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anhedoniawrites · 6 months ago

Text

all those dreams where you’re my wife

gif by @reidgif

inside your mind - the 1975

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

summary: coming down from the highs of sex, Spencer and Reader talk about his brain and its thoughts.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 2.1K

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, this is an old piece of writing.

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Panting softly, your breath mingled with his, your chest rising and falling in tandem with Spencer’s. Your body felt weightless, the afterglow of your shared passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Sweat clung to your skin, and the soft hum of his heartbeat echoed in your ear where your head rested against his shoulder. The intimacy of the moment felt sacred, a shared silence that spoke volumes without words.

Spencer was unusually quiet. Not that his silence was uncommon—he often retreated into his mind after moments like this, his thoughts working in overdrive as if the endorphins had unlocked new pathways in his brilliant brain. He’d once explained to you that post-coital clarity often helped him connect dots he’d never considered before. You’d always found it endearing, a quirk that made him uniquely Spencer.

But tonight, something was different. His quiet wasn’t contemplative—it felt heavier, like the weight of his thoughts pressed down on both of you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers hesitated as they traced lazy circles on your back, the way his chest rose with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“What’s wrong, handsome?” you murmured softly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His chin, which had been resting lightly against the crown of your head, shifted as he tilted his face toward you. His eyes, usually warm and filled with an endless stream of curiosity, now held a flicker of something else—something guarded.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if he were weighing his words. You could see the gears turning in his mind, the way he struggled to reconcile his thoughts with the honesty that had always been the cornerstone of your relationship.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice soft but unconvincing.

It was a lie—a glaring, obvious lie. Spencer was many things: a genius, a profiler, a man who could recall entire books word for word. But a liar? Never. You knew him too well, knew the way his eyes darted away for just a fraction of a second when he was trying to mask the truth. He knew you knew, too, which made his attempt at deception almost endearing.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his damp forehead. “Spence,” you said gently, your tone a mix of affection and concern. “You’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them. Talk to me.”

His lips parted as if to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He sighed again, this one deeper, as though the act of holding everything inside was physically exhausting. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t scare me,” you replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He let out a breath, his gaze darting away for a moment before returning to yours. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You frowned, leaning closer. “Try me,” you said softly. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just tell me what you’re feeling.”

His hand moved softly, almost reverently, to the back of your head. His fingers threaded through your hair with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine, pausing now and then as though he were mapping the curve of your skull. There was something purposeful in the way he touched you, something that felt more like exploration than comfort.

“I wish I could know you the way you know yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. His fingers continued their journey, tracing invisible patterns that only he could see. “I want to be able to have your brain all laid out in front of me, every thought, every memory, every piece of you.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, his voice soft but steady as he continued, almost to himself. “The back of your head is at the front of my mind.”

He fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to untangle the thoughts swirling in his mind. His hand didn’t stop moving, the gentle rhythm of his touch grounding both of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I’ll just… watch you breathe.” His eyes flickered toward you, searching your face as though bracing for judgment, but his hand never faltered.

“I’ll watch the way your breathing slows, the way it evens out. It’s like… proof. Proof that you’re real, that you’re here with me. And then I start to wonder…” His voice trailed off, but the weight of his thoughts lingered in the air.

His fingers stilled briefly before resuming their gentle path, tracing the base of your skull as though it held the answers he was searching for. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost fragile. “I wonder if you dream of me, or of the things you love, or the things you want in life. And I can’t help but think about how much I want to know every part of you. What makes you happy, what makes you sad, what you think about when no one’s watching.”

His other hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His gaze was intense, those wide, earnest eyes searching yours for understanding. There was no shame in his vulnerability, only a raw, unfiltered need to be known and to know you in return.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re the most important person in my life, and sometimes it terrifies me how much I feel for you. Like… like I’ll never be able to express it the way I want to.”

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His hand lingered on your cheek, the other still cradling the back of your head as though he could hold your thoughts in his palm.

He let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead lowering until it rested against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words almost too quiet to hear.

For a moment, he stayed like that, his eyes closed, his breathing syncing with yours. His hands stayed gentle, as though he were afraid of breaking the moment. And then he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that spoke of a love too big for words.

In the quiet that followed, his touch said everything he couldn’t, and you let it.

In the gentle quiet of the room, Spencer’s voice broke through like a fragile thread, hesitant yet determined. “I mainly watch you sleep because I’m terrified of my mind,” he admitted, his tone a mix of vulnerability and unease. He hesitated, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as if debating whether to pull the veil back on his inner torment.

His gaze dropped to the floor, his breath catching slightly as he continued. “When I sleep…” he started, the words trembling on the edge of his lips. “I dream that you’ve been taken. It’s always the same. I’m helpless, paralyzed—every step I take feels like wading through quicksand, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach you.”

His voice grew quieter, a raw edge creeping into it, but he forced himself to keep going. “By the time I finally get to you, it’s too late. You’re lying there…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, as though the very memory of the dream clawed at his throat. “You’re lying on the ground in a pool of your own blood. And the only thing I can see, the thing that haunts me even after I wake up, is the ring on your finger.” The room seemed to close in on you, the silence heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to such a confession. You’d never talked about marriage—not explicitly, at least—but there had always been an unspoken understanding between you two. You both wanted it, you both felt it in your bones, but life had never given you the time to explore that possibility.

But hearing Spencer speak of the ring, of the symbol of everything you meant to him, in such a terrifying, haunting context—it shook you. The dream wasn’t just about losing you; it was about him failing you. About the one thing that represented his commitment, his love for you, now twisted into something horrific, something he couldn’t escape.

Your mind raced, trying to process the weight of his words, the depth of his fear. You could see it now—the desperation in his eyes, the vulnerability in the way he held himself. Spencer was afraid. Afraid of losing you, fearful of not being able to protect you.

In that moment, the love between you felt both fragile and immense. You reached out to him, your hand finding his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the storm of his emotions. You didn’t need to say anything—he already knew how much you cared. But still, you squeezed his hand, hoping to convey everything that words couldn’t.

Spencer finally looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s supposed to be a symbol of everything good, everything I’ve ever wanted to give you. But in that moment, it feels like a mockery—a cruel reminder that I couldn’t protect you. That I failed you.”

The room fell silent, his words lingering in the air like a fragile echo. He looked at you then, his gaze pleading for understanding, for some assurance that the horrors of his subconscious didn’t define him.

“Spencer Reid, you could never fail me, not ever. Don’t ever think that,” you said softly, your voice steady but full of the weight of everything you felt. Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his cheeks gently, guiding his gaze to meet yours. You could see the self-doubt in his eyes, the fear that had taken root there, and it made your heart ache.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you pressed your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to hear you, to understand. “You’ve given me so much in this life, Spencer,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word carried the depth of your emotions. “So much that I never thought I deserved, but you showed me that I do. You showed me that I’m worthy of love, of happiness. That I’m worthy of you.”

You could feel the weight of your words sink in as Spencer’s breath caught, his eyes flickering with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. It wasn’t just the love you had for him—it was everything he had done for you, everything he had helped you realize about yourself.

You gently pulled one of your hands away from his face, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for his hand, placing it over your chest, just above your heart. “This…” you said, your voice catching in your throat as you pressed his hand against the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “This is because of you. Every beat, every breath—it’s because of the love you’ve given me. You make me feel alive in a way I never thought was possible.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested against your chest. The quiet intensity of the moment wrapped around both of you, and you could feel the weight of everything he was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the love—and you wanted to lift it off him, even if only for a moment.

You leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against his forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, a silent promise that you were there, that you always would be. Then, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, you whispered, “Spencer, you don’t ever need to worry about failing me. You’re everything I’ve ever needed. And I’ll never let you forget that.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed, and without thinking, he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours, a kiss that spoke of gratitude and love, a kiss that grounded you both in the present moment. When he pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. And before you could respond, you kissed him again, this time deeper, letting the weight of everything you had just shared hang in the air between you like a promise, unspoken but undeniable.

thank you for reading!

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taglist! @pleasantwitchgarden

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bookshelf-dust · 6 months ago

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relief

evan buckley x fem!reader

gif by @suledins

PSA IF YOU’RE A MINOR: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PORCH BEFORE I WHOOP YOUR ASS. THIS FIC IS STRICTLY 18+. I RESPECT YOUR BOUNDARIES, YOU RESPECT MINE.

word count: 6,568

warnings: nsfw 18+ only; swearing, inexperienced!reader, mentions of therapy/insecurities regarding inexperience, conversations about sex, heavy petting, fingering

synopsis: buck is a walking golden retriever. when he asks you out for the first time and begins to learn more about his arson-investigating coworker, it’s easy to say he puts that eagerness to use.

a/n: this is the very first smut fic i have EVER written (aside from some old old dirty nsfw headcanons). that being said, please bear with me, because this stuff is hard!! shoutout to all the wonderful writers who do this all the time because phew! 🤧 i am pretty happy with how this turned out, and i’m proud of myself for writing for a new character and trying something totally different from my norm! i had no plan of direction for this fic when i started it, but i hope the end result will resonate with some of you, and if it doesn’t, i still hope it gives you some good feelings and a little escape from this fuck ass world <33

————

Evan Buckley is a hellishly gorgeous man. Oftentimes, you have to remind yourself that he’s real—that he’s not some sort of mirage, a result of your constant sleep deprived state. He’s the kind of breathtaking that you find to be unfair.

