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joeys-babe · 5 months

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Joey B Imagines: One of These Nights

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Summary: You as Joe’s girlfriend are by his side for every event, you helped him feel more comfortable since he wasn't the most social guy and he needed you there. You departed from him to go the bathroom and Joe isn't at all pleased with what happened on your way back.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mad Joe

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: None! (Misc.)

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*No specific date for this fic!*

(y/n’s pov)

Joe and I had just sat down at the table of Bengals players and their girls in our usual VIP section. One look at Joe and I could tell he already didn't want to be here.

I looped my arm with his and he flashed me a small smile, his icy blue eyes barely visible behind his black Cartier’s.

“I love you.” - Joe mouthed

“I love you too.” - you mouthed back

He had already thanked me so many times tonight for coming with him since it wasn't his scene at all, and I made it more bearable.

Sam Hubbard, a longtime teammate of Joe, knew all about his antisocial ways, so he tried to include Joe in the conversations to keep his mind away from the surroundings.

I gave Sam a thankful nod because if he wasn't keeping Joe occupied, I'd end up on babysitting duty for the whole night.

Even in a secluded area away from the rest of the club, I was constantly looking around for possible cameras.

Joe hated PDA, and for him to even have his arm looped with mine was a big step, but he needed close to me right now. That's why I checked around for cameras, knowing Joe would be mad if pictures of us close together were posted.

I found myself zoning out since the conversion had switched to football, and I could barely make out the sound of a female voice saying my name.

“Hey y/n, I have to go to the bathroom… can you come with me?” - Jess

It was Jess, Sam’s girlfriend.

I turned to Joe to see him already looking at me. He was waiting for an answer.

“Will you be okay if I go to the bathroom?” - you

My face faltered when he immediately started biting the inside of his cheeks like he does when he's nervous, but he nodded yes.

“Okay. Be right back.” - you

Before I stood up, Joe caught me off guard when he placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

Even Jess took notice, and as we walked away from the table, she commented on it.

“Your boy seems a little touchy today.” - Jess giggled

“I have no idea what's gotten into him, but you will not catch me complaining.” - you

“I hear that.” - Jess laughed

——

Minutes later, Jess finished washing her hands, I finished fixing my mascara, and we left the bathroom.

We laughed as we walked back to the table, just talking about our boyfriends and having a good time.

Walking up to the roped-off area, the same security guard that had let us in and out five minutes ago wasn’t even acknowledging us.

“Uhm, sir? Can you let us back in?” - you

The burly man looked at me, then to Jess, and silently shook his head no.

“Why not?” - Jess

“Don't see any passes… and the last time I checked the Cincinnati Bengals don't draft women.” - security guard

Jess reached into her purse mumbling a “Don't worry” and took her pass out to show the guy.

He studied it intently and eyed Jess once again.

“Okay.” - security guard

Relief washed over me when he moved the rope and Jess stepped through. I followed behind her but he closed it back before I could get to the other side.

I went to yell after Jess, but she was already around the corner, and the club was so loud that if I yelled at the top of my lungs she wouldn't be able to hear me.

“Not you.” - security guard

“Excuse me?” - you

“Listen, girl. I get it, you wanna try to make your move on one of the players because you want their money. I've dealt with girls like you before, and it’s not going to happen.” - security guard

I stood there completely baffled.

“What did you just say to me? You just let me walk out like ten minutes ago.” - you

“Now you're trying to gaslight me. Oh and let me guess, you're dating a player?” - security guard

“For your information, I am dating one of the players. I have been for six fucking years. You watched me walk in with him!” - you

“Of course you are and I have no recollection of letting you in the VIP lounge. You don't look like the… NFL player’s type.” - security guard

“This is unbelievable. I don't want to sound like a braggy bitch, but my boyfriend is Joe Burrow. I suggest you let me in before he finds out about this altercation.” - you

“Ma’am, with all due respect Joe Burrow could have any woman in the world… and I don't foresee him picking you. You don't have any proof of him being your boyfriend either.” - security guard

I grabbed my phone out of my purse and attempted to call Joe, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Shit. Voicemail.” - you mumbled

“Look my background is me and him. He's in uniform. This is after the AFC Championship in 2021.” - you

“That could be edited. Look lady, you're very persistent but I'm going to have to remove you from the club.” - security guard

Before I knew it the guy was grabbing my arms at full force and started shoving me around.

“Let go of me!” - you yelled

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, but as always before anything could happen, I heard that voice.

“What is going on here?!” - Joe

The look on the security guard’s face when he turned around to see Joe, looking like a bull ready to face a matador, was priceless.

“Sir I was just…” - security guard

“Manhandling my girlfriend? Because that's sure what it fucking looked like.” - Joe

“I thought…” - security guard

“Let go of her before I break your arms!” - Joe

He immediately dropped my arms and Joe gently whisked me behind his back.

“What is it that you thought?” - Joe

“She told me you were her boyfriend, but I thought she was lying.” - security guard

“Why’d you think that?” - Joe

“She just doesn't look like a girl that an NFL star like you would get with. That simple.” - security guard

“What the fuck did you just say to me. You better get out of my face before I bash yours in.” - Joe

“Can you blame me, dude? She’s not really… you know…” - security guard

“She's not really what?!” - Joe yelled

“The smallest girl on the planet.” - security guard

Joe's entire face turned red as he bubbles with furiousness.

“That’s it.” - Joe lunged forward

I immediately grabbed his wrist and pulled him back with as much strength as I could. Once he was beside me I put my hand on his chest, knowing it helped him calm down.

“Don’t. It's not worth it, Joey.” - you

Joe looked down at me to find my face completely flushed and my tear-filled eyes pleading.

“Congratulations, you've just worked your last shift.” - Joe

He moved away and took my hand, moving the rope himself and slamming it on the ground before he walked back over to the booth.

I sat back down in our spot, but Joe stayed standing with his phone in hand, seemingly dialing a number.

Joe just radiated anger right now as he held his phone up to his ear and started raddling a million miles a minute.

A few minutes later, he sat back down next to me with a deep sigh.

“Had to call the owner. That guy’s never working here again. I swear one of these nights I'm going to beat the shit out of someone.” - Joe

“I’m so sorry.” - you blinked back tears

“You have nothing to be sorry for, absolutely nothing. I should've walked you to the bathroom. Oh and forget every word that fucking dick said. You're the only woman I could ever picture myself with. You're the most beautiful girl in this entire world, and you are perfect for me. I love you more than anything.” - Joe

I buried my face in his neck without even thinking about where we were right now, but Joe didn't care. He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back.

“Thank you for being the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. I love you more than anything, too.” - you

“Wanna go home?” - Joe

“Please?” - you

Joe stood up immediately and took my hand. We said goodbye to everyone and made our way back down the hallway. When we found ourselves in the main room, I figured Joe would drop my hand, but he didn't.

——

We approached Joe’s car, and he opened my door like always, showing off the gentleman he was.

As soon as he shut his door, Joe crashed his lips against mine.

“When we get home I'm going to show you how damn desirable you are. I don't care what other people say you're perfectly made for me.” - Joe

And that's exactly what he did, both verbally and physically. Joe made me feel like the most craved woman in the world.

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Authors note: ending the night (and the 5th day of Christmas) with some angst.

Request for this fic;

hope you enjoyed! ❤️

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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jensengirl83 · 9 months

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Dirty Dancing

Dean x reader

Word Count- 3885

Warnings- SMUT, idiots in love, mutual pining

A/N- I was listening to my playlist, and "Cry To Me" by Solomon Burke played, and this whole fic played out in my mind, so I had to write it! I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

Dean was walking through the bunker, wondering where Y/N had disappeared to. One minute she was sitting at the table in the library, and when he came back in from the garage, she was gone. It wasn’t uncommon for her to disappear somewhere in the bunker, but he needed to do a supply run and wanted to ask her if she needed anything.

He caught himself wanting, no, needing to make sure she was okay lately, checking in with her before he even asked Sam if he needed anything. He knew why but didn’t want to admit it out loud. Dean was ass over tea kettle in love with Y/N. How could he not be? She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, not to mention that she could hold her own on any hunt put before her. She was smart. As he would put it, she was Sammy smart. She knew her lore just as well as his brother, and that was impressive, considering Sam was a giant, walking encyclopedia.

He and Y/N had been friends for years. She had moved into the bunker with them not long after he and Sam had discovered its existence. But they had known each other long before that. Bobby had introduced her to the brothers shortly after John’s death. Her father had been a hunting buddy of Bobby’s, and he had taken her in when her father had gotten killed on a hunt. Granted, she was twenty-four when her father died, but Bobby didn’t want her to be out there on her own. Dean had been smitten from the first time he had seen her but never acted on it, happy to have her as a friend until lately. Now, she was all he could think about, and to be honest, it was scaring the shit out of him.

His thoughts were interrupted as he walked upon her door. What sounded like her TV on had gotten his attention. He peeked in her cracked door and couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him. Y/N was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her hair up in a messy bun, her eyes glued to the movie playing in front of her. Even in her old pajamas, her hair a mess on top of her head, Dean had never seen anything as beautiful. His heart fluttered in his chest as he looked at her, a smile pulling at his lips as he knocked on her door to let her know he was there. He could stand there and watch her all day, but he didn’t want her to catch him staring and think he was a creep.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m heading out on a supply run. Do you need anything?” he asked, smirking as her eyes never left the TV to look at him.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Movie that good, huh?” he laughed, finally making her break her eyes away and look at him.

“Damn right it is,” she exclaimed loudly, a small giggle leaving her, making Dean’s heart flutter yet again, “It’s one of my favorite movies.”

“Really? Dirty Dancing is one of your favorites?”

“Absolutely! It’s a classic!”

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, trying to aggravate her. He loved when he could get her flustered. It was the cutest damn thing.

“Are you serious right now?! It’s so romantic. Especially this scene,” she sighed dreamily as she turned her attention back to the movie.

Dean looked up to see it was the scene where Johnny was dancing with Baby in his cabin. Yes, he knew this scene, as he had seen this movie before. Swayze always gets a pass!

“Women really find this stuff romantic?” he questioned, watching her reaction closely.

“Yes,” she replied softly, watching the scene intently, “And a man that can dance is just sexy.”

His heart almost stopped when she smiled and winked at him, her gaze swiftly returning to the movie. He watched her as she continued to watch, her expression was soft, and did he see want in her eyes as she watched the two on TV dance together?

Little did he know that he was right. Her heart beat faster as she watched the scene, her imagination running wild as she pictured it was her and Dean dancing together that way. Her chest felt tighter as the sadness that it would never happen washed over her. All she wanted was for Dean to want her as badly as she wanted him, but he would never see her that way. She sighed softly as she looked over to see him still looking at her, and she smiled, trying to cover the hurt she was feeling at that moment.

“Actually, could you pick me up some ice cream? I feel like just being lazy and eating junk while I watch movies all day,” she asked, knowing she needed to be alone the rest of the day. It was getting harder to hide her feelings for him, and she didn’t have the strength to fight it today.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

It had been a few days since she had spent the day by herself. She was glad Dean had left her alone, considering she had watched, as he would call them, ‘chick flicks’ and cried at the longing to be with him, knowing it would never happen. Luckily, today was a better day. She had cried out all her frustrations and was happy to be in the library with the boys. She smiled as she looked around her, grateful that she was where she was. A hunter’s life can be very lonely, and even though she wanted to be with Dean other than his friend, she had to accept that it could be worse. At least she had them in her life at all. The sound of a chair scraping the floor broke her thoughts as she saw Dean standing and walking out towards his room.

“What’s that about?” she asked, looking at Sam for an answer.

“No clue. Who really knows with him,” he shrugged, returning to the book he was reading.

She looked between Sam and where Dean had disappeared down the hallway. She sighed as she stood to go to her room. So much for spending time with Dean today, it seemed. He had been acting off since he left her room the day she was watching movies, now that she thought about it. She couldn’t figure out what happened that would make him distance himself from her. The more she pondered on it, she realized he had been holed up in his room a lot since that day. She felt her phone buzzing in her pocket as she reached her bedroom door. Taking it out to see that Dean had texted her asking her to come to the Dean cave. Maybe she would get to spend some time with him after all.

As she opened the door to the room, she saw Dean standing in the corner beside his record player, a shy smile on his face. Curious, she walked into the room, shutting the door behind her as she approached the man she longed to be closer to. He looked nervous, which wasn’t a look that she had seen on Dean very often. Once she was standing beside him, she looked up to see him staring down at her, his hand reaching out for her.

“Dance with me?” he whispered, terrified she would deny him.

She stood in shock momentarily, wondering if she had heard him right or if her ears were deceiving her. She looked between his face and his hand, frozen in disbelief. Before she could say anything, a look of hurt and rejection crossed his features as he started to pull his hand away. That jolted her out of her stupor, quickly grabbing his hand before he could put it in his pocket.

“I’d love to,” she smiled shyly, squeezing his hand gently.

His smile lit up the room. She hadn’t rejected him after all, and now, he hoped this would work as he had planned. With her hand in his, he picked up the needle to the player, sitting it on the record, turning to wrap her in his arms. As the music began to fill the room, she was stunned. The song played in the scene from Dirty Dancing she was watching when he came into her room that day. He began to sway with her exactly how Johnny was dancing with Baby. She couldn’t contain her giggle as he held her to him.

“Seriously? Damn it, woman, I’m trying to be romantic here,” he grumbled, looking at her with his best bitch face.

“I’m so sorry. Please continue,” she answered, not able to contain her smile.

He rolled his eyes dramatically but continued to sway her body with his. Her smile disappeared when he pulled her tighter to him, leaning down to rest his forehead on hers, his breath fanning her face. The look in his eyes made her gasp. She saw what she had wanted to see for years, desire for her. She felt light-headed with want for him. She had wanted him like this for so long, and now here she was, wrapped up in his arms, as he danced with her.

The song had ended, but he was still swaying them slowly, unable to let her go, afraid she would disappear if he released her from his arms. She wasn’t in a hurry to move, though. She knew she was where she was meant to be, in the strong arms of the green-eyed hunter that had won her heart a long time ago. Reluctantly, she pulled back, looking up to see him smiling down at her, and without hesitation, closed the small gap between them, pressing her lips to his in a barely there kiss.

She had imagined kissing Dean so many times, but even in her most vivid dreams, she couldn’t have foreseen how good his lips would feel on hers or how much the little whimpers he made as she deepened the kiss and ran her tongue across his bottom lip would affect her. The feeling of the muscles in his shoulders moving under her fingertips as he moved his hands all over her body made her ache with desire. She had never wanted anyone so badly in her life, and it was finally happening, making her head swim with the idea of what was still to come.

Dean walked them back over to the couch without his lips ever leaving her, laying her down cautiously, watching her expressions to make sure she wanted this as much as he did. When he found no signs of hesitation, he leaned over her, slotting himself between her legs, his lips going to kiss and nibble her neck. He was in no hurry tonight. He was going to find every little spot that made her cry out, make her feel like she was the only woman in the world, because that’s exactly what she was to him.

Y/N was a withering mess beneath him. The way his body was pressing her into the couch, his lips on her neck, his hands gently caressing her would be the death of her, she was sure. She needed more, needed to feel his skin against her, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses all over her already sweat-sheened body. She pushed his flannel down his shoulders, letting him shrug it off before grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it up his back as she tried to remove it. Dean chuckled as he sat back on his heels, pulling the shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor behind him.

“Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip as she nodded, a little embarrassed at how carried away she was becoming. No man had ever made her feel the things she was feeling at the moment. Maybe it was because Dean was just so fucking handsome or that she was so irrevocably in love with him, but whatever it was, she had never been so turned on in her life. And he hadn’t done anything but kiss her.

“Hey…” he whispered, getting her attention. He knew that look. She was in her head again. “This will only go as far as you want it to. I want to touch you, feel you, make you feel so damn good, baby, but only if that’s what you want,”

“I want you, Dean. I need you,” she whimpered, quivering in anticipation.

“Are you sure? We’ll stop right now…,”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she groaned, earning another chuckle from Dean.

“Whatever my girl wants,” he winked, leaning down to capture her mouth again.

He moved his lips down her jaw, kissing and lightly nipping her skin as he trailed down toward her ear, licking the spot right behind her lobe. The sound she made was between a moan and a whimper, and fuck him if he didn’t want to hear her make that noise over and over.

He bore his weight on his hands, stiffening his arms so he could look down at her, and the unbridled passion he saw looking back at him took his breath away. She really wanted him, and it made him want to drown himself in her, completely let go and show her just how much he wanted and loved her. He made it his mission right then to show her how special she was because, god damn if she wasn’t perfect.

“Can I?” he asked, pulling the hem of her shirt up slightly, smiling when she nodded at him somewhat shyly.

Once her shirt had been thrown behind them, he dropped himself down on his forearms, placing soft kisses on the swell of her breasts. Her hands entwined in the hair on the back of his head, pulling him to where she wanted him, and he couldn’t contain the groan that spilled past his lips. She was starting to relax and enjoy herself, and if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, he didn’t know what was.

She was writhing underneath him as he took her nipple in his mouth through the fabric of her bra, her back arching with pleasure as her pussy clenched around nothing. She could feel him smirk against her skin as he kissed his way down her abdomen, stopping at the waist of her leggings. He looked up, silently questioning if he could continue. He smiled wickedly as she nodded in approval, sliding them and her panties down in one pull.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered as he ran his hands down her legs, spreading them slowly so he could see all of her.

