to sit up. It's a struggle, your body feeling heavy and clumsy, but you manage to force yourself into a sitting position. You give Jason another half-hearted glare, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"Why do I have to eat now? I'm not even hungry," you complain, your voice thick with sleep.

Jason chuckles at your protest, his tone tinged with amusement. "You're not hungry now, but you'll be starving again in a few hours. And I'm not about to deal with a grumpy, hangry kid while I'm trying to watch a movie." You pout at his words.

He reaches forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the bed, practically forcing you to move. "Come on, up. You're eating, even if I have to stuff it down your throat like a little birdie."

You grimace at the thought. “Gross, dude.”

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

I tried to make the difference between what everyone calls you obvious — in Dick’s perspective you’re his baby bird, to Tim you’re his little bat, but that’s used in a more literal sense as you’re shorter than him, to finally Jason calling you kid.

All comments, asks, and reblogs are really appreciated! Please comment if you’d like to be tagged.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Accidentally On Purpose

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !non-athletic fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: was it really an accident ....

Alright the one shot as promised! I hope you all enjoy it!

For the past two years, Paige and I had been quietly building a life together while keeping it low-key on social media. It wasn’t that we were hiding; we just preferred to let people wonder. The occasional soft launch—her hoodie on me in an Instagram story, my hand visible in her post-game meal pic—had fueled plenty of speculation, but we never confirmed anything.

But this past week changed things.

Paige had sprained her knee during the January 5th game. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but her coach had benched her and banned her from practices to ensure she healed fully. That left her with more free time than either of us were used to, and she spent most of it at my apartment, lazing on the couch with her leg propped up.

“Coach is going to regret this,” she joked one evening as we watched a movie. “I’m getting too used to being pampered by you.”

��Pampered?” I snorted, handing her a cup of tea. “You’ve been milking this injury for all it’s worth.”

“And you love it,” she said smugly, taking the mug and flashing me a grin.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Having her around more often was nice, even if it meant dealing with her teasing 24/7.

By the time January 15th rolled around, Paige was cleared to play in the UConn vs. St. John’s game. She was practically bouncing with excitement, even as I made her promise to take it easy.

“I’m not going to push it,” she assured me, pulling me into a quick hug before heading to campus. “But I’m not sitting out any longer than I have to.”

“Just don’t forget who made your recovery bearable,” I teased, poking her side.

“How could I forget? You’re my favorite nurse,” she said with a wink before disappearing out the door.

That evening, I watched from the stands as Paige played like she’d never been injured. She wasn’t at 100%, but her movements were sharp, her energy infectious. UConn won, of course, 71-45 to be exact and I cheered louder than anyone else as she jogged off the court with her teammates.

After the game, I was scrolling through my photo gallery, deciding what to post. It had been a while since I’d done a photo dump, and I had plenty of new material: blurry candids of Paige from the past week, a shot of my coffee from earlier, and a cute mirror selfie I’d taken that morning.

As I uploaded the photos to Instagram, I included one of Paige and me kissing—something I’d meant to keep private. I was too distracted tagging locations and adding captions to notice until it was too late.

When I refreshed the post, my heart dropped. There it was: a clear shot of Paige holding my face as she kissed me, her other hand resting on my waist. And the kicker? I’d tagged her.

“Crap,” I muttered, staring at my phone in horror.

The comments were already rolling in:

@uconnfan23: OMG WAIT IS THIS REAL??

@basketballbae: so y’all really been soft launching for TWO YEARS??

@team_pucker: someone call TMZ 😭

@kamoreaarnold: I see we got the @trufur run in here

Paige’s name popped up in my notifications seconds later.

@paigebueckers: Are you serious right now??

I groaned, typing out a quick reply.

@yourusername: It was an accident! Calm down 😩

Her response was immediate.

@paigebueckers: Accident my ass. You’ve been plotting this.

@yourusername: Oh, because I’m the one who’s been hinting for two years? Sure, Paige.

@paigebueckers: Don’t deflect! This is a hard launch! A HARD LAUNCH!!

The back-and-forth continued, drawing more attention to the post. Fans and friends chimed in, most of them thrilled by the revelation.

@azzi35: Finally, geez. We’ve all known.

@williamskayla_: Y’all arguing in the comments is the real entertainment here.

@janaelalfy8: @paigebueckers we all knew this would happen someday. You’re just mad you didn’t get to plan it.

By the time I put my phone down, the post had thousands of likes and hundreds of comments. I was half expecting Paige to storm into my apartment, but instead, she called.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice somewhere between exasperated and amused.

“Dead serious,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Look, I didn’t mean to post it, but...is it really that bad?”

She sighed dramatically. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just...sudden. We’ve been low-key for so long.”

“Too long,” I pointed out. “And the reaction’s been good so far.”

“I guess,” she said, the smile in her voice now evident. “But if anyone asks, I’m telling them you planned this.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing.

By the next morning, the post had gone viral, with news outlets and fan accounts picking it up. Paige leaned into it, sharing the post to her story with the caption:

"Well, the cat’s out of the bag. @yourusername, you’re lucky I love you."

I reshared her story with my own caption:

"Love you too, drama queen 💕."

From that moment on, there were no more soft launches—just the two of us, unapologetically in love and finally out in the open. And honestly? It felt perfect.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[imjustasugablob]

Feel Me Up pt. 2

trainer! leon x trainee! female! reader

part 1

tags: piv, penetration, teasing, spanking, dick riding, agegap(implied), slight degradation but reader is a smartass back

You lay in bed, staring at the dark outline of the dangling ceiling lamp. The soft snoring of your bunkmate acted as white noise, but you still couldn't sleep.

Did I really just try to hook up with Leon? And then walk away?

You could hardly believe what happened wasn't just a wet dream. Even in a dream you couldn't imagine walking away from that position. But when it came to Leon you acted almost on autopilot, making snarky remarks in response to his questions, trying your best to piss him off, just as he did to you.

You didn't really know why you did it. Maybe to show him that you weren't as weak as he thought. But tonight must have really proved that you could match him.

You got out of bed, grabbing a jacket and tying up your shoes. You realised your hands shook a little.

Fuck, there's no way I'm getting any sleep tonight.

Might as well take a walk.

You weren't going to find him, just going on a simple walk to ease your nerves.

Right?

Then why are my hands shaking?

As you made your way to the yard behind the dorm building, you came across the rooms reserved for senior officials of the government posted here. You didn't know how, but you did end up in front of Leon's private chambers, staring at the engraved nameplate fitted into the mahogany door. A faint light could be seen peeking from under the door, spilling out onto the hallway. You simply stood there, thinking back to the day you first met him, all the way to earlier tonight. How you'd always found him attractive, but it seemed simply improper to think those thoughts, so you buried them away.

Suddenly, you heard a click in the doorknob.

Shit, is he coming out?

You tried to hurry away but your shoes seemed to be welded to the floor beneath you. Like a deer in headlights, you froze in place as the door swung wide open.

Leon, seemingly surprised by your appearance, stood completely still at the threshold. Your eyes took a second to get used to the light coming from inside his room, but the first thing you noticed was that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Oh, God.

It wasn't the first time you were seeing him like this. After all, it wasn't uncommon for the men you trained with to ditch their shirts halfway through practice, drenched in sweat. But it was different that time. It would have been weird to ogle at him as he explained to you the basics of striking technique, although some of the girls didn't seem to think that it was unprofessional to eyefuck him in broad daylight.

No, it wasn't like this.

Right now, he looked vulnerable. His hair was disheveled, bags drooping under his eyes. He straightened his slumped shoulders, blinking the strain out of his eyes, as if he thought you were a hallucination.

Everything about him looked softer now. Except for his eyes.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but looking into the cerulean depths, you could imagine it to be the violent sea crashing against the cliffside with enough force to cut through the ancient rock.

You cleared your throat, having lost all the earlier ferocity with which you had taken control over the older man. "Uhm. H-hey."

He didn't respond, but continued to take you in with his eyes. The tension still lingered, draped over you like a weighted blanket, making it hard to breathe correctly.

"You should go." Leon finally replied after what seemed like ages. His voice sounded gravelly, deeper. His tone was devoid of any emotion, not even a hint or acknowledgement towards what had happened between you two.

"Yeah, I was just- yeah. Okay.", you said as you turned away from his body, slowly yanking your eyes from him, with great difficulty.

You walked slowly, maybe a couple metres, before realising that he hadn't shut his door.

Why isn't he going back?

You paused, not knowing whether you should turn around or not. Was he waiting for you to?

In a split second, a thousand thoughts seemed to be rushing through your mind. Leon consumed all of them. The way his hand felt in yours, his calloused fingers leaving marks in the dip of your waist. How beautiful he was.

Was it even a question?

You slowly looked over your shoulder to find Leon leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, like he just knew that you were gonna go back to him.

Like his fucking lap dog.

However casual his pose was, his eyes gave away how he really felt, as they darkened on seeing the desire in your own.

In just two steps you crossed over to where he was, and he closed the gap between you instantly, pulling you into a deep kiss, your chest flush against his. It felt like you were continuing from right where you left off.

Leon pulled you into his cabin, shutting the door behind him and pinning you against the wall without breaking the kiss. His tongue flicked across your bottom lip, and you parted your lips as he began to explore the inside of your mouth.

"You're not going anywhere now, darling", he said as he reached behind you to lock the door. The word didn't feel endearing, but rather a taunt, inviting you to retaliate.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, causing him to groan into your mouth. "Don't get too cocky now, Kennedy."

A rookie referring to a senior agent like that was bold. Not bolder than having sex with your direct superior, though, you thought as you felt his boner pressing up against your thigh.

He chuckled softly. "Oh, you just have to run that pretty little mouth of yours, don't ya?"

"I think it's high time you stop taking it and show me how it makes you feel", you said.

You broke free from his arms and made your way to his bed. Taking off your shirt, and then your pants as you faced away from him, making sure to give him a great view of your ass.

You heard his low growl, which made the hair on your neck rise.

You felt him approach you from behind before he pushed you into the mattress, landing with your ass up, directly facing him. Before you could get a word out, a hard slap landed on your ass, stinging as he kneaded the soft flesh.

"How it makes me feel? It makes me wanna fuck that dirty mouth of yours till you can't say shit no more."

Another slap resounded in the room, making you moan out loud this time.

"Oh you like that, don't you? You want me to treat you like the little whore you are, hmm?"

You had never really been into degradation before.

I guess this is one way of finding out.

Leon pulled aside your panties as he ran his fingers over your slit, covered in arousal.

"Already so wet for me. You shouldn't have left earlier baby, I would have taken care of your little problem."

He slowly made his way to your clit, rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves, making you grasp at the sheets, desperate for release. God, you were so pent up.

"I need you...", you managed to croak out between laboured breaths.

"Then say it." Leon increased the speed of his fingers on your clitoris now, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He slapped your sensitive bundle, not hard but enough to make you see stars.

"Leon, I need you inside me! I want your dick, please let me-" you choked up as your orgasm washed over you that very instant, making you writhe in pleasure as he brought you down from your high.

"That fast? Fucking hell." Leon felt the blood rush straight down as he looked at you completely fucked out from just his fingers. You could be as defiant and bratty as you wanted when it came to talk, but the way his fingers seemed to know every inch of you made you completely helpless in front of him, reduced to a blabbering, pleading mess.

Leon flipped over your body, climbing on top of you as he kissed you once more, now with a sense of impatience and desperation. Your little show had affected him much more than he was letting on, and he'd be damned if his dick wasn't inside you as soon as possible.

You tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, encouraging him to take them off. In the dim light, you could see him rummaging around for a condom in his bedside drawer before hearing the sound of ripping foil.

He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing his tip back and forth over your slit as his unintelligible murmurs against your ears sent you in a trance, repeating his name over and over like a mantra as he pushed inside. It was definitely a stretch, added to the fact that it had been long since you found yourself in bed with someone.

You gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation. You could feel the throbbing vein on his cock against your velvety walls, making your toes curl in pure, unadulterated pleasure. Leon pulled out completely, leaving you whining. He was teasing the hell out of you, which couldn't have been easy for him, either.

A wave of anger rose at this thought, how he would deny himself pleasure just to see you suffer. You suddenly sat up and climbed onto his lap, positioning his cock just right, and sank down on him all the way to the hilt.

Leon moaned out loud at the unexpected feeling. Your walls clenched around his length, like a prison he never wanted to leave. Grabbing his shoulders, you began rocking your hips up and down, not breaking eye contact.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good at this."

You might have blushed if it was coming from someone else. Who were you kidding, you would never have dared to act this ambitious had it been someone else. But Leon was different. You didn't have to think when it came to him. All you wanted was to make him feel good. To hear that sweet, sweet praise from his mouth, that he had denied you all those weeks at training.

Leon grabbed your hips and pulled them inwards, changing the angle and hitting your G spot. He began meeting your hips with his own, thrusting upwards, drilling even deeper into your pussy. You were on the verge again.

"Come on, baby, come for me. Come all over my dick," Leon said as his thrusts began to grow sloppier.

His dirty words did the job of sending you over the edge, the burning knot in your stomach coming undone at his request. He wasn't far behind, fucking you through your orgasm as he reached his own, whispering your name the whole while.

Your breathing slowly returned to normal as you continued to hold on to him, feeling him going soft inside you.

"God, that was good," you said.