You started working for the 118 as their house arson investigator three months ago. Captain Nash soothed every nerve you had going in, showing you to your quaint little office, introducing you to everyone else in the house. You’d definitely needed the comfort of that transition, but hadn’t expected your colleagues to be so welcoming.

You were transferred as part of a greater Los Angeles initiative to create stronger communication and collaboration between the first responders and specialized investigators, as so much of their jobs go hand-in-hand. Although you’re pretty sure it’s only because the department heads get sick of answering follow-up questions about causes of fires—if people had insurance, if it was an accident or an attack, etc.

So they split up you and the rest of your original team into varying firehouses so that there would always be an arson investigator on hand. And if there’s any foul play, then the police can be contacted quicker, as the investigator becomes a direct source to target those issues. You’d complain about all these silly loopholes if it weren’t for the fact that you’d gotten a pretty raise for your trouble.

In truth, working with the 118 is the most useful you’ve felt in a long time. You know you’re good at your job, and you’d tell anyone who asked that you’ve done the work and you know that to be true. This opportunity has allowed you so much more field work than you could’ve imagined, which excites you. And there is the benefit of the eye-candy your coworker provides.

Which is why, each time Buck approaches you, you have to blink a few times, press your nails into your palm, do something to ground yourself so that you might be able to carry on a conversation with him. Tonight though, he’s managed to sneak up on you, giving you no time to seem more like a sociable human being.

“Hey, uh, you ever figure out the cause of that house fire from the other night?”

Buck is propped up against the door to your office, the air immediately responding to his presence, making everything feel lighter.

You look up from your desk, huff out a breath to try and blow the hair away from your eyes.

“Oh, hey, Buck. The house that the newlywed couple had just bought?”

Knowing him is enough to tell you that this particular fire would be the one to stick in his memory come week's end, the others being much too mundane for conversation.

Buck nods, a mischievous smirk appearing on his face.

“Yeah, actually,” you say, encouraged to continue. “Turns out the couple started it without even realizing. They didn’t remember everything at first, but after going over there and questioning them some more, they finally pieced it together.”

Buck steps a little further into your office. You watch as he bends at the waist, hands coming to rest on one of the squishy chairs across from you.

“How do you start a fire in your own house, and not notice?” he asks, that playful lilt to his voice reaching your ears.

Your cheeks burn, a flush running through your body and turning you hot, head to toe. You tap your pen against your wrist. This isn’t usually the kind of information you’re excited to share with your coworkers—not that they wouldn’t be entertained by it. It’s that they’ll all be too entertained by it.

“Well,” you cough, “turns out they were having a rather aggressive intimate moment and one thing led to another…” You trail off, hoping you won’t have to say it out loud. It was bad enough being in the room when they described their evening in detail, talking directly to one another like you really weren’t there.

Buck cocks his head at you, like a cat that’s just spotted a bug. “I don’t follow,” he says. His mouth quirks up the slightest bit at the corners.

You inhale, mustering up enough courage to blurt it out before this becomes any more awkward than it has to be.

“They were having sex in the kitchen and her ass bumped up against the stove top, turning on the burner. She’d grabbed onto a dish towel, for support or whatever, and when they moved it upstairs, she tossed the towel behind her and…”

“Neither of them noticed the fire because they were too caught up in the heat of the moment,” Buck finishes for you.

You nod, sucking your teeth just slightly. “Yep. What’s worse is after spending an hour digging around and talking to them, the wife went ‘You know, now that you say all this, I do remember my bum feeling hotter than usual before we made it to the bed.’” You roll your eyes.

Buck drags his hands down his cheeks, straightening. There’s a smile on his face when he says, “Well, I guess they say love makes you do crazy things.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” you say, laughing a little tensely. You chance a bit of eye contact with him, realizing he’d already been staring at you for who knows how long. “Was there anything else you needed? Or just curious about the local arsonists?”

Buck chuckles, turning his face away from you momentarily.

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to go out for drinks tonight.”

You glance at the clock on the upper right hand corner of your computer monitor. It reads 5:43. “Is it a special occasion or something? I feel like no one’s really done that since Chimney had a kid.”

Buck says your name. A knot forms in your throat. “I didn’t mean with everybody. I meant just the two of us.”

You blink. “Why?” You blurt out, the one syllable making you stutter.

His brows knit together. “Uh, so we can get to know each other better? I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you.”

You’re pretty sure steam might be coming out of your ears. “Um, well, I don’t like to assume. I mean, you’re a pretty flirty guy, you know?”

He says your name again as he plants his hands on your desk. Your pen falls out of your grasp. You’re mesmerized as you watch him pick it up and place it in the cup over to your left.

“This is Buck 3.0, remember? I don’t just flirt with anyone. Besides, flirting usually comes to me, what with being a sight for sore eyes and whatnot.”

You snort: this cute little laugh that comes straight from the back of your throat that Buck has grown to love.

Buck decides not to rile you up anymore. “So, drinks or no? I definitely won’t cry myself to sleep tonight if you say no.”

You facepalm. “Yeah, alright. Filling my bloodstream with alcohol might be exactly what I need right now.”

————

Two cosmos in, and you’re feeling a lot better. You’re grateful for having kept a pair of jeans and a relatively-okay-for-going-out top in your locker, allowing you to look somewhat presentable enough to be so near Buck for an entire evening.

So far it’s been pleasant, the both of you making small talk, you showing him pictures of your cat and him listening intently to all the antics said cat gets up to during the night.

You’re chewing on a bacon covered cheese fry when Buck speaks. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you didn’t like to assume? Like, not assuming a guy would be into you?”

You nod, pausing with your hand in front of your mouth while you swallow. “That’s exactly what I meant. This isn’t something that happens often.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” Buck says, taking another swig from his beer. If he’s not careful, he’s going to spill it down his shirtfront.

Your chest thumps with self-deprecation, the voices from the sides of your head—the ones that create that pressure behind your eyes—telling you this might be a great moment to talk shit about yourself. To air out all your faults to this man you probably don’t even deserve to be sitting across from. God knows he won’t be interested when he really gets to know you.

You inhale.

You’ve been in therapy long enough to know the power of positive thinking. You know that everyone is on a different, unique timeline—that things happen for everyone at different points in their lives.

But being inexperienced in all aspects of the romantic world is something you’ve carried shame for practically your entire adult life. Only you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let it consume you anymore. It’s your life, and you have the ability to change the way you think. That doesn’t mean your body doesn’t still react, though, doesn’t still flush with anger at how your life has gone thus far, like your veins don’t thrum as you think of all the vile comments you could say about yourself, the ways you could punish yourself for being the odd one out.

That’s why being approached by Buck in such a blunt, upfront way was such a shock to your system. That just doesn’t, or rather, it hasn’t ever happened to you.

And with Buck being who he is, it felt like even more of a fever dream. You almost wanted to spin around and tell them to cut the cameras, the lenses zooming in on your face—mockumentary style.

“I’m not though,” you say. “Guys don’t usually come up to me and ask me out on a date, or ask me anything really.”

Buck is staring at you intently, and you almost wonder if you went too far by calling this a date.

“Are you for real?”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah. I guess there’s just something about me that’s not super alluring to most men? That’s why I was so surprised by you.”

He waves his hands around gently. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around that.”

You eat a few more cheese fries. “Why?”

He stutters for a few moments. “Because you’re just so…so perfect?” You snort, an air of sarcasm to it. “Like, for one, you’re super hot. You’ve got this whole shy but totally badass vibe about you, and you’re passionate and great at what you do. I guess I just can’t fathom there not being a line of guys wanting to jump your bones if you’ll let them.”

You laugh. It makes Buck smile.

“I appreciate that you think those things about me. For a long time, I thought that was pretty impossible. Guess when you go twenty four years without anyone actively pursuing you, you start to wonder.”

The table falls silent, and you finish your drink, thanking the waiter when he takes your empty glass, returning with a full cup of water for you.

“So, let me get this clear,” Buck says. Normally those words would freak you the fuck out, but you’re feeling a lot less tense now, less scared of talking about your situation. It’s not what you want, but it’s how it is. “No guy has ever asked you out. So you’ve never had a boyfriend? Never had a first kiss? Never had…sex? Or anything adjacent to it?”

“That’s right,” you say. “And the orgasms I’ve given myself don’t count towards the adjacent. So yeah, you’re right. It’s embarrassing, trust me, I know.”