Dean sat back, taking a moment to just admire the woman lying there before him. He could never express his gratitude for being here with her like this, and it wasn’t about just the sex. He knew what she was giving him and how special it was, and he wouldn’t take it for granted. He wanted to give himself to her wholly, but he had never been so happy and terrified. This wasn’t some one-night stand that would walk away in the morning. She was his best friend, and that scared the shit out of him. What if he couldn’t make her happy? She deserved the world, and he didn’t know if he could be the one to give that to her.

“Dean, stop,”

His eyes shot to hers. This was it. She had finally realized that she was making a mistake. He hung his head, knowing she was too good for him. He should’ve known that he would never deserve someone like her. He turned to reach for her shirt to give back to her when he felt her hand on his cheek, making him look at her.

“I can see what you’re thinking, and I want this. I want you, Dean. I’ve wanted you for so long...Please...Please, Dean, make me yours,” she said, tracing his bottom lip with her thumb, “Make me your girl.”

The dam had broken. Every emotion he had kept bottled up where it concerned Y/N was now at the surface, and it was overwhelming, to say the least. She wanted him, was begging for him, and who was he to not give her what she wanted.

In a flurry of limbs, he had his jeans and boxers off in record speed. He nestled himself back between her legs, caging her in with his arms, his mouth crushing hers, trying to show her exactly how he felt without words. She slid her arms down his back to his hips, pulling him to grind against her, both of them groaning at the feeling. He moved his hand between them, running a finger through her soaked folds, teasing her entrance with the tip of his finger.

“So wet for me, sweetheart,” he groaned in her ear, “I haven’t even tasted you yet.”

“Not this time, please! I need you inside me,” she begged, not wanting to waste another second before she felt him.

“I have to get you ready for me first.”

He pushed his middle finger deep into her heat, slowly dragging it in and out before adding his index finger. The way she was moaning and clutching for him made it hard not to slam home right then, but he also wanted to make her come on his fingers. He moved his thumb to slowly circle her clit as his fingers moved inside her faster.

“D, please! I’m gonna...I’m…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence before she came hard on his fingers, soaking his palm with her juices. Her body shook with her release as she cried out, grinding her hips down on his hand. She swore she had seen stars. No one had ever made her come that hard with their fingers. He slowed down his pace as she came down, going limp, eyes shut tight and breathing hard. She could hear him sucking her taste off his fingers, making her shiver.

“Fuck…,” she huffed, finally opening her eyes to see him smiling down at her.

“There she is…,” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her softly, “You okay?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she rolled him over to his back, straddling his hips. She didn’t wait as she grabbed his hard cock, lining it up with her and sinking down. The feeling of being so full, him stretching her so good, almost had her coming again. His size made her have to adjust for a moment. He was bigger than anyone she had ever had, and she could feel the difference.

She pressed her hands to his chest for leverage and began moving, riding him slowly and making him go deep. Her moans soon drowned out the song playing in the background as she felt the coil in her belly tighten again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take what you want,” He growled, fighting hard to stave off his release.

“Dean...Oh, God…I’m so close.”

“Let go for me,” he said, reaching up to cup her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eye, “Come, baby girl.”

It was almost like her body was at his command. The coil snapped as soon as the words left his mouth, sending a white-hot heat coursing through her. Her body collapsed on his chest, his arms holding her to him as he thrust up into her, working her through her high. He captured her lips as he rolls them over, placing her leg over his hip as he drives himself deep, whispering praises in her ear.

“You feel so good, Y/N. So wet and tight for me.”

“Dean, please…” she begged, unsure what she was begging for anymore.

“I’ve got you. I’ll always have you, baby girl,” he growled into her shoulder, fighting back his orgasm. He refused to let go until she came around him again, “Touch yourself for me. Come again.”

She whined at the sensitivity as she circled her throbbing bud. She didn’t think she could come again, completely blissed out from the two times she had already, but to her surprise, the coil started to wind tight again, her release right on the edge. Dean thrust in hard while he pulled her nipple in his mouth, and that’s all it took to send her flying off the edge. She came with his name passing her lips in a chant as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her pussy clenching around him threw Dean over with her, stilling deep as he filled her up, whispering her name in her ear over and over.

Neither wanted to move, both enjoying the post-sex haze, but now also scared of what would happen next. Dean was the one to break the stillness as he rolled away, pulling her back to his chest as they lay on the couch. He nuzzled his face into the back of her neck, breathing in the smell of hair as it cascaded across his face. If this ended up being a one-time thing, he wanted to enjoy this little bit of peace that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hell, he didn’t know if he had ever felt peace like this.

“Dean,” she whispered, breaking the silence between them.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What happens now?” her voice was so soft that he barely heard her.

He stayed quiet for a moment. Seriously thinking of how he wanted to answer her. He knew for a fact that he couldn’t go back to being her friend now. He was absolutely gone on her, and she needed to know it. He pulled her tighter against him as he began to speak.

“Well, I’m not sure how you feel, but Y/N, there’s no turning back for me now. I’ve wanted you for so damn long, and now that I have you, I can’t be just your friend anymore. If you haven’t noticed by now, I’m head over heels for you, sweetheart, and I’m all in. That is if you’ll have me.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was you,” she smiled, squeezing his hand that was resting on her stomach.

He kissed her head before he started to laugh softly, “I’m so damn glad I took the time to learn that dance.”

She turned in his arms quickly, looking at him in shock, “You learned that just for me?”

“Well, you said that a man that can dance is sexy,” he chuckled, kissing the tip of her nose.

“You didn’t have to learn that to be sexy, Dean.”

“Well, then, I don’t have to worry about having to dance again,” he smirked at her.

“No! I never said that. You were already sexy, but that dance made you extra sexy,” she giggled as he tickled her side.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he chided, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and covering them.

That night, they lay cuddled on the couch, stealing kisses and never taking their hands off each other. Both of them eventually fell into a blissful sleep. The first night of many that they slept in each other’s arms.

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #spn fanfiction #supernatural family #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fiction #spn fanfic #spnfandom #dean fanfiction #spn famdom #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you

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abiiors · 5 months

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sfw alphabet ❣️ // matty healy x reader

a/n: there is one story in here that is based on true events from my life hehehe. also while we're here i'd like to say that i tried veryyyy hard to keep it strictly sfw but some innuendos did slip through lol cw: mostly fluff, very brief mentions of addiction. brief mentions of morning sickness, some angst but it's very tame overall wc: 5.6k

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

matty’s like if you fed a stray cat that one time five months ago—meaning, he’s going to be the most affectionate person ever if you show him even one act of kindness. it doesn’t matter what your relationship to him is, it’s just a given at this point that if you’re close to him, he’s going to go above and beyond for you.

you get your first taste of it when you show up to his house, on the verge of tears and a panic attack from the stress of an upcoming deadline. it’s three weeks into dating, you’re barely even sure if you should be bothering him with your silly little problems (even though later he would scold you for calling them silly little problems).

matty opens the door, takes one look at your face, and instantly pull you into a hug.

“oh, darling, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern and you suspect there’s a giant frown on his face.

“everything!”

a little giggle slips out of him and he has to press his mouth shut when you look up at him with a betrayed pout.

“everything? hmm, we gotta do something about that then, don’t we?”

and then that’s exactly what he does.

“should we light a fire?” matty asks once he’s got you a glass of wine (your favourite that he found out about and now always keeps on hand) “you love a good fire.”

“and we can read together?”

“anything you want, baby!”

and even though his face twists into an expression of instant regret as soon as he says it, matty still proceeds to make a fire while you set up blankets and pillows on the sofa. he knows exactly what’s coming though (no seriously, he fondly likes to call your kindle unlimited subscription the bane of his existence)

still, twenty minutes later, snuggled up next to you and cringing through every bad sex scene, he can’t complain. not when he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck and hear you laugh at his reactions.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

loyal to a fault!!!

you can pinpoint the actual date the two of you became friends—years and years and years ago, practically decades at this point, at the ripe old age of fourteen, you got into your first fight.

you can’t remember how the fight started or who it was with. all you know if there were a few words, someone pulling your hair and the next thing you know, you were on the ground, trying to hit any vulnerable spot you could find.

the memories after that are fuzzy—you, school uniform undone, dried blood on your split lip, toeing the grass outside your school and trying not to look nervous. what if some teacher saw it?

you didn’t throw the first punch! what if—

“you look like you could use a fag!” a voice cuts through. it’s a boy you’ve sometimes seen around school. black hair (awfully straightened), a unibrow, thick black glasses, always surrounded by the same three boys.

“i don’t smoke,” you counter and go back to torturing the poor grass.

“i didn’t ask if you smoked, just said you look like you could use one.”

what. a. fucking. twat!

still, you aren’t much in the mood for an argument. “don’t wanna get in trouble.”

the boy shrugs. “you’re already in trouble, mate. but whatever.”

he’s about to leave when you grab his arm. “no wait. why are you being nice to me?”

at that, he grins. “are you joking? we all saw what you did to sam! biggest fucking bully in class and you looked like a badass putting him in his place.”

“wait, really? you really think that?”

“ask george,” (you don’t know who george is) “or ross or adam,” (you don’t know who they are either) “we all think you’re fucking cool.”

that makes you smile too. you hiss quickly though, smiling with a split lip hurts but he extends the cigarette to you once again.

and this time, you accept it gladly.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

clingiest man in the whole wide world!!! he has to be attached to you at all times otherwise he’s gonna have that horrendously sad little pout on his face all day.

if you’re just at home, watching something on tv then his head is on your boobs (or in your lap but boobs is preferred though) while you play with his hair. every once in a while he nuzzles his face between them and says something that suspiciously sounds like “comfy”

he’s cute though! and it’s not always sexual. you love the fact that he feels so much adoration for you.

if you’re in bed though, you end up being the little spoon because he absolutely loves to flop on you and cover you with his entire body. he’s deliciously warm and smells so incredible (and he smells like home to you). you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve fallen asleep like that—with his face buried in your neck, his stubble scratching the skin. and even when his arm falls asleep, he won’t make you move your head at the risk of waking you up.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he is a brilliant house-husband (and that’s a title he’s claimed on his own).

“no, go sit down babe, let me take care of that for you” or “let me cook for you tonight” or “should i do the laundry while you finish your movie?” are definitely regular matty sentences arround the house.

the few weeks when he’s just gotten back from a tour and wants to do nothing but sleep all day long are probably the only time you do all the chores while he’s also in the house. he does get huffy when he realises you didn’t wake him up and ask for help.

“i could’ve hoovered,” he pouts but it melts away quickly when you pull him into a kiss.

“i know you could have, love, but you looked so peaceful sleeping i didn’t wanna bother you!”

he isn’t very happy about that but he silently vows to stay up and help you the next time.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he doesn’t want to let go no matter how much the relationship deteriorates. he knows he can fix this and turn back time and bring back the spark. he knows the weekly fights are just a phase, he knows you love him so much!

deep down, he also knows he’s delusional.

you’re sleeping in two different rooms again, you in the guest bedroom, and he’s in your cold, empty bed. and there’s no way he can sleep that night judging by all the tossing and turning he’s done so far. your latest fight echoes in his head—all the nasty things he said, all the vile things you responded with.

just fuck off then, and don’t bother me again! those were your last words of the night before you slammed the door shut and the loud, defining thud echoed through the whole house.

when morning finally arrives, he knows he has to do it.

he knows he owes you at least this much. to break it off with dignity. to salvage whatever shreds of friendship and love that remain between you.

“we need to talk,” he says as soon as you enter the kitchen, eyes swollen and red and surrounded by bags. lips dry and chapped.

still, you nod. and matty extends you a steaming mug of coffee for the last time.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he is so down to commit!

he’s started planning a proposal like a year into the relationship. he hasn’t bought the ring yet or anything! in fact, he’s not going to buy a ring at all. not when he plans on giving you his grandmother’s precious ring that she wore every single day until the day she died.

however, he knows the timing's not right. you’re both so busy and you’ve just started a new job. he has a few more tours coming up for the next two years. and well, he has his best friend’s wedding coming up soon, he’s not about to be the dickhead that proposes at someone else’s wedding.

so matty keeps the proposal contained to his day dreams.

he knows it’s going to be at home (he knows how much you despise public proposals) and he knows it’s going to be during the golden hour when you cuddle into him like a sleepy cat. he loves this routine—you, sleepy and gasping for a nap, plopping onto him when he’s just doing his own thing in the living room.

he loves how content you look in the dying light of the sun. how happy and beautiful and utterly perfect.

and matty knows, when he eventually gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, that’s when it’s going to have to be!

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so incredibly gentle!

you can’t remember a single time matty’s ever raised his voice at you. he used to be your pretty, dainty boy but he’s started working out now and he’s got muscles (which you find extremely hot. he’s also got a cute little bubble butt that you love to slap). it’s not that he’s unaware of his own strength but now he puts extra effort in being gentler if you two ever get into a play fight.

he makes sure to never fully pin you down (unless you ask for it 👀) or put his whole weight on you.

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them on most days.

his hugs are always the absolute best! it’s like being surrounded by all things matty—his cologne and aftershave, his arms, the softness of his shirt and the feel of his chin on top of your head. you think a hug from matty is the closest you’ll ever come to having a universal cure for every ailment ever.

on some days he gets quite overstimulated though. you can see it on his face when every single sensation becomes a bit too much and as much as you want to bundle him up, you try to give him his space. to let him calm down a bit. you can always just sit there and hold his hand if that’s all the touch he can bear for the moment.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

one month in, completely on accident!

you’re sick with the bubonic plague (a cold) and rotting in bed, surrounded by used tissues, half-empty cups of lemsip, and your trusty little comfort plush. matty’s in full nurse mode, despite you telling him that it’s nothing, you’ll be fine if he left.

it’s only when george calls him for something work related that he relents.

“let me check your fever one last time before i go,” he insists and you roll your eyes. but you have no other choice but to give in. it’s a 100 degrees, exactly what it was an hour ago. not too bad at all, but matty frowns.

“i’ll be back in a few hours, darling, you have to promise to call me if you need anything okay?”

“i will!” you croak out and wince when your throat protests. “now go.”

he holds his hands up in surrender and bends down to press a kiss on your head.

“don’t wanna get you sick matty,” you try to protest weakly but even then you know it’s useless. he’s going to do whatever he wants.

“go to sleep now,” he says, “i’ll see you soon. i love you!” and then he leaves.

ten minutes later, when it finally registers in your fever addled brain, your entire body goes cold. did he—

did you hear it right? no… it’s just the fever right? you’re sick! that must be it.

little do you know, matty had to sit down outside your room for a good two minutes before he could leave the house. and now that he’s in the studio, distractedly working on producing a track, he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he used to get soooo jealous back when you were “just friends”! (he still is, he just thinks he hides it better)

the first time you really clock it is when you bring a friend to one of their shows. you know sean’s been a fan of theirs for a bit and frankly, you’re quite excited about introducing him to the band.

matty, however, is as far away from excitement as one can get.

he tries to mask his unease, and greets you with a forced smile. “heard you were our special guest, mate,” he nods in sean’s direction and puts his arm around your waist. “hope you enjoyed the show?”

if sean finds any of it weird, he doesn’t say it. he’s smiles bashfully and gushes about how much fun it’s been. you, on the other hand…

“matty…?” you say as soon as you get a moment alone with him.

he’s outside smoking a cigarette staring off into the distance. his jaw looks sharper than it usually does, his lips are pursed in a straight line. you take a deep breath, contemplating whether to address the obvious tension or let it slide. the distant city lights flicker in the background as you approach him, and he finally turns his attention towards you, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"alright?" your tone is a mix of concern and curiosity. when his eyes meet yours, for a moment, it feels like he's searching for the right words.

he shrugs, attempting a nonchalant smile. but you can see through it. so you fold your arms, giving him a knowing look.

matty sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. he leans against the venue's brick wall, avoiding direct eye contact. “thought we were going out for drinks later. just us two you know?”

ahhhh. so that’s what it is.

a tiny tendril of something shoots through your stomach, does something funny to your entire body.

“we are,” you try to stifle a smile. “do you not want to anymore?”

“what? no!” matty sputters, “i mean, yes! of course, i want to get drinks with you, i just thought…”

“you just thought?”

“well you brought a… friend.”

it becomes almost impossible to hide a smile then, and matty narrows his eyes. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses and narrows his eyes further when you burst into a fit of giggles.

“he’s going home in a bit,” you manage to recover a bit. “you’re stuck with just me i’m afraid.”

that makes matty shake his head and you can finally see a tiny smile peaking through.

“just you… hmm,” he teases. “guess i’ll have to make do with that.”

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses always leave you a little breathless.

it doesn’t matter if it’s your first kiss of the day or if he’s been particularly affectionate or if he’s kissed you all over the face—you somehow always end up giggling like a teenager with a crush with your head spinning slightly.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

so good, it gives you immense baby fever for the next few weeks.

it’s three months into your relationship when his mum insists you spend christmas with their family and you agree to it happily!

his entire family is there! his mum and step-father, his brother and his girlfriend, his dad, his step-brother who’s just had a baby. and that’s the moment you know you’re about to suffer from raging baby fever.

the whole weekend matty is absolutely adorable with the baby. you see him offer to take care of her and feed and change her, you see him making her laugh and smile, but it’s when you see him singing her to sleep, that’s when you truly lose it.

matty doesn’t even know you’re watching him, he's completely immersed in singing his own rendition of you are my sunshine while the baby stares at him with sleepy eyes. but it almost makes you weep when she clutches his finger in her tiny hand and starts to dose off.

the image lingers in the forefront of your mind even when you’re trying to sleep, being spooned by matty and under a cosy duvet. so much so that you have to turn around and bury your face in his chest to stop yourself from squealing at the cuteness.

he’s long asleep by then though. all he does is tighten his hold around you and you’re left to dream of a tiny baby with your eyes and matty’s curls.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

when you’re not getting off to… other things… mornings are usually very calm and chill. more often than not, one of you wakes the other with a steaming mug of coffee. if it’s a busy day and you don’t have much time to be lazy and cuddly, you just chat about your plans for the day while having coffee and some breakfast.

if it is a lazy day, however, breakfast usually turns into brunch in bed, followed by a nice, long bath full of bubbles!