"Training's in an hour, princess. There's still time for some extra lessons, don't you think?"

tw: LONG authors note rambling ahead

thank bloody HEAVENS this is over. I mulled over a completely written out story, decided it's trash, erased it all instead of writing a new draft and wrote something EVEN WORSE. I'm not satisfied by how this turned out at all, but honestly I had to rush it cause I'm going through some personal (DINO) crises. Also can y'all tell I've never had sex before 💀 I really wanted to include oral but I ran out of time and mental energy. I'll write it in some other fic and make it actually good this time. Thank you for reading my story nevertheless and a comment really means the world to me, i really appreciate all the love and support I got on the first part. I never thought I'd get a 100 likes on the first ever work i publish and I'm sorry for this one being a disappointment. I probably won't be writing again for a long time cause I have a really big paper due after the holidays but oh well I wrote the first part in an hour the DAY OF a big submission so we'll see. Thank you once again, and happy holidays!

xoxo

BLOB

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 8.

viktorxfemale!reader explict! (we got there)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: ok, I'm covering my eyes while I drop this. I'm sorry for making Viktor such a drunk fuck. Also tw: alcohol and drunken groping with consent.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

You sat in the library; the complete silence, save for the rustling of papers around you, made your head pound with your own blood pressure. The stacks of books and papers in front of you felt heavier than usual. Your eyes kept drifting to the sheet of notes Viktor had given you—notes for the classes you had missed while you were sick. You hadn’t been able to focus much earlier, and now, even though the words were neatly typed and clear, your mind kept coming back to the small annotations Viktor had written in the margins. His handwriting was precise, almost mechanical in its neatness, but there was something about the way he added little reminders or tips for you that made your heart skip a beat.

“Don’t overthink this part—just get to the point.”

You read it again, your finger tracing the lines, a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Typical Viktor, trying to simplify the most complicated concepts. You imagined him sitting at his desk, brows furrowed in concentration as he wrote those words. You even found yourself wondering if he’d been thinking about you when he wrote them—if he had anticipated you being confused or struggling with the material.

The thought caught you off guard.

You shifted in your seat, trying to shove the feeling down. Stop it, you told yourself. Focus on the work. No distractions.

But it was hard. The more you tried to ignore it, the more vivid the memory of Viktor’s teasing smirk and his quiet intensity became.

You’ve been thinking about him too much, you told yourself, rubbing your eyes as if the physical motion could shake the thoughts loose.

Your gaze flicked back to his notes, and something in your chest tightened again. You should’ve been mad at him for being so distant, so... cryptic. It was easier to be angry, but the more you thought about him, the more complicated things became. The frustration of his mixed signals—the way he acted like he didn’t care, even though you could tell that there was something more beneath the surface. Or you had made it up. Or not. The way you fought each other for control was… annoying, at best.

Your finger paused mid-air, hovering over another annotation. “You’re doing fine. Trust yourself.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear them. There it was again—the subtle way Viktor pushed you to believe in yourself, even when he barely acknowledged you beyond your academic interactions.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes, trying to push the confusing swirl of emotions away. It’s just a stupid crush, you told yourself. It doesn’t mean anything.

But then a thought popped into your head—one you would never say out loud, but it made your lips twitch. “If you’re ever feeling lost, Viktor, just look at your own notes. They’re like a secret map to your soul.”

You laughed quietly to yourself, imagining his dry, deadpan response. “I’d rather get lost, honestly.”

The sound of your own laughter felt strange, almost foreign. You hadn’t allowed yourself to be this relaxed in a while, not with Viktor constantly invading your thoughts, making you second-guess everything you thought you knew. You could picture him standing in front of you with that smug grin, the way his voice would carry a teasing tone. You could almost hear it now—the way his eyes would narrow in mock annoyance, pretending to be unaffected by your joke.

The brief moment of humour quickly faded, replaced by a familiar ache in your chest.

God, I’m such an idiot. You clutched the notes tighter, but the thought wouldn’t leave. What if he actually is a secret softie? What if he’s not as distant as he pretends to be?

Your breath caught at the realisation. You were in deeper than you’d ever wanted to admit. But the idea of confronting it—of facing whatever was brewing between you—felt overwhelming. You didn’t know if you were ready to open yourself up to someone like Viktor.

You don’t even know what he wants from you, you reminded yourself. And you definitely don’t know what you want from him.

But somehow, the more you thought about it, the more you realised you did know. You wanted something real. You wanted more than whatever it was that passed between you—the teasing, the tension, the moments of quiet connection that always seemed to slip away too fast.

But Viktor? He wasn’t the kind of guy who did anything real, was he?

You shook your head, trying to clear the mess of thoughts swirling around. You needed to get a grip. You couldn’t afford to get lost in whatever this was. Not now.

But as you reached for the next page of notes, you found yourself wondering, with a small, reluctant smile, what it would be like to get lost in Viktor after all.

You closed your books with a sharp snap, taking a deep breath as you stood from the library table. Your mind was a tangled mess of notes, formulas, and Viktor’s handwriting, and you needed a moment to clear your head.

Just as you were about to step out into the corridor, a flash of movement caught your eye. Viktor and Jayce were leaving the building, walking side by side, their heads tilted together in what seemed like an animated conversation.

You froze.

Your heart skipped a beat, but it wasn’t excitement—or perhaps it was, the kind of excitement immediately tempered by fear. Viktor’s familiar figure cut through the dim evening light, and for a split second, all you could do was stand there, rooted to the spot.

But then, before you could even process it fully, you spun on your heel and ducked back inside the room, retreating into the shadows of the library. You didn’t want to see them. You didn’t want to deal with that knot in your stomach, the one that seemed to tighten every time Viktor came too close. You needed to focus. You had work to do in the lab, notes to catch up on, and you couldn’t afford to get tangled up in whatever... this was.

***

Viktor felt the effects of the alcohol settling in his veins as he stepped outside the pub with Jayce, the cool night air cutting through the haze of tipsiness creeping in. He’d been enjoying the conversation, savouring the camaraderie and the easy flow of ideas. Jayce’s energy had a way of drawing him out, pushing his thoughts into unexpected places, and Viktor appreciated the stimulating nature of their late-night discussions.

“So, you think we’re really on track to finish our little side thing by the end of the next semester?” Jayce asked, slinging an arm over Viktor’s shoulder in a way that was both familiar and mildly irritating.

Viktor grinned, brushing away the alcohol-induced warmth clouding his thoughts. “I’m absolutely certain. We’ve already made significant progress, and the pace we’re setting is impressive.” He paused, squinting as the streetlights flickered overhead. “But I have to admit, I’m too drunk to keep up this stimulating conversation. I think it’s time I bow out gracefully.”

Jayce chuckled, nudging him playfully. “Don’t worry, man. You’ve earned a break. You can retire for the night, and Mel and I will take it from here. You’re not sticking around for the after-party?”

Viktor glanced at Jayce, catching the way his friend’s face lit up at the mention of Mel. A teasing smirk tugged at Viktor’s lips. “You two are practically attached at the hip tonight. If I stayed, I’d just be interrupting something. Besides, it’s been a long day—I’ll call it a night.”

Jayce laughed, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Go sneak off to your secret lair, then.”

“Whatever you say, Jayce,” Viktor replied, his tone light but with a faint edge that didn’t quite match the usual banter. As much as he enjoyed Jayce’s company, there were moments when retreating felt like a necessity—tonight was one of those moments.

He stepped back, nodding to his friend. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll be heading back to my room.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “No mysterious rendezvous tonight?”

Viktor hesitated, the question lingering in the air. For a moment, he considered coming clean—acknowledging what had been weighing on him. But instead, he gave a nonchalant shrug, masking the flicker of unease.

“I think I’ve had enough socializing for one night,” he replied, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of ambiguity.

With that, he turned and began walking away, leaving Jayce and Mel behind. The cool air felt sharper now, and Viktor found himself taking a longer route back, weaving through the quieter parts of the campus. On a whim—or perhaps out of habit—he let his feet carry him toward the science lab.

As he passed through the corridor, his eyes caught a glimpse of movement. You were there, slinging a bag over your shoulder, the edges stuffed with notes spilling out. You looked like you were wrapping up your study session for the evening.

“And what is a pretty girl such as yourself doing here all alone at this hour?” Viktor’s attempt at charm came out more slurred than he had intended, but he smiled to himself when he saw your startled expression.

“Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack!” you whisper-shouted at him, clutching your fist to your chest. “I was studying. What the hell are you doing here?”

Before you could measure your reaction, your feet carried you closer to Viktor of their own accord. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes. “Ah. Celebrating?”

But Viktor didn’t respond. He simply looked at you, his eyes molten yet sharp, as if he were still trying to calculate something. You were about to ask him again but didn’t get the chance, as his lips landed on yours. You could taste the alcohol and cigarettes on his tongue, his skin cold from the night air—a stark contrast to the burning heat of his mouth.

Despite his coordination being compromised, he grabbed the bag slipping off your shoulder and swung it over his, then walked you both toward the lab you had just left, never breaking the kiss.

Once inside, he dropped the bag and his cane on the floor, cupped your face, and pushed his mouth deeper into yours. You pulled his shirt free from his pants and instinctively slid your hands underneath it, to splay them flat against his stomach. He flinched at the sudden warmth of your touch, a groan escaping him as a sharp pang of lust twisted low in his belly.

“Careful there,” he breathed against your lips, his voice rough. He could feel the blood travelling down his body, as his pants became tighter.

“Or what?” you teased, your tone playful as you tilted your head back against the door, granting him full access.

A shiver coursed through you as Viktor’s hand gripped your ribcage, his touch sparking a memory of your other night together. But this time, it wasn’t gentle or cautious—this time, his touch was filled with raw want and need, clumsy from the drinks he had poured into himself in wistful celebration.

“Or this,” he smirked, and the next thing you could feel were teeth clenching on the tendon of your neck, a bite painful enough to make you squirm and send a current of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

“Fuck you,” you breathed, tugging his head back by his hair. He met your gaze with a playful glint in his eye, his words slurring slightly as he threw the challenge back at you. “Fuck me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you didn’t reply. Your thoughts tore through you, scrambling to decide if it would be a wise choice. As if reading your mind, Viktor leaned back into you, his forehead resting against yours. He nipped at your lower lip, his voice a low whisper against your mouth. “I know you want to.”

“You’re drunk,” you said weakly, as if trying to convince yourself. Viktor didn’t listen. He drew breath after breath from you, his hands roaming your body with a dull pressure, leaving a burning sensation everywhere they touched.

“Did you touch yourself thinking about me when I came over?” he rasped into your ear, making you stiffen. “I do,” he added with a smug smile you could feel blooming against your lips. Your gasp was swallowed into another greedy kiss. When the kiss broke, it was only so Viktor could continue murmuring his sweet nothings.

“Whenever I touch myself, I think of you.” It was barely a whisper, but it rang in your head like a bell.

“I think of your bare thighs under my hands that night,” his voice sultry, as he gripped your thighs and slid his hands upward toward your ass. “I think of your sweet moans,” he murmured, capturing your lips in another kiss. “I imagine it’s your sweet mouth around my cock, when I come into my hand, thinking of you.”

You only gasped again, the obscenity of his words making your core clenching on nothing. Viktor walked you toward the nearest workbench, beckoning you to sit on top, as he pressed his hands on your thighs, rubbing them up and down.

He then undid his belt clumsily, his trousers sliding down under the weight of all the items he had stuffed in his pockets, to reveal his cock, still straining against confines of his underwear, sogged embarrassingly in precum and sweat. You gaped at him, completely transfixed with the raw want he had for you.

His hands shot back to your neck to pull you in for a colliding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, your teeth clacking against each other, as he rubbed himself against your thigh, the wetness of his boxers soaking into your pants. “Please, touch me,” he pleaded pathetically, as if mocking your uncertainty.

It had struck you, how Viktor being such a hot mess somehow still remained the one in control. Your hand travelled to grab his cock through the material of his underwear and give it a painfully slow stroke. Viktor’s body almost bent in half pulling you down with him, as he gave you the most vulgar sounding whimper you had heard in your life, “Yes, fuck.”

Holding your neck with one hand, he snaked the other under the waistband of your pants only to gasp in awe. “Oh, do you enjoy having me all hot and bothered over you? It seems like you do.” You were so wet he had to spread your slick with a flat palm all over your inner thighs and pubic bone to be able to work his fingers with precision. And despite his current state, the dedication to the task was admirable.

You moaned into his mouth as his fingers worked you, your grip on his cock tightening and Viktor just wouldn’t shut up. “Do you like how much I want you?” he breathed against your neck, his length twitching under your fingers. You clasped your hand to your mouth, suddenly very aware that you were in a public space and if the two of you could be here, anyone could walk past and hear whatever was happening on the other side of the door.

It had earned you a scold, when Viktor pulled your palm away from your lips and kissed you greedily, whispering in to your mouth, “Don’t you dare.” He retreated his other hand from between your legs and you whined at the loss of his touch.

“Oh, no need to be sad,” he cooed mockingly, as he grabbed your bum to pull you closer and rub his aching cock against your core. You shuddered, but obliged, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders.

“Hmm,” Viktor muttered, pressing his face into yours like a huge cat. “Please, fuck me now, I can’t bear it.” Another mockery of affection surged through you, dressed in his lustful voice, framed by his glassy eyes, his eyelashes tickling your cheek. His hands, so grabby, so needy, groped you, kneaded your flesh, his desire on full display, burning with alcohol travelling through his blood stream.

Stripped of his defences, Viktor was ready to whisper any filth into your ears, only to have what he wanted. And yet, even though the touch of his hands burned through your clothes, even though the emptiness between your legs was painful and his hair smelled so nice, you managed to gather all your strength and say, "As much as I’m enjoying this... ah!" You gasped as he bit your neck again. "I think... you're too drunk, Viktor." The last attempt at evening out the ground was met with a chuckle.

"Ah, that's alright," he said sweetly, pushing his thumb into your mouth. "I'm better in a casual setting anyway."

You stiffened, your body going rigid at his words. What? You pulled back slightly, confusion and irritation flooding your chest. You glanced at him, your brow furrowing as you met his dazed eyes. Viktor, still too drunk to realize the weight of his words, tried to cling back to you, his hands seeking your body once more.