Buck is still reeling from you saying the word orgasm out loud to him right now, not to mention the images flashing through his mind because of it. He pulls himself together.

“It’s not embarrassing. Are you embarrassed by it?”

You clear your throat. “I’m certainly not happy about it. Honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what it is that I’m missing that makes me so behind everyone else. And I’ve spent a lot of time being angry at myself. But it’s not like I can force those things to happen for me, you know?”

Buck gives you this look, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. A small grin makes an appearance on your face.

“Well, I mean, you could,” Buck says. “But I can see why you haven’t. In my experience, just hooking up with someone to get off, or just say you’ve done something, kinda makes you feel like shit.”

You wrap your hands around your cool glass, running your fingers up and down through the condensation.

“Unfortunately, I’m also a hopeless romantic. So I’ve thought about just hooking up with someone so that I’m not a virgin anymore, but that’s not what I want. I want a proper relationship and someone that cares about me and wants to be with me. Seems that’s a lot to ask for though.”

Buck reaches across the table and sets his hand on your wrist. “Hey, no, it’s not a lot to ask for. And it’s not bad to be a hopeless romantic! Honestly, I think there are more people like that than we know, but they do whatever to fit in. I am sorry that you’ve felt like this is something to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I also think it means any relationship you’d have would be more successful because you’ve got your shit together already.”

That makes you laugh, just a little, and Buck is immediately thrilled, fully taking your hand in his. You don’t even have it in you to argue with him. For once, you just listen and try to see yourself through his eyes.

“Well, I do appreciate you saying all of that, Buck. It’s only that I’ve been patient for so long, and I’m starting to think being wanted isn’t in the cards for me.”

Your gaze has dropped to the glossy table in front of you. You can see the reflections from the overhead televisions, from other patrons walking by, waiters carrying trays of drinks. Buck squeezes your hand in a way that makes you lock eyes with him.

“So…what is it you think this is then?”

You blink. You have absolutely no response in your brain that would be the appropriate answer for this question.

“You asked me out for drinks.”

His grip on your hand moves up to your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his thumb press into your pulse. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with a man. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of his skin on yours, the feeling of his calloused palms, shockingly cool and free of sweat, much to the contrary of your own. Your heart begins to race when it finally catches up. Maybe it’s better that this is coming on so unexpectedly.

“And…” Buck says.

You cough even though absolutely nothing is tickling your throat. “You said you wanted to get to know me better.”

If it’s possible, Buck’s smile gets bigger. “Because?”

“You said you liked me?”

“Atta girl!” He teases. A shock of heat shoots straight from your throat down to your low belly. You pray he can’t see it on your face. Luckily, he continues talking. “So, now that we’re clear on me having a thing for you, what would you like to do with that information?”

You take a quick sip of water, mouth suddenly dry. “Well, my immediate thought is that I should run away and hide because in my head, a potential relationship, or whatever, sounds great but right now? Right here with you touching my hand and looking at me? It sounds kind of terrifying.”

Buck starts with the reading again, sliding his thumb further up until it’s nestled in the center of your forearm. It makes you shiver and his eyes flash.

“Sounds like we’ve gotta get you out of that head of yours and into the present.”

————

With therapy, you’ve gotten exponentially better at learning how to breathe, how to focus on what’s happening right now, so that you don’t spiral out of control just thinking about what might be happening in a few hours, days, weeks. Being more present is something you’ve learned. That is, in your daily life. But when you’re not used to interacting with men, these feelings are so strange, uncomfortable and scary.

Your imagination can only take you so far, and you’re accustomed to those limitations. Not knowing what a kiss feels like, not knowing the feeling of anyone else’s touch but your own, not being able to properly picture what might happen to your mind and body when in physical contact with someone you want.

It’s both exciting—sitting here, in Buck’s Jeep, as he drives you home, imagining that those feelings might finally be attainable—and nerve wracking, because how does any of this really work?

Reading about relationships, hearing about your best friend’s escapades, watching a love scene on tv—it’s all different than really experiencing it. Truthfully, it feels like there’s a part of your brain focused on dissociating so that your heart doesn’t fall out of your ass or so that you don’t go into hiding before anything can happen.

By the time Buck pulls into your driveway, you’re feeling like hiding might be your safest bet.

He stops the car, turns off the engine. “Let me walk you to your door?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt with shaky hands.

Buck follows you up the short sidewalk and up to your little front porch. You both pause under your outside lights, listening to the sound of crickets screeching from the shrubs. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“So, uh, you were kinda quiet on the way here…did I freak you out earlier? Because if I didn’t, I didn’t mean—”

“No!” you blurt. “You didn’t freak me out, you made me hopeful, actually, I think I’m just afraid of all that romantic stuff because I’ve never done it before…”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, of course it’s a little nerve wracking, but wouldn’t it make you happy to experience those things? Like say, a hug, for starters?”

“Are you trying to hug me right now?” You deadpan, though excitement is thrumming through your veins, blocking out any hesitance.

“Well, actually, I was hoping to kiss you, but warm up to it first, you know?” Buck says, a teasing lilt to his voice, a naughty smirk playing on his lips. You wish there was another word for it, but there’s not.

You freeze. Your face has got to be on fire. You bring your hands to your cheeks, covering yourself from his view.

Buck chuckles. Loosely, he circles your wrists. “Hey, don’t hide. What’s wrong?”

You’ve glued your hands to your face. “You’re making me sweat, Buckley.”

If at all possible, this makes him smile bigger, laugh harder, insanely pleased with himself. You hear the rustling of his coat as he leans down, leveling his lips with the shell of your ear. “Is that such a bad thing?” he whispers.

You pull away quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Not fair!” you joke. “But, I would like a hug…”

At your consent, he’s on you immediately. If you thought he was big just looking at him, having his body pressed to yours, in the most beautiful bear hug embrace you’ve ever experienced, he seems impossibly huge. It makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s so warm, so solid. His arms are around your back. He’d helped guide yours around his neck, but you’re so dazed that you hadn’t noticed.

God, he’s so tall. You can feel the soft of his tummy, and you’re afraid that if you stay like this for too long you won’t ever be able to get through another day without craving the contact. His hair is surprisingly smooth where you feel it against your cheek. His form practically swallows you whole. Not to mention how nice he smells. You’ve never been able to understand those lines in your romance novels, talking about spice and man and ginger whatever. But now you do. He smells like vanilla shampoo and woody body wash.

“This is so nice,” you mumble into the side of his neck, way before you can talk yourself out of it. You can feel Buck’s laugh against your chest. It feels amazing. It’s like an out of body experience.

He pulls back just enough so that he can look at you, but he doesn’t remove his arms, only shifts so that his hands are gently grasping your waist. You’ve never felt this way before—like all your nerves are being sent into overdrive. You’re alive with the smallest of touches.

“I genuinely can’t fathom how any man has ever looked at you and not wanted to make you theirs on the spot. I could scoop you up and keep you all to myself right now.”

This time you manage to maintain eye contact with him. You grin, biting the inside of your lip. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m feeling really brave right now so if you were serious about that kissing stuff, this might be the time to act.”

Buck tosses his head back, gleeful laughter filling the small space of your front porch. Even so, his hands move up to the sides of your neck, fingers warm against your skin. “You’re sure?” he asks, his thumb caressing your pulse. He feels a kick of cockiness knowing he’s done that to you.

“I’m sure,” you say. Nod your head one firm time.

“Maybe your cheek first? As a warm up?”

You nod again. You’ve officially steeled yourself. Buck bends to meet you, tilting your head back just slightly so that he can reach you from a better angle. His hand cups the back of your neck as he presses his lips to your cheek. He’s so sure of himself, so passionate about this small thing, that it feels sensual. It puts you in a trance. His lips remain on your cheek for just a minute, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your skin. You have the urge to giggle like a frenzied teen.

“How was that?”

You bite your lip, hating the way you’re buzzing with adrenaline, filling with excitement at all these new sensations. But more so, you feel so special. So seen. You feel fuller than you ever have before at being treated so gently, being cherished and looked at like you’re this precious being. “I really, really liked it,” you tell him.

“Well, I’m glad.” He winks. “I did too.” He relishes in your little giggle. “How about a real one before we call it a night?”

You’re nodding again. “Yes. I would like that very much. I just want you to know that I might be really bad at it and I’m probably gonna embarrass myself and it’s probably going to be the worst, most awful kiss you’ve ever had and—”

Buck’s lips are on yours, successfully shutting you up. You squeak.

In truth, it does feel pretty awkward for the first few seconds, buck Buck takes it in stride. Doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just takes what you’re giving him and guides you in a better direction. He tips your head back again, slotting his lips over yours and pressing himself to you. Your brain goes completely quiet. You can’t think or feel anything that isn’t Buck. This feeling spreads throughout your body, easing the ache in your chest, making you feel light on your toes.

Relief.