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights are just as sweet and way more cuddly.

both of you have a little ritual of reading in bed before going to sleep if you aren’t… otherwise occupied. still, he loves to just sit there and listen to you talk about your day or your work in general.

it always makes you laugh how excited he gets about any work gossip you might have for him.

overall, your nights together are so relaxing and sweet and genuinely make you appreciate him so much more.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in all fairness you knew much more about matty than he knew about you. he’s always been so open about his friendships and music and all his struggles, still, you knew hearing it from him first hand was going to be different. and you also expected it to take some time.

he doesn’t reveal it all at once though, he thinks he’s trying to make it more palatable for you if he talks about stuff bit by bit.

you’re special to him. he doesn’t want to scare you away by trauma dumping outright! it takes him a bit to open up completely, even when you show him nothing but support. but the more he shares with you, the deeper he falls in love. the more it becomes clear to him that you’re here to stay.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

anger isn’t the right word for it really! mostly he just gets annoyed sometimes—like a sweet little toddler with his cheeks puffed up it’s almost funny if it wasn’t so downright adorable. he can’t stay annoyed though! one kiss from you (even though it’s usually multiple in quick succession. a strategic attack really!) his annoyance melts away like butter on toast.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

matty’s like a walking encyclopaedia for trivia related to you and your relationship! he might not remember what he ate for dinner the night before, but he remembers exactly what earrings you wore for your music awards with him.

you do cheekily quiz him sometimes, and matty just smirks like an insufferable twat. “you can try all you want, love, you can’t best me at this game.” he grins.

“oh yeah? that’s a lot of cockiness healy!”

“go on then, quiz me!” he challenges and you smirk back.

“what did i say before i kissed you for the first time? four years ago that is! i need it verbatim, babe.”

for a moment he looks speechless and the smile on your face widens. it was four years ago after all. you’ve had infinite kisses since then, there’s no way he remembers. definitely not verbatim.

matty stalks closer. “you said…” he drawls between one long stride and the next and then he’s right there in front of you, mouth hovering over yours. so close your lips are almost touching. the air between you two feels charged with lightning.

“you said, you wanted to do this, and i quote ‘since the first time you fixed my smudged lipstick with your thumb’.” and before you have the chance to even react, he’s crashing his mouth on yours, smiling against your lips.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it’s been fondly dubbed as “the mayhem disaster”.

one morning you hear matty go, “no, no, no, mayhem!” you put your book aside, and sit up to listen the curses that follow.

“everything alright?” you call out, confused and curious.

“babe, can you come here a sec?” he responds, making you groan into your cosy cocoon you'd made for yourself. it rained all night before, and now the weather’s just the perfect combination of gloomy and cosy—perfect to cuddle with your boyfriend all day.

which is what you had been doing until ten minutes ago when matty had to get up to let mayhem out into the backyard.

you turn the corner into the living room only to freeze in your tracks and slap your hand on your mouth, still failing to stifle the loud gasp that leaves you.

in front of you sits matty, on the floor, his head in his hands and next to him stands mayhem. except his gorgeous black fur is now fully covered and matted with mud

behind him, you can see muddy tracks and stray leaves he's brought in.

“oh no…” you don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the scene in front of you.

“baby…” you coo softly, both at matty and mayhem, “what happened?”

“he ran straight for a puddle the second i let him out, didn’t you, you twat?” he scolds the pup making you tsk.

that makes him laugh though. shaking his head, matty gets off the floor.

“well, come on you, straight to the bathroom,” he points a finger in the vague direction.

when the two of you finally manage to get him in the tub, matty starts running a bath while you rummage through the cabinet for pet shampoo.

“be a good boy now,” you scratch mayhem behind his ear, grimacing at the mud that’s now under your fingernails.

you crouch down to his level, softly grabbing his face and about to start cleaning. but of course, he takes it as an invitation to play and begins nuzzling you with his head, trying to climb on you.

matty laughs, making absolutely no move to help you. mayhem, covered in mud, tries to climb on you as you try to set him back into the tub gently. but it’s far too late, you’re already covered in mud.

“fuck! my favourite t-shirt!” you whine, looking down at yourself in despair.

“it’s not even yours,” matty laughs while you scowl at him. “besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “you can always take it off.”

“pervert,” you laugh at him and then proceed to take it off in one fluid motion and chuck it at his face.

your eyes widen when the t-shirt slides off his face, leaving a perfectly round muddy mark on his cheek.

“you got mud on my face, didn’t you?” he dips a hand in the tub and you know what’s coming. “didn’t you?!” he asks again before splashing a handful of water on you.

you squeal as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, rubbing his cheek against your face, neck, chest.

“matty!” you laugh, trying to get away from him but he holds on tight. “get her, mayhem, get her,’ he giggles and the puppy covers you in wet kisses once again.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s always been protective of you, especially when you’re in public. he doesn’t have to worry about the fans being rude or agressive, but the same can’t be said about random photographers and tabloids.

you thought you knew the extent of his protectiveness. all of that changed the moment you found out you were expecting.

you thought you knew his mother hen tendencies inside and out, turns out you were absolutely dead wrong! matty hovers. so. much.

he’s there, holding your hair every time you find yourself throwing up. he’s there cancelling on appointments and on the boys on days he deems the morning sickness “too serious”. most of all, he won’t let you go up or down the stairs alone. at all.

“i’m pregnant, matty, not an invalid!” you whine one evening when you feel him hovering behind you as you make your way up the stairs.

“i know,” he drags it out as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i’m just making extra sure.”

your eye twitches. “making sure of what? that the stair monster doesn’t get me?”

you kow he’s rolling his eyes without being able to see his face. “alright, smartarse. i meant more if you got dizzy halfway up or down the stairs.”

“i’ll sit down!”

he hmphs, completely dismissing that logic.

“baby, the stairs have a railing for a reason!”

he hmphs again. “didn’t know it was a crime to make sure my girls were safe!”

that makes you sigh. this is a petty squabble—it’s not your first, it certainly won’t be your last. once you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him with another long sigh. “look, baby, i appreciate the concern, but i'm not made of glass. i can handle a flight of stairs without a chaperone.”

“indulge me, okay! we can have this argument every time, or you can just ignore my presence when you’re going up or down the stairs. either way, i’m going to hover.”

“matty!”

but you know it’s useless. besides, his stubbornness is almost endearing. and between that and the pampering that comes with the protectiveness, you might as well just give up your stance now…

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts in so much thought! it has been like this since date one—since he made sure to accommodate your likes and dislikes and food preferences in finding the perfect place to eat. even after all these years, he takes his time to plan out everything. even if it’s just an at home pamper day for you while he does all the chores.

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

it’s a low hanging fruit but… the excessive smoking annoys you sometimes. especially because his voice is his job. you’ve told him multiple times to tone it down a little and it’s not like he doesn’t listen. it just… doesn’t always stick.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

depends on where he has to go and what the occasion is. he’ll be dressed to the nines if he has to accompany you to a party or an event but usually he’s fine being in soft comfy clothes that keep him cosy

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes!

this literally needs zero explanation.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

pots and pans clatter; great, banging sounds first thing in the morning in an otherwise serene kitchen. it wouldn’t be like this, not really but you’re both incredibly sleepy. two figures, one tall and hunched over, the other smaller, softer. cuddled into him. the kitchen is awash in the early morning light, too early if you were to be asked but you’re okay with it. you’re happy and content as long as you get to stay stuck to matty’s side.

he cracks an egg.

“a sunny side up? still want that?” he asks and then laughs to himself. it’s an inside joke to him because, in the end, you’re going to end up stealing the eggs on his plate (a soft scramble) and accuse him of putting more care into his breakfast. which is exactly why he does it; puts more love into “his” breakfast that is. he knows you’re going to end up stealing it.

“can’t have you changing your mind again, darling.” matty ruffles your hair affectionately and tugs at the claw clip holding them together. they cascade down your shoulders; messy, frizzy and big.

this early morning everything is a bit fuzzy; your head, your thoughts. “mmm,” you respond. a sleepy little hmm. it’s quite possibly a yes, or it could be a “hold on i’m still thinking” or even a “don’t really feel like eggs anymore”. in all your years together, deciphering your hmms has been his biggest challenge.

“alright then,” a pause. you cuddle closer simply because his t-shirt is soft and he is very warm. this early in the morning you have no sense of anything else but the familiar warmth and the sizzling of the pan.

“i’ll make some coffee for us,” you volunteer and move away.

the bubbling of the kettle almost puts you back to sleep; it’s soothing, rhythmic. but you keep yourself occupied. your favourite mugs are always hung side by side. his is comically large, in the shape of a pint glass; you always tease him about not being able to finish the coffee, about always finding cold remnants at the bottom of the mug.

yours on the other hand looks more like a bowl; soft pink with tiny daisies all over it. you like holding it in both hands and cuddling it close to soak up some of the liquid’s warmth. on days that are especially cold, matty calls it your “emotional support mug”. and it is.

“okay we have to time this,” you announce and carefully pour hot water into the french press. so now he has about four minutes to finish the eggs. that’s alright, four minutes is all he needs.

“get the plates for us, would you?” he asks, bumping his hip into yours. it’s partly to wake you up some more, partly because he’s not very coordinated first thing in the morning either.

you’re about to grumble. getting the plate means leaving your comfy spot and having to open the door, dig around, close it again; so much work really. but matty is quicker. he knows this grumble is coming and he knows a tiny kiss on your nose always does wonders.

unfair really, that he should know you that well.

“hmm,” you huff and start the trek to the cabinet. matty snickers at the way you drag your feet, like a child being told to clean her room. always a grump before you’ve had some food and caffeine.

“such a grump,” he teases, “c’mere.”

when you stop in front of him, two plates in hand, he immediately sets them aside and pulls you close. your eyes are droopy, soft and sleepy. there’s no resistance when he tilts your chin and kisses you sweetly; a lingering soft kiss.

then he holds the steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

it’s as if the aroma makes you come alive; you perks up instantly, eyes finally open and hands reaching to cradle the bowl-like mug, to hold it close to your chest. you don't just drink the coffee, you indulge in it.

“right!’ you speak after a few sips, and proceed to steal his eggs.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

snobbiness is a big no no. he really hates it when people retend like they’re better than someone else just because they have more fame or success or money.

he would absolutely despise himself if he ever turned into that person. and regardless of who he’s with at the moment, he makes sure that they don’t possess that quality.

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

so erratic it’s worrying sometimes.

you tried to figure out if he was a night owl or a morning bird but it’s genuinely so unpredictable that you had to give up after a few weeks later.

one thing remains consistent though, wherever he is, he won’t go to bed without talking to you and telling you he loves you! even if he’s on the other side of the world, calling you with sleepy eyes and drooping curls while you hold your morning cup of coffee. even if he’s just got back home at 2 am and you’re already fast asleep. matty makes sure to whisper a little i love you and place a kiss on your head before he goes to bed.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

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actuallysaiyan · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 8: Lingerie(Perverse punishment...)

warnings/kinks: lingerie, handjobs, kissing, succubus, occult, use of spirit/ouija board, threesome word count: 0.6k pairings: SDV!Sebastian x Fem!Succubus!Reader x SDV!Sam teaser: “What a cutie you are,” she whispers in his ear before nibbling on his neck. taglist: @beneathstarryskies @loki-love @witchofcustom @dreadsuitsamus @pyrofanatic @butterflieskeepcominback

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Sam asks, his eyes wide. He’s never done anything remotely like this, but to say that he’s not excited would be a fib.

Seb smirks at him, “It should. Abby said this is how you do it.”

In front of them on the ground is the makeshift spirit board that Abigail has leant them, along with a very cute yet sultry lingerie set they’ve laid out as an offering. They are both hoping that a succubus will appear and rock their world. Not only to rock their world but also so they can live out their wildest fantasies.

Sam and Sebastian watch with bated breath for a few minutes, their cocks throbbing at the idea of having a succubus come here and wear that sexy little number they picked out. It’s cute, lacy and pink and purple. There are a few bows scattered around the bodice. And one bow on the panties at the top. It’s adorable but also so sexy.

Sam is the first to voice his skepticism and annoyance. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to work but he had been so excited to see if it would actually work.

“Awh man,” he groans, “It’s not working.” His hand comes down to squeeze his cock for some much needed relief.

“Just give it a minute…” Sebastian says, a little annoyed.

He grabs the spellbook, checking to see the errors they might have made. Suddenly, the room fills with purple and pink smoke and there is an unmistakable scent of geranium perfume in the air

A pink skinned succubus sits in the middle of the room, the sultry and cute lingerie adorning her body so perfectly. She giggles softly and bats her eyelashes.

“Hi boys,” she says, her voice soft and bubbly. “Did you summon me here?”

Sam and Sebastian are dumbfounded. They aren’t even really sure how to reply. Part of them truly believed they’d just resort to jerking off to porn together once more because Abigail had set them up. But now that the succubus was here, and dressed in the sexy lingerie, they were more than excited to get this party started.

Sam is the first to approach her and he begins to caress her. Immediately, he’s hit with these intense pheromones and his cock twitches in his pants. She reaches down for it, palming him through his pants.

“What a cutie you are,” she whispers in his ear before nibbling on his neck.

Seb can’t believe his eyes. His best friend is about to get jerked off by the sexiest creature they’ve ever seen. Sebastian moves closer, his eyes locked on the scene before him.

“Come here, sweetie,” the sweet voice beckons him. Sebastian watches as the succubus already has Sam halfway undressed and is playing with his leaking cock.

The black haired man crawls over, desperate for a little action too. He makes a move, snapping the strap on the succubus’ body. It’s a cute little lingerie set, and he remembers him and Sam both agreeing on it together. The succubus laughs at the tingling sensation of the strap being snapped.

“Oh you’re a feisty one!” She comments and Sebastian blushes.

Sam’s in heaven right now, his cock being jerked off in exactly the way he’s always loved it. He thinks that not even himself could do a good job.He’s bucking his hips, moaning like a little whore as the succubus jerks him off.

“That’s a good boy,” She purrs, then her attention is back to Sebastian. Within seconds, his cock is out of his pants as well.

One touch of her soft hand on his cock sends him reeling. He’s moaning pathetically right along with Sam. Both of them can’t keep their eyes off the pretty pink skinned succubus. Especially not with that sexy little number fitting her like a glove…

Who would have thought that this would be the way they’d spend their Friday night?

#bacon.writes #sam sdv x reader #Sebastian sdv x reader #sam sdv x you #Sebastian sdv x you #sam x reader #sam sdv smut #Sebastian x you #Sebastian sdv smut #Stardew valley #Stardew Valley smut #kinktober 2023

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elizabethsnuts · 1 year

Text

Baby Romanoff

Winterwidow x daughter!reader

Summary: Natasha and Buckys baby daughter hates being teased but she won’t stand loosing.

———

In the bustling Avengers Tower, a rainy day kept everyone indoors for lunch. Natasha, sat at the dining table with her husband, Bucky, and their precious daughter, Y/N. All the avengers had gathered for lunch in the tower kitchen due to the storm outside.

Dressed in only your diaper, you sat in your high chair, enjoying a bowl of mashed raspberries and strawberries. Your fingers clumsily grabbed at the spoon, trying to feed yourself. The Avengers, seated around the table, couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight.

As the thunder rumbled outside, your attention turned toward the towering clouds visible through the window. With your tiny arm outstretched, you pointed excitedly, your precious green eyes widening with curiosity. Just then, 7 year old Peter, Tony Stark's son, walked by, catching a glimpse of you in your high chair.

Mischievous by nature, Peter couldn't resist a little teasing. He reached out and snatched the spoon from your tiny hand, causing you to erupt in a chorus of incoherent gibberish. Your face scrunched up in displeasure, you gave Peter your signature Romanoff glare, you made sure your message was clear – the spoon was yours, and you wanted it back.

Tony, noticing the commotion, intervened, playfully scolding his son. "Alright, Peter, give it back. Don't tease her." But Peter, enjoying the teasing, held the spoon just out of your reach. His laughter filled the room as he stretched his arm away from your tiny grasp.

Your determination kicked into high gear. With lightning speed, you latched onto Peter's outstretched arm, using your tiny fingers to pinch him. Caught off guard, Peter dropped the spoon, and with your amazing reflexes, deftly caught it mid-air, a victorious smile lighting up your face.

The Avengers were amazed by your lightning-quick reflexes, applauding the little triumph. You were indeed a force to be reckoned with, inheriting your mama's resilient spirit and your papa's unwavering strength. With your face, the spitting image of Natasha, and your dark red hair mirroring your mother's, you were a sight to behold.

Bucky, always quick with a witty remark, turned to Peter and grinned. "This is why you don't challenge Romanoffs, kid."

Peter, a little taken aback, couldn't help but retort, "Why did you marry one, then?"

Bucky chuckled and replied, "Well, she's got her ways, but I couldn't resist." His gaze shifted to Natasha, who was making her way over to their daughter.

Natasha scooped you up in her arms, her heart swelling with pride. You giggled and patted the spoon against Natasha's cheek, as if rewarding her for her rescue mission. With a content smile, you handed the spoon back to your mama.

Sam Wilson, watching the scene unfold, rolled his eyes and said, "Of course, she gives it to Natasha."