He murmured your name, his voice thick with alcohol. But you pushed him away, your breath catching as the reality of the situation hit you.

“No,” you snapped, your anger flaring. “What the hell does that mean? Casual? When did I give you the impression that I wanted something casual with you, Viktor?” Your voice was low but edged with fury, a tremor of disbelief beneath the surface.

Viktor froze, his expression faltering, confusion clouding his mind as he tried to piece together what you were saying. "I—" He cleared his throat, trying to find his words, but they felt like they were slipping away from him. "You’ve been avoiding me," he muttered, trying to hold onto something that made sense, pulling his trousers up in embarrassment.

“Because you are all over the fucking place!” you shot back, your voice trembling with frustration. “You keep dropping these half-confessions, these hints that don’t mean anything, and it’s like I’m supposed to just figure out what the hell you want. It’s not… fair, Viktor.”

Viktor’s chest tightened, panic creeping in as he watched you, unsure how to fix the mess he’d created. His breath came shallow, his hands trembling. “Listen, that’s not—” He swallowed hard, trying to grasp his thoughts, but they were all tangled. “I didn’t mean to... I’m not—”

You shook your head, your lips curling in disgust. “You’re not what? Honest? Open?” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head again. “You’ve been playing me, Viktor. All these little games, these words, and I don’t even know what’s the prize, what is it that thing you are trying to win.” Your voice cracked on the last sentence, the anger giving way to hurt.

Viktor’s heart pounded in his chest as his panic heightened. “I—hey, I didn’t want to hurt you. I... I’ve been trying, I just... I can’t—” His words were a mess, his mind too foggy to communicate what he truly felt.

Sliding off the workbench, your face hardened with determination. “Get a grip, Viktor. Drunken slut doesn’t become you.” The words hit him like a slap, sharp and final, and you didn’t even wait for his response. Grabbing your bag, you slung it over your shoulder before turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

Viktor watched you, rooted to the spot, his chest aching with the weight of everything he’d failed to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stuck, lost somewhere deep in his throat. By the time he found the strength to call your name, you were already gone.

***

“Please get dressed,” Sue’s voice came muffled through all the blankets you were shielding yourself with. The party was the last thing you needed right now.

“No.”

“Please get dressed!” Sue tugged on the blankets but to no avail. She sighed heavily, as if bracing herself for something, then said, “You made me do this. I had to call for backup.”

“Darling,” you heard Hale’s voice and felt a hand being placed firmly on your back, which was wrapped in, give or take, four layers of blankets and clothing. “It’s for your own good.”

You groaned into the pile of blankets, curling tighter into yourself. “Please, go away.”

Sue wasn’t having it. She pulled at the blankets again, her voice an annoying mix of determination and playfulness. “Nope. You’re going. It’s a Halloween party, and you’re dressing up. I won’t take no for an answer.”

You muffled a sigh. “It’s a month after Halloween. What’s the point now?”

“You’re right, but Mel decided we couldn’t let the season go to waste. We’re fixing this mistake,” Sue said, her voice light with excitement. “And if you won’t go, I’m calling more backup.”

That was when Hale’s voice chimed in, smooth and amused. “Darling, you’ll thank me for this later.” You felt Hale’s firm hand press against your back, pushing through the layers of blankets. “It’s for your own good.”

Your tired groan was muffled by the blankets. “I don’t need any good, I need sleep.”

Sue leaned in, her tone softening a little. “You can’t just hide away. You deserve better than this. He’s a jerk, and you know it.”

You hesitated, but Hale’s voice broke through your thoughts. “It’s not about him anymore. It’s about you. Show him how insignificant he is. The show must go on.”

You frowned, burying your face in the soft warmth of the blankets. “I don’t want to, I just…” You trailed off, feeling the weight of everything that had happened. You hadn’t told them yet what had actually happened between you and Viktor—you couldn’t bring yourself to. It was too much. You didn’t want to hear what Hale would say if he knew.

Hale’s expression softened slightly as he sat beside you, his voice more serious now. “Do you remember what I told you? You are a king, and you don’t bow to anyone. Not to him, not to anyone.”

You remained still for a long moment, feeling the soft weight of Hale’s words settle on you. Slowly, you rolled over, sighing dramatically. “Fine. But I can leave at any time I want to.”

Hale grinned, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed. “Oh, I’ll make sure you won’t want to leave.”

Sue and Hale took the opportunity to help you get dressed, turning it into a mini celebration of the ridiculousness that was their last-minute Halloween plans. You had the red fluffy tulle dress from the theatre department that Hale had snatched for you, one that made you look like you’d stepped straight out of a dream. You were going as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz on their wedding night, a perfect match of eerie elegance and chaotic energy. Sue found it hilarious to go as a Sandworm.

As they worked on your makeup and hair, you finally took a deep breath, ready to push aside the weight of the past few days. You weren’t doing this for Viktor, but for yourself. The night was yours to own.

You gave each other a once-over: Sue looked ridiculous in her striped onesie with a foam sandworm hat on her head, but she clearly loved it. Hale was a completely pimped-up and glamoured version of Beetlejuice. And you? You looked like a beautiful, cursed ballerina. Perfect. After taking one last selfie together, the three of you marched toward the theatre halls.

It was the most impromptu party you’d ever seen, but somehow Mel made it work. The catchphrase was We’ve got a Halloween party at home, which played perfectly with the mix of decorations from all seasons: sheet ghosts wearing flower crowns, bats cut out from pink glittery plastic sheets, and, instead of cobwebs, toilet paper scattered across the ceiling of the very same room where Viktor had kissed you for the first time. Trash Halloween.

Mel caught you immediately and pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in your ear, “I don’t know what this jerk has done, but I stand with you.” Her hug tightened even further as she added, “I’m so, so happy you’ve made it. I haven’t seen you in ages, and you look… fucking amazing.”

“Thanks, Mel,” you laughed despite yourself. “You’re not so bad yourself.” You waggled your eyebrows at her. She was dressed as Mia Wallace, which could only mean Jayce...

"You can tell a lot about a man by the way he carries himself. Style isn’t just about clothes; it’s an attitude,” Jayce tried so hard to make a Vincent Vega impression, he ended up laughing at himself. He hugged you and boomed, “I love your costumes, guys! But… who are you dressed as, sweet Sue?”

“I’m a Sandworm!” Sue squeaked, giving them a little twirl, which made the entire group laugh. Hale hooked his shoulder over yours as he marched you toward the bar, bridal style. You had to flatten your skirts and bend forward to be able to reach the bartender when a familiar voice startled you.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts,” Viktor said, turning toward you in his seat. He was wearing a vintage tweed suit and a pair of thick square glasses.

“Are you… dressed as an old man?” you chuckled reluctantly. “And you know, I thought texting doesn’t exactly align with your whole… casual thing.”

“I’m not just any old man. I am Carl Fredricksen.” Seeing that you didn’t catch the bait, he went straight to the point. “Can we talk?”

“You’re not very good at talking, and I’m here to have a good time,” you said, paying for your drink and getting ready to march off. You were dying to talk to him, to yell at him, slap him, and be all sorts of dramatic about it, but Hale had put so much care into doing your makeup that you didn’t want to ruin it within the first ten minutes of your arrival.

You were about to walk away with grace, but you couldn’t help yourself. “I know damn well you are a sweet old man from Up, and let me tell you, you should be dressed as something far more vile.” Despite the venomous message, your voice was soft, and Viktor smiled weakly.

The music was a mix of musicals, classic pop hits, and songs from films, so the royal couple, Mia Wallace and Vincent Vega, could have their iconic dance. Mel had definitely planned to boost your ego, weaving songs from Hamilton into the playlist so you and Hale could have a repeat of your five minutes of fame.

You got so stupidly drunk, you wouldn’t leave the dance floor, and Hale kept bringing you refills of cocktails you would inevitably spill anyway. He wouldn’t leave your side for a moment that evening and danced with you through every tear and sorrow that showed on your face when you glanced over at the bar toward Viktor. You reached your peak when someone put on a slow song for a change. Casual.

You gave one of your exaggerated performances, the crowd dispersing around you to make more space for the show. You were singing your lungs out, obscene lyrics falling from your lips, all dedicated to the bane of your existence. When the song finished, the only thing you could do was laugh. You laughed at yourself and at the stupidity of the situation—there you were, in the arms of your best friend, serenading the man sitting at the bar in the costume of a romantic old man from an animated film.

Jayce slumped drunkenly next to Viktor, elbowing him as both of their gazes followed you on the dance floor. “What’s going on there?” he asked, his gelled hair falling into his eyes.

“I… have royally fucked up.”

“Are you... telling me you can’t get the girl you want?” Jayce slurred, giving Viktor a sideways glance. He was clearly tipsy but still managing to follow the conversation, sort of.

“Nope. She’s been using her scary dog privilege the entire evening.” Viktor’s voice dropped into a mock whine, looking dramatically toward you and Hale.

“Wait… are you telling me you want the girl?” Jayce squinted, pretending to be deep in thought. “You? Viktor? Want her?” He pointed vaguely in your direction.

“Fuck yes, I want the girl. Look at her,” Viktor gestured wildly, his finger almost hitting a random passerby. “She’s everything.” His eyes were glued to you as you spun across the dance floor. “And the way she laughs... it’s like, it makes me—” Viktor suddenly slapped a hand to his chest, his face contorting. “I can’t even explain it. I am fucked, Jayce.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow, still processing Viktor’s emotional spill. “Shit, man. Do you need anything?”

“Not from you, I don’t,” Viktor laughed bitterly, his slouch deepening as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s fine. I prefer her sober anyway.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You know, it’s just that... when she’s sober, I feel like she might actually like me back. Not... whatever this is.” He gestured to the mess of alcohol in his hand.

“Wait, hold on.” Jayce leaned closer, trying to follow Viktor’s emotional rollercoaster. “You actually want her to like you? Like, for real?”

Viktor sighed, looking like he’d just realised he might be the one on the wrong side of drunk. “Yeah, Jayce. Do you think I was just playing some game? No. This… this was real. But I’ve made such an ass of myself, there’s no way she’d ever—” He stopped himself, as if hearing his own words was sobering him up slightly. “Shit. I am fucked.”

Jayce, now trying not to laugh, leaned back and patted Viktor on the shoulder. “Well, if you ever needed to not fuck something up... now would have been a good time.”

“I know!” Viktor groaned, his hands going up in the air. “But I’ll figure it out. I always do. I just... needed her to see that I wasn’t as bad as I made myself out to be. That I—” Viktor paused, his face lighting up. “I was actually a catch, Jayce.”

Jayce burst into laughter, then immediately sobered up as Viktor gave him a serious look. “What?” he asked between chuckles. “That’s like... the worst plan I’ve heard of.”

Viktor stared at him blankly for a second. “Okay, yeah. Maybe not the best pitch. But she’d get it. Eventually. I just needed to stop being a fuck-up for... like, five minutes.”

“Man, you got a real gift for pushing people away and then wondering why they stayed gone,” Jayce said, grinning widely. He took a swig of his drink.

Viktor glared at him, trying to muster some dignity, but he couldn’t help laughing at his own ridiculousness. “Hey, I was just saying, I could be that guy. For her? I could be... I could be that guy who actually didn’t screw everything up.”

Jayce patted him on the back with exaggerated force, nearly knocking him over. “I am gonna need a drink to survive this,” he muttered, eyes still on you as you twirled again. “So, what was the plan? Were you gonna talk to her after this?”

“If she didn’t kill me, yeah.” Viktor grinned sheepishly.

“Okay, dude, slow down. One step at a time.” Jayce laughed. Viktor laughed as well, and they began a long debate on how he had fucked up, which ended with them telling themselves that they loved each other and a series of exaggerated hugs.

Before Viktor could get to his grand plan, Hale had already carried you over his shoulder safely to your bed, your heels dangling from your hands as you giggled all the way through campus. He put your phone away on your desk so you wouldn’t see Viktor’s new text message.

“I like you.”

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part four

authors note: the love and response to this story continues to absolutely floor me. you guys are all so sweet! i was nervous about posting, but everyone has made me feel so happy that i did, so thank you!

couple of hints about things sprinkled through this one. the more i write, the more things are getting fleshed out, so idk how many parts this will be atp, nothing too crazy though!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angst, fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 5.8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @shayaaaaaaa @usoholic @brokenglassslippers @gators-aid @dersha89 @southerngirl41 @empressdede

You couldn't eat. 

Couldn't sleep.

Could barely think straight.

All that consumed you, ate at you, gnawed at your sanity was one thought and one thought alone.

He wanted to take her from you. 

Joe wanted to take your daughter from you, your four year old daughter who still couldn't even go to sleep at night unless she got to see or speak to you.

The daughter who he'd only known existed just recently but was seemingly set on ripping away from you.

That thought destroyed you, made you raw from blistering agony at just the idea of not having Callie with you full time. It destroyed you to the point that you decided to throw some clothes on, hop in your car, and set your google maps for the hotel you knew he’d be staying at. Damn the fact that it was the middle of the night or that you were stupid as hell for being in that situation in the first place. None of that mattered. 

You needed to talk to him, and you needed to talk to him now. 

Joe opens the door with a forceful swing, looking as irritated and disheveled as you’d expect one to look at nearly 1am in the morning. However, when his eyes land on you, confusion meshes with irritation. “Y/N?”

“Hi.” It’s said in a breathy tone. You're struggling to remember the script you rehearsed the whole drive there. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late—”

“What the..….” He sighs heavily and steps aside, motioning for you to come in. “Get in here.”

You don’t need to be told twice, looking around the hotel room that looks so plain and undeserving of someone with Joe’s stature. But, you also know this area isn’t exactly saturated with 5 star hotels, far from it. This is probably the most elite one he could find with such short notice, and it’s not bad at all, just….basic.