You admittedly have no idea what you’re doing but try your best to follow his lead, trying to kiss him back with as much passion as you’re feeling inside, tentatively threading your fingers through his hair, setting a hand on his chest. At one point, his tongue runs over your bottom lip and you shiver. Buck’s hand flies to the small of your back, keeping you grounded. You let it happen, curious as to how it might feel. You don’t have words. He licks into your mouth, and you giggle. It makes him smile and he separates from you long enough to enquire what’s got you laughing.

“I just realized what people mean when a couple looks like they’re eating each other's faces. It’s really nice, actually. Not as gross as people make it out to be.”

Buck snorts. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, already scrambling to get his mouth back on yours. He doesn’t feel like teasing, letting you pull him down, letting you try and lead this one. You’re so gentle—trying to figure out the right way, the way that works for the both of you, to kiss him. He likes that you treat him so carefully.

When you finally end the kiss, you break the silence created by an intense few minutes of eye contact. “Was I bad? You can tell me, I know I was a little clumsy at the least.”

“Nah, not bad,” Buck says. “You’re a quick learner. I enjoyed it. Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

“Me too. Practice makes perfect, right?”

————

For the past few weeks, things with Buck have been going well. Since that first night out, he’s prioritized getting to know you better, spending time with you that doesn’t revolve around a nasty fire and the plethora of causes it may or may not have had. Time that doesn’t allow for any of your coworkers to pick and tease.

Buck is starting to feel like one of your best friends. That was cemented the night he watched you play Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, enraptured by how quickly you were solving the puzzles and taking down those grimy basement monsters that, frankly, scared the shit out of him. You only told him that you’d played at least four times at the end of the evening. But hey, all your romance novels have told you that the best relationships are based on solid friendships.

You’ve had the opportunity to kiss him more, some of it sweet and exploratory, you being courageous enough to ask Buck how he likes to be kissed, if he likes it when you tug his hair, if there’s anything you can change or do differently. He’ll only answer those questions if you do first, telling him what’s working and what you want more of. As useful as all of this communication is, it was tremendously embarrassing to share your intimate thoughts with him at first.

Some of the kissing has gotten a bit heavier. The first time you sat in his lap ran through your mind constantly for days after, appearing in your dreams, day and night. You couldn’t get over the way he felt beneath you—solid, warm, so real. How he sounded when he kissed you, how his hands felt on your hips and the curve of your ass. How it had felt when he’d encouraged you to grind against him for the first time. You hadn’t meant to moan, but it was like relief had shot through you. Like your imagination was finally getting to take a break because now you were actually doing the things you imagined. You felt so alive, so powerful, feeling him get hard between your legs, hearing the strain in his voice as he encouraged you to keep moving until you finished.

Tonight is the first night of your long weekend. Neither of you have shifts for the next few days, and you took it upon yourself to ask if he’d like to stay over, maybe get takeout and watch a movie or something. It hadn’t been meant as a request with the hope that it would turn into something more. Frankly, you’ve been feeling more shy since that moment you shared a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t expected to watch a movie in your bed instead of on the couch, hadn’t expected to pause it halfway through because Buck’s stare was practically burning a hole through the side of your head and you had to figure out what was up.

“You’re staring, Buck. Is something wrong?”

He’d laughed. It was unlike a laugh you’d heard from him before. It felt sensual. It felt laced with want.

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

Your eyebrows had bunched together. “But…I’m right here. Shouldn’t that help?” That laugh again.

“That’s not what I mean, sweetheart. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about fucking you with my fingers.”

And that’s how you’d ended up on your back, head pressed to your pillows, with Buck hovering over you. He’s kissing you, dragging his tongue over the sides of your neck and kissing a trail back right back up. His hand is resting on your collarbone, fingers tilting you up to him.

“How’s this feel?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“G-good,” you manage. “Really good.”

He pulls back, sitting back on his knees and setting his hands on your thighs. “Yeah? You’ve been squirming an awful lot.”

The heat radiating off of you, the way you cover your mouth with the back of your hand is enough of a response. Buck doesn’t say anything more, the both of you sitting in silence for a few minutes. He knows you want to say something. But he won’t force it out of you. He’ll wait until you use your words.

“Buck?” Your voice is a whisper. He hums. You clear your throat, and he bites his lip to hide the pride racing through him at knowing he’s got you all flustered. “What you said before, about touching me? I want you to do it.”

“Yeah?” His smile is so gorgeous, so cocky, and if you weren’t so dazed with lust you might reach out and smack him.

“Yeah,” you say. You give him your best, pleading eyes. That’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him that way, and Buck knows that he’s gonna give in any time you do from here on out. He leans back down, kissing you again. You take one of his hands and bring it between your legs, encouraging him to cup you. “You’ve been kissin’ me like that for so long…already feel pretty wound up.”

He nudges your nose with his, a smirk playing on his lips. He sets his palm down against you, over your shorts. The heel digs into your clit and he starts rubbing you, slow, but firm enough that you gasp. Your hips buck.

“Honestly,” he says, “I’d thought about teasing you, but I feel like you deserve this, after all that patient waiting you’ve done. Is that what you want?”

His middle finger presses over your hole. You’re so warm. He can feel how damp you’ve gotten, that you’ve started to soak through your panties.

“Please,” you breathe. “Want you to touch me, so bad, Buck.” You brace your hands on his shoulders, feeling like all this pent up sexual energy is just begging to come out. You feel feral.

“Okay, baby, okay. Let me get your shorts off, alright?” He taps your hip and you lift up, letting him slide them down your legs.

“Oh, um,” he pauses, a concerned look on his face. “I just wanted to tell you, I-I haven’t shaved or anything. I mean, I trimmed like a week ago, but, if that bothers you, I-”

“Hey, no big deal,” Buck says. “Doesn’t matter to me. Not ever gonna stop me from making my girl feel good.”

My girl.

That alone felt like an orgasm.

He pulls your panties down, and you feel heat rising to your face when he marvels at how they stick to you. But the second Buck lays eyes on your perfect little pussy, he’s the one feeling dazed.

“How no one has ever touched you like this…” He licks a stripe up your inner thigh. “How no one has ever told you how much they fucking want you, never fallen on their knees for you…” He spreads your legs farther, shamelessly trying to memorize every detail of you. “Is beyond me.”

Buck sets his middle and ring finger on the hood of your clit, starting to rub you in slow, agonizing circles.

“Because I feel like I could devour you right now.”

Your feet slide up the bedsheets, legs bending at the knee and allowing Buck to get more comfortable as he settles between them. Buck sets his chin on top of your knee. He’s watching his own hand and how it moves over you. His left hand is pushing up your t-shirt just a little so that he’s massaging the fat of your hip. For a moment he pictures holding onto said hips while he fucks you for the first time, imagines what sounds you might make, and he has to keep himself from letting out a moan.

Buck slides his fingers down to circle your hole, reveling in how soft your skin is, how warm and messy and perfect. He gathers some of your arousal on the tips of his fingers, dragging it up through your lips and over your clit.

“How’s that feel?” he asks. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow hard, looking up at him. “Feels good. When you do t-that—jesus—the up and down? It’s so nice, but the circles, that’s what will get me to—”

“That’s what’ll get you to come all over my fingers?”

You moan. It’s high pitched and whiny, a sound you didn’t know you could make. You force the words out of your throat. “Yes.”

“You wanna take a finger now?” Buck kisses your knee. You’re pretty sure he’s sucked a hickey into the skin above it while you’ve been otherwise distracted.

“Please, please, Buck, I need to know how it feels—fuck!”

Buck’s fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. The sight of him hovering above you, his eyes almost black, burning with desire for you, really does you in. He starts slow: a few soft thrusts of his finger rubbing your walls, exploring the inside of you.

Then he curls his finger upwards. Your eyes roll back in your head and at the same time your body gives away how fucking turned on you are, how desperate you are for him—and it’s loud.

You’re so wet that your pussy squelches. Something about that sound flips a switch in Buck, and you’re crying out as he adds a second finger, curling them both, clearly enjoying the filthy sounds you’re making.

Buck pushes your knee down and away, settling completely beside you, propped up so he can see your face properly while he’s fingering you within an inch of your life. The way he’s looking at you tells you that he’s going to make you come soon. He’s making it a mission. He wants your orgasm as much as you do. He needs it.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. ‘M so glad you let me help out this time. I bet you’ve spent so many nights spread out on this bed, fucking yourself, doing all the work alone.”

Buck’s fingers are making you brainless. You feel blissful, so serene, so calm, so fucking good. He keeps curling his fingers, scissoring them every once in a while. You want to tell him that you can’t usually come just from this, that you need external stimulation. You grab onto his bicep.

“Yeah, yeah, Buck—I have. You’re takin’ such good care of me.” He slows down his ministrations, letting you take a breather. Letting you gather your thoughts before he pushes you over the edge. You cup his cheek, pull him down for a kiss. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes.

“Need you to play with my clit, B-Buckley. W-won’t come without it. I wanna come.”