Natasha smirked and replied, "That's because I'm her mama, Sam. I have special privileges."

The Avengers shared a collective laugh, realizing that the affection you have for your parents was immeasurable. You were their little baby, bringing joy and laughter to their lives. You extended your tiny arms, patting Bucky's cheeks and tugging at his hair, showering your papa with your boundless affection.

None of the avengers could deny the overwhelming adorableness of you and your unwavering devotion to your parents. With your spoon clutched back in your hand, you beamed at the gathered Avengers, as if assuring them that your love was boundless, even if you couldn't express it in words just yet.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #buckynat #daughter!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #winterwidow #winterwidow x daughter!reader #winterwidow x baby!reader #baby!reader #natasha romanoff x baby!reader #bucky barnes x baby!reader

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postmodernbeliever · 25 days

Text

little darling- fox mulder x female reader (SMUT OH MY GOD…)

fox mulder knows how badly you want to be touched, to be taken care of, and he is obsessed with being the first and only guy to do it.

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my ao3 | word count: 6,071

content tags: smut, smut so good in my brain it came out poetic?, loss of virginity, virginity kink, dom fox mulder, protective gentle extremely horny fox mulder, embarrassment, sexual fantasy, plus size reader gets sooooo much love, im blushing just posting this aaaaaaa, oh some religious bits bc catholic girls are freaky and also his sex is THAT good, cross-posted on ao3

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fox knew it was wrong, and he didn’t care. he knew how he thought about you, how he touched you in his mind, how he wanted to possess you was culpable- but then again, how shameful could it truly be? how bad was it to want to take care of you, to teach you the right way, to want to show you how good love is supposed to feel? well, maybe it wasn’t completely pure, because he nearly came untouched just thinking about you sometimes, but he just couldn’t help himself. he wanted to. he wanted to be the one you chose to give yourself to. the only one.

it was always in the most mundane moments, like this one, that he needed it most, which played into his guilt. soft moments where you were unaware of what you were saying or doing, clueless as to how you were making him feel. now, as you sat watching the sex scene from basic instinct while fox pretended to be filling out a case file at his desk, was one of those moments. you squirmed in your seat with a sweet blush on your cheeks, watching the slight caricature of sharon stone on top of michael douglas, pupils blown wide and trying to hide your interest. fox was doing his best not to move a muscle, but he felt like a vein would pop if he didn’t turn around to look at you. his stomach was twisting itself into hot, trembling knots just wondering what the scene was doing to you.

you’ve been dating him for a few months now, and upon meeting him, you fell in love in a way you still didn’t understand. he did, too. he idolizes you, he holds you up above everyone else to his detriment. after the first few dates, you told him that you wanted to take the physical aspects of the relationship slow because you had personal obstacles to overcome; he promised to do so, because when you look at him, his entire world glows, and he refused to jeopardize that heaven you unraveled. but he’s learned a lot about you since then simply through deduction. the few risqué movies you’ve watched with him proved through the surprise on your face that you hadn’t seen much video porn, let alone been touched; the books you tried to hide in your purse had absurd covers with the lustful silhouettes of cowboys and prairie girls, corporate bosses and assistants, big looming over small against some dark backdrop– all of it meaning that when you were alone, you fantasized. but the most telling was when fox himself touched you, albeit innocently. it was like you’d never been touched by anything before. when fox’s fingers ghosted over your knuckles as he held your hand, you’d giggle like a schoolgirl, hiding your face in your shoulder. even better, when he brought those same hands to the soft, warm apples of your cheeks, you’d shudder, melting into his touch like you’d lost your volition. it didn't matter how he did it- if his hands were on you in some capacity, your breath hitched in your throat like a fool.

you wanted to let him touch you. there wasn’t a thing in the world you wanted more than to let him give you all of the things you’d dreamed, all of the things he must be aching to, but it was difficult for you. it seemed no amount of love was enough to break down your walls– you’d never let anyone that close. you’d always struggled with your body and your worth, and the little dating experience you’d had wasn’t much to boast about. you weren’t what people wanted, even if you were deserving. you knew fox was different, and that to him you weren't too big or not pretty enough, but you had just about every anxiety about physical affection. he had no idea you were a virgin on top of it all, which only made the pressure greater. you just couldn’t get over the fear. but you yearned to have it, so much so that even the smallest instances set your body aflame. you had the most lewd things running through your head when fox did just about anything. once you watched the man reach for the cereal box on the top shelf in his kitchen, and his sleep shirt rode up to reveal the dark happy trail that disappeared down his pants, and you felt so dizzy you could’ve dropped dead. and whenever he was close, it was unbearable. you replayed the sensation of his strong, lean hands resting protectively over your hip at his friend’s house. you thought about the way his lips felt on your forehead so often you could’ve written a book based solely on the texture. it drove you insane, the way you wanted him, and you drove yourself insane every time you didn’t act on it. but what did you know of hands, of mouths, of letting someone see what you shroud in fabric every day? what did you know of making him feel good, too, of being worth the wait for him?

now, as you curled up on his couch, you watched michael douglas’ hand grip sharon stone’s leg. it was big, but not big like fox’s. you imagined it was your boyfriend on the television, dark and brooding, as you saw how the man dove between the blonde’s legs, starving; her back arched, propelling her hips forward into his face, and she let out a soft moan. in your head, you saw yourself on that bed, and fox as hungry. you squeezed your thighs together and gathered the blanket draped across your legs in your palms, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt. but the agent who listened to the heavy breathing on screen saw exactly what was happening to you. he saw the blood rushing to the tips of your ears, tinting them the color of your bitten lips; he saw the way you shifted rhythmically beneath the blanket, almost undetectable, but absolutely undeniable. fox looked up at the ceiling as if to thank the god he didn’t believe in for playing basic instinct on cable, and he stood up from the desk, stalking over to sit beside you on the couch. as his body made the cushions dip, you smiled nervously. through a cracking voice, you said, “i didn’t know this movie was all… y’know.”

‘oh, yeah, it’s pretty heavy,” fox nodded, attempting his best unassuming expression. “still good, though, huh?”

“i mean, sure,”

“yeah, i think so, too.”

fox sighed just a tad too loudly and let his hand fall on your thigh. nothing but the blanket was between his palm and your skin. you looked to him with a pleading pair of eyes, though you didn’t really know what you were pleading for. the moaning from the television got louder, and you felt so warm, and his hand wasn’t going anywhere. you had no idea what to do. fox grinned at you and let his head tilt back over the couch as he swallowed thickly. you stared at the curve of his stately neck, how his adam’s apple bobbed, and every inch of your body pined in his wake. fox gazed at you, lounged wide like a lion, and his hand slowly traveled up your thigh to the crease of your hip. he slid his fingers across the soft crevice, and you were still at a statue, stuck between craving the friction and terrified to feel it.

“can i ask you something personal?” fox’s voice was gentle. husky.

“...mhm.”

“has anyone ever, uh,” you followed his gaze to the tv, where michael douglas was doing things that made your hands sweat. “have you ever done it like that?”

you prayed that a black hole would open up in the floor and suck you in, so you never had to admit the truth. but his hand was still in that soft spot, and his minty eyes were made of looking glass, and the image of him that fucked your mind was so boggling you were on the edge of giving up.

“just out of curiosity,” he added, lips curling into a cheshire smile.

you ran a hand across your burning cheeks and murmured, “uh, no. no, i haven't.”

“it’s interesting, y’know, how they can make it look so real,” fox pursed his lips, pushing his hand back down your thigh to rest on your knee.

before you could bite your tongue, you confided, “i wouldn’t really know.”

fox’s hand paused at the crest of your kneecap, a chill running down his body. he thought of you, his pretty, quiet, gentle girl, and he never once stopped to think why you were so reserved. he always blamed the little silver cross that hung from your neck and some guy from your past, but he neglected other options. but now, his mouth watered.

“really?”

you tugged the blanket up to your face. “is that a bad thing?”

the man turned to face you, pulling your hands away to reveal the flushed face beneath. you were breathing so heavily. a need rattled his bones, one he wished he could stifle. pictures flashed in his brain- you, writhing beneath him, the feeling so new, making pretty faces as he did what the people in movies do. him, defiling you, ruining the girl you’ve been, clutching to your cross as your mouth bled with his name. maybe he was a monster, but his cock twitched in his dress pants at the humiliated expression you bore.

“no, baby, of course not!” he chuckled, “no, that’s– that’s a good thing.”

“but i-”

“everyone does things at their own pace,”

“but…”

“but what, sweetheart? i don’t expect anything from you.” fox sweetly lied. he wouldn’t force it, but he wanted it. badly.

“i just wish that, uh, that i had by now. sometimes. i guess.”

your eyes darted between the television screen and the way his nimble fingers encased both of your wrists. it only took one hand for him to hold you down… what a career he could make with his other hand free.

“have you ever tried?”

“...no.”

“do you want to?”

you let out a nervous hum. something came over you like it always does, and you leaned over to hide in his shoulder; in a way, that was better than letting him see your face. his hand rested at the nape of your neck as he cooed, “awh, baby, it’s okay.”

“it’s not really okay,” you mumbled into his shirt. “it’s embarrassing.”

“i don’t think it is. i think it’s cute.”

you felt his hand run down your back, and you pushed yourself a little closer, so you could rest against his neck. fox kept talking since you were at a loss.

“nothing embarrassing about that, i promise. truthfully, you’re better off. so many guys out there just wanna take advantage, y’know?” he reasoned, tracing little things at the small of your back, fingertips like pens. “probably would’ve wished you didn’t, because you’re so hard on yourself… i would hate to know you lost your virginity to some guy who didn’t care about you. not the way i do.”

the heat of your breath against his neck was maddening. everything about you was maddening. how you curled into him for protection, for reassurance, how your palms tugged at the wrinkled cotton of his work shirt because you didn’t know where to put them. the little nods of agreement you made with every opinion he voiced. he wanted to knock you on your back and fuck you right there, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t spring it on you. you had to want it, you had to let him. and he knew you wanted to let him because it was all over you.

he asked again, “baby, do you want to?”

he raised his wandering hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you felt this urge inside you, an indulgence just begging to be released. acting selfishly, you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and beneath your lips, you felt the vibration of a little growl. fox tangled his palm in your hair, and as gently as he could, he pulled your head back so you had no choice but to look at him.

“is that a yes?”

your stomach churned. “yes.”

“good. come on.”

fox rose from the couch and tugged you up with him. he watched the blanket fall from your legs to see that your sleep shorts had ridden up and tucked themselves in the chub of where your thighs and legs met, that sacred spot he’d touched before, and he rolled his eyes in ardor. with your shaky hand in his, the man led you into his bedroom, where he motioned for you to sit at the edge of the bed.

“fox, i…”

“what, love?”

“i… i don’t know.”

you watched him walk over to his closet and open the doors, revealing the shuffled-around mess inside. with his back turned to you, you saw his hands disappear to unbutton the dress shirt that crumpled on his shoulders from a day’s work. as he pulled it over his head, the spotless skin of his sculpted back smiled at you. your hips were warm.

“you’re nervous,” he said, still facing away as he threw the shirt into the basket. “i know you are. but it’s not so scary. plus, you’re with me. i’m nice, aren’t i?” “you’re very nice,” you smiled, “but you’ve done this before. you… you know so much more than i do.”

“are you sure?” fox’s laugh rumbled low in his throat, “because i’ve seen the books you read. bet you’ve got all kinds of ideas i’ve never even tried before.”

you shifted on the bed, tucking your legs into a crisscross. “w-well, that’s different!”

“no, it’s not!” the man teased, shaking his head like you were hopeless. he crossed the room, back to you, where he stood like a pillar before the bed. when you didn’t meet his gaze, he tucked his finger beneath your chin and made you. “you’ve been thinking about it for so long, haven’t you, sweetheart? about me? must be so lonely, just thinking, never doing.”

he passed his thumb over your trembling chin, admiring your starry eyes, how they reflected so much love. you were so pretty, a pretty he couldn’t have imagined if he’d seen all the most beautiful women in the world. none of them could hold a candle to his girl. “you’re so smart, so good at handling things when they’re hard. but you never let anyone handle you, do you? not even me, baby, and i could be so good at it.”

you couldn’t control how you let him sway you. you gave yourself over, basking in the rush. he settled on his knees, so you had to look down, and he pressed his hands to where your love handles dipped, passing the skin over in his hands.

“i’ve wanted to let you,” you sighed, “i’ve… thought about it.”

fox’s eyes, eager as a puppy’s, looked up at you as he asked, “well, when we’re in your head, where do i start?”

you shivered. “you kiss me first.”

the man decided that you deserved to have your fantasies fulfilled; if in your pretty mind you’d dreamed up a routine, then he’d follow it, and he’d prove to you that nothing was as good as the real deal. he pushed up on his knees and leaned in, thankful for his low-set bed, as he pressed his lips against yours. you disassembled against his touch; he moved with a cadence that had your head spinning, fingers behind your ears, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. you’d kissed him plenty, but never like this. never so messy, so desperate. he tasted warm, and kind, sunshine in a mouth. you let out a soft whimper as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

“i think you’re a bad girl in that head of yours, angel,” he mumbled into your mouth. “what do i do next up there?”

you were too afraid to say it, and you didn’t want to pull away from his lips, so instead you reached for the wrist that held his hand to your face. fox’s throat tightened as you guided his hand down to your stomach, a place you didn’t let him touch often.

“so pretty, baby,” he admired, knowing exactly what it is you needed from him. he paraded his kisses down to your neck, where he got so much sloppier. he licked a stripe over your throat, nipping at the soft skin of your jaw, and he passed the chub of you over in his devastating hands. you keeled forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, and he littered your ear with little pecks. “so soft. i love your tummy, y’know. how it looks when you wear those pretty dresses, and how when you wear my shirts i can see the shape. fuckin’ adorable, you have no idea. prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“fox,” you whined. he was barely even touching you, but the weight of his words anchored your lungs to the floor.

he took a little liberty and leaned down to tug your shirt up, and began brushing his lips over you, spit for paint. you let your hands wander to his hair, and your stomach flipped at the noises he made.

“now what, sweetheart?”

“y-you… agh,”

fox pulled away, and you swooned at the sight of his pretty lips already swollen. “forgettin’ already?”

“well…” you trailed off, feeling a mental fog roll in.

fox stood up and pushed at your shoulders, tilting you back onto his bed. laying down, he had more access to pushing your shirt up and seeing you for real. he sucked at his teeth, handsome face overtaken with want; you curved like a muse beneath him, and he wondered why you hid all this body beneath clothes. you felt his hands like a compass, mapping the cascading mountain ranges and slow, dipping valleys of your hips and thighs, as if his whole world was discovering you, as if his purpose existed within the endless confines of your flesh and bones. and his hands roamed freely, nomadically, through your land, committing every road that made you shiver to memory.

“where do you touch yourself, princess?” fox smiled. you whined, and he clicked his tongue. “come on, show me.”

your hand shook, but you rested it over your shorts, and you curled your fingers in to prove you knew how.

“good girl. bet you know just what to do, huh?”

“mhm,”

“but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?” fox pouted playfully as he hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band squeezing your waist.

“no,” you wheezed, “never.”

“fuck. you sound so pretty when you need me. let me see you.”

trying to stop himself from rushing, the man clambered on top of you and grabbed you by the back of your knees, pushing you up the bed a bit. when your head hit pillows, he tucked them behind you, and he crawled back down to your legs with a mission. gently, he tugged your shorts down, and beneath were little black boyshorts that cut into the skin of your thighs. he looked about as starving as michael douglas as he flattened his palms against your hips, adoring the sight.

“y’know, most girls hide lacy things,” he teased, “i like this so much better.”

breathlessly, you said, “lace is itchy.”

“god, you’re just dying for it, aren’t you?”

you pushed up into his palms and whispered, “please.”

“please what?”

“do it,” you heaved, “i need it, fox.”

he didn’t need to be told again. he slid your panties down in one sweep and practically drooled over what you had kept from him all this time. he could’ve cried. this must be what people felt when they saw the mona lisa for the first time, or had a prayer answered. this was his very own da vinci original. this was god’s divinity trapped in your lower half. you were an irritated pink, your pussy plump as the rest of you; as he pushed your thighs wide, he found a sheen already coating your skin. “fuck, sweetheart, is this from the movie or me?”

“y-you.” you kicked yourself for all your stammering, but the glow of his cheeks soothed the embarrassment.

“oh, yeah?”

you didn’t know how easy it would be to let yourself be touched before you just tried it. here, with the one man who might be the direct work on god on earth, you wanted to spill every secret now that you knew something of hands. your heart beat against your ribcage relentlessly as you admitted, “was imagining it was you on tv, fox, you and me,”

“jesus christ,” fox grunted, eyes dirty and dark. “i can fuck you better than he ever could.”

fox pressed his thumb to the bundle of nerves that throbbed between your legs, and just the pressure alone drew a dangerous moan from the back of your throat. he relished in the sound as he began to circle his finger, leaning down to kiss the searing skin. you rolled your hips against his touch, begging for more friction, and he wordlessly rewarded you with a new motion, one that needed two fingers for rubbing. you grabbed at his forearm as it came into reach, and he felt like he could explode from how you tugged at him. you held onto his arm like it was a lifeline. any other girl would’ve grabbed the bedsheets or touched her body, but your inexperience meant you were acting on instinct, and that quite possibly was the best thing he’d ever seen. watching you feel so good for the first time in your life had him panting like a dog. you were all his now, his pretty girl under his spell. an angel who knew only one name.

“good, baby?”

“mm-nngh,” was all you had to say.

“what a pretty girl.”