He clears his throat, and you return your attention to the man who you just realized is also shirtless. If not for the pending mental breakdown you’re fighting to keep at bay, it would be extremely distracting. Joe is a lot of things, and fine as hell is at the top of that list.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” He sounds exhausted, and you can’t tell if it’s from the argument earlier that day or being woken up in the middle of the night. Probably both. 

“I just—I need to talk to you.”

“Now?” 

Nodding, you continue. “I know….I know I messed up, okay? I should have told you, but I just—I need you to look at it from my perspective. I need you to just hear me out, and if—if you still feel the same way, then–then I’ll have to deal with that….but please.” 

He’s leaning back against the dresser, arms crossed, taking time to answer as he weighs your offer. Finally, he concedes, “you came all the way over here. I’m not just gonna send you away.”

You’re thankful for him being willing to at least hear some of what you have to say. “Callie.....she was conceived the last time we were together.” Not sure if that part was necessary or the best way to start out, you quickly move on to the next point. “I didn’t find out I was pregnant until two months later. And on top of not knowing what the fuck to feel, I barely knew what to do. I was pregnant by a married man that I’d been sleeping with for three years. A married, famous man at that. Who I finally decided I needed to move on from.” 

Revisiting this is harder than you expected, harder than when you rehearsed it on your drive here. “I was scared, Joe, okay? I was scared, so I—I did what I thought was best at that time, and clearly it was wrong. I 100% own up to that, and you get to be angry with me, but you don’t get to let that anger influence your decision making, because it is.” 

This is the part you debated so deeply on whether to say or not say, to potentially poke the already irate bear. But, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t speak up for yourself and your daughter. “You want a legal custody arrangement, and I understand why, but—Joe, your name isn’t even on her birth certificate, but to tell you the truth…..I wanted it to be. I did.” Whether he believes you or not is on him, but it’s true. Because while he wasn't present in her life, he was still her father. Nothing would change that. “They wouldn’t do it without you present and without a paternity test—”

“I could have been there,” he interrupts, sounding more hurt than anything. “I should have been there.” 

“You’re right, but you weren’t, and I’m sorry for that too. I’m not trying to make any excuses here, just lay out facts. And the fact is that you can get a paternity test, you can establish paternity, and you can try to secure joint custody, but we both know there’s no way you can take her on. You work nonstop, Joe, and she can’t be on the road like that. She’s four for fucks sake. Calista needs stability, and she has that with me. You know I’m right.”

And you can see that he sees you’re right, the wheels turning in his head as he takes in your sound predictions.

“And I know you don’t right now, and that’s okay, but I am asking you to please trust me enough to know that I will not get in the way of you getting to know Calista. Trust that I only want what’s best for her, I’ve only ever wanted what was best for her.”

“Why should I?” Despite his words, you can see and hear the crumbling of his defenses, of the brick and mortar wall he'd erected earlier during the first round of this conversation. “What’s different now?”

“Because she asked about you.” This is the part that crushes you the most, that makes you wonder if you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself for even putting her in that situation. “Because she thinks you’re not in her life because she’s not a good girl, and I will not have my child grow up thinking she wasn’t good enough for her father to want to be in her life.”

You won’t let her grow up like you.

Period.

Having this discussion, saying these things aloud, you’re slowly starting to recognize how some of your own unaddressed issues have contributed to this situation. How your refusal to confront buried trauma has bled into another generation. It’s…..uncomfortable, to say the least.

And something you definitely need to revisit, probably sooner rather than later. Just…not right now. 

You’ve got to sort this through first.

It’s after a few minutes of silence that he finally speaks, voice surprisingly calm. “You’re right.” You let out a deep breath, nearly falling back at his words. You knew he was wavering but not to the point where he would yield. “I know….I know our situation is complicated, and I’m sorry for being so cold with you. I just—fuck, I don’t know how to process all of this.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Neither do I, but we can figure it out, because we can’t…..we can’t put her through a custody battle. I won’t do that.” Despite your very valid facts, you also recognize that while he probably wouldn’t win, he has access to the best legal team money can buy and would outlast you in court by miles. 

You won’t say it aloud, not even sure if you can, but you’d soon rather concede than put her through that. You’d give him whatever he asked for if it meant sparing her from that trauma. 

It’s a far cry from your stance hours earlier, but time and actually thinking things through made you realize the pain you’d experience at having Callie taken from you would be nothing compared to what that experience would do to her. You know custody disputes can be long and nasty, and though she was still young, you didn’t want to find out if they would question her. 

You’d sacrifice your soul and surrender. 

You loved her enough to let her go.

“You’re right.” He repeats himself, even and calm. It’s such a stark difference for both of you compared to the blowup from earlier. There’s actual communication occurring, talking with each other, instead of at each other. Listening to hear, not to react. “I—I couldn’t do that to you. I spoke out of anger. My schedule is crazy and she needs stability. You give her that.”

There’s an insurmountable amount of relief that washes over you at his words. It’s night and day from the angry—though rightfully—man that stood before you earlier today. And you couldn’t be more grateful. 

“Thank you.” There aren’t enough words to adequately express the depth of your gratitude. Joe is well within his right to be upset, and like you said, you’ll take whatever that is, so long as the both of you can agree that Callie being with you is for the best. For her, but for you too. You won’t deny that. Your daughter is your life, and the thought of being without her, even for a period of time makes you sick to your stomach. “I–” You wipe your eyes, completely unaware that you’d been crying at one point, the tears starting to dry up. “I’m taking off work tomorrow and keeping her home. You…you can come over once I pick her up from Mariah's."

His eyes light up with appreciation that matches your own for his willingness to look past his feelings to do what’s best for your child. “Yeah?”

You offer a small smile. “I’ll probably get her around 10 and text you when you can head over.”

He nods, and the excitement in his expression warms you. It’s so strange how you can go through so many emotions in such a short time regarding the man in front of you. He always has been able to evoke things out of you that no one else could.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

The way he takes you in, assessing you, it makes you shift your weight from one foot to another. Your hoodie suddenly feels too heavy, warmth climbing up to your cheeks. “I—” You gesture to the door with your thumb. “I should head out.” 

It’s when you turn to leave that he grabs your wrist to stop you. 

“Where are you going?”

Your brow lifts at his tone and words, confused by the quick change and his hand on your arm. “Umm, home?” 

“Like hell you are.” His dismissal is firm and final as he informs, “you'll crash here tonight.” Your face must be painted in defiance, because he explains, “it's almost 2 in the morning, and you look exhausted. I'm not letting you get on the road. Anything could happen.”

“Joe—”

He lifts his hand, silencing you as he points to the middle of the room. “You can take the bed. It's uncomfortable anyway.”

Ironically, a small yawn escapes, further proving his point. You are exhausted, in several different ways. The idea of driving back home right now is not nearly as appealing as sleeping off the day's events. “Okay.” Remembering his comment, you add, “you could have picked one of those fancy hotels ya'll stay in, you know.”

“I don't think there's anything ‘fancy’ within 30 miles of here.” He's not entirely wrong, the town's local steakhouse is considered the definition of fine dining and hotspot for special occasions. 

“There were once rumors of a Hilton being built.”

He looks almost hopeful. “When was that?”

You bite down on your lip. “When I was in middle school.” A small laugh escapes at his look of exasperation. 

“You should take the bed. It's gotta be more comfortable than the alternative.” Truly, because the idea of Joe's big ass trying to sleep on a damn fold out sofa is both hilarious and tragic. “I just need a shirt.”

He looks at you. “A shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“Because…..”

Rolling your eyes, you tug at your old college hoodie. “I can't sleep in this. It's uncomfortable as hell. I dress light at night. You know—” And you stop yourself, because he shouldn’t remember that you always sleep in either a big shirt or thin top and shorts, never more, oftentimes nothing at all when he was in town.

For obvious reasons.

You’re grateful when he turns away and digs through his bag, probably the only one he took with him. He always traveled lightly. He comes back, reaching you one of his black t-shirts. 

“Thanks.” Accepting the item, you walk over to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Standing in the mirror, you take in your appearance. Joe was being nice by saying you look exhausted, cause you look like shit, every bit of the days events, loud and blaring. Blowing out a breath, you start removing your clothes but pause when you go to remove your bra.

Is that….is that too much? You haven’t slept in a bra in years. Not since puberty randomly hit you over the summer between freshman and sophomore year, where you went from a modest A cup to a whopping D. And post Callie body definitely wasn’t a D anymore. It just seems….it seems indecorous. 

Deciding to go with safe instead of sorry, you swallow your discomfort and keep your bra on. With the hair tie on your wrist, you do your best to pineapple your hair, knowing good and well it’ll be frizzfest when you wake up but not really caring. 

Another yawn leaves your mouth as you walk out the bathroom only to turn into a scowl as you find Joe sitting on the sofa on his phone.

If it wasn’t so late and you weren’t so tired, you’d argue with him why it’s stupid of you to take the bed. He’s at least a foot taller than you. But, you don’t have it in you so just mutter “stubborn asshole,” place your folded clothes on the dresser, and climb into the bed. 

You double check your alarm is still set for the right time and lean across the bed to place it on the nightstand. There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you for a couple of minutes, your eyes closing as you try to sleep, even if for a couple of hours before you have to get back on the road. 

“What is she like?”

Your eyes open at his question, unexpected but understood. You think about it, wondering how to answer, how to explain all of the wonderful things that is your child. Finally, you settle on an answer, soft and honest. 

“You'll find out for yourself tomorrow.” And turning on your side, you murmur, “goodnight, Joe.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

But while you sleep with the hope of believing that this can be worked out between the two of you, Joe lies awake, taking his turn with mind running a mile a minute.

He knew this would be difficult, knew it was going to get ugly to some extent, but what he didn’t expect was how impacted he'd be by seeing you again.

There was a stark difference between seeing you in photos and seeing you in person. His anger at the situation helped him to not react as strongly, but not as much as he liked or needed it to.

Because regardless of all his outrage, he’d missed you.

Even with your deception, with your deceit and all of his confusing emotions toward you in this whole situation, he missed you. 

Joe might not be ready to admit it aloud, but he’s never gotten over you. And not for lack of trying. He’d had a period where he tried to fuck away his feelings, tried to busy himself in between the legs of other women, his favorite distraction when he was in his twenties. Tried to remind himself that it was never meant to turn into anything anyway, that it wasn’t a big deal. But his efforts were fruitless and a waste of time.

He cared about you, he cared about you, arguably, more than he’d ever cared about a woman. Even….even Jadah.

The night you ended things was still a sore spot for him, still something he plays over in his head trying to make sense of. On the surface level, it’s pretty plain and simple. You wanted more, he couldn’t give it to you, so you moved on. 1+1. He was legally married for fucks sake. He couldn’t blame you for wanting more, but there was also a part of him that wondered why you didn’t just ask him for more.

Then again, that went both ways. Why didn’t he ask you for more?

It’s easy to say it was because of Jadah, because of his marriage, and that was both true and untrue. On his part, anyway. Divorce was easy in name but far from it in every other area. And for him, meant being forced to confront demons he tried his best to keep at bay. Up until two months ago, at least

Joe closes his eyes. This is all too much. 

He came here ready to confront you, and he had, in fucked up way, even if partially deserved. He came here to meet his daughter, to begin to form a bond with her, and he will do that. He just has to push the complicated feelings for you to the side and place them on the backburner until he can sort through that mess.

Calista is his priority right now. Whatever this is between you and him can be figured out later.

Hopefully. 

________

“She can be shy until she gets to know you.”

The day seems to have escaped you, getting on the road early in the morning to drive back and prepare to pick up Callie. She’s thrilled to see you, and vice versa. The two of you spend the beginning of the morning together, stopping at a local diner to share a breakfast before heading back to your apartment. You spend a little more time together, one on one, before texting Joe to head over, staying true to your word. 

Especially since he informed you that he had to fly out tomorrow morning. You expected as such, knowing he’d probably already been gone longer than higher ups liked. He could only push the limits so much. 

You don’t even have to be looking at him to know he’s nervous, an understandable but strange thing. Weird almost. Joe’s a lot of things, but nervous has never been one of them. “But once she gets comfortable, she won’t shut up.” That makes him smile, and you’re grateful for that.  Sure enough, you find Callie in her playroom, which used to be your office space, but the more spoiled she became from your mom, the more you realized her room was too small for all of her stuff. “Hey, Callie Bear.”

Callie looks up, smile bright as she runs over to you. You lean down to meet her hug. She gives the best, loving hugs. “I’m making you something, mommy.”

You gasp. “You are? Well, I can’t wait to see it.”

“It’s a surprise, so no peeking!” She lifts her little finger, wagging it in your face. Laughing, you nod and push back some of her curls. Callie’s eyes then land on Joe’s massive frame standing near the doorway, silently observing. You can see the emotions so clearly on his face: surprise, shock, happiness.

Callie’s smile dims as she moves closer to you, holding you close, her stranger danger kicking in. A small part of you is grateful that even at almost five, she knows to be cautious. Then there’s the other part of you that’s saddened at the fact that the “stranger” she’s cautious of is her own father. “Baby, this is….this is….”

“I’m Joe,” he finishes for you, and you’re both grateful and annoyed. Conflicted because a small part of you wanted to be the one to tell her, but also grateful he ironically took that responsibility off of you. “I’m an old friend of your mom’s.”

Welp.

That’s not….that’s not what you expected him to say, not what you two discussed. It wasn’t explicitly stated, but you were under the impression that they would tell her the truth. His statement isn’t exactly a lie, you did once consider Joe to be a friend, much more than that, but still. Joe’s role in Callie’s life is significantly more than that. 