You look down, suddenly entranced by the way Buck’s fingers are moving inside you. He follows your gaze, chuckling to himself. “You like to watch, pretty girl? Guess next time I’ll have to get you a mirror.”

Buck pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine. You shiver. You feel so empty. But all is forgotten when he puts the very same fingers that were just inside of you into his mouth. He maintains eye contact with you while he sucks them clean. You moan, despite the fact that he’s not touching you. It’s just so fucking sexy.

His hand returns to your drenched skin, fingers pressing firmly against your clit.

“Where’s that spot, huh?” he asks. “Show me where it feels the best.” You guide him, a little to your left, that spot on the hood of your clit, not directly on it where the stimulation will be too much, but the spot that has you arching your back, quite possibly more revved up than you ever have been before.

Buck is quick to begin soothing those precise little circles again, a look of determination on his face. For a moment, neither of you say anything. There’s only the sound of your breathing, the wet, filthy sound of him rubbing at your clit.

That telltale heat spreads its way through your low belly, through the tops of your thighs, through your pelvis, up your spine. It’s right there, you think.

“Fuck, I’m—” The words are barely out of your mouth by the time your orgasm washes over you, making the room go fuzzy, shrouding you in pure, thoughtless bliss. He fucks you through it, rubbing you until you’re twitching, successfully overstimulated.

You lay there, covered in a sheen of sweat, attempting to restore your breathing to a normal rhythm when he comes back with a damp cloth. You’d been able to tell him where they were, tell him you could clean yourself up, but he insisted. He wipes you off, gets you clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt.

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your surroundings, taking in your own feelings about what you’ve just done. You feel so nice. So special. Confident in yourself and your body.

You feel happy. Having this little piece of you cared for so well doesn’t make you whole. You didn’t need the experience to feel complete, or like it made you normal. But you do feel powerful. This was just the icing on top of the cake. Something of a treat. You wish you could think of another way to put it, but you feel like a badass woman.

Buck’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He bumps your shoulder.

“I was gonna ask if you enjoyed yourself, but…I mean, I did kind of see that you did.”

You laugh, taking his hand in both of yours. “I did, Buck. I’m glad I got to do that with you. It was perfect for me.”

He shoots you a wink. “Good. And I did wanna preface that I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to do all the other stuff.” He watches the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile.

“I look forward to doing all that other stuff with you. But for now…wanna have a sleepover?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

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gf2bellamy · 5 months ago

Note

hiii, you can ignore this request if you don’t want todo it!! It’s sort of fluffy/hurt comfort. Spencer and reader have been pining over each other for ages until reader finally asks Spencer on a really cute date to a museum or something. Reader shows up a little early to make sure they are there on time, and waits for Spencer to arrive. Spencer is super super late because something happened on the underground/metro, and reader thinks Spencer has just stood her up so she flees to Penelope. I’m not sure how it would end, and sorry it’s so long!! :)

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader feeling upset bc she thinks spencer stood her up a/n: hii !! i love this idea and i hope you like this :) also this gif might be my all time favorite spencer gif

You were early. Maybe a little too early.

But sitting at home, pacing back and forth, obsessively checking the time—it was only making things worse. You’d spent the better part of an hour staring into the mirror, pulling and adjusting your clothes, second-guessing every little detail. At some point, you just had to force yourself out the door before you talked yourself out of it completely.

And now, here you were. Standing outside the museum, shifting from foot to foot, your breath fogging slightly in the crisp afternoon air.

It was a history museum. The moment you’d heard about the new exhibit, your thoughts had gone straight to Spencer.

It had taken you a month to work up the courage to ask him to come with you. A full month of rehearsing in your head, psyching yourself up, only to completely fall apart when the moment actually came.

You had been a stuttering mess, stumbling over your words, barely able to get the invitation out. But Spencer—Spencer had been just as awkward. There had been a long, heart-stopping pause where your pulse pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Then he nodded. Enthusiastically.

His curls bounced with the movement, and for a second, you thought he might actually be more excited than you were. The two of you had grinned at each other, wide and dorky and entirely too pleased with yourselves.

The memory made you smile as you stood there, phone in hand. You glanced at the screen. 1:55 PM. Five more minutes.

Deep breaths, you reminded yourself.

Your fingers tapped lightly against your thigh as nervous energy buzzed through you. You weren’t sure if it was the anticipation of the date itself or just the fact that it was Spencer.

Maybe both.

Time passed. More than five minutes. More than ten. Too much time.

You had started out standing near the entrance, glancing around every few seconds, expecting to see a familiar figure rushing toward you with an apologetic look on his face. But as the minutes ticked by, your stomach slowly twisted into knots.

Now, you were sitting on a nearby bench, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check. You stared down at your phone, heart sinking as the screen lit up. It was much, much later than 2 PM.

Spencer wasn’t coming.

And you knew him well enough to know that Spencer was the most punctual person on the planet. If he hadn’t shown up by now, there was only one explanation.

Spencer Reid stood you up.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled up your contacts, pressing the call button.

Penelope answered on the second ring.

“Hey, sugarplum! What’s up? Are you geeking out over fossils and artifacts yet?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Hi, Pen… are you busy?”

Immediately, her tone shifted. The warmth in her voice was still there, but now it was layered with concern. “No, not at all. What’s wrong? You okay? I thought you and Boy Genius were off on your little nerd date.”

You let out a small, shaky breath, staring down at your shoes as you nudged a small rock. “No… uhm… no.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, then a softer, more careful voice. “Do you wanna come over?”

You nodded before realizing she couldn’t see you. “Yeah. Yeah, can I?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I made cupcakes this morning. I’ll have some waiting for you.”

You murmured a quiet “thanks” before hanging up, already pushing yourself off the bench. Penelope’s apartment wasn’t too far from the museum—thank God. You just needed to get away from here.

The walk to her place was a blur, and before you knew it, you were curled up on her couch, a plate of cupcakes in front of you. You picked at the frosting absentmindedly before finally whispering the words that had been weighing on your chest.

“He stood me up.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

You took another bite of the cupcake, trying to drown your sorrows in the taste of chocolate.

Penelope was still staring at you, her brows furrowed in confusion. “But… he was so excited.”

Your chewing slowed. You glanced up at her. “Hmm?”

She shifted closer, her expression troubled. “Spencer. He had been talking about this all week.”

That caught your attention. You sat up a little straighter, swallowing the bite of cupcake.

Penelope nodded, as if replaying the memories in her head. “He actually bought a new tie for it,” she added, her voice full of certainty. “A completely new tie. I helped him pick it out.”

You blinked, your breath hitching. “What?”

“He wanted it to match you.” She gave you a knowing look. “I mean, he didn’t say that, but I know these things. The man was so particular about the color, the pattern, everything. He kept fidgeting the whole time we were shopping. It was adorable, really.”

Your mind reeled.

Spencer had been planning for this. He had been excited.

So why hadn’t he shown up?

You were suddenly wide-eyed, staring at her as she continued rattling off all the things he had done in preparation for the date—how he had debated over restaurant options in case you wanted to get food after, how he had even worried about what books he might mention so he wouldn’t ramble too much.

He had wanted this.

“Oh.”

It was all you could manage to say. Your brain was still trying to process everything Penelope had just told you.

He had been excited. He had planned for this. He had even bought a new tie.

You couldn’t help the warmth that crept up your neck, a soft blush blooming across your cheeks. “So… he wanted to go out with me?” you asked, your voice laced with disbelief.

Penelope tilted her head at you, giving you a look that practically screamed, Seriously? You still have to ask?

Silence settled between you.

Then, finally, you spoke again—quieter this time, your confusion only growing. “So… why didn’t he come?”

Penelope hummed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her chin. “Maybe he got the day wrong?”

You gave her a flat look. “Garcia, it’s literally our only day off from work. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mix it up.”

She groaned, slumping back into the couch. “Right. Good point.”

The two of you sat there, completely stumped.

Penelope let out a dramatic sigh. “I also have some cookies if that helps?”

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah,” you mumbled. “That helps.”

She shot up from the couch. “Good, because emotional support baked goods are my specialty.”

You managed a small smile, but even as she disappeared into the kitchen, your thoughts remained elsewhere.

But then you were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door.

Before you could react, Penelope’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Can you get that? I’m trying to heat up the cookies.”

“Sure,” you called back, pushing yourself up from the couch and making your way to the door.

The last thing you expected when you opened it was him.

Spencer.

Your mouth fell open slightly.

He stood there, slightly breathless, his shoulders slumped like he’d just run a marathon. His curls were messier than usual, a few stray strands sticking to his forehead. But what caught your attention most was his outfit—something you’d never seen him wear before. A soft button-up, a tie you knew had to be the new one Penelope mentioned, and a blazer that was slightly wrinkled, as if he had been gripping the fabric with nervous hands.

Neither of you said a word. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as you just stood there, locked in place, staring at each other.