“fox…”

“good girl. only i can make you feel like this, right? not those guys in your books, none of those movies. just me, my hands, baby, my mouth,”

you used your grip on his arm to try and get him to go faster, but he refused. he wriggled free from your grasp and left a ghostly kiss on your stomach, tutting, “oh, no, angel. i’m gonna make this last. want you out of your mind when i’m done.”

you’ve felt powerless all your life, and you do even now, but this is the first time you’ve ever needed more. you were engrossed in being taken. you’d been too afraid to pray for this because you weren’t sure how the man upstairs would feel about you breaking his technical rules, but you had to have yearned to let fox take your virginity every night since you met him. you knew he’s done this before, but you didn’t know he was so gifted; but even he could tell you that it wasn’t so much his experience as it was how he wanted to ruin every other guy for you. and how could you want another when his hand– that which wrapped around the neck of a pistol, that which choked the air of men’s throats– circled your clit so gently, working a new kind of love into you that you never thought imaginable?

“been dreaming about this, y’know,” fox drawled, leaving stinging kisses on your waist. “been thinking about how our first time would go. and you’re doing so good, you’re taking it so well right now.”

you couldn’t speak. every word got caught in your chest. so instead you tugged at his hair, trying to get him to kiss you. he giggled, hovering over you and slowing his fingers so he could give you what you wanted. you moaned into his mouth, lips gnashing against his teeth in your eagerness, and just when you felt like you were starting to have some control, you felt two of his fingers push between your folds. they went so much deeper than you’ve ever gotten your own, and as he curled them inside you, your entire body shook. gasping against his cheek, you exhaled, “oh my god,”

“be careful, baby, you don’t want him to hear you,” fox warned, voice thick with lust.

you grabbed at his chest, fingers running through the little curling hairs that grew in a thicket over his heart, and you felt it beating, keeping time with his hand. you wondered if sex felt like this for everyone the first time around, but then again, how could it? unless fox was there for them all, they could never have had it this good.

“you’re so pretty,” fox cooed, “so pretty on my fingers. d’you feel pretty, baby?”

“mmm,”

“tell me you feel pretty,”

“i- i feel pretty.”

“mhm. what about me, love, you think i’m pretty, too? my hands feel pretty?”

“fuck,” you squeaked, “fox!”

“i know you do. say it.”

“you’re so pretty,” you droned, trying to catch his lips in a kiss, but he rerouted to your neck.

you ground into his palm over and over again, and he felt you burning up on his fingertips, contracting, squeezing, shaking. he moaned into your shoulder, “do you wanna cum, baby?”

your hands scratched at his arms, and to his surprise, you shook your head violently. “not yet,”

“really?”

“mm-mm. not… not time yet.”

fox’s pupils swallowed the green of his eyes. the man licked his lips and slowed to a stop, letting his fingers rest inside of you, and he asked, “what comes next, then?”

even in a position so lewd as this one, you were too embarrassed to explain. so you reached up to his mouth, swiping your thumb across his slick bottom lip, and with pretty little doe eyes, you popped your finger into his mouth. you watched as he wrapped his lips around it, swirling his tongue over the salty taste of your skin, and you whispered, “i need you.”

fox pulled off your finger with a pop. “how?”

he followed your lidded gaze as it traveled down to the bulge in his pants, and he nearly passed out.

“you sure you’re ready for that?” his eyebrows knit together in true concern, but he knew he was the one who had to answer the question, too. he wanted to do right by you– you couldn’t regret this, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you did. “i can wait, you know. this is about you.”

“no. i’m ready,”

“positive?”

“mhm,” you sighed, “just… don’t hurt me.”

the man above you melted like putty, and the hunger he’d touched you with went soft. you saw that toothy grin again, the one that gave you butterflies, and he promised, “i’d never hurt you, angel.”

the scruff of his jaw even tinted a lovesick pink as he kissed you. your fingers scratched at the back of his ears like you would a dog’s, and you confessed between breaths, “i love you, foxie.”

his hands flew to his waist and he rushed to undo his belt and shimmy the slacks down. he wanted to scream, he wanted to stand at the edge of the world and tell every soul about the way you coated his entire existence in sugar, but right now, it was just you. he was alone with his girl, and if he couldn’t tell the world, he could at least make you sick of hearing it.

“i’m so fuckin’ in love with you,” he swore, marking your face with invisible prints of his mouth. “i’m all yours, princess.”

“oh, god,” you groaned, watching how he spilled out of his boxers with glazed eyes. you had no idea where he was hiding all that. you felt a little dorky for the surprise, but who could blame you?

fox was too far to reign in. he grabbed your wrists and pulled you up, and he made you scoot up against his headboard; you pressed your back against the cold wood, and you yelped as he raised you in the air, pinning you to the wall.

“fox, i-”

“you’re not too heavy,” he stopped you, knowing what you were going to say. “you’re perfect.”

you couldn’t complain- truthfully, you didn’t even get the chance to think about it, because he was all over you. with one hand holding you up by the leg, and the other gripping the headboard with white knuckles, he pushed himself between your legs, and you knocked your head into the wall at the way he stuffed you.

“fuck, fox!”

it didn’t hurt, but god, was he big. pinned to the wall like this, you had no bearings. he had you suspended, stapled down by his sheer strength; you never thought you could be fucked like this, some little ragdoll he could throw around, but clearly you underestimated how much he could handle. you felt the wind leaving your lungs as he pulled out and snapped back in, pelvis rolling hard against your swollen clit. he moved like a wave crashing down, managing to soak every part of you with his skin.

“fuck, sweetheart, so much better than i imagined,” he croaked, “feels okay, right?”

“s-so… so big…”

“oh, baby, i know,” he babied, leaving pinprick kisses on your jaw. “you can take it, pretty girl.”

his big hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of your neck as he fucked you into the creaking headboard. you were an endless machine of moans and profanities, head lolling, trying to keep your eyes open to watch the way his lips parted at the feeling of you encircling him. he tugged at your hair, and a guttural groan escaped your lips.

“always wanted to get fucked like this, huh, baby? you’re such a good girl, you deserve it,”

“fox, please,”

“such a pretty girl,” he moaned, “jesus, you sure you’ve never done this before?”

as you bucked your hips against his swelling length, you offered a drunken grin. “only in my… dreams.”

“oh my god. you’ve got no idea how hot you are.”

he was everywhere, he was heaven, he was the pounding in your head as you collapsed against his body, letting him use you like a toy. you scratched at his shoulders, mouth all over his sizzling skin, and he flooded your ears with pretty praises. you hoped to god that by the time he was done you’d have the print of his hands tattooed on your hips, or that he’d never be done and you could float on by in this bliss forever. but his hips were thrusting hard, and falling out of time, and you felt your tummy squeezing like it was running out of air. he drowned in you, mouth full of dirty whines and strings of i love yous, and you knew you couldn’t hold back.

“f-fox… oh- oh god…”

“gonna cum for me, princess?”

“i… i’ve never…”

the feeling in your stomach was foreign and hot, and it was backing up all the functions of your brain. all you felt was fox between your legs, terrorizing this little spot that short-circuited all your nerves, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping his mouth with yours– and when he hit it one last time, with eyes rolling back, and you let everything go. fox felt the warmth of you spilling over him, and the silent scream you let out had him unraveling in seconds. his hands were all over your face, fingers on your teeth as he came inside you, feeling himself mixing with you, and nearly bursting again just knowing he was.

“oh, baby,” he fussed, “good girl, atta girl!”

pulling out slowly, so you didn’t feel too shocked, he slid you down the headboard softly and helped prop you up against the pillows again. you couldn't see straight, and everything twinkled, but you did catch a glimpse of him sneaking back down the bed. the man admired the mess he left behind. the smallest dribble spilled out of you, and all of a sudden he was lapping it up with his tongue, thirsty as a castaway. your entire body buzzed with overstimulation, and in what felt like screams but only came out strangled, you exclaimed, “fuck, oh my god!”

his tongue split you open, collecting all the juices between your hips and smearing the inside of your thighs, the pretty little mound of your pussy, making you shimmer like an angel. he sucked, and he swirled, and he dug his tongue between your folds like a freak, and you grabbed at his sweaty hair, so full of him you wanted to thank your angels for sending you someone so perfect.

“come on, i know you’ve got more,” fox coaxed, “one more, baby, one more.”

black spots crossed your line of vision as you watched his face disappear in your legs, and the tidal wave rose again, drowning you in a feeling that had you bucking against his tongue like a rogue horse. you’d never been able to make yourself cum, but all it took was fox mulder to pull two loads right out of you. you felt disgusting, you felt drunk, you felt so good you could’ve died this way. you didn’t ever want to leave the bed. fox made his way back up, heaving, and he kissed you with milky lips. you tasted yourself on his tongue, and you needed his palms to pin your hips down as you trembled, stuck on your high.

“good girl, didn’t that feel good?” kiss. “you did so good, baby,” kiss, “so good for me,” kiss, “m’so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“mm… agh,”

“i know, love, take a deep breath.” you felt his hand press against your warm tummy, and he told you again, “take a deep breath for me.”

you smiled, trapped beneath him, and you breathed like he wanted you to. anything he wanted, for the rest of his life, he would get. through fuzzy vision, you saw his glittery eyes, the grecian curve of his face, the little white strip of teeth behind his handsome smile, and you felt so in love you didn’t know what to do with yourself. he started to blush under your gaze, so he laid down on top of you, resting his head on your chest to listen to your racing heartbeat.

“foxie,” you whispered.

“hm?”

“m’not a virgin anymore,” you giggled, the joy bubbling out of you.

his warm laugh echoed in your ribs. “not anymore.”

“all yours now,” you swooned, “are you happy?”

you felt his hand slither behind your back, and he scratched at your spine, making you squeal at the ticklish feeling. then he attacked your neck and shoulders, mercilessly going after all the spots he knows are most sensitive until you lost your breath again from his innocent touch. “stupid question!”

“ah!– fox– agh, stop!” you swatted at his hands, a blissful wreck.

“‘course i’m happy,” he chuckled as he relented. “are you?”

in a huff, you rested your spinning head on his pillows and blushed. “mhm. very.”

“worth the wait?”

“definitely. thank you.”

“my pleasure,” he teased, flopping down beside you and lacing his fingers with yours. and when a comfortable silence fell, he couldn’t help himself: “you know i’m never gonna stop thinking about this, right? i’m ruined for life.”

“shut up,” you laughed.

“no, seriously. get ready for a life of me drooling over you doing absolutely nothing.”

“i’d like that life, i think.”

you curled up in his side, and he drew you close, letting you hide in the crook of his neck the same way you did in what felt like a lifetime ago on his couch. there was still a little devil on his shoulder, applauding him for taking a piece of you that no one else could have now, but more than anything, his heart ebbed and flowed in his chest, blossoming each time he looked down at your pretty face. he meant it when he said he was ruined. you ruined everything by letting him fall in love with you, and he has never felt so lucky.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

inspired by this ask ;)

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder smut #catholiscism #loss of virginity #virginity kink #plus size reader #embarrasment #god bless the freaks

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jobean12-blog · 8 months

Text

Finding Home (10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Animal Rescue AU)

Word Count: 1,887

Summary: You and Bucky make a big decision and you're overwhelmed with happiness... for everything.

Author's Note: So this is the final chapter for my Finding Home story with Animal rescue!Bucky! I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this but then the Buck's and Noble server Summer Send Off Event gave me a great idea (using the song September, by Earth, Wind and Fire-listen HERE) on how to end it and my sweet friend @newgirlintheneighborhood sent me THIS great post that just made it all come together. Thank you all for the inspo. You can definitely read this as a stand alone but I will give you a few little bits of info just in case:

-Bucky and Sam own an animal resuce called Shelter to Soldier which helps rescue animals find homes with veterans (and everyone else too)

-Reader first saw Bucky when he was walking Alpine on a leash down the streets of the city

-Bucky has his metal arm in this AU since he's a war hero/veteran and he's come a long way both by himself (with Sam's help) and with reader in their relationship

-He rescued the dog Winter (mentioned in this story) and he's a white German Shepard with three legs (he's a war vet too)

-Bucky rescued Alpine from the streets and the cat has been a big help during his rehab

-This part takes place about 2.5 years after reader and Bucky have met

Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of super soft and sweet fluffs, LotR references, the animals and kisses!

Finding Home Masterlist

The morning light peeks through the thin curtains of your bedroom, warming and illuminating your skin. You slowly open your eyes and see Bucky’s soft profile, his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly with his even breathing. Winter is at the base of the bed, keeping your feet warm, and Alpine is perched atop the spare pillow on Bucky’s other side.

The moment you shift your feet you hear the thump of Winter’s large white tail and then feel him rise up and do a big downward dog stretch.

“Oh big stretch Winter,” you coo quietly, giggling as you watch him try to tentatively hop over Bucky’s body to get closer.

Alpine lifts his head and blinks at you several times then seems to glare at the dog who is still desperately trying to find a place to settle between your body and Bucky’s.

Bucky starts to move, his long legs tangling even more with yours as he wraps you up and curls you into his bare chest. Winter finally finds a suitable spot next to Bucky, the dog’s big white body pressed into his side and his tail still thumping on the bed.

“Mornin’ doll face,” Bucky mumbles as he nuzzles your neck.

Winter let’s out a small whine and pushes his wet nose into Bucky’s skin while Alpine paws at the top of Bucky’s head.

“And mornin’ to you two fuzzballs,” he adds, peeping one eye open to survey the bed.

The moment he locks eyes with Winter, the dog scoots closer like a worm and starts to nose his shoulder. Alpine promptly joins in by chasing the glittering rays of sunshine that dance along Bucky’s metal arm every time the breeze blows through the curtains.

“It’s a party already,” Bucky chuckles.

He pulls you impossibly closer and hums into your skin, placing a soft kiss under your ear.

“Morning baby,” you whisper, inhaling his scent.

Winter, apparently unhappy with the possibility of you two going back to sleep, starts to lick Bucky’s cheek and cover it with kisses. Bucky’s large hand lands on Winter’s head and he scratches him before lightly giving him a shove.

“Winter, down boy,” he says. “I’m busy.”

Winter doesn’t give up, only shimmying closer and becoming more determined in his quest for kisses. You sit up and take in the scene, smiling widely when Alpine starts to bat at a piece of Bucky’s long hair that’s laid out across the pillow.

Without warning you lean down and press a big kiss to Bucky’s other cheek. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile and you continue to pepper his skin with kisses, hitting every spot you can find.

Winter seems to catch on as his tail swishes faster and he keeps up his licks on Bucky’s other cheek. Your lips trail along Bucky’s jaw, then you nibble his ear, then move back down and cover the whole side of his face with more kisses, catching the corner of his mouth before doing it all over again.

“Best. Morning. Ever,” he sighs.

After several more wet kisses from Winter and sweet ones from you, and even a few paw bats from Alpine, Bucky slips free and flips you over onto your back, dislodging everyone in a heap of blankets and pillows.

“Oops,” he says sweetly, but there’s mischief dancing in his eyes. “My turn!”

He pins you down with his body and proceeds to smother you with feather light kisses on every inch of skin he can find. You arch into him, wiggling beneath his body which makes him rumble with pleasure.

His kisses become slower as he moves along your neck and when he reaches your lips he hovers just above them as he stares into your eyes.

He brushes his nose to yours and presses a kiss to your mouth before slowly rocking his hips.

You moan out his name and nibble his lip before pulling away.

“What?” he pouts. “I was just getting started on having you naked.”

You smile against his lips. “I have an idea for a wedding date.”

His pout disappears as happiness takes over his expression.

“I’m listening doll,” he says, but continues to place butterfly kisses along your face.

“So we had talked about Fall and I was thinking September might be nice. Not too cold but hopefully not too hot if we do it toward the end and there’s a special date that would be perfect.”

“Still listening,” he hums as his lips graze your collarbone. “Which date?”

“How about September 22nd.”

He stills, his lips still pressed to your skin. “I know that date,” he muses, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes.

You nod with a giggle.

“It’s Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday!” he says excitedly. “That is perfect!”

“YAY!!!” you squeal, doing a dance under him.

He sits up and pulls you into his lap.

“I can’t wait doll,” he whispers.

“Me either Bucky.”

“We just need to find the perfect spot.”

“Exactly.”

You both sit in comfortable and cuddled silence for a few moments before he breaks it.

“What about in Central Park? I bet there’s a tree we could find that’s big like the party tree in the Shire!”

“You’re such a dork and I love you.”

He beams at that but before he can get you under him again, Winter has nosed his way between you two, impatiently asking for love too.

“Alpine and Winter are coming to the wedding of course,” you add.

“Of course doll,” Bucky says. “Besides, I think they would be like Merry and Pippin and invite themselves anyway.”

You bury your head in his chest and laugh.

“So September 22nd is our day,” you whisper, toying with his dog tag.

“September 22nd,” he echoes.

He’s just about to kiss you when your eyes go wide and you yell out, “OH! And we can play that song at the wedding and on every anniversary…you know the one by uh…um…it goes ‘do you remember…’.”

He studies you, waiting for you to think of more.

“Is this a song from Lord of the Rings?” he asks, looking confused.

“No, no, it’s by…OH MY GOD Bucky, it’s an older song…”

As you start to recall the lyrics you sing them and shake your body to the rhythm.

His face brightens in recognition and he grabs his phone, typing quickly into Google.

“Got it,” he chimes just before ‘September’ by Earth, Wind and Fire, starts to play.

You both start to sing along and Winter begins howling with his pack, much to the dismay of Alpine who seems to want to disappear into the pillow.

“Wait!” Bucky says, pausing the song. “Don’t they say the 21st night of September?”