This seems to ebb away some of Callie’s caution as she asks, “really?” Her eyes fall on you, almost looking for approval. With a tight smile, you nod, giving her the relief she needs to loosen her hold on you. “Do you like Disney?” That causes you to genuinely laugh, something your sweet child definitely inherited from both you and your mom was a love of Disney. 

“I do,” he answers, and you pause. Does he really? Perhaps. Regardless, it’s a smart answer for your Disney loving child. “Do you?”

Callie nods happily, grabbing your arm and twisting it to show the ‘remember who you are’ tattoo on your wrist. “Mommy and grandma have Disney tattoos, and mommy’s gonna get a Moana one for me!”

“Really?” Joe, now crouched down to be at her eye level, sounds genuinely interested, and maybe he is. Callie is impressively charismatic at only four. She’s also his daughter who he’s wanting to develop a relationship with, so it’s not far-fetched that she could be talking to him about the rate at which grass grows, and he would entertain it like he was watching a 49ers game. “You like Moana?”

Is water wet? “She’s the bestest! Right, mommy?” 

You chuckle, fixing her shirt. “She watches it almost every day.” You always found it interesting, ironic even, that your daughter instantly gravitated to Moana, unaware that the voice of freaking Maui is her cousin, that she too had pacific islander ancestry. Through her dad. The dad you kept from her. 

“You know I don’t know if I’ve seen that one—”

Callie’s mouth drops open as she looks at you, “mommy, can we watch it? Please? Please? Pleeeeaaassseeee?”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you relent after pretending to think about it. You like to limit her screentime to two hours, and even though she already watched The Princess and the Frog earlier for the 97th time this month, there was no way you were not gonna allow this bonding opportunity. 

Squealing, Callie surprises you by breaking away and moving over to Joe, reaching for his hand. “Let’s go, Joe!” She pulls on the sleeve of his hoodie, probably to lead him into the living room where Disney Plus is signed in. 

Alone in her playroom, you run over what just happened. You thought you would tell her the truth, tell her that this is the father she was asking about, the one she thought didn’t want her when in actuality, he wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

And for a second, you get pissed off. Why wasn’t Joe honest with her? Isn’t this what he wanted? To be in her life. It’s confusing. He is confusing. But….you try to give him the benefit of the doubt, certain that he must have some reason behind his actions. You just hope they’re damn good reasons.

“Mommy!” You know that tone of hers, the tone that tells you a request is to follow. 

You shout back, “yes?”

“Joe likes popcorn too! Can we have some?”

You laugh and shake your head, shouting out an ‘okay’. Walking out of the room and into the living room, you find Callie near the TV, arm outstretched as she explains every detail of Moana, even the most obvious ones. But, Joe is sitting on the sofa, watching and listening intently. His smile is stapled. 

He looks…..he looks so happy.

Moving into the kitchen, you move around quietly to not interrupt and to get their popcorn made.

Waiting for the popcorn to finish, you hear Callie ‘whisper’ to Joe, “Mommy can’t cook, but she makes good snacks.”

Amid his laughter, you walk near the living room, hands on her hips. “I heard that, little ms. ma’am.”

“That’s what Grandma says,” Callie defends with a shrug of her little shoulders. “She says mommy is pretty and smart and funny, but she burns water.” She looks off, confused, as if it’s finally registering to her that that doesn’t make sense. “Mommy, how do you burn water?”

Joe is on the sofa, hand over his mouth, fighting for his life. You also can’t help but laugh at the absolutely serious look on her face. “Finish your movie.” 

The microwave dings, so you grab two bowls and fill them up equally. Delivering them to both, you place hers on the coffee table as she’s back to narrating. “Popcorn, as requested.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes go wide with excitement as she suddenly asks, “will you watch it with us?”

Damn. You had a feeling she would ask but was hoping she wouldn’t. Disappointing her twice in one weekend felt criminal. “Callie, I'm super behind with work.”

“Pleeeeasssseeee.” She starts with the begging again and then looks at Joe to inform him, “mommy’s a teacher. Do you have a job?”

Joe chuckles. “I do.”

“What do you do?” She asks in a sing-song tone. You give him that ‘I told you she never shuts up’ look. 

“I’m a professional wrestler.”

She’s clearly intrigued, asking, “are you actually good?”

“Callie!” This little girl and her lack of filter sometimes never ceases to amaze you. Your mom swears up and down it’s your payback from how blunt you were as a child. 

You’re starting to believe it.

Joe gives a shrug, clearly loving every bit of this. You can tell he wants her to keep the questions coming. He’ll answer em’ all if it means getting to spend time with her. “I’m alright.”

At that, you give him a look and crouch down to her level. “He’s very good.” You take the remote and quickly pause the TV, adding on, “matter of fact, he’s the universal undisputed champion.” Joe gives you a look, and you can tell he’s surprised by you knowing this piece of information.

You don’t watch wrestling as much as you used to, partially due to what happened between the two of you, mostly because you don’t have the time, but even non-wrestling people know about Roman Reigns and his current, historic title reign. You’re not sure if you’d feel entirely comfortable saying it to him, but you’re massively proud of Joe and all he’s accomplished. You always knew he could do it.

Her eyes widen with excitement and curiosity as she looks at Joe for clarification. “Really?”

“That is true.” 

Head tilted, she moves away from you and climbs on the sofa to sit next to him. Her little legs crossed over as she continues with the questions. “What does undis��undis—”

He helps her out, also angling his body more toward her. “Undisputed?” 

“Yeah! What does that mean?”

You can see he’s taking a minute to decide how to answer. “It means I don’t lose. Ever.”

“Whoooaaaa,” she breathes, obviously impressed. “You must eat a lot of veggies. I don’t like them, but mommy says they make you big and strong.”

“Your mom is right,” he agrees and looks her over. “You’re a very smart little girl. How old are you again? Like 15?”

“No, I’m four!” She giggles and lifts up four fingers. “But, I’ll be five on May 19th!”

His gaze softens. “Your birthday is in May?” She nods, happily. His smile is warm, emotional. “So is mine.”

You still for a moment. You hadn’t even thought about that, that her birthday was just days away from his. There’s something strangely sweet and moving about this fact, both to you and definitely to him.

“Really?” 

And that’s how it plays out for the rest of the day, a combination of Callie’s incessant questions, intermittent viewing of Moana and parts of Encanto. Lunch and dinner sprinkled somewhere in between. You’re even able to sneak off to do your lesson planning, Callie more than fine with just Joe to entertain her.

It warms your heart to see them connect almost instantaneously.

It’s why you wait as long as you can to interrupt, never wanting to do so, to invade their moment. But, you also know your daughter, know that she needs a certain amount of sleep to function the next day. And when you check in on them and catch her yawning, you know it’s unfortunately that time.

Sighing, you enter the living room with your arms crossed. “Callie Bear, it’s time to start getting ready for bed, mamas.”

“Nooo.” She whines. “I’m not tired.” Her groggy voice and scowl would indicate otherwise. 

“Of course, you’re not.” You bend down in front of her and reach for her hand. “Come on, we gotta tell Joe bye. He’s gotta get back to his hotel.” Despite her obvious objections, she climbs off the sofa and accepts your hand but not before looking at him. 

“Will you come over again tomorrow?” She asks with hopeful eyes and a voice of excitement, both things that make being honest with her that much harder.

He obviously doesn’t want to give her the truth, but it’s better than the alternative. With a frown, he answers, “I wish….but I’ve gotta get back to work tomorrow, Callie.”

Her smile drops, and sadness arises. “Why? Do you have to go?” Her quiet voice is comprised of disappointment and despondency. You can tell it hurts him. Her hope is dashed, replaced with sadness. “When will you come back?”

“As soon as he can.” You jump in to assist, hating the way he looks so devastated not having a specific date for her. Truth be told, you wouldn’t be surprised if he won’t be able to get away for another few weeks, if not more. “And you know what, you can use my iPad to Facetime him when he’s available anytime you want.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?” 

“Of course,” he assures. He reaches to push some hair out of her face. “I’ll call you whenever I can.”

She gives him a small smile. “You promise?” 

Joe swallows. “I promise, sweetheart.” 

Pleased and obviously ecstatic at this information, she surprises the both of you by tearing her hand from you to throw her little arms around him for an unexpected hug. You’re not sure why, but the sight makes your eyes water. His eyes close as he gently wraps his arms around her as well. You look away, almost uncomfortable interrupting this moment between the two of them.

When she pulls away, you swear you see disappointment reappear in his eyes. “Bye, Joe.” 

She returns to your side, and you gently direct her, “go put on your jammies and pick out a book. I’ll be right there in a few minutes, okay?” 

“Okay, mommy.” Without protest, she turns and heads back to her room. When it’s just the two of you, you turn to him, “she really likes you.” It feels silly saying such a thing. He’s her father. She should like him. She should love him.

But you also know better than anyone that being someone’s biological parent doesn’t automatically make them a parent. 

“That’s why you didn’t tell her, isn’t it? You want to gain her friendship first.” In watching and participating in the interaction between them, it dawned on you just why he didn’t tell her right away. Joe wanted to first establish a baseline with Callie, wanted her to get to know him just for him, to bond with him not because he was her dad, but because she wanted to. 

And clearly….clearly it worked. 

“She’s amazing,” he whispers. You see he’s still caught up in the emotion of it all, meeting his daughter for the first time, connecting with her as quickly and easily as he has.

“She is,” you agree, suddenly remembering why you’d dismissed Callie. “I–I uhh, I have something for you.” Standing back up—your knees were gonna hate you tomorrow—you pull the thumbdrive out of the back pocket of your jeans. He also stands with you. “I was that new mom who was intent on documenting every single thing my kid did, and I’m kinda glad I did now.” You reach and drop it in his open palm. “I got everything on video. Her first word, first time crawling, first time walking….all of it.” Suddenly uncomfortable with his silence, you add on, “I know it’s not the same as being there, but—”

“Thank you.” he interrupts in a quiet voice, immensely grateful to you at this moment. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

Emotion seems to be the keyword of the day, because yours are also all over the place, for a variety of reasons. It’s an experience that’s both overwhelming and confusing, but also….nice? You can’t necessarily describe it, but there’s something comforting about Joe having a role in Callie’s life.

But that doesn’t equate with your decision to not tell him about her in the first place, hence why you’re a hot ass, confused mess.

He’s making you feel things again, and you don’t like it. 

“I know getting back here won’t be easy, especially with the holidays rolling around. But, whenever you can come, you’re welcome. I mean it.” Thanksgiving is less than 3 weeks away. You’re highly doubtful he’ll be touching down before then. “Christmas is her favorite holiday. I know she’d love to have you here for that.”

“I’ll be back before Christmas and for Christmas.” You don’t know how, but you do know he’s convinced of it, and you don’t put it past him. He seems entirely determined. 

“Okay.” You walk him to the door, unsure why your bodies being so close to each other is an uncomfortable yet pleasing feeling. “Oh,” you suddenly remember something. “You need to make a Snapchat account.”

He scowls almost instantly. “A what?” A small laugh escapes you at his instant disgust. “I’m too old for that shit.”

“We both are, but it’s an easy way for me to share Callie and all her randomness with people. Make it and send me the username. I’ll add you.” It seems all it takes is for you to mention Callie, and he’s sold. He nods in agreement, all distaste washed away with the eagerness of receiving photos and videos of Callie on the regular. You keep your hand on the door, chewing on your lip, murmuring, “Goodnight, Joe.” 

He gives you a look, something unspoken in his eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Closing the door behind you, you lock it and take a deep breath, unsure why your stomach is in knots. Not from anxiety or fear but happiness. 

You’re happy to have Joe back in your life, even with all of the bullshit that’s transpired in this single day. There’s something relieving about having him around, and you know it’s for Callie. It needs to be just for Callie, because what you can never do again is allow yourself to fall back into that situation. 

No matter how badly your heart and your head are clashing right now.

No matter how much you're starting to wonder if your heart ever really left that situation.

[runnning-outof-time]

Actions Speak Louder | Pre-War!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - based off of this post by @thomashelbyswife

Pairing: pre-war!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy’s never one to say sorry…that doesn’t mean that he isn’t though.

Warnings: one bad word

Word Count: 1404

A/N: M, your headcannon immediately sparked this idea. I just had to write it. And I may have gotten a bit carried away. This is the fastest I’ve written something in a long time. Thank you so much for the inspiration!! I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

Tommy knew he’d messed up the second he entered his bedroom to see (Y/N) standing at the bedside with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. The problem was he didn’t know what he’d done.

“Hey,” he tried, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she made sure he’d caught her look before she went about taking off her jewelry and getting ready for bed. Tommy frowned at her lack of response before he shut the door and walked over to her. He said her name in a soft voice, hoping that it would get her to turn.

She continued with what she was doing, not yet acknowledging him. Tommy sighed in response. He tipped his head to the side in thought, thinking of how he could get her to look at him. It wasn’t hard to notice that she was not happy with him. Words weren’t working, so maybe actions would.

He reached out and took hold of her hips, holding them for a second to test the waters. (Y/N) didn’t resoond. So he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him so that he could tuck his chin into the crook of her neck. “What’s wrong, love?” he queried, attempting to press his lips to her neck, but she titled away from him. This only added to his confusion.

“I can’t believe you, Tommy,” she huffed under her breath, dropping her hands to his firearms and applying pressure to them, hoping he’d get her hint and let go.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what her statement meant. Meanwhile she was still pushing down on his forearms. She held the pressure on them until he dropped them from her, allowing her to step away and finally turn to face him.

“What have I done?” he asked after a few moments had passed and his brain-wracking had turned up empty.

(Y/N) scoffed at his question, shaking her head at his answer. “Of course you wouldn’t have remembered.”

“Remembered what?” he was still lost. It only added to her irritation.