Then, from behind you, Penelope’s voice broke the moment. “The cookies are ready!”

You heard her footsteps approaching before she finally reached the door, holding a plate of freshly warmed cookies in her hands. “Who’s at the—”

Her sentence cut off the moment she saw him.

Spencer.

She froze.

Now she was staring too.

More silence.

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around the edge of the door. “Spencer,” you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance he was in. His lips parted, like he wanted to say something—needed to say something—but the words just wouldn’t come.

“How dare you stand her up like this?”

Garcia’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. She held the plate of cookies in one hand while the other jabbed a perfectly manicured finger in Spencer’s face.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his cheeks darkening with guilt. “I didn’t mean to, I swear,” he stammered, shifting nervously. His gaze flickered from Garcia to you, his expression almost pleading.

“I took the metro,” he rushed out, “and then it broke down. Completely. They couldn’t get it fixed for an hour and 10 minutes, and my phone didn’t have service underground, and I—” He stopped abruptly, his ramble faltering as he let out a breath.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’m so sorry.”

Garcia pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes as if debating whether to keep scolding him or let him off the hook. After a moment, she exhaled dramatically and slowly backed away toward the apartment.

“Alright, alright. I see what’s happening here,” she muttered under her breath, before giving you a not-so-subtle wink and slipping inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Now, it was just you and Spencer.

You weren’t sure what to say.

You had been so sure he had stood you up. The hurt, the disappointment—it had all settled deep in your chest. But now, standing here in front of him, hearing the way his voice shook with sincerity, seeing the genuine guilt in his hazel eyes, you felt your frustration unravel, piece by piece.

“Oh.”

It was all you managed to say—again.

Spencer winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know that’s not really an excuse. I should have—I don’t know, found another way to get to you, or—” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just… I’m really sorry.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “So you didn’t ghost me on purpose?”

His eyes widened a bit, and he rushed to correct himself. “No, no, of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His voice dropped slightly, filled with sincerity. “I was actually looking forward to today. I did my research on the museum, and I heard there’s a painting on the second floor that—”

Spencer abruptly stopped himself, his face turning a dark shade of red. He tugged at the strap of his satchel nervously, clearly embarrassed by his over-explanation.

You couldn’t help it—you smiled even wider.

“How did you know I’d be here?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Spencer seemed momentarily caught off guard by the question. “Oh.” He blinked, looking slightly flustered. “Well, you’re very good friends with Garcia,” he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

From inside the apartment, you could hear Garcia mumbling with an exaggerated tone, “Good? We are best friends, Dr. Reid.”

You grinned, knowing she was eavesdropping. Spencer’s cheeks reddened further, and he seemed to realize that his conversation was no longer entirely private.

Spencer continued, recovering quickly. “Every time you’ve had a bad day at work, you tend to go to Garcia.” He gave a small shrug, like it was an obvious conclusion. “Like that one time when Hotch made you rewrite your report—remember that? You went to Garcia then.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Or when Strauss got mad at you,” Spencer continued, his voice now soft with the memory. “You also went to Garcia.” He fiddled with his satchel again, clearly fidgeting with nerves.

You let out a small chuckle. “I see how it is. I’m predictable.”

Spencer gave a sheepish smile, his hands finally falling to his sides. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I just—well, you seem to always go to her for advice when you're upset.”

You could hear Garcia mutter a small “As she should,” behind you.

Your heart warmed at his words, and you pushed yourself off the doorframe. “I guess you’re right. I do tend to run to Garcia when things go sideways.”

He nodded, looking slightly relieved that the tension seemed to break between you. “So, I just assumed you’d be here… and when I got here, I wanted to explain… before you thought I had just… forgotten.”

You stepped forward, offering him a smile. “Well, i'm glad i can stop worrying that you've stood me up.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed. “I really am sorry,” he repeated, his eyes soft and earnest.

You looked him in the eye, the teasing edge of your voice gone, replaced by something warmer. “It’s okay, Spencer.”

A small, relieved smile spread across his face as he let out a quiet sigh, trying to smooth down his disheveled curls. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, attempting to look a bit more put-together in front of you.

Then, as if on cue, Penelope’s voice cut through the silence, loud and clear from the other room. “Dr. Reid, ask her if she wants to go to the museum now!”

You could almost hear her taking a bite of something, likely one of the cookies she’d been baking earlier.

Both you and Spencer immediately blushed, the heat rising to your faces at her suggestion.

“R-right—yeah, uhm…” Spencer stammered, his voice faltering for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Would… would you like to go to the museum?” His voice was shy, and the way he stumbled over the words made your heart flutter a little.

You couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness. “Yes,” you nodded enthusiastically, your excitement starting to bubble up. “I’d love to.”

You turned to Garcia, who was still sitting on the couch, her eyes wide with a smile so big it practically took up her whole face. “I’ll, uh, see you at work, Pen,” you called over your shoulder, still feeling a bit giddy.

Garcia shot you two thumbs up, still grinning like she was the proudest friend in the world. “Have fun, lovebirds!” she yelled after you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm as you turned back to Spencer, whose face was still a little flushed. “Shall we?” you asked, motioning toward the door.

Spencer nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah… let’s go.”

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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cultcameron · 9 months ago

Text

inked.

a/n: hey y'all! this is my first fic on this account. just a fun little jj one shot - lmk what you think!! (gif not mine - credits to the creator)

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: you and jj have been dating secretly for half a year, and a small question about a mysterious new tattoo leads to his friends finding out about the two of you.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: fluff/humor, marijuana use, implied sexual content, I think that's it

JJ’s not the greatest at dates, and he’s aware of that. But when it comes to you, he’s decided to step up his game, and that’s why he took the initiative to take you to Charleston for your birthday. While he currently can’t afford to spring for an elaborate dinner at a pricey restaurant, he’s trying to make tonight something special. Usually, you’re the one who has to pick up the slack when it comes to romance—though you’re not great at it either—but he figured that since it’s your birthday, all the planning should be his responsibility.

And so far it’s been great.

Walking hand-in-hand down the cobblestone streets of Charleston, you can feel how much freer JJ is when he can take you out somewhere people won’t recognize you. It’s been hard keeping such a big part of his life a secret from his friends for so long, but he doesn’t want to push it too far. You’re what he calls ‘kook-like,’ since you’re from Figure Eight but you went to the local public school instead. And while you never really interacted back in high school, JJ doesn’t want to have to explain to his friends everything about your relationship. It’s private, and though he knows he’ll confide in the Pogues at some point, he’s just not there yet. And thankfully, it doesn’t seem to bother you.

It’s been silent for a while, but not uncomfortable. You just enjoyed a delicious meal that JJ had to fight with you to pay the bill over, and you feel calm. Peaceful. Outside of the Outer Banks, there are no kooks and no pogues, just the two of you.

Choosing to break the silence, you voice your inner thoughts. “It’s nice to not have to worry about running into people we know, you know?”

JJ nods. “Yeah, it’s nice to know that I can kiss you without being afraid of being punched by Topper,” he teases.

You chuckle at his comment before pulling him to a stop. “You said you’d never bring it up!”

“Hey, he’s your ex-boyfriend,” JJ retorts, pointing at your chest.

“Hardly. We dated for two weeks when I was fourteen. And it’s still my greatest shame.”

“I thought I was your greatest shame.”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s joking. “Never.” As he leans in to kiss you, you can swear that you’ve never felt lighter. You’re a bit tipsy from the drinks at dinner and JJ has a sparkle in his eyes that’ll never stop making you smile.

His lips press to yours, and you swear you know what the romantic comedies mean when they talk about fireworks. It’s nothing too heated—you’re standing on a sidewalk and you’re not that crazy—but it’s special and passionate. Your lips are a perfect fit for one another, and if you don’t pull away soon you know you’ll get swept up in it.

Knowing JJ has other plans for the two of you, you break away from the kiss and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Alright, so what’s next on the agenda, Jayj?”

And that’s when you spot it—the signature twinkle in his eye that only shines when he has something a little bit crazy planned.

“Oh no…” you protest in preparation for whatever’s about to come out of his mouth.

“Okay, it’s just a crazy idea I had and it’s totally up to you. We don’t have to do it, but I think it would be fun.”

“What?” you ask. He unwraps your hands from his shoulders before grasping one of them in his own again, and starts to guide you down the street. “JJ, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.” He winks, and at that point you decide to just let him lead you wherever. You know he’d never put you in danger, and he’s safely gotten you out of your comfort zone many times before, so you’re sure that it can’t be too bad. Right?

As the two of you walk down the street hand-in-hand, your mind wanders. You’ve accepted your fate, but where could JJ possibly be taking you? And before your mind settles on a single answer, he pulls you to a stop in front of a little brick-walled building. ‘Inks Tattoo Parlor,’ the sign reads.

“Okay, I know it might be a crazy JJ idea,” he starts.

“I’m glad you’re self-aware,” you retort.