He clicks on the lyrics and rewinds the song, singing along as he reads. “Yep they do!”

“But that’s not Hobbit day!” you say.

“We’re definitely sticking with the 22nd baby doll. It’s perfect.”

In a fit of excitement you curl into Bucky’s arms and kiss him all over. Winter takes the opportunity to smash himself under Bucky’s arm and even Alpine saunters over to join in the happy cuddle pile.

~September 21st of the next year~

“You need…”

Those are the only words you get out before Bucky’s mouth is on you again, your body pressed into the wall and his hands wandering under your shirt.

“Bucky,” you gasp, gently pushing on his chest. “You need to go. Nat will be here soon and then we’ll never hear the end of it!”

He pulls away slightly but lifts his arms so he can plant both his hands along the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

“I don’t wanna,” he whines. “This is the last night before you’re officially my wife and I want to make it count.”

“We spent all day making it count,” you giggle, grabbing his shirt and pulling his mouth back to yours.

Your fingertips trace the broad width of his shoulders before delving into the hair that hangs loosely at the nape of his neck.

“Thought I needed to go doll face,” he smirks against your lips in between kisses.

His metal fingers dance along your skin, inching higher until he’s toying with the little boy in the center of your bra.

“I should never have agreed to this girls night,” you pout.

He nibbles on your extended bottom lip before deftly unhooking the clasp of your bra.

“Now who’s whining,” he teases.

“Buck!” you squeak. “Fix that!”

“Well, lemme see here,” he starts with a grin before he lifts your shirt so he can stick his head under it.

Instead of fixing your bra he kisses your skin as he loosens the silky fabric more.

“BUCKY!” you admonish playfully as you try and push his head out. “You’re stretching out my shirt!”

“It’s my shirt,” he says from inside, his voice muffled.

There’s a loud knock on the door followed by Nat’s excited shouting.

“Shit,” you grumble. “Shit, shit.”

Bucky reluctantly pulls his head free but not before he has you pinned to the wall again and he quiets any of your protests with his kiss.

When he pulls away you’re breathless and flustered.

“I’m going out the fire escape,” he says with a wink.

“What?!? You can’t do that!” you whisper shout.

“Better than getting yelled at!” he says as he grabs your hand and rushes into your bedroom and to the window.

He opens it and then turns back to you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you breathless all over again.

“I love you. More than anything. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you the most Bucky. I can’t wait either.”

With one more kiss he slips out the window and starts to climb down. The banging on the door becomes louder but you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Give Alpine and Winter kisses for me!” you shout down to him. “And Sam too!”

You giggle when Bucky gives you a scowl.

“Sam will be lucky if I don’t punch him,” Bucky jokes. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure the babies are well loved and ready for tomorrow!”

Once he safely reaches the ground he looks back up and blows you a kiss, mouthing ‘I love you,’ before running down the street toward Sam’s apartment.

You watch until he’s out of sight then rush to the door and open it.

“It’s about time!” Nat screeches. “Is he here!?!”

“NO!” you say and throw up your hands in surrender. “It’s just us girls. Not even Alpine and Winter are here!”

She pushes past you and looks around suspiciously.

After a thorough inspection she turns back your way, one eyebrow lifting to her hairline.

“WHAT!?” you ask, going to cross your arms over your chest.

You stop mid gesture, realizing your bra is still unhooked and hanging off you under your shirt.

Nat stares at you and you stare back but it only lasts a few seconds before you both burst into laughter.

Once you’re calm again, Nat asks, “he just left didn’t he?”

“Down the fire escape,” you giggle.

“I knew he was perfect from the moment we saw him walking Alpine across the street,” she states with a warm smile.

“Me too,” you reply dreamily. “Me too.”

@blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @goldylions @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @book-dragon-13 @lizette50 @mazarinqueen @matchat3a @abigailbeloved @pineprincess @lalalalokii @blossomedfloweroflove @danireal17 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @buckybarnessimpp @mugi-chwan95 @hibernocaledonian @gloriouspurpose01 @adoringsebstan @aedicn @thepurpletie797 @buckrecs @openup-yourmind @lettersandsodas @kingfleury @moonlightreader649 @kmc1989

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #animal rescue!Bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #animal rescue au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #finding home au

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 1 year

Text

Requested by: @romanoffsbish #6 “Are you really so oblivious?” ; WandaNat•Tony says it to R who’s currently “googly” eyeing the couple from across the room with a sad smile, and Tony’s had enough of the dancing around each other nonsense.

Authors note: requests are still closed. I’m trying to clear my inbox before opening them again. Thank you for your patience 💖

Word count: 2898 WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Wanda giggles as Natasha playfully spins her around the kitchen, the ingredients for their pancakes quickly forgotten as the spy initiates an impromptu dance session to the music that plays from the Sokovians phone.

They don’t even notice the attention paid to them by the few of their teammates over at the table. Sam smiles at the scene before returning to his oatmeal and Tony pretends to gag at the display of affection before he sits down with his omelet.

“Let them be Stark” Thor chastises with a mouth full of poptart, “Love is special, and it deserves to be celebrated”

“I know that goldilocks” he retorts with an eyeroll, “Besides, I doubt they even heard my teasing."

Clints brow quirks as he drops his banana peel on the table and his eyes meet yours as you glance up from your plate. You both share a knowing look before smirks spread on both your faces.

“Oh yeah” the archer agrees, “No way the super spy with super senses heard you. Ridiculous notion”

You chuckle at the nervous expression that crosses the billionaires face only to earn a glare from him in turn, “At least I let my feelings be known”

Mistaking his jab at your not so hidden feelings for more teasing you simply toll your eyes and grumble, “Whatever Tony”

“Is he bothering you malysh(baby)?” Wanda voice suddenly rings out through the dining room and Sam has to suppress his laughter at the way Tony's complexion pales slightly

“Oh. Uh, no. No, he's just being his normal, annoying self” you tell her, smiling over where she stands with her girlfriend at the kitchen island.

“Good” Natasha says, her tone sending a chill through both you and Tony but for different reasons, “Otherwise I’d have to punch him”

“I’m right here you know” the man says, waving his fork in the air

“Oh I know. I just don’t care.” she replies, sending a wink your way

You try your best to ignore the warmth that spreads across your cheeks at the action, instead focusing back on the man next to you again. He purses his lips, letting out a small huff in annoyance and you laugh at the Russians ability to get under his skin so easily. You completely miss the way Natasha beams at Wanda for being able to make you produce the sound they both adore so much.

“Y/n?”

You turn to look at the brunette again, “Yeah Wans?”

“Tasha and I were going to go into the city today. Do some shopping, go to lunch, sit in the park for a little bit and maybe get some ice cream. Then we were gonna watch a movie when we got home. Would you like to join us?”

“I’m sorry guys, I have a briefing to attend in like half an hour. I think I’m being sent on an impromptu mission.” you tell them as you stand and walk back to the kitchen with your dirty plate to clean, “I hope the two of you guys have fun though”

“Oh, ok” the witch responds, her shoulders deflating at both the missed opportunity and the distance you’ve created. Truthfully both she and Nat have noticed you being a bit more distant with them lately and it was worrying them, "Maybe next time then"

Though you feel nervous about spending that much alone time with the women you nod, "Yeah next free day I have we can definitely do something"

Natasha doesn't like the knot of discomfort she feels in her gut. She doesn't know what other team members are going with you on this sudden mission but she desperately wishes that she or Wanda was on the chosen team. She feels better when one of them is there to watch over you. What if something happens to you today?

The look her girlfriend gives her indicates she feels the same way about this situation and Nat wishes there was something she could do to change things, but there isn’t. So she settles for doing something that both shows she cares and helps slightly settle her nerves.

“Just be careful out there, ok kotenok(kitten)?”

You smile at her, “Always Nat. I’ll see you guys later.”

The two continue to stand there a few minutes after you leave. The worry for your fate on this mission and the disappointment for your lack of presence in their lives of late might as well shine over their heads like neon signs in Vegas. So Tony decides to do his best to reassure them.

“Try not to worry too much” he says, placing a hand on each woman's shoulder, “T’Challa and I are going with her. Hill will be there too so she's in good hands. I can’t promise no harm will come to her because you know how hectic these things can get, but I can promise that I’ll bring her back in one piece.”

“Thanks Tony. I just wish we could go with her.” Wanda tells him, a sad smile on her face, “We like being able to see that she's safe”

“I know. Which is why I will do my best to stick to her like glue, and have her home in time for your movie”

Nat turns to him with a smirk, “You know, don’t you?”

He chuckles, “You may be a spy, Romanoff but there's no hiding that look. Plus witchy here doesn’t know what it means to have a poker face”

“Hey! I can keep a straight face” she huffs, crossing her arms.

Natasha quirks a brow at her girlfriend, earning a glare that makes her chuckle, “I didn’t even say anything”

“You didn't have to, I heard your thoughts” she replies, making the redhead smirk

“Good luck Romanoff” Tony cuts in, “I’m off to the briefing”

Several hours later the quinjet lands back down at the compound and you and your team tiredly shuffle around, gathering your things as you prepare to disembark and head inside.

“It’s been a long day. Head inside and get some rest everyone. Turn your paperwork into me tomorrow morning and I’ll get it to Fury” Hill states before heading off

T’Challa is the next to move, he has a jet to Wakanda to catch tomorrow afternoon and needs extra rest to get that paperwork done beforehand, “Goodnight Tony, Y/n. Good work today, and if I don’t see you before my flight, it was good to see you”

“Goodnight” you and Tony say in unison before heading inside yourselves.

As the two of you walk through the hall you're stuck by the fact that the tv and light are still on in the living room, something which is unusual for this time of night. You both wordlessly decide to take a peek at what's going on and stop in the doorway.

Over on the sofa, curled up with each other under a blanket sit Natasha and Wanda. A Bond movie plays on the tv and even at your distance you can tell by the way the Russians lips move that she's softly quoting every line. Wanda looks up at her with a fondness before linking one of her hands with Nats and her attention returns to the screen. You smile at their cute interaction, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

A deep ache fills your chest as you watch them, and you sigh. You’d give anything to be able to join them, but you can’t. Not in the way you want to at least. And you’re tired of pretending that you don’t want more with them. You've had to withdraw because only being their friend while they held your heart, it hurt. You know it's nothing personal, nor is it their fault, but you couldn’t continue to do that to yourself. You hope one day, when your heart has righted itself, that they’ll understand. But until then, solitude is best.

“Well” you whisper, “Glad to see Nat still likes Bond. Goodnight Tony”

You go to turn away but his firm hand stops you, “Are you really so oblivious?”

Your brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“Kid, it's past midnight and they're in the living room. They have a tv in their room, and you and I both know that's where they always watch their movies.”

You shrug, “Maybe they just wanted a change of scenery”

He exasperatedly runs a hand through his hair, “Christ sake kid, they waited there for you.”

“Huh? Why would they do that?”

He sighs, “Because they miss you, and they didn’t get to spend the day with you, so they at least wanted to be here to greet you once you got home. They wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling guilty for hurting them with your absence while also feeling grateful for their care, “I better not keep them waiting then. Goodnight Tony”

“Night Y/n” he says, with the hope that finally everyone's confessions would come to light tonight

You slowly approach the couple, feeling guilty you were about to disrupt their movie despite knowing they waited up for you. In the end you don’t need to interrupt them as your movements end up catching the Sokovians attention and her eyes light up.

“Malysh(baby), you're back!”

Nats head quickly turns in your direction, but her smile fades slightly as she notices the dirt and small scrapes that adorn your forearms and face, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, “No. Just some normal bumps and bruises is all.”

They both frown at your statement and Wanda quickly untangles herself from her girlfriend in order to approach you. Her hand gently trails across a bruise on your cheek before grabbing onto your hand and she looks back to Nat to receive a nod.

“Let's get you cleaned up, ok?” You're too tired to say no so you dumbly nod and follow her to the couples bedroom, with Natasha right behind you.

“Sit down kotenok(kitten)” she instructs, her tone softer than what you're used to

You do as you're told, relaxing into the small sofa in their room as Wanda heads into the bathroom and Natasha rifles through their closet. You unintentionally doze off as you wait and the two women briefly contemplate allowing you a small nap before they decide that you’d be better off and more comfortable once cleaned up and out of your uniform.

“Y/n…Wake up sweet girl” Wanda coos, as she gently shakes you

Your eyes strain to open, “Sorry guys”

“It’s alright. You've had a long day.” Wanda says, sitting down beside you, “Let's get you clean.”

She brings the washcloth up to your face first and Nat smiles as she watches you practically melt at the feeling. The brunette softly scrubs your face, careful to not agitate any of the small scrapes as she rubs the sweat and dirt from your face.

“There we go. I knew your beautiful face was under all that grime”

You blush slightly, and you know with as close as both women are that they've seen it, yet neither tease you for it, “Thanks Wans”

She smiles and nods, “Give me your arm”

You do so, watching with sleepy eyes as she cleans your left forearm before moving onto your right one. Youd been so focused on her movements that you hadn’t realized Nat had momentarily left in order to prepare the bed for them.

“She all clean, detka(baby)?”

Wanda nods, “Yup. Clean and ready for bed.”

You assume that's your queue to leave and shuffle as you prepare to stand but the redhead is quick to stop you, “Woah, easy there. We haven't gotten our Y/n time for what feels like ages, so we’re claiming now while you're too tired to protest. Here, go change”

You look down to see that she's handing you an extra pair of her pajamas and your stomach erupts with butterflies, “Thanks Nat.”

The two share a smile as you head off to their bathroom to change and Nat helps the younger girl off the sofa, “Go ahead and get into bed detka(baby)”

When you emerge from the bathroom you find Wanda suggled into her side of the bed while Nat sits on the edge of her side. The Russian can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, seeing you in her clothes has her heart speeding up in her chest.

“Well, goodnight guys” you tell them, taking a step forward only to be stopped by Nats hands grabbing yours

“Where do you think you're going, pretty girl?”

“I- I uh, the couch?” you stutter out, mentally slapping yourself for becoming so flustered by her words

Wandda frowns as she sits up, you never used to mind sleeping in their bed with them on movie nights, when had that changed? Why are you so distant now?

“Y/n?” she hesitates, “Have Tasha and I upset you?”

“What? No. No, of course not. Everything is fine” you stress, but Nat defeatedly drops your hands as her expression turns sad

“Everythings not fine, Y/n. This is the first time we’ve been able to spend any time alone with you in nearly a month. You've been avoiding us, and it hurts”

“Just please tell us what we did so we can fix it.” Wanda practically begs, “We miss having you around. We miss you.”

“You guys haven’t done anything. I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way” the Russian mumbles, and your guilt returns ten fold

“Ok. I probably should have said something sooner, but i didn't know how” you sigh, “I still don’t, but you guys don’t deserve to be left wondering”

You stand there for a moment, nervously picking at your fingers as you try to figure out what words are best to use to explain everything. But your anxiety is getting the better of you, and you can’t blame it. I mean how are you supposed to tell your two best friends, who are a couple, that you love them.

Wandas eyes widened as unbeknownst to you, your thoughts had become incredibly loud. But she doesn’t want you to panic, and your anxiety is already quite high, so she decides to not let it be known that she’d heard you. Instead she gets out of bed and slowly approaches you, grasping your hands with hers once she's close enough.

“Whatever it is Y/n, you can tell us. I promise it’ll be ok” she assures, squeezing your hands for added emphasis.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you think about the prospect of saying the words out loud, but the way Wanda reassures you gives you some courage, “I um, I- I love you both. In a more than friends kind of way.”

“Oh kotenok(kitten)” Natasha coos as you glue your eyes to the floor, and she quickly gets to her feet to join the two of you. She grabs your chin and tilts it up so you're looking at her, “That's something you never had to hide from us. Because we feel the same, don’t we detka(baby)?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief and you look to the other woman for confirmation, “You guys love me?”

“We do, we love you Y/n” Wanda admits, smiling wide

“So very much” Natasha adds, wearing a matching smile of her own and she can wait no longer, “Can we kiss you?”

You eagerly nod and she brings her lips to yours. It's everything you thought it would be, fierce and full of passion and it quickly takes your breath away. As soon as she pulls away from you Wanda replaces her on your lips. Her kiss too is just as you expected, tender and full of love. Once it ends the brunette pulls you into a hug, which Nat joins.

You let out a happy relieved laugh as their arms wrap around your body and you easily sink into them. They can feel just how exhausted you are, so despite the wonderful discovery the three of you have made, they know that their first priority is letting you get your needed rest.

“Come on malysh(baby)” Wanda says, breaking up the group hug, “It’s very late and you need sleep”

“She's right. We can talk more about this tomorrow” Nat adds, ushering you over to the bed

This time you don’t argue, you climb right in and get settled in your spot in the middle of the bed so you can be between the two of them. Wanda happily joins you, snuggling closely as she pulls you against her. Nat smiles as she joins you but instead of snuggling close she leans on her elbow, her other hand cupping your face.

She gives you another kiss, “Love you”

“Love you too Natty” you sleepily mumble, making her heart swell. You then turn to Wanda to let her have a kiss, “Love you Wans”

“Love you too, sweetheart” she whispers, brushing a hand through your hair, “Sleep well”

You end up falling asleep before they even finish pulling the covers up over you. They both scoot closer, each wrapping an arm across your midsection to ensure you remain close.

“Our pretty girl” Nat mumbles as she nuzzles her face against your neck

Wanda does the same on your other side, “All ours”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm @zoomdeathknight

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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holylulusworld · 3 months

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Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, implied break-up, sadness, rejection, Mary being a bitch, sleazy John

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Live was great. The man you loved proposed to you in the most romantic way. And later, you made love in his old Chevy Impala. The only girl he loved as much as he loved you; according to Dean.