“You were supposed to come to dinner with my parents tonight. We were going to go over plans for the wedding. My father was going to give us some money towards it, but now he’s not so sure if he should be letting me marry you at all,” she filled him in on the commitment he’d forgotten while biting on the inside of her cheek in hopes that it’d stop her welled up tears from falling.

Tommy froze upon hearing what he’d missed. His jaw went slack as he wracked his brain in hopes that there’d be some sort of inkling of rememberance of the day’s plans, but there was nothing.

Anger was building up inside (Y/N) with each quiet second that passed. His silence was frustrating her, maybe even more so than his earlier absence was. “Do you have anything to say?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.

“I got caught up at the stables,” he told her, his answer making her scoff and look away as she rolled her eyes. Obviously it wasn’t enough to clear him of his wrongdoings.

Silence fell between them then. A couple beats passed before (Y/N) looked at him again, expectantly this time. It was obvious that she wanted something else from him. But Tommy wasn’t catching onto it. “That’s all you have to say?” she finally questioned him when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak unless spoken to.

“Love, I…” the words died on this lips as he then stepped back from her, turning to the armoire as he began undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.

Shock filled (Y/N)’s features as she glared at her fiancé’s back. What are you doing?! she screamed at him in her mind. But nothing was said as she watched him take the waistcoat off and drop the braces from his shoulders. He then worked on taking his boots off, kicking them to sit next to the wardrobe before he finally turned back around. (Y/N) was still glaring at him.

“Are you seri—” the exasperated question got caught in (Y/N)’s throat as Tommy cut the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her frame.

His hug was tight, and he swayed her from side to side as his arms stayed fastened around her waist despite her hands pressing against his shoulders.

“Tommy, you can’t just…whoa!” the direction of her statement changed as he spun them and dropped both of their bodies to the bed.

His arms unraveled from her waist as they were falling so that he wouldn’t crush her with his body weight. They moved up to trap her underneath him. He immediately tucked his face into her neck and began placing kisses to the skin he found there.

“Tommy,” she breathed as she tried to push him off of her, but to no avail. “Tom, you’re not being fair!” she shrieked as his lips connected with the sensitive spot on her neck; a spot that he knew all too well.

His kisses trailed up to her jaw and across her cheek before his lips found the corner of hers. The feeling was now driving (Y/N) wild, slowly making her forget what she’d been upset over as all of her senses became focused on his actions.

He pulled away just slightly so that he could look at her, his eyes traveling over her face; seeing that her look of frustration was slowly slipping away. “Fuck your father’s money. I’ll get what we need to pay for our wedding,” he told her before his lips matched hers, properly this time.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathed when they pulled away, biting on her lip to hide her smile as she took his cheeks into her hands, lifting his face further away from hers. Their eyes met and he cracked a smile, one that made her insides flutter. She tried to act angry, scrunching her nose and eyebrows in hopes that her true feelings didn’t show. Tommy found it adorable.

“What?” he asked her, reaching up to brush a piece of hair from her face.

“You’re trying to get yourself out of this,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

Tommy pouted upon hearing her response, and he dropped his head against her chest, burying his face into her sternum and breathing in her intoxicating sent before he let out a whine.

That did (Y/N) in. She tried to hide it, but the shaking of her chest was a dead giveaway that she laughed at his actions. He clocked that immediately, his hands moving to her sides where her shirt had rode up so that he could brush his fingers against her sensitive skin. She shrieked at the feeling, squirming under him as she tried to get him to stop. Now her anger was the furthest thing from her mind.

His actions continued until she managed to grab his hands and remove them from her sides. She then lifted his face again, making him look at her once more as she tried with all of her might to keep a straight face. “You’re ridiculous, Thomas,” she told him, unable to stop the smirk from tugging one corner of her lips upwards.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked with raised eyebrows, waiting on bated breath for her answer. When it didn’t come right away, he jutted his bottom lip outwards, hoping that pouting might help.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath at the sight in front of her. She just couldn’t resist him when he was like this. Somehow, he’d managed to make her mood do a complete flip. His persistence was something that drew her to him, but it was times like these when she hated it. She wanted to stay angry at him, but she really couldn’t. Not when his lips were looking more kissable by the second.

“Hmm?” he asked her, getting antsy with each second she stayed quiet.

(Y/N) bit on her bottom lip, sending him one last glare before giving into him and mumbling a “yes”. Tommy couldn’t even celebrate. She didn’t give him time to. The second she spoke, she pulled his face to hers so that their lips could crash together. It wasn’t like he was going to dispute it though…her kiss told him everything he needed.

Read Part 2 -> HERE

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @dlmlufics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (37)

Meet Me In My Office

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 37- W/c 4.7k This chapter is entirely 18+ Smut

Tag list- @natsluttt @cerberus-spectre @dorabledewdroop @bibliophilicbi @hopelesslyfallenninlove @simpform1lfs @get-the-fuck-outta-here @natashaswife4125 @marvelwomen-simp @supercorpstan97 @aliherreraaa @aru-son @the-ox-fan20

Meet Me In My Office

A/N- Updates from now will be really slow regarding this fic as I was posting all the chapters from my AO3/Wattpad onto here and we have reached the final one prewritten. I am a college student with a busy life so apologies for the delays in writing. Enjoy the smut :)

---

As soon as the door was quietly and carefully shut behind you, Wanda's body was pressed up against yours, her hands cupping your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her lips in a sensual kiss. You softly moaned into the kiss, the two of you smiling into it as her thumbs stroked your cheeks, her mouth moving against yours languidly as you leaned into her body, revelling in the feeling of her body so close to yours. Your hands glided down her body, resting on her hips, fingering sliding through the belt loops of her jeans to tug her closer to you, a smile playing on your lips as she pulls back, eyes darkening as she lets her gaze scan across your features.

It had been a tiring and eventful week with the twins now home constantly, yourself and Wanda juggling work and caring for the boys which proved harder than the two of you predicted, leaving you to both trudge into bed with nothing more than an innocent goodnight kiss. Now however, you longed to feel her touch, to be driven mad by her and it was becoming abundantly clear that she felt the same way about you.

The kiss that was slow and intimate swiftly built as desire and arousal pooled between your thighs, Wanda's fingers threading through your hair, tugging your head where she wanted as her leg slotted between your thighs, pressing into your core in the most perfect way. A groan left you when she pulled back from the kiss, your hips subtly grinding against her thigh when her teeth bit down on your lower lip gently and dragged it back, eventually releasing it and peering into your eyes with the most seductive look, the green in her eyes replaced with pure hunger.

"Detka," she sighs out sultrily at the shell of your ear, kissing along your jaw to murmur into your ear as she knew how wet her voice made you. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" she groans lowly, accent wrapping around her words sinfully, your back arching off the wall to press further into her body, hips still slowly grinding against her leg, pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, "I can't get enough of you."

"Fuck Wanda," is all you can managed back in response, the older woman letting her kisses travel down the side of your neck, sucking faintly to leave a brief red mark before licking up a stripe against the column of your throat, smirking when she could feel the vibrations of your groan. "I need you," you practically whimper, not caring how pathetic you must sound, eyes begging her to do something, anything to you as her lips meet yours again, tongue effortlessly sliding into your mouth and swallowing your desperate sounds.

Her hands glide down your body as her tongue moves against yours, the kiss becoming lewd and messy as you mirrored her earlier actions, threading your fingers through her silky locks, keeping her close. You moaned into her mouth in surprise when her hands reached the back of your thighs, lifting you up and walking towards the bed as your legs wrapped instinctively around her waist, both of you smirking into the kiss. Gently, she lowered you onto the soft mattress, your hair sprawling behind you against the sheets as her body towered over you, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips as she lowered her mouth to ghost yours.

"Tell me what you want, Moya Lyubov," she husks out against your lips, nose brushing yours as she teasingly makes you try to chase her lips, smile turning dominant as she watches you part your lips, head tilting to try and catch her lips, eyes hazy with lust.

"You, just you," you sigh back, her leg returning to the spot between your thighs, firmly pressed against your core earning a moan in response, her eyes somehow darkening even more.

At your words, her mouth meets yours once more but this time it's different. It's hot, desperate and passionate but also loving and intimate, her conveying her love for you into it as she pours everything into the kiss, both of you moaning at the intensity of it. Your hands fist into the hem of her shirt, desperately holding her close as you get lost in the sensations of her addictive lips, touch, sounds. Fuck, she was just intoxicating.

Her fingers move to rest on the underside of your jaw, angling your head up for kiss after kiss as you gasp into each other's mouths, lips relentless as they refuse to part, your hips now comfortably grinding unabashedly against her knee, pleasure coursing through your mind.

"That's it Detka," she praises in a pant against you, eyes closed as she moves her kisses to your jaw, nibbling softly against the skin, sending a shiver down your spine as arousal continues to pool between your legs, panties well and truly soaked. "Use my thigh, that's a good girl," her tone a sinful murmur at your ear once more, a pathetic whimper escaping you.

"Wanda- Fuck," you moan out, hiding your face at the crook of her neck, lips attached to any bit of skin you can reach, mouth parting when she pushes her knee firmer against you for you to grind along, a string of desperate moans leaving you. You can hear her soft sighs and low moans as her body moves against yours, your hips frantically moving against her leg as you can feel the pleasure bubbling inside you, your orgasm swiftly approaching at her actions.

When a choked moan escapes you, clit brushing against her perfectly, Wanda moves her hand to your throat, guiding you away from her neck and forcing you to look into her eyes, submission evident in yours as hers radiate pure dominance. Your eyes flutter shut when another wave of pleasure washes through you, body teetering on the edge of your orgasm as her fingers remain applying a slight pressure to your throat, the older woman unable to stop thinking about how you were such a pretty mess for her.

"Please," you whine out, hands moving to her back, nails digging in through her shirt as you hold onto her as if your life depended on it, mouth crashing back to hers to try and muffle your moans as your hips start to lose their rhythm, moving uncontrollably against her.

"Please what?" she teases, knowing exactly what you want her to say.

"Wanda," you groan, fluttering your eyes open and pleading with her to just give you what you want.

"I want you to say it," she rasps out, moving one of her hands down your body to your hips, guiding you along her thigh, another moan being torn from the back of your throat.

"Please can I come?" you whimper, head lolling back against the mattress as you wait for her permission to come, wanting to be good for her. You always wanted to be her good girl.

"Come for me Detka," she whispers, mouth instantly claiming yours to muffle the guttural noise that leaves you, body crashing into a euphoric state as pleasure courses through you, hands clutching at her as your hips continue to rock against her. Wanda eagerly swallows up all the sinful sounds that leave you, her lips moving to your jaw as you struggle to kiss her back, lost for breath as your eyes flutter shut, body riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Her hand moves from your hips to your hair, brushing the stray strands out of the way as your eyes slowly flutter open, her kisses travelling across your face as you smile against her into the next kiss, this once slower as you gradually recover.

"Good girl," she praises once again, smirking at the way your cheeks instantly turn red, an embarrassed noise leaving you, her slowly pushing her body up slightly, moving to straddle your waist, the sight of her on top of you, breasts in your face, swiftly causing the embarrassment to fade away, arousal consuming your body once more.

"So pretty," you mumble, kissing her collar bones as you sit up, fingers moving to the hem of her shirt, pulling on it impatiently as she smirks at your eagerness. Her fingers replace yours, hands tugging off the clothing item, leaving you to be amazed at the sheer beauty of her, the word Aphrodite floating around in your mind. Your hands move to the soft skin at the curve of her hips, still unable to comprehend how beautiful she was as your lips pepper hot, open-mouthed kisses to the top of her breasts, eyes peering up at her.

"You look so fucking hot under me, Detka," she purrs out, fingers threading through your hair and pulling your head back, your fingers inching their way up her back to the clasp of her bra, deftly unclasping it and pulling the red fabric off her. Wanda keeps her eyes on you as your gaze flickers to her exposed chest, an enamoured and lustful expression taking over your face as your hand moves to cup one of her breasts softly, mouth descending on the other.

A soft, sensual sigh escapes her at the feeling of your tongue swirling over her nipple, hand gently squeezing her other breast, warm and wet mouth having pleasure spiking through her body. You groan around her chest when her hips grind against your lap, her hands gliding across your shoulders, nails scratching down your back making you delirious with arousal.

"Fuck," she groans out sultrily, hand shooting up to the back of your head, keeping your mouth at her chest, "Do that again Detka- shit, just like that, right there," she moans, your teeth grazing her sensitive flesh before sucking on it, eyes looking up to watch her reactions.

After switching to the other breast and lavishing it in an equal amount of attention, Wanda tugs your head away from her chest, having had enough of the teasing as she needed to feel your bare skin against hers.

"Off. Now," she mutters against your lips, hands at the clothes you were wearing, her gracefully sliding off your lap to remove her own clothes, not having the patience to undress each other.

Almost immediately, her body is back on top of you, soft skin pressed deliciously against yours, your hands drifting down to her core, eager to please her. Just as your finger was about to slide through her dripping folds, her hand catches yours, fingers interlocking with yours, other hand copying the action with your other hand.

"Lay back for me," she whispers, smirk playing on her lips as she pins your hands above your head, her core resting above yours as you moan when you realise what she's about to do. "Spread your legs a little wider, Detka," she instructs, pressing her core against yours, both of you letting out a lewd noise at the warmth building in your cores.

"Wanda, you feel so good," you moan out, her body lowering, back arching her body into yours as her hips grind against yours, your hand squeezing hers. Her body rocks against yours, dragging all sorts of sinful sounds out of you as well as her, the feeling of your soaking cunt against hers driving the older woman crazy with desire, body chasing her orgasm. "Harder," you whimper out, the tone of your voice making a guttural groan leave Wanda, her lips crashing to yours to muffle the wanton noise that escaped her.

One of her hands releases yours to clutch the sheet near your head, bracing her body up as both of your hips start to stutter, the pleasure too much for the two of you to handle.