He rolls his eyes. “Just hear me out. I know we haven’t been dating for long and maybe I had too many drinks at dinner but I know you’re it for me. We’re young and I know we haven’t talked about marriage and I know we’re nowhere near there yet—”

“JJ, just breathe,” you say to comfort him, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“Well, basically, I love you. Like a lot. Like more than I ever thought I could, and I think I want a tattoo of your initials on my ass.”

And then you give him the weirdest expression he’s ever seen. He can’t tell if he’s scared you off or turned you on or maybe both. But slowly, a smile makes its way onto your face.

“Okay, well, number one: this is definitely a crazy JJ idea,” you start. “But crazy JJ ideas are part of why I fell in love with you, and it’s your ass—you can do whatever you want with it. Frankly, I’m honored.”

He smashes his lips to yours and you kiss him back, chuckling against his lips. “Oh, babe, by the way, this ass belongs to you, too.” You playfully swat his chest, and his smile only grows.

You don’t know if the drinks from dinner are finally getting to you or you’re just on a high from spending so much quality time with your boyfriend, but as you and JJ wait for him to get tattooed, your mind starts to wonder if maybe you should get one as well.

After the tattoo artist finishes up with his previous client, you get up from where you were waiting next to JJ and look at the intricate designs on the wall. “Hey, Jayj?”

“What’s up?” he asks, looking up from his phone.

“What do you think of this font?”

JJ squints before deciding he might as well come over to get a better look. Standing behind you, he rests his head on your shoulder and examines what you’ve been pointing to.

“It’s alright, but not my thing,” he responds, as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Plus I think I’m just gonna stick with something simple. No twirly shit.”

You chuckle at his description of the font. “I didn’t mean for your tattoo, Jayj. I meant for me.” And that catches him off guard.

Unraveling his arms from around your waist, he moves to stand in front of you. “You’re getting a tattoo?” he questions.

A bit annoyed at his disbelief, you roll your eyes. “Why is that such a big deal?”

Racking his head for an answer that won’t make him sound like a dick, the best he comes out with is “well, it’s just not very… you.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

JJ lifts his hands in defeat. “Hey, it’s your body. Your body, your choice, and all that, or whatever.” You chuckle at his wording. “What would you even get?”

“JJ, duh.”

His eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not?”

He stares at you for a minute, looking deep into your eyes, trying to see if you’re joking with him, but he can’t seem to find any nervousness. “Well damn. Where are you gonna get it? And don’t say your ass because that would just be copying me.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I was thinking on my hip, right above my bikini line, you know? And it wouldn't be big or anything, just two J’s. No extra swirls or details or whatever.”

JJ puts his hand to his chin as if he needs to think it over, before stepping as close to you as possible and whispering in your ear, “that’s kinda hot, honestly.” He punctuates his comment with a kiss on the inside of your neck, and before you can do anything more you hear a clearing of breath from the tattoo artist.

“You’re up next.”

The two of you break apart from one another as if you’re fifteen and you’ve just been caught making out by the lockers during class time. JJ winks at you before laying down on the cot. “Alright, man, tat my ass up.”

Two weeks later…

“Kie!”

“Wake up!”

“Get up, Kie!”

“You’ve gotta see this!”

“Alright, I’m up!” Kiara relents, rolling her eyes as she wakes up from a heavenly nap in the hammock on the employees-only floor of the tackle and bait shop. “This better be an emergency.”

Sarah, John B., Pope, and Cleo squint a bit at her casual threat. “Okay, so it’s not exactly an emergency,” John B. clarifies. But before Kiara can object again, he explains, “JJ has an ass tat!”

“What?” Kiara asks, still a bit dizzy from her nap.

“JJ has a tattoo on his ass,” Pope clarifies proudly, and Cleo rolls her eyes in response.

“I know what an ass tat is, thank you very much,” Kiara bites back. “And why do we care that JJ has one? And also, how do you know that he has one?”

“Okay, well, you know how sometimes JJ doesn’t wear underwear?” John B. asks.

“Gross, but yes, I think we’re all unfortunately aware after the regrettable cliff diving incident last July.” Everyone shudders in horror at the memory.

“We care because it’s not something JJ-y,” Sarah explains. “He has a tattoo of someone’s initials!”

“And it’s not like JJ to, you know, ink anything remotely sentimental on himself. To be honest, I was surprised he didn’t get a joint tattooed on his ass first,” Pope elaborates.

“Well, what are the initials?”

“Y/I. And I can’t think of anyone with those initials.” John B. answers.

Now invested in the mystery of JJ’s ass tat, Kiara concentrates, trying to think of who she might know with those initials. Coming up with nothing, she asks, “Are we sure it’s not just something stupid?”

“Come on, Kie. It’s JJ. If there’s anything we’re sure about, it’s that there was a high level of stupidity involved in this decision,” Pope answers.

“Fair point,” Kiara concedes. “How did you even see the tattoo?”

“John B. walked in on him sleeping butt naked,” Sarah confesses. He shoots her a look, and she smirks. “I’m just glad you didn’t find it cuter than mine.” John B. rolls his eyes in response, and Sarah chuckles.

“Never,” he says, before kissing her on the lips.

“Gross!” Pope interjects.

Elsewhere on the island, you and JJ are enjoying a day at your favorite secluded part of the beach. The waves never get especially big here so you’re not crowded by surfers, but it’s a nice area to get away from it all and simply relax with one another.

You’re lounging on a towel, letting your back tan, as you engross yourself in your current book. Right next to you, JJ sits shirtless on his towel as he does whatever on his phone. It’s been relatively quiet for a while until you sense your boyfriend starting to stir.

You glance over at JJ only to see him typing incessantly on his phone.

“Babe?”

“Yo,” he says in acknowledgment, but without looking up from his screen.

You roll your eyes and move over onto his towel, making yourself comfortable behind his bare, sun-tanned back. Looking over his shoulder, you try to make out what he could possibly be doing.

Wrapping your hands around his stomach, you feel his abs tense under your fingers. “What’s going on?”

“I think our cover might be blown,” he answers, placing his hand above his phone so you can see the messages in the blaring sun.

John B.: Please tell me she’s not a kook.

Sarah: Hey 🙁

Cleo: We want to meet her!

Pope: How did you convince her to go out with you? Is she being held against her will?

Kie: I stfg JJ if you don’t just tell us her name.

Sarah: We’re at the usual surf spot on the beach, bring her over!

Pope: You have to come now because I need proof that a real human woman agreed to go out with you. Also if she doesn’t exist then JB owes me fifty bucks.

“Your friends are funny,” you say into his ear, and he smiles wide.

“So, what do you say? Do you want to meet them? I know we’ve kept this thing a secret but I guess it’s pointless now.”

“I’d love to meet them,” you respond, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and packing your book, towel, and your cover-up into your bag.

Once you’re all packed, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest. “Thanks for doing this, babe.” He lightly presses his lips to yours.

“Don’t thank me, I can’t wait to meet your friends and hear all the embarrassing stories you haven’t told me. And of course I’ll have to share some of my own in return.” You return his kiss, and for a few seconds the two of you just stand there, kissing under the hot sun. His tongue makes its way into your mouth, and you tug on his messy blonde strands in response. He moans into the kiss, but before it can get too heated, you pull away. “As much as I love this, if we don’t stop, I don’t think we’ll make it in time to meet your friends.”

“Who cares about them?” he jokes, before pressing his lips to you again. And then, in signature JJ fashion, he grabs your bag in one hand and tosses you over his shoulder.

You shriek in response. “JJ put me down!”

“You’re the one who wanted to hurry. I’m just making sure you don’t get distracted.” As he walks you to his truck, you giggle at being held upside down, swatting his butt playfully.

Meeting his friends goes great, and you easily fall into a rhythm with Sarah, Kiara, and Cleo. John B.’s extra welcoming since your existence means that Pope now owes him fifty bucks, and by late afternoon you’re all relaxing around a bonfire. Gathered in a circle around the flames, you swap embarrassing JJ stories and enjoy just getting to know the Pogues. You pass around a joint, and a comfortable silence grows among the group, interspersed with a few chill conversations. Lounging in between JJ’s legs, his hands begin to wander before settling comfortably on your hips.

He plays with the hem of your cover-up, pulling it up and down ever so slightly. Sarah sits next to you, tugged under John B.’s arm. She glances around the group before she notices a bit of ink along your bikini line. “Ooh, that’s such a cute spot for a tattoo, what is it?” she asks.

You feel your face warm and JJ shoves his head into your back, chuckling at the situation.

The rest of the group looks confused at JJ’s reaction, and now everyone’s attention is on the both of you. Realizing there’s no way out of this, you meet JJ’s fingers at your hip and ever-so-slightly move the string on your bikini bottom so that Sarah can make out what it says.

She squints. “Oh my god! You have JJ tattooed on you!”

Everybody else’s eyes go wide and they all look at you in shock.

“Really?” Pope asks, questioning your judgment, and Cleo slaps him in response.

“Leave her alone, it’s cute.”

You smile at Cleo in thanks, and JJ looks at Pope. “Pope, it’s like the hottest thing ever, I swear. The sex was great already, but now–”

You cover JJ’s mouth with your hand in embarrassment, as John B. smirks in amusement. It’s silent for a second before JJ decides to lick your hand and you immediately pull away. “Ew!” you shout, and your boyfriend howls in amusement.

Standing up from between JJ’s legs, you wipe your wet hand on your cover-up, before tugging it off. “Anyways, I’m going to go for a final swim before the sun goes down completely. Anyone want to join?”

“I just want to finish my beer, but I’ll join you in a minute,” Sarah answers, and you smile. Cleo and Kiara nod in agreement, and you make your way into the water. But before you can reach the ocean, JJ runs up to you and lifts you off the ground. You yelp at his antics, and again he lays you over his shoulder. He turns around to wave at the group as they laugh at the two of you.

The rest of the Pogues look on as JJ drops you into the water. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but they might be perfect for each other,” Pope confesses.

Everyone nods in agreement. “They’re adorable,” Sarah adds. “Absolutely adorable.”

so... please let me know what you think! I don't currently have a taglist, but if you'd like to be tagged in my next jj fic, please send me an ask :)))

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank reader insert #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #she writes

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aemondsbabe · 1 year ago

Text

Give Me an O!

summary: billy walks in on you in a bit of a compromising situation, and you finally go after what you want

pairing: billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is very flexible, minor injury it's fine, piv sex, unprotected sex oopsy daisy, public sex technically, hand over mouth, fingering, breast/nipple play if you blink, dirty talk, reader's hair is long enough that she can have a ponytail but no other physical descriptors are used, billy is a himbo, steve harrington cameo

word count: 5k

a/n: finally getting around to a request from @sweetshifter! thank you for the idea bby & i hope ya enjoy! also, my first time writing for stranger things! yay! images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @unwanted-animal

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Your best friend asks as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, “I don’t mind staying a couple minutes.”

“Nah,” you shrug, still panting a little from practice as you lean to the side with a little sigh, stretching down toward your leg, “You go on, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Alright, cool,” she chirps, glossy lips flicking up into that sincere, beaming smile that had become her signature, “Bye!” She calls over her shoulder as she turns, white tennis shoes thumping against the shiny wooden floor as your name echoes around the gym.

“Bye, Chrissy!” You reply with a smile, glancing up as the heavy metal doors at the side of the room click closed, leaving you alone for the time being.

With a tired huff, you check your watch, one that matched Chrissy’s exactly – gold with a baby pink face. You’d gotten them at the mall last summer, a joint birthday present.

4:34pm.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lunge forward, hands planted firmly on your hips as you try to ignore the slight burn in your thigh. So, that’s… like, forty-five minutes until basketball practice starts, you think, eyes pointed up at the white metal ceiling as you do mental math, trying to figure out exactly how long you’ll have to work on your stretches.

Deciding to give yourself a few more minutes before calling it a day, you breathe out steadily through your pursed lips as you switch sides and lunge forward again, savoring the light burn in your calf. After a fifteen second count, you move onto your hands and knees, needing to stretch out your back.

You hum softly under your breath, one hand planted firmly against the blue tumbling mat beneath you as the other reaches back and grabs onto one of your ankles, your limbs forming a graceful arch above you. A small grunt leaves you as you pull your leg up as high as you can, before dropping it down and reaching back with your other hand to do the other side. Mid-pose, you swear you hear one of the gym doors click open, the one out to the hallway with the locker rooms and various storage closets judging by the direction, but you’re so focused on holding your pose, you honestly can’t be sure.

Huffing, you decide to just ignore it – Probably just the janitor or something, you think, keeping your eyes focused, once again, on the white metal ceiling as you roll over onto your back.

Breathing steadily, you let your eyes slip closed as you press both legs together before slowly lifting them up, using your hands and elbows to support your back as you lift onto your shoulders. Wincing slightly at the twinge of pain from your left one, you work through it, trying to keep your breath steady. As your green and gold cheer skirt pools at your waist, you silently pray that if it is a janitor, that it’s at least not the creepy one.

Slowly but surely, you work both legs up and over your head until the tips of your white sneakers press into the mat, your arms planted firmly onto the floor for support.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, you count silently, breathing a little shakily as you focus on balancing… and on ignoring your shoulder.

Suddenly, a loud wolf-whistle cuts through the silence of the gym, punctuated by a few slow claps and the heavy footsteps of someone walking across the wooden gym floor.

“Aah!” You squeak as you topple to the side, concentration thoroughly broken. Huffing, you prop yourself up on one elbow as your head snaps up, eyes already narrowed into an irritated glare. Upon seeing who it is, you can’t help but sneer.

“Can I help you, Hargrove?” You sigh, exasperated, rolling your eyes as you angle both legs out in a side split, determined to get through your stretches even with the added annoyance of Billy’s presence.

“Just admiring the view, princess,” he drawls, blue eyes trailing up the length of each of your spread legs in a way that makes your cheeks flush, “You’re real good at that, aren’t you?” He questions, plump lips quirked up into that signature, flirtatious smirk.

“Good at what?” You ask, brows furrowing as you bend over to the left, easily grasping the toe of your tennis shoe as the muscles in your legs stretch into a taut, familiar ache.

He chuckles at that, hands on his hips as he studies you, the spicy, woodsy smell of his cologne filling the space around you. He cocks his head to the side, pearly white teeth flashing every few seconds as he chews a piece of gum.

“Stretching,” he all but purrs, golden curls blowing slightly from the large fans that hum loudly on the ceiling. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he ogles at you, watching carefully as you bend to the right, “I bet it’d be really easy to just fold you up like a pretzel, huh, sweets?”

With a sigh, you finally let yourself relax for a moment and tilt your head up to look at the boy as you lean back on your hands, your ponytail swishing across your shoulder blades as you do.

“In your dreams, Billy,” you murmur, trying to keep the expression on your face plaid, wholly uninterested, which is easier said than done.

You don’t like Billy, and you’re very quick to correct anyone who says you do, even if it is just friendly teasing. But, well, there’s something about him that just draws people into his orbit – charisma combined with a certain mystique. You knew from talking to the girls in the locker room that he was a lady’s man, and a player, but from how they all talked about him, there appeared to be something more there, some hidden layer that no one had been able to crack yet. He’s different from the other boys in Hawkins, no small town charm to hide behind.

Plus, come on, he’s gorgeous. You might not be Billy’s biggest fan but you have eyes.

“Damn right, in my dreams,” he murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts as he draws out every syllable of your name in a low, husky tone, familiar smirk playing at his lips like always.

Cocking your head, you narrow your eyes as you peer up at him, “Aren’t you going out with Amber now?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it going out…,” he answers as he bends down on one knee to retie the laces of his shoe, shooting you a little wink as he does so.

“Does Amber know that?”

He pauses at that, a little huff of laughter bubbling up from his chest as he fixes you with a grin that is much too self-satisfied for your liking. “Now, princess,” he starts slowly, blue eyes narrowing at you playfully as he rests a forearm across his knee, “Why do you care so much about what I’m doing with Amber?”

“She’s my friend, Billy,” you say, sitting up a little more, the chill from the AC units making the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

“So, it’s definitely not because you’re, I dunno, jealous or anything?”

“No!” You cringe inwardly as you say it, too quick and too defensive and just what the blue eyed boy had been hoping for, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face.

This is how it’s been between the two of you for months now, ever since his stupid Camaro had rumbled into the school’s parking lot way back in August. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of teasing jokes, sitting through History class after History class as you feel those blue eyes practically boring a hole in the back of your head, and somehow mustering up the willpower to dodge his advances.

In the nearly three months since his arrival, Billy had managed to charm his way through at least a handful of girls, maybe more depending on which rumors you listen to, but you are determined not to fall for it, not to be just another notch on his bedpost.

Which would be a lot easier if he’d leave you the hell alone.

Flustered, you pull your knees up, tucking your chin over top of them as your arms wrap around your calves, silently rolling your eyes as Billy drops to the blue tumbling mat, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, making it clear to you that he was here to stay.

“Why’re you here so early, anyway?” You question, glancing at your watch once more, “Basketball practice isn’t for, like, another half hour.”

“Had to drop my stupid step-sister off at some trash arcade,” he grunts, annoyed, “Didn’t wanna waste the gas to go all the way home, plus…,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side to slyly grin at you once more, “I figured I might get here early enough to catch the end of cheer practice.”

“Creep,” you scoff, much more playfully than you’d intended to.

The two of you fall into a, surprisingly, comfortable beat of silence. You let your eyes trail over Billy as his own droop shut, one arm propped behind his head as he lazes on the gym mat, jaw clenching every so often as he works the gum in his mouth. You start at his feet, taking in the faded black