Butterflies still fluttered in your stomach whenever he looked at you.

Everything was fine, great even. Until he invited you for a family dinner to get to know the rest of his family.

You already knew his younger brother. Sam was easy to be around.

Dean never talked much about the rest of his family. All you knew was his mother came from old money, and his father was a made man.

The moment you stepped into Mary Winchester’s house, your relationship with Dean was doomed.

Not only did she ignore you for most of the day, but she always invited Dean’s first love, the girl next door. The one and only Lisa Braeden.

You knew that Dean never got over her and accepted that he had a past. Everyone has a past, right?

It felt like someone stabbed you in the back and ripped your heart out at the same time.

But you never were a quitter. Instead of sulking in a corner and watching your fiancé talk to his ex, you decided to remind him what he’s going to lose if he doesn’t get his shit together.

“No, wait. He’s my man. His mother can’t do this to me,” you cursed under your breath." Dean was your man, he even proposed to you. His family just didn’t know yet. “I’ll beat you with your own weapons, bitch.”

You walked back upstairs, entered the room you shared with Dean, and threw on your most sexy dress, killer heels, and no underwear. – To hell with the girl next door.

When you walked back down you put on a faked smile and confidently entered the living room again.

Your eyes scanned the room for you man only to watch Dean still talk to Lisa. They laughed, and she touched his arm, giggling like he said the funniest thing she ever heard.

You saw red but didn’t want to act like a jealous bitch in heat. So, you took a deep breath and brushed your concerns off.

“A nice party, huh?” Dean’s father stood a little too close for comfort. “Can’t believe my son got his hands on someone like you.”

John Winchester stank like booze and desperation. You assumed he didn’t get any from the ice queen his wife seemed to be.

“Mr. Winchester,” you excused yourself to walk toward Dean.

You stopped in your tracks and took another deep breath. Dean ignored you calling his name, even when you put your hand on his shoulder. “Dean, I’m a little tired and I got a terrible headache.”

He didn’t react, too engrossed in listening to what Lisa had to say.

“Later,” he grumbled and didn’t even spare you a glance.

You knew there and then that Dean wasn’t ready to marry you.

Maybe you only were a rebound to him. A woman he could use until Lisa came back into the picture thanks to his mother.

“I thought you have changed. Dean, I believed you moved on from sleeping around when we met. Please don’t prove all the people telling me not to marry you right,” you grabbed his hand and tried to make him face you.

“Y/N, not now,” he didn’t even hear what you said and waved you off. “Later.”

“Please…We need to talk Dean…it’s not only us any longer,” you whispered the words not daring to speak any louder.

You dropped his hand and stepped away, catching the attention of his whole family when you turned around to run upstairs.

You cried for what felt like an eternity when it was only a few minutes.

Sam came by after the scene you made in your opinion, but you didn’t open the door.

“I don’t know what to do now,” you wiped your eyes and choked out a sob. Dean changed so fast only because that woman was around. He didn’t act like the man you fell in love with that night.

It took all the strength left in you to change clothing again and pack up all your belongings. If he didn’t come to his senses tonight, maybe tomorrow when he found you gone.

You hastily wrote a few lines, and placed the piece of paper on the bed, along with your engagement ring.

Rereading the lines you choke out another sob.

One night of passion, a life-long responsibility. This is your decision. Are you in or out? I got a job offer in London and will accept it if you don’t want to be a father yet (or at all). If you are still the man you made me believe you are, call me tomorrow. If not, have a nice life…

Part 1

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #angst #au!dean winchester #au!dean winchester x reader #female reader #spn

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is-actually-an-emo-hobbit · 10 months

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one of my favorite things about the lot films are those little scenes that are funny sewn into the dramatic and sad plot.

Like; gimli snoring in the middle of sam's poetry about Gandalf's fireworks and Aragorn hitting him? hilarious

Legolas and Gimli's drinking contest? it cracks me up every time

pippin and merry being trained by Boromir? yeeeees I fucking love it

the potato scene? *kicks feet and giggles*

it's these small bits of comedy in the midst of the stress and darkness

new addition: that scene in rotk where gandalf is smoking his pipe and starts coughing and then there's just this large shot of Gondor at night with Mordor in the background and gandalf is just hacking up a lung and just. I can imagine the residents of Gondor trying to sleep like; damn tobacco addict, doesn't he know it'll kill him? shut it smokey mccoughster we're trying to SLEEP BEFORE WE DIE

god I love these films

#there's so many more but I cant think of them right now #lotr #the fellowship of the ring #the two towers #return of the king #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #merry brandybuck #pippin took #legolas greenleaf #gimli son of gloin #aragorn #gandalf #boromir

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

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In Remembrance

Sam and Dean x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re great at drawing, but your big brothers begin to get concerned at the content of your work

Warnings: mentions of death, spoilers up until season 11

“What are you drawing?”

Dean looked up when he heard Sam question you. You’d been quiet for the past few hours, hyper focused on drawing. Dean, who had been hyper focused on drinking, wasn’t about to bother you, but Sam never passed up an opportunity to talk about feelings, it seemed. Dean knew that was why Sam had approached you.

“Joe and Ellen.”

Both brothers seemed to freeze up at the mention of the names. No one had dared speak them since…

“Can I see?” Sam’s voice was a lot more strained this time, but you didn’t seem to notice. You tilted your sketchbook towards him, and to Dean’s surprise, Sam smiled.

“Hey, that’s…that’s great.”

Curious, Dean stood to get a look.

It was the perfect image; not a morbid one of their death, but also not a fabricated one, not one where they were giggling or hugging or more overjoyed than Dean had ever really seen them. Instead, Ellen was standing at the counter of the Roadhouse, a rag in her hands as she wiped off the counters. Joe had her back partially turned as she selected music on the jukebox, but her face could still be seen.

What really stuck out to Dean was their expressions; Ellen had exasperation in her eyes—how did you draw exasperation?—but the corners of her lips were lifted ever so slightly. Joe’s expression matched her mother’s almost exactly.

It was a scene that you all had seen often when visiting the women; they’d argued about something stupid, but as soon as their backs were turned, it was obvious to anyone who knew them that they still had a deep bond. It didn’t matter how often they fought; they would always love each other more than anything.

“That’s a good one, kid,” Dean was surprised when the words he wanted to come out had to be forced past a lump in his throat.

“I just wanted to remember them.”

“Baby,” Dean stepped closer to you, his stomach twisting when you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “We’re never going to forget them. Ever. I promise.”

…

This one was different.

You’d lost a lot of people over the years, but Sam and Dean knew instantly that this wasn’t the same. You and Charlie had connected almost instantly, and you’d looked up to her like a big sister.

Not to mention, you’d been with your brothers when they found her body.

Sam had had to drag you out of the room, and once they’d got you back to the bunker, you’d locked yourself in your room and hadn’t come out.

“I’m gonna bring her some food,” Sam said finally, and Dean stood.

“I’m coming.”

Sam said nothing as Dean followed him to your room, but when they knocked they got no response.

Sam slowly opened the door, and when the brothers peered inside they saw your room was empty. Dean led the way inside, seeing your bathroom door open. Both brothers shared a look when they saw you, sitting on the edge of the tub, headphones covering your ears while you sketched, occasionally glancing up to look in your mirror.

You were so focused on your drawing that you didn’t see your brothers until Dean knelt in front of you. You didn’t speak, but you put down your pencil to stare at Dean. He reached up, gently removing your headphones from your head.

“Hey, baby,” he said quietly. “How’s it going?”

You blinked, but didn’t speak.

“What’s that?” You turned your attention to Sam when he spoke, but his eyes were on your drawing.

Dean hadn’t bothered to look, assuming that you were drawing Charlie, but at Sam’s words he turned his gaze to the paper.

“You and Charlie?” He asked, looking back at you. You’d never drawn yourself before, and especially not with one of your fallen friends. “It’s nice,” he said, but Sam was frowning.

“Honey, why are you in there with Charlie?”

You were silent for so long that Dean was convinced you wouldn’t answer. But finally…

“I wanted you to have something to remember me, too.”

Dean felt his blood go cold, but he tried to keep his voice light.

“Remember you? You going somewhere we don’t know about?”

“Everybody’s going. Soon enough I’ll go too.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam knelt down next to Dean, placing his hand on your knee.

“Charlie was strong. She knew how to fight. But-but it didn’t matter.”

The brothers stiffened when you started to cry.

“Are you trying to say you think you’re gonna die?” Dean’s hand came up to grip your shoulder. You didn’t respond, and that was answer enough.

“Don’t talk like that,” Sam said.

“Hey, look at me.” Your eyes snapped to Dean when you heard his harsh tone. “I’m never going to let anything happen to you, understand me? You’re not dying, not on my watch.”

“You can’t control everything, Dean,” you whimpered. You had managed to stop crying, but Dean could still see the fear and sorrow in your eyes.

“But I’m going to control this.” His words may have been nonsensical, but there was no doubt that he meant them one hundred percent. “You’re not dying. I’m not gonna let you die. You get that?”

You stared at him for a long moment.

“Ok.”

You weren’t sure if you believed it, but you couldn’t help but look at your big brothers, and trust that they’d do everything they could to make it true.

To keep you safe.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #the winchester brothers #winchester x reader #winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean x you #dean x reader

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 months

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The Birds and The Bees

A.N. I don't usually do many author's notes in Tumblr, but never, never, not once, has a fic ever been so requested, by so many different people, that I feel like I have to.

@i-love-mommy-wanda "Being that she stayed in a room most of her life- just hear me out- a oneshot - of Sam giving her the" TALK!" like birds and bees and where baby's come from I think that would be funny" @/thequeeranarchist "I don't know if you take requests, but I thought about if someone had to explain the birds and the bees to sunshine considering she probably never had been told about it. Idk, I thought about sunshine and Bucky's first time together too, but I don't know your comfortability with what you write and what you don't. And grumpy x sunshine is officially my favourite trope now bc of this series."

I don't even - I just don't even know what to say. (Please note, that as I write this, I'm quite literally giggling to myself and have quite literally reverted to my awkward 16 year old self) I get requests somewhat regularly, but this, this is the most requested topic. You guys just really wanted to know about this.

Listen, here's the thing, reading second hand embarrassment is one thing. WRITING IT? I was in physical pain, but the scene wasn't going to write itself. I tried, it really didn't write itself.

But I did it. Because I love you guys. And now, it'll be another 5 to 7 business days before I can log back on.

P.S. I know there's other people who requested it too, but I can't find the requests, but please know I didn't forget about you!

Anon's 1K Celebration

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Summary: Falling in love is easy, as natural as breathing, so why is talking about it so embarrassing?

"Sam," you frantically call from the doorway, clutching your racing heart, "I think I'm dying."

"What? Why? What happened?" Sam rushes out, frantically searching you for signs of duress.

You double over, hands clutching your sides, "Well, I'm not sure, but I did Google it and I think I'm having a heart attack."

Sam takes a long sigh, resting his hands on his hips in mild exasperation. At least he knew you weren't actually dying. "And why do you think you're having a heart attack?"

"I just," you dramatically clutch your chest, finally standing upright, "My heart feels like it's in my stomach, and- and I'm all sweaty, and fluttery. And I want to curl up into a little ball and die, but maybe also listen to every Taylor Swift song ever written."

"Well, that was," Sam clears his throat, "That was very descriptive."

You flop down on your couch and groan into one of the cushions, "Just leave me here to die."

"You're not dying."

You lift your head to glare at him, "You don't know."

"I do know," Sam insists. "You're a healthy, 25 year old woman, the chances of you having a heart attack are almost zero."

"But not zero," you point out.

Sam sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you up off the couch, "You're not dying, and you're not having a heart attack."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"If you're wrong, I'll haunt you."

"I'll take my chances," Sam playfully rolls his eyes, "So what were you doing right before you thought you were having a heart attack?"

"I-" you clear your throat, a furious blush warming your entire face, "I don't want to tell you."

He should've known something was wrong right from the get go. You were always so open, so honest about everything. You weren't raised under the same social contract, or any social contract, and you were still learning basic social norms and customs. For better or worse, you were the most honest and open person Sam had ever known.

So for you to be this flustered, this shy and jittery, it had to be something pretty important.

He should've left it at that. He really should've left it at that. But no, like the concerned friend he was, he pressed the topic even more.

He gently nudges your shoulder, taking a seat beside you, "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

You abruptly stand up, awkwardly chuckling. You inch away from him, jutting your thumb back to your room, "You know, now that I think about it, I'm all better, heart attack healed. Good talk, thanks, Sam."

"Come on, just tell me," Sam cajoles, patting the seat beside him. "We tell each other everything."

"I was on the phone."

"Okay..." Sam could count on one hand the number of people that had any means to communicate with you. Hell, he could count exactly how many people had knowledge of your existence with both hands.

It takes Sam a second to realize that he's too lost in his worry to actually hear what you're telling him, "... so Bucky told me we could practice-"

He already doesn't like where this is going. "Practice what?"

"Texting, Sam." You quirk an eyebrow at him, "Are you even listening to me?"

Sam suspiciously nods, settling back into the couch, "Right."

"And we've sort of been texting each other."

"Uh-huh," Sam nods along, though he gets the distinct feeling that he won't like where this is going. Not in the slightest. He physically braces himself as he asks his next question, "So, um, what were you guys talking about?"

You timidly shrug, twisting and untwisting your fingers, "Just stuff."

"Stuff?" Sam dubiously repeats. "Talking about stuff made you think you were having a heart attack?"

"Yes..." It's clear to him that you're lying through your teeth. It's clear that this is as weird for him as it is for you. You clap your hands down on your lap, abruptly standing with up a fierce blush painting your face, "You know what? I completely forgot I have to water my plants!"

"I know you're lying!" Sam calls after you as you scramble away.

"No, I'm not!" you shout over your shoulder. "I'll be back! Maybe! Probably! Definitely at some point!"

This wasn't the first time something like this happened, a strange, slightly uncomfortable situation happening.

This whole living arrangement with you and Sam would probably be called a strange, slightly uncomfortable situation by most people. Most of the time, Sam was able to handle these things on his own.

Having grown up with a younger sister, Sam was fairly comfortable talking about and dealing with certain things. That did not mean he was even remotely prepared or even qualified to explain those things to you.

The first time it happened was about a month into living with each other.

It was just cramps. Until it wasn't.

He phoned it in to Maria Hill.

Crisis averted. Mostly.

Because a couple of months later, another of those awkward situations arose.

The second time was an awkward encounter with a barista at your local cafe.

Apparently, getting breakfast and coffee with a person of the opposite sex first thing in the morning day in and out meant that people could just assume the nature of your relationship. And it wouldn’t have been the most ridiculous assumption if it weren’t for the fact that it absolutely was the most ridiculous assumption.

Sam was just thankful that he was as certain of your feelings as he was of his own.

He'd handled that situation fairly well on his own, even if it did take several days for you two to be within five feet of each other.

And now here he was again. Sitting all alone in your living room, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with this. And that's when he sees it. The scene of the crime sat right before him, right on the coffee table. Your phone.

"You forgot your-" He stops himself from finishing that sentence. Because this wasn't your run of the mill awkward situation, no, this was worse. A lot worse than some nosey barista. So much worse that he thinks about doing something stupid. An overprotective, older brother sort of stupid. He tries to rationalize it, after all, you’d left the phone right there. Right there. Right in front of him. Within his reach. What kind of handler would he even be if he wasn’t keeping a close eye on you?

“No.” Sam suddenly changes his mind, softly muttering to himself, “That is an invasion of privacy. What kind of friend-“

And before he even knows it, your phone is in his hand. And he’s clicking on your messages.

And he’s reading your texts to Bucky.

JBB: What does 'lol' mean? You: It's either lots of love or laugh out loud. Idk. JBB: What does that mean? The idk? You: I don't know. JBB: I'll ask. You: No, it means I don't know. JBB: Oh. JBB: I know you can't see me, but I'm frowning right now. You: You make me laugh. JBB: I like making you laugh. JBB: But if you tell anyone that, I'll deny it. You: lol JBB: Which version of lol was that? Lots of love or laughing out loud? You: That’s for me to know. JBB: And for me to find out? You: lol

"That was smooth as hell," Sam mutters to himself. Sam has to stop at that point. He can’t read any more. He scoffs to himself, “She’s been out a year and flirts better than I do.”

There’s a part of him that’s a little mad. Mostly about your shockingly incredible ability to flirt.

But it also grates on that older brother nerve. The same one Sarah used to love to poke and prod at when they were younger.

He's still sort of in his right mind. At least enough to know that he's out of his element with this one. There’s no way that he can approach you about this. Especially not after reading through your messages.

What even was this? Was it just harmless flirting? Was it you just trying to get out there and socialize with the few people you were allowed contact with?

Or were there feelings there? And, if there were feeling, what kind of feelings?

He rapidly shakes his head trying to rid himself of the idea. That was not an image he needed in his head.

Sam decides in that very moment, this is too far out of his league. He can't handle this. An while might not be able to handle this, he knew someone who could, someone much more qualified than he was. He dials her number right away. She answers on the third ring.

"I need your help," Sam sharply whispers into his phone.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"There is flirting happening over here!"

Maria sighs in relief, "Oh, good, I thought there was a real problem happening."

"Did you not hear me? Flirting, Maria! Flirting!"

"So?"

"Do you know what flirting leads to?" Sam wildly questions.

"No?"

"It leads to... other things - I don't know! And that's why I need your help! I can't deal with this!"

"You can't call me over for things like this."

"I thought you said you were happy to help!"