"Are you going to come for me again, Detka?" she pants out, tone teasing as she curses in Sokovian under her breath, lips lingering against your cheek as her hips press down harder against you, a whine leaving you. When all you can do in response is whimper, Wanda takes mercy on you, kissing you once more before resting her forehead against yours, "Yeah? Come with me, Moya Lyubov."

Pleasure crashed over the both of you at her words, your bodies grinding and rocking together as your orgasms wracked through you, moans spilling from your lips at the ecstasy you felt. Your fingers tightened against hers, wanting her close as she rests her bodyweight against you, catching her breath as your lips weakly meet her shoulder, exhaustion creeping up on you.

"Stay with me," Wanda whispers in a small chuckle, her fingers brushing over your cheeks as your eyes flutter open, meeting her softened green. "We need to clean up Detka, then we can sleep, I promise," she murmurs ever so softly, encouraging you to let her guide you into the bathroom to quickly clean yourselves up, her hands roaming your naked body innocently, simply giving you the touch you craved and giving into her want to touch you.

"I love you," you mumble against her shoulder as you lean against her, her arms snaking around your waist and pulling you into bed with her, neither of you bothered about pyjamas as you snuggle together. The feeling of her breasts pressing into you makes a small, drowsy smile to play on your lips, the older woman noticing the action as her fingers scratch your scalp softly, your head remaining at her shoulder as your arms wrap around her, fingers sliding up and down her back.

"I love you too," she whispers to your sleeping form as your body is lulled to sleep by her tender actions.

***

A soft chuckle woke you up, the feeling of your pillow beneath you moving gently causing your eyes to reluctantly flutter open, searching for the culprit who woke you up. You expect to see humoured green in front of you but are pleasantly surprised at the sight of Wanda's bare breasts, the annoyed expression fading into a shy smile, face nuzzling back against her chest as it was just so comfortable.

"I have to go to work soon Detka, I'm sorry but you have to move," she murmurs, placing a kiss to the top of your head as you grumble in defiance.

"Just take the day off," you mumble, earning an angelic laugh in response, her body shaking once again under you softly.

"I can't Detka," she apologetically whispers, fingers soothingly scratching your scalp naturally. "But how about this," she says, piquing your interest as you marginally pull away from her chest, looking up at her with tired eyes, "You let me go to work, dressed," her words playful earning a smile from you, "And when the twins go to Pietro's at two, you can meet me in my office," you watch how her eyes sparkle with an indecipherable emotion, your mind curious as to what she had planned. "Oh, and wear that small,black skirt of yours, it will make things a lot easier for me," her tone drops an octave at the end of her words, a small groan leaving you at her suggestive words.

Only seven hours till two...

***

Walking into the tower, you were amazed as always at the stunning architecture of the building Wanda worked in, gaze glued on the fancy interior of the elevator, watching as the floor numbers ticked by. Impatiently, you waited for it to finally reach Wanda's floor, excited and curious as to what she had planned out, her getting dressed in private this morning, something unusual. She loved to tease you in innocent ways like that, having you watch as she slowly pulled on her underwear or bra, eyes always trained on you with a teasing comment on the tip of her tongue, your mind curious as to why she didn't today.

Knocking on her door, you were soon met with a professional 'come in' from the other side of it, your hand eagerly opening the door. Your gaze landed on the figure sat behind the desk, eyes flickering away from her computer to look at you, smile widening as she slowly pushed herself off her chair, hips swaying as she sauntered over to you.

"Hey Detka," she whispers, pecking your lips before locking the door behind you, hands moving to your waist and carefully guiding you backwards towards her desk, your body eventually being pinned between her and the hard surface.

"Hi love," you murmur back in an equally affectionate tone, tilting your head up to steal another tender kiss.

Her eyes slowly take in your outfit, darkening significantly at the skirt you were wearing, gaze lingering on the teasing skin of your exposed thighs, her head snapping back up to meet your curious and excited gaze. Subconsciously, your tongue ran across your bottom lip, wetting it as you waited for her to make the first move, knowing roughly where this was going.

"Before we do anything Detka," she says, her hands resting on the desk beside your body, her taller stature towering over you, "I need to know if you're going to be quiet or if I'm going to have to gag you with something." Her words directly hit your core, cheeks flushing a deep red as her index finger rests under your chin, guiding your head back up to look at her as you momentarily avoided her gaze. "What's it going to be?"

"The gag... I think," you sigh out, hands holding onto her waist, her smirk almost predatory at your response.

"Remember your non-verbal safeword?" she mumbles into a kiss, wanting to feel your lips before she covers your mouth up, not wanting the whole office to hear you screaming her name.

"Tap your arm or thigh three times to stop," you whisper back, indulging in the messy kiss as her body presses into yours, an abrupt moan escaping you at the hard bulge you felt. "Is that..." Your words trail off as Wanda's hands lift you up onto her desk, lifting your skirt up to expose your panties, a visible wet patch already adorning the lace.

She hums in confirmation as her hand reaches over to the drawer of her desk, pulling out an old silk tie and showing it to you, watching your reaction closely as her hips slowly push up into yours, grinding the strap on hidden by her trousers against where you desperately needed her. When you nod, after another kiss of course, she ties it around your mouth and the back of your head, the fabric muffling your words as you test it's ability, the older woman satisfied with it.

"As much as I love your pretty moans Detka, I hope you understand why I'm doing this," she asks, fingers tracing the fabric around your mouth, lips briefly pressing against your temple. "I don't want my co-workers to know how much of a little slut you are for me," her words have you groaning around the tie, eyes fluttering shut as her hands glide down your body, fingers at your inner thighs, the back of them brushing your dripping core. Your reaction spurs Wanda on, her finger sliding your underwear to the side before gathering your arousal, slowly circling your clit to work you up even more.

"You love this, don't you?" she whispers at the shell of your ear, accent prominent as her thumb moves to circle your clit, letting her finger thrust into you, stretching you out and ensuring you were wet enough for the larger toy. "Being under my control, my beautiful girl to ruin," you moan around the black fabric, the noise dampened making Wanda smirk as she curls her finger inside you, warmth pooling in your core.

You muffle a plea around the gag, eyes staring into hers desperately as your hands clutch at her blouse, trying to pull her body closer. She gives in, not knowing how much time she'd have with you, and swiftly pulls the toy out of the restraining clothes, your eyes darkening as she positions it at your entrance, eyes searching yours for any hesitancy. When it's clear that there's none, she slides the toy into you slowly, revelling in the muffled sound of pleasure that escapes you, her hands going to your hips, holding you in place while your hands glide over her shoulders and settle on her back.

The slow pace quickly vanishes, her hips thrusting into you powerfully as she pounds the toy into you, the filthy sounds of your muffled moans, Wanda's sighs and the toy sliding in and out of you filling the room, adding to your arousal at how fucking hot this was. God, you had dreamed about being fucked on her desk but never thought it would happen especially like this. This was dirtier, hotter, more primal than you imagined as she fucked you like it was the last time. 

Her hips were relentless as she took you on her desk in an animalistic manner, mouth at your neck, sucking a mark she knows will taint your skin, the thought of everyone knowing you were hers thrilling.

Your nails dig into her back when she angles her hips differently, the strap on hitting your sweet spot with every addictive thrust, Wanda's mouth moving to your ear, letting you hear her laboured breaths and seductive sighs. Her teeth nibble on your ear lobe, earning a groan that turns into a choked moan when one of her hands tighten their grip on your hips, the other moving to circle your clit, hips bucking as she continues to mercilessly fuck you.

"You can take it," she rasps out at your ear at a whimper that leaves you, your orgasm swiftly building at her actions, your mind completely fogged with arousal, body burning with every single one of her touches, arousal coating the toy causing it to make a filthy sound with every snap of her hips. "You're doing so well for me," she praises, biting down on your neck as her kisses descended, your nails digging in harder as your body teeters on the edge of your first orgasm, Wanda knowing the signs of your body as your legs moving to wrap around her waist, trying to pull her closer and deeper.

"Please," you muffle around the tie, her lips parting from the newly formed mark on your neck to meet your desperate gaze, her hand moving from your hips to your neck, applying a firm amount of pressure as your eyes practically roll back.

"Come all over my cock, Detka," she purrs out, knowing what your needy gaze was asking her for, a loud muffled moan reverberating around the room as your head moves to the crook of her neck, body tensing and walls clenching around the toy, pleasure crashing through you as you come on her desk, hands clutching at her for support as wave after wave of euphoria floods through you.

"We're not finished yet," she murmurs into your ear, a low groan leaving you as the toy slips out of you, Wanda moving back to help you off the desk, roughly turning you around and bending you over the desk, a guttural noise escaping you.

Your mind can't comprehend the pure desire you feel, skin on fire as she slides your panties down your legs, lifting your skirt once more and positioning herself at your entrance once again. With one thrust, she's back deep inside you, your hands reaching for the end of her desk for support, one of her hands moving to your hair, making a makeshift ponytail and pulling gently, tugging your head back.

"Fuck," she groans at the sight of you, her core throbbing at what she was doing to you, her eyes trained on how the toy slid in and out of you, her free hand lightly spanking your ass, earning a small groan. "You're mine, aren't you," she pants out, pulling your body up, her chest pressed into your back, lips at your neck, your hands bracing your body upright on the table.

You nod your head at her words, mind spinning as pleasure overrides all your senses, head lolling back against her as your eyes convey your deliriously lustful state, eyes practically black with desire.

"All mine," she murmurs, the base of the toy brushing her clit perfectly with the new position, a low curse leaving her lips and fuck you think that's the hottest thing you've ever heard. Her hand returns to your throat, indulging in both of your fantasies as she applies a little more pressure, a deep groan leaving you as your hips push back against her, your second orgasm about to flood through you.

The feeling of her spanking you once more sends you over the edge unexpectedly, body tensing in her arms as she holds you upright, pressing you further into the desk as you rock against the toy buried deep inside you, a string of muffled moans filling the room. Your orgasm is prolonged by Wanda grinding the toy into you, the base of it rubbing against her clit as she chases her own orgasm, following swiftly after you as her hips soon start to slow.

The two of you remain in that position, leaning into each other and catching your breath as you recover from your powerful orgasms, Wanda gently turning you in her arms and untying your gag, lips instantly claiming yours for a soft, loving kiss.

"You ok Dorogaya?" she whispers, eyes searching yours making your chest fill with love. You adored how she could go from being so rough and dominant to so soft and caring, always making sure you were alright.

"I don't think I can walk," you reply honestly, earning a small chuckle from her, her lips pressing against your temple as she pulls out, helping you support yourself against her desk as she quickly discards the harness and toy in her ensuite to clean and move later before returning to you.

"That good, huh?" she teases, wrapping her arms around you and helping you to the sofa at the side of her large office, sitting with you as she fixes your hair, your body leaning against her side.

"Always that good," you sigh back, unable to comprehend the sheer ecstasy the older woman makes you feel, her arms a place of security as you relax against her.

"How about, after I've checked my emails one last time, we head home and have a nice relaxing bath to recover before the boys get home?" she muses, knowing that you were going to be tired after last night and today, her fingers tracing random patterns at your side, lips meeting your hair, lingering as she waits for an answer.

"That sounds perfect on one condition," you say, turning your head to meet her curious green, her entertaining you and raising one of her brows.

"I get to choose the bath bomb this time," you mutter, her chuckling at your answer, nodding inevitably to your command, always wanting to give you everything and more.

"Of course Detka, you can choose the bath bomb," she replies with a hint of teasing to her tone, not that you minded. "I love you," she whispers before getting up, fixing her outfit and quickly going to her desk as you do the same, waiting for her to finish.

"I love you too," you murmur, her arms soon wrapping around yours, ready to take you home. 

[somniumfaults]

"do you think we'll be together in every lifetime?"

ngl... i kinda made myself sad writing this one DDFHSKDJLKFGL... this was inspired by some chats I had w my guildies so shoutout to them for giving me fuel to break their hearts to <3 also a fill for @mastering-procrastinating's request ^^

listening to Toxy while posting this and ironically enough, I think the lyrics are kind of fitting LOL

to clarify if it doesn't become clear, this fic plays into the theory that haku's ability is time-travel-related! I definitely encourage reading that post bc its interesting and will give some perspective, but it's not necessary! :D also inspired by this and this tweets

pairing: haku kusanagi x reader

rating: G

prompt: “do you think we’ll be together in every lifetime?”

tags: established relationship, angst, time loop theory

Previous // part 3 of the “in every lifetime” series! // Next

“Do you think we’ll be together in every life?”

It’s only hours of practiced nonchalance that keeps him from coughing as he drinks his tea. As it is, the tightening of his fingers around the cup is enough of a slip in his control. He carefully measures each emotion he allows himself to give for others to see, and yet somehow, against all of his experience and expectations, you always manage to catch him off guard.

A part of him finds it beautiful. After all this time, he knows that you will always be just as charming as when he first met you. A breath of fresh air in the monotony of his days, making sure he’s never as bored as he could be. On the other hand, this is the one part of you he can never predict as well as he wishes he could. You make his life eternally difficult without even trying, hardly lifting a finger to break down his facades time and time again.

The worst part is that he knows you truly aren’t trying. To you, this is a simple question with an equally straightforward answer. A romantic indulgence at most. You don’t mean to send his mind scrambling for answers. You aren’t carefully dissecting him for his responses, knowingly carving away until you can cut into the part of his heart that you know will hurt the most. To you, this is love.

The worst part is that to you, this is love.

If it wasn’t love, it wouldn’t hurt. If it wasn’t love, he wouldn’t even be standing here. If it wasn’t love, the touch of your hand in his wouldn't justify everything he’s done up until now and then some as worth it. He wouldn’t feel like crying at such an innocuous question, wouldn’t clench his jaw and plaster on an easy smile with an indulgent head tilt to sweeten the deal. The princess that rolls off his tongue wouldn’t feel like a match lit in his mouth.

“Where’s this coming from, princess?”

(When you raise your brow at his response, he wonders how long it takes for the lies he lives to become truths. When will it finally become enough?)

You shrug. “Rui and I were talking about it earlier. With how things are looking for me nowadays… I thought it would be a nice thought, y’know? To be soulmates. We wouldn’t have to worry about sad goodbyes or anything.”

You don’t know what he’ll do for you. You’ll never know. You can never know. You can’t know.

He hums. 

“That would be nice,” he muses with a soft smile on his face, and it’s a relief when your expression of budding suspicion falls in the face of love. No matter how many lies he may tell, his love for you will never be one of them. The rest are nothing you need to further stress yourself over, no matter how difficult it gets to predict your doubts. “Knowing the trouble you attract, I’m sure our next meeting will be just as interesting as this one was.”

You bristle lightheartedly at the teasing, and he can’t help but let out a real, genuine laugh at it. The brightness of the smile he gets in return makes it worth it.

This is what it’s all for. Everything for this.

One day neither of you will have to worry about soulmates, lifetimes, or goodbyes. He won’t have to lie to you as easily as he breathes, and this burden will no longer be his to carry. But until that day comes, he can take solace in the sound of your laughter and the knowledge that with each failure, your peace comes in a next life of love.

This time, he won’t fail.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

@pomefioredove why is this left in the tags?

This is in response to my post about of “if how people reacted to Vil and Riddle were switched, then we could’ve prevented two overblots.” Now, to be fair, I don’t think I was that clear with Riddle’s so people disagreed with me. But you! You get it! So why is it left in the tags??? This is important!

If Riddle had been met with empathy rather than violence, especially earlier in the chapter, then we could’ve avoided the whole thing.

You also made a great point about Trey, because yes! You put it into words that I didn’t have. He’s already given up on Riddle and therefore more focused on damage control than prevention. You put it perfectly.

So now my thoughts for the best way to prevent the overblot: just pull him aside and ask him, “Hey, are you ok? You’ve been stressed out recently and I’m really worried about you.”

This would floor him, because like nobody’s asked him that before. It seems like nobody cared enough to ask. Now someone’s finally acknowledging that he’s going through a rough time and doesn’t know how to handle it and needs help, but he didn’t know how to ask.

I think he would probably stay silent dear in headlights kind of thing, so you would have to coax it out of him. However, once you got got him talking, he would just spill everything and breakdown crying. That boy needs help. You would still need to bring up that people have been having problems with his behavior, but if you just comforted him and told him that it wasn’t too late and he could fix it, then he would feel better. The cherry on the cake would be giving him an action plan, because he works well with concrete and tangible ways to solve problems. Then, just being there to support him the rest of the way and tada! Another overblot prevented!

[faux-ecrivain]

1950s househusband x gn reader

marinette4943 asked: Hey!

I saw your yandere housekeeper and loved the way you wrote it. Do you intend to do a next part?

If so, could you tag me in it?

————————————————————

Name; Angelo

Thirty second official post

@marinette4943

————————————————————

From Part 3; 

        He is absolutely whipped for you, everything you do is committed to his memory, and he inches closer to you with every passing second. “You’re welcome, so, are you going to give me a tour of the town or some advice to settle in, and get along with my neighbors?” He didn’t want to, but he figured that it was best to be as helpful as possible. That way, you’ll trust him the most and will come back to him whenever you need help. You, however, scoot away from him, eventually ending up near the end of the couch in a corner. “Oh, uhm, certainly. I’ll be happy to give you advice and a tour, but I was hoping we could simply have a friendly chat first…” Angelo responds hopefully, he just wants to get to know you and does want to talk about anyone else.

              However, something you said earlier caught his attention. “Unexpected? Wh-what do you mean by that?” He questions nervously, his wide eyes nervously glancing at you and his bottom lip quivering at the thought of you hating him. You tilt your head, slightly confused and then you try to clarify without sounding rude. “Well, back where I’m from men don’t often wear dresses, that’s all.” Before you can clarify any further he interrupts you, which was quite rude and he apologizes for that, but doesn’t stop talking. “Sorry for interrupting, but you don’t like it? Does my fashion sense upset you?” He inquires his expression shifting into anxiety and his mind begins to work in overdrive. His hands squeezes the cloth of his dress and he twists the fabric. Angelo doesn’t do well with rejection, of any form or shape. 

          Suddenly this conversation seems very awkward to you and you regret opening your mouth. “That’s not what I meant, that dress looks great on you. It’s just someone have to get used to, that’s all.” He smiles and he seems content with your response. “Really? You mean it? Thank you!” It isn’t often that he gets a compliment from anyone and it’s been a while since anyone he was interested in complimented him (excluding his spouse, he loves his spouse so very much and is very interested in them). Angelo relaxes and leans his head on your shoulder, which causes you to cringe and push his head away. He whines and leans against you once more, this time he wraps his arms around your arm and nuzzles your neck. Now you’re very uncomfortable and have begun to regret your decision to let him inside.

 ———————————————————-

 Subtly, you try to push him away. You didn’t want to be rude, but his unnecessary affection was making you extremely uncomfortable. Sadly, his grip on your arm does not loosen and seems to tighten. Angelo scoots closer, he’s so close that you could count each one of his eyelashes. He sighs, seemingly unaware of how close he is, or maybe he knows and just doesn’t care. You clear your throat and lean as far away from him as you can. “Ahem, so, about that tour…” You smirk awkwardly and try to make a simple conversation, if only to alleviate the discomfort you felt. He acknowledges your words with a hum, but doesn’t respond for quite some time. It’s silent and awkward as you try to ignore the very obvious bedroom eyes Angelo is sending your way.

        You clear your throat again and try to get his attention. “Ahem, Angelo, could you please let go of me or move away?” It takes a moment for your words to sink in and when the do, Angelo shoots away from you. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed with embarrassment and his mouths is agape. It’s clear that he’s absolutely mortified by his behavior. Immediately he begins to apologize. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, Neighbor! That was so inconsiderate of me, Oh! I feel so ashamed! Oh, I should go, I shouldn’t behave like that around you!” Part of his apology sounds a bit like an excuse, but you can tell by his expression that his apology is sincere. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Oh, I’m truly sorry if I did!”

          You chuckle and wave off his worries, you begin to placate him, and attempt to halt his incessant apologies. “Oh, it’s alright, Angelo. It really isn’t that terrible, I was uncomfortable, but I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it.” Oh, he certainly meant something by his actions, it wasn’t anything sinister, but it was something that Angelo wasn’t ready to face. He was experiencing so much turmoil, the very idea that he almost betrayed his spouse made his physically ill. He could never hurt them like that, sure they weren’t the best spouse, but he still loved them. “No, I-I have to leave, I-I can’t-Oh!” Angelo struggles to breathe, his previous actions set in, and he felt like crying.

         He has to leave, Angelo couldn’t stay another minute is your presence. Especially when he’s constantly tempted to crawl into your arms and never leave them. Once more, you try to reassure him, but he doesn’t listen. “Angelo, it really isn’t a big deal. I’m sure you meant nothing by it and nothing came of it, so it’s alright. Let’s just sit back down and enjoy a nice, civil conversation.” It sounded as though you were trying to calm him down, and that made him feel even worse. Well, the way he felt when you expressed concern for him, made him feel even worse. “No, no, I have to go. My sp-spouse is coming home soon an-and I don’t want to disappoint them.” He tries to reason with himself and his desires, but it’s not working.

       Mostly because his heartbeat seemed to increase with every word that you spoke, he knew what that meant, and he couldn’t give into such sinful desires. He had to stay loyal to his spouse, although, thoughts of loyalty seemed to remind Angelo of the way his spouse has been behaving recently.  Which causes his brows to furrow and halts his apologies, as his mind wanders to his spouses recent behavior. His spouse has been distant (more so than usual) and they keep coming home late. Normally, he wouldn’t worry about that, but each night they come home smelling like cheap perfume, and then he starts to think about the recent rumors he’s heard. The ones about househusband Damian and his cheating spouse. This causes Angelo to consider the idea that maybe his spouse is cheating on him, and the very thought is appealing to him. It causes him to be sick, and he nearly faints. (Luckily you caught him before he could actually fall, and now you’re fussing over him, oh, his heart can’t take it!)

         No, he can’t give into temptation. He has to stay loving and loyal, it’s not that hard, and surely his spouse will take notice of his devotion. He just has to keep trying, right? It doesn’t matter how exhausting it is or how much easier it would be to allow his new neighbor into his heart. Angelo has to remain strong, and eventually, he’ll be rewarded for his loyalty, won’t he?

————————————————————

    (I don’t really like this installment of househusband Angelo, I’m not proud of it, but I figured that if I do a bit of writing about one of my favorite OCs then I might get back into writing. But, who knows, I’m a creature of habit and writing is exhausting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and hopefully, I’ll be back to writing at a normal pace again.)

[attractedtopeoples]

sweetheart

Zoro Roronoa

KINKTOBER - @ficsforgaza

prompt: subspace

warnings/tags: fem!reader, sub!zoro, bondage, riding, subspace, mdni, 18+, dont like dont read, minors. go away., no beta we die like my sanity, lemme know if theres anything more i should tag in the comments (pls dont say bad spelling im sensitive) <3

0.9k words

A/N: okay so i may have forgotten to take this outta my drafts and actually post it, so ignore this being a touch later than the 15th (it’s 1:33am on the 16th for me 🥲) but otherwise here you go!

“Fuck, oh- fuck, fuck,” Zoro groans out, although it sounded a lot more like his version of a whine from where you sat on his lap, not that you’d ever say that aloud.

“You okay baby?” You ask mockingly, tilting your head down to look at him as you rise and fall on his cock. He bites his lip in lieu of response, biting back a groan as your hands wander over his chest. 

Looking down at him with adoration you stop your hips, willing away your own frustration as you watched his eyes flicker up to you again, a mix of anger-horny-why?-anger staring at your smirk, hands still mindlessly wandering over his skin.

His hands clench from where they lay tied against the headrest, the fluffy green handcuffs Nami had given you as a gag-gift coming in handy as he whimpered beneath you. Neither of you had done much with bondage, minus his own hands wrapping around your wrists when the positions were swapped. But this was fun.

He groans again as you pinch at his side. You’d been doing this awhile.

You’d ride him, both of you having a lovely time when he’d bite his lip, shutting himself up despite your earlier statement of not wanting that at all. He wasn’t a very good listener. Then, just like now, you’d stop your movements, watching as he released his lip and stared at you.

At the start the look was a lot more pissed off, however the overwhelming pleasure being so intense and then suddenly ripped from him again and again was beginning to impact him (no shit). 

“I- fuck you,” he breathed out, shifting his hips up seeking friction but you simply lifted higher off of him. He let his hips fall back onto the bed with a small groan. 

“Hm? Well I can see you’re trying baby,” you tease, appreciatively flickering your eyes over him for the millionth time tonight as his cheeks blush at the words. You could admit you were rather lewd, but you were having far too much fun to stop fucking with him.

“Now c’mon, what did I say earlier baby?” You ask, referring to the rules you set early on before you started, fairly simply, but including a clear ‘I wanna hear you’ policy that you think was being ignored rather blatantly.

“You're an ass,” Zoro quips instead of replying, his voice cracking a lot more than you think he meant it to be as you lean forward, lips joining your wandering fingers on his chest as you kiss gently up his chest.

“Not quite right,” you reply, rolling your hips with the words just to watch him groan again, shoulders going tense as his arms tug at the cuffs again. You know logically he could just rip them off, but you also know he won’t. Definitely not right now, he is not risking the blue-balls.

“Annoying fucker,” he mutters under his breath as he glances to the side, blatantly avoiding eye contact as a pretty blush makes its way up his chest. “You- you said to not bite my lip,” He huffed out, sounding like it physically pained him to say as he begrudgingly turned his eyes back to you.

You grin at him, despite the slight inaccuracy in his ‘retelling’. He deserved some leeway, with this only being his third time subbing and first successfully, you made the executive decision he was allowed to be a little shy.

“That’s right sweet boy,” you say, beginning to rock your hips again, building the pleasure back up. His hips roll up to meet you and you don’t bother correcting him this time when he lets out an unabashed groan as your teeth reconnect to his skin, grazing over his nipples before biting into the soft flesh of his neck.

As your movements speed up, you release his skin, instead resting your head against his shoulder moaning alongside him as the crescendo of your pleasure crawls towards you. You were close, and by the way his hands were grasping onto those cuffs you could tell he was too, letting out the prettiest sounds.

Finally sitting back up you moan as it causes him to shift deeper within you, your movements barely coordinated anymore as you fall over the edge, him joining you not too soon after with a loud moan that makes you oh so thankful for the empty ship. 

The two of you remain quiet for a moment before you go to shift off him, knowing he probably wasn’t capable of doing so without his hands, but before you could go far you heard a low whine come from him and you paused.

That was new.

Looking back at him you noticed his eyes were drooping but stuck on you still, and after a moment it clicked in your head. Oh baby.

“Zoro? You okay in there sweetheart?” You ask softly, hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he groans again, leaning into the touch as he breathes, pressing soft kiss to your wrist. 

“Hmm,” he hums against you, his eyes slipping shut as his body relaxes. He was definitely in the subspace. 

“You did so good, baby, but I gotta clean us up m’kay?” You gently remind him, in a way that you knew you’d copied from him when you got like this. He lets out another little whine at the idea, and oh how pretty he was. “I won’t go far, promise.” 

You wince a bit as he slips out of you, rising on shaky legs as you make your way to the bathroom for a towel, snatching up a bottle to refill with water on your way. Your boyfriend was such a sweetheart.