"I was! I am, but you're supposed to be keeping a low profile. Having me walk in and out of your front door in broad daylight is not low profile."

"So then come in through the backdoor!" Sam pleads.

"Sam," Maria deadpans.

"I know, I know, you're right."

"I know it's a little... uncomfortable, but you just have to deal. Nick wouldn't have picked you if he thought even for a second that you couldn't handle this. It might be a little weird at first, but you've got this."

And he used to be sure that he could.

He used to be great at this job. Catching you up on pop culture? No one better than Sam. Healthy dialogue? Second nature to Sam. Ability to keep you safe? He was doing a damned good job at it if he could say so himself.

Then came the Bucky of it all.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

Sam had half a mind to kick Bucky's ass for making you feel... whatever you were feeling.

Sam's only saving grace was that you'd pretty much become self sufficient in most areas of your life when Bucky came into the picture a few months ago. Since then, things were different. You were different. At first, Sam was sure it was just the excitement and thrill of having a new friend.

He could kill Bucky for making your life more complicated. For making his life more complicated.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

He's so lost in his plot to murder Bucky Barnes that he almost doesn't realize it when you shuffle back into the living room. "Sam?"

Sam's head snaps up, "Huh?"

"I said what are you doing?"

"Um... Just thinking."

"About?"

"What's going on with you and Bucky?" Sam abrasively blurts out.

Your eyes blow wide. "What?"

"Sorry, what I meant to say was - what's going on with you and Bucky?" Sam demands with equal fervor.

"Nothing!" you exclaim.

"Well, I know you're lying!"

"I'm not lying!" you insist.

"I saw you two flirting over text!"

"You read our texts?" Your eyes snap over to the coffee table where you left your phone. Sure enough, it's upright and in a completely different spot. "Are you crazy?"

"No, no, I am not crazy because you two are over there flirting and- and- and flirting and I'm not ready to be an uncle again!"

Both your hands cover your flaming face as you turn to leave the room again, "Oh my God!"

Sam reaches out, grabbing your arm to guide you back to the conversation that he knew deep down just had to happen, "No, no, we are going to sit and we are going to talk about this."

"About what?!" you shriek.

"About this! You know this. The flirting. Dating. Other things. You know what so please don't make me say it," Sam pleads with you, looking every bit as awkward as you feel.

"No, I don't, so no, we're not!"

"You not knowing is the literal reason we have to talk about this!" Sam rants.

You turn to try to leave again, "I'm leaving."

Sam wedges himself in the doorway, physically blocking you from leaving, "Oh, no, you're not."

You try to squeeze past him, "Oh, yes, I am."

"No, you're not!"

"Why not?"

"Because we have to talk about this."

"Why?" you exclaim with a particularly shrill tone.

"I don't know!" Sam throws his hands up. "But we are. And we are going to hate every single second of it. And then we never have to talk about it ever again."

"You swear?"

"I swear," Sam promises, raising his right hand. He gestures to the couch, "If you sit and we have the talk, we will never speak of it again."

"Fine," you grumble under your breath, huffing as you slump onto to the couch.

"Great..."

So you sat.

And you listened.

And you did your best not to cringe at what Sam was telling you. And then it was over. The silence palpable. Your face burning with embarrassment. Sam's face burning with embarrassment. But it was over. It was all said and done.

You both sit on the couch with your hands in your lap, several feet away from each other, not even looking at each other but staring at the turned off television before you. After many, many long minutes of sitting in awkward silence, you turn to Sam with a questioning look, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we know too much about each other?"

"Definitely starting to."

"Glad we're on the same page."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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gretavanlace · 1 year

Text

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol consumption, flirting, light impact play, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), etc

Inspired by this gorgeous little bit and this one, too. You’re all evil geniuses ❤️💋

“Seriously, what is wrong with you three?” Danny grabs the pool stick out of Sam’s hand and shoves him aside. “Is being a shitty pool player a prerequisite for being a Kiszka?”

“In fact, it is!” Josh sounds off, leaning against the table, finger idly dragging over the kelly green felt. “They pull us all aside in the hospital directly after birth, and say…hmm, I’ve forgotten, it seems. Samuel?”

Sammy takes a long chug of his fruity pink drink around a nod. “They say,” he gestures grandly, so much like his eldest sibling at the moment. “Be as useless as possible if you ever get your hands on a pool stick. Fuck every play up royally, for this…this is your duty. It’s all very dramatic.”

“Ah yes,” Josh raises his glass in thanks. “That’s it, little brother. Good man, better memory.”

“Idiots.” Danny shakes his head, and sinks three striped balls before scratching and turning in your direction. “Jake, you’re up.”

Jake rises from his stool beside you where he’s been watching the scene unfold with a gentle hand on your bare thigh.

“My time to shine, kitty cat.” He plunks his neat whiskey down and swaggers away, calling over his shoulder. “Prepare to witness mediocrity at its finest.”

“Mediocre would be a compliment.” Danny adds with another shake of his head that sends his mane of curls swaying.

“Hey,” Jake points a lazy finger at him, “you chose me as your partner.”

“Only because the other two are even worse, somehow.”

He sounds baffled by it, and you suppose that makes sense. Normally, the brothers Kiszka float through life with seemingly endless layers of talent. It’s more than fun for the both of you — strangers to such endless grace — to witness their struggle.

Danny hurries to your side, so that you might enjoy the moment together, falling into you as you both dissolve into a fit of half-drunken laughter when Jake flawlessly (and accidentally) sinks the 8 ball.

“Tired of this, is all.” He shrugs, lying his ass off. “We never do anything real. Let’s do something real.”

“I’m real,” You taunt jokingly after a swig of the whiskey he’s left you in charge of, “you could do me.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He scolds half-heartedly, with a wavering point your way.

“I love it when you talk ‘shitty british accent to’ me, jakey.” You wink with another pull on his glass, draining it to the dredges.

Daniel tries an accent of his own on for size, mimicking his band mate. “Name’s Jacob, love.” He reaches forward to kiss your hand, and you allow it with a giggle and a blush Jake pretends not to see. “I’m terrible at pool…and that’s not the only stick I don’t know how to wield.”

The brothers erupt into laughter as you roll your eyes affectionately.

“Laugh it up, pricks.” Jake sounds unbothered in the sexiest way…it takes a bulldozer to get under his skin.

“Aw, that’s alright, you gorgeous thing, you,” Josh allows his stare to fall dark upon you after a conspiratorial wink. “If my perpetually stupid twin wants to waste opportunities, I’ll allow it and take care of you myself.”

“Sounds perfect, josh…” you lend a breathy tone to your words. “Upstairs in your room or right here on the pool table?”

He pretends to think it over, “I’d say table, but look at all the balls left on the felt. That doesn’t exactly scream comfort. If only Jake could actually sink one or two.”

“Yeah,” you nod with a solemn sigh, “such a shame. Upstairs then.”

“Me?” Jake sloshes more whiskey into his glass and slides it away from you while miming a kiss so you’ll know he realizes this is all in good fun. “You didn’t land a single fuckin’ ball, Josh. Why do you even have this?” He raps his knuckles quickly against the shiny wood framing the table.

“I happen to enjoy telling people I have a billiard room.” Josh smooths his shirt flippantly. “It makes me sound refined.”

“Yeah,” Sammy speaks up from the bar where he is chaotically preparing himself a refill. “Break out the brandy and Tchaikovsky, already. I’m not feeling cultured enough.”

“It makes you sound stupid, because this isn’t even a billiard table.” Jake points out. “Totally different game.”

In reply, Josh sends a square of chalk sailing through the air directly at his head. His twin ducks at the last minute, avoiding impact. “You’re just mad because your girl wants me to take her upstairs.”

“Is that true, kitty cat?” His stare lands on you with mischief glittering there. “You wanna go upstairs with the sun, or stay down here in the darkness where you like it best?”

He saunters forward and pulls you in close, lips soft against your pulse point…but for a split second, you can’t help the way your line of sight lingers, locked with Josh’s.

Jake’s knee slides between your thighs, just high enough to be a little inappropriate. He’s claiming you. Reminding the room to whom you belong, though it isn’t necessary…the whole world can see you’re his.

It’s all right there in the way you look at him. In the way you move with him like a devoted magnet. In the way your body comes alive with electric love when he walks into a room.

Yes, you’re his. Implicitly. But sometimes…..

Shoving the thought away, you push him aside as well, with an embarrassed swat. “Quit it.”

“See?” Josh teases, never one to shy away from giving his brother hell. “She’s ready for the superior twin. Aren’t you, pretty?”

He sends another wink flying in your direction. “And who could blame her? She’s seen me in a jumpsuit or two.”

“Here we fucking go.” Sam groans loudly. “If you’re going to start in on a big dick monologue, I’m calling an Uber.”

“I’ll split it with you.” Danny concurs.

“Ah, fuck off,” Josh waves a hand in the air wildly, dismissing them both “jealous bastards.”

He moves to grab his drink, drifting through the room with that careless elegance that follows him around like a shadow, and you find yourself unable to look away the way you sometimes fall victim to when he’s owning one stage or another.

At times, Josh is like a song you can’t get out of your head. You don’t want to sing it, you don’t want to listen, but there it is all the same…dominating your attention.

You shake it off, but when your eyes reluctantly abandon him, you find Jake’s gaze, narrowed and knowing, tracking and all seeing. It burns into you, lighting a tortuous flame of shame, and something else, within you.

It’s an unsteady feeling. Unsure. Mostly because you can feel emotion radiating off of him like wandering hands reaching out to stroke over your skin. He’s live-wire-alert, thrumming with galvanic energy, but he isn’t angry. Far from it.

It’s analytical, this look he has fixed upon you. It’s hot, there’s no questioning that…but it also boasts a peculiarity. He’s honed in on something you’ve tried very hard to keep hidden, and he doesn’t necessarily hate it.

Brushing away what can only be labeled as intrusive thoughts - he can’t have seen through you that easily - you watch as Dan and Sam begin a game of darts, squabbling over who should throw first.

The night drifts by languidly, becoming a little fuzzier and more dream-like with each trip to the bar to top up.

Jake has disappeared, but that’s nothing new. He tends to wander when inebriated. Likes the quiet. You’ll catch up with him sooner or later. Or perhaps you’ll find him curled up in the guest room that has been unceremoniously reserved for the two of you each time Josh hosts.

You’ve fought it as long as you can, ignoring the nagging ache in your bladder, unwilling to readily ‘break the seal’ that will render you popping off to the bathroom every ten minutes.

Josh is contemplating a song that has been trekking about in his mind, remaining hidden away despite begging to be written.

You nod sympathetically, offering up a squeeze of his hand in solidarity. “Hold that thought,” you smile, tripping on your slurred words so mildly no one but yourself would ever notice. “Off to the ladies room.”

“The ladies room?” He laughs, trotting out that barking belly laugh that is nothing short of infectious. “You make my home sound like an Applebees.”

“Applebees?” You hear Sam pipe up as you ascend the basement stairs “Are you ordering? ‘Cause they’ve got that queso I like.”

Danny’s reply comes muffled as you slip onto the main floor. “Applebees is fuckin’ disgusting, and anyway…”

Hands washed, and a smudge of eyeliner wiped away, you emerge from the bathroom, ready to rejoin the party when a hand slithers out in the dark, quick as a striking snake, to pull you into the spare bedroom.

“Hello, kitty cat.” Jake’s voice comes smoothly in the dark.

“Jake,” you’re working hard to quiet your hammering heart as your eyes fight to adjust in the darkness. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’d tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You can nearly hear the smirk in his tone.

“Have you been hiding up here all this time?” You ask, as he holds tight to your hands, barring you from actually being able to touch him.

“Yes. Kept myself busy by going through my brother’s things.” He whispers, licking a soft trail along the side of your pinky. “Did you know he owns a vibrator? Wonder what he uses that for?”

“Probably the same thing you use mine for.” You breathe back in the pitch black of the room, picturing the way he sometimes holds it against his cock for you when you feel like watching. “Stop teasing your poor twin. And you shouldn’t go through other people’s things, Jacob. Naughty.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t I?” His lips skate across your own as he leans in. “I wouldn’t have found this if I hadn’t.”

He has timed his moment perfectly, and as the light flips on, the ability to form truly coherent thoughts becomes unattainable.

A completely self-assured expression warms his features as you stare on with parted lips and softly panting breaths.

Josh’s jumpsuit, stark white and swimming with mermaids and winking glitter, hugs his body like a second skin. It renders the tan of his complexion even more pronounced, leaving him standing before you like a sun-kissed god.

His hair is pulled back in a loose, low slung bun. It’s lazy and effortless. Obviously not executed before a mirror, and that makes it all the more right.

“Fuck, I…” you falter, unable to find the words for your thoughts. Probably for the best, lest you come off as some fucked out ninny in a poorly scripted porno.

“Will this do?” He bites down on his lip, hiding away a flash of insecurity that you spot anyway. It’s gone as fast as it came. Replaced quickly by that cocky smirk that makes your cunt ache for his touch. “Or should I go and gather my brother?”

“Jake…”

Your eyes are fixed on his cock, half-hard and deliciously on display behind the suit. So very much like his twin.

“What?” He yanks you in close and ghosts his mouth up along your pounding jugular until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “I see the way you watch him sometimes. You look so pretty when you stare. Do you want to fuck him? Because you can. If you want him that badly, that is. You can have him.“

A moan in the negative is all you can hope for in the moment.

“No?” He’s got you up against the door now, grinding his fully hard cock against your clit, inching his fingertips up along the outsides of your thighs, higher and higher under your skirt. “You’ll settle for me, dressed up in the emperor’s clothes?”

“You’re the fucking emperor.” You correct, burying your hands in his hair, further loosening his haphazard bun. “I just like to think about it now and then.”

Oh, where did that little bit of honesty come from? Some things are better left unsaid.

“You like to think about fucking my brothers?” He couldn’t be further from angry if he tried. You can hear it. Territorial, perhaps…but that will do perfectly.

“Never said brothers,” you gasp, clinging to his bare shoulders for dear life when his fingers curl into the sides of your panties. “Just Josh.”

“Why?” He’s beginning to shine with sweat and need.

“I like his mouth…oh, fuck…” you whine when he slips your underwear down, mid-thigh. “It’s pretty. And the way he moves his tongue sometimes…”

“Alright, shut up…” he lands a harsh crack of a smack against your swollen clit. “That’s enough.”

“Jealous?” You smile, taunting him just a little before leaning in to dip your tongue into his warm mouth. He tastes of liquor, and cinnamon, and Jake.

“Maybe.” He smiles into your kiss.

“You’ve given me permission to fuck him, but you can’t handle listening to me talk about it?” You’re taunting him mercilessly, but he loves it and you both know it.

“Maybe you’re just needy.” He teases right back, easing two fingers snug into your warmth without warning. “Yeah? Maybe you’re just feeling slutty because you need to cum. Is that it, baby? Do I need to pet my pretty kitty cat a little?”

“Please…” you’re begging, and much too loudly given that there’s an audience one floor below, but you can’t find a fuck to give.

“Mouth or cock?” He curls into you, pressing perfectly inside your silken walls as you arch away from the door.

“Mouth.” You whimper, sounding as pathetic as you feel in your desperation.

It’s the correct answer. Had you said cock, he’d have worked himself into a frenzy thinking about the way you spoke of Josh’s mouth but didn’t ask for his.

He drops to his knees, without a word, eyes on yours until he disappears beneath your skirt, beautiful features now cloaked and hidden away.

You blush under the scrutiny of no one in the empty room when you hear him draw in a deep, lingering, lungful of you with his mouth on your dampened thighs.

“Pink and pretty,” his voice rasps from between your legs. “She’s just a little messy right now. Don’t worry, kitty cat…I’m gonna kiss her all better.”

A feral sound chokes out of you as you yank his face in close, burying him in your cunt.

At first, he’s louder than you are. Murmuring hungry little grunts and moans against your slick skin…sucking at you ravenously until the room is stifled up, full and hot, with the wet sounds of your cunt and his mouth.

Soon, though, you grow hotter, and lose yourself little by little, fucking against his face as he loves on your clit obscenely. Lapping at it, nibbling delicately, drawing it into his kiss tenderly as his fingers delve deeper inside.

He fucks you slowly, nudging you along as you whine and beg above him.

“Shh…” he warns around your pulsing bundle of nerves. “Or do you want him to hear you?”

“Only you.” You promise, rocking your hips frantically to meet him. “It’s all for you. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop.” He swears, licking away at you like the sweetest lollipop is playing over his tongue.

It’s intrusive and definitely not called upon, but when the picture begins to tumble about in your mind on loop— both of them nestled between your legs at once with those gorgeous mouths of theirs, you’re cumming hard and fast…pouring over his fingers, likely ruining the front of a jumpsuit neither of you can claim ownership of.

Its blissful and for a moment, your soul is robbed from it’s earthly confines, spending a suspended breath ruminating with the universe.

“God damn…” Jake’s winded response scratches out of him as he peeks out from under your skirt, eager to get a look at your flushed face.

He’s covered in you. Glistening and catching the light in your release. “You came everywhere.”

His observation is beyond pleased, but when your eyes slide away, he presses you for answers while still on his knees. “What? Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” You smile, stroking a bead of sweat away from his temple.

“Liar.” He grins lazily, licking the taste of you off his plush lips. “Tell me what got you off so hard.”

It takes a massive amount of charm on his end, but eventually, you admit that you’d been thinking about them both.

The look in his eyes is nothing short of devious when he goes to speak, only to be quieted by a soft knock on the door.

Your eyes meet in panicked anticipation when a familiar voice breeches the wooden barrier. “It isn’t nice to talk about someone behind their back, you know?”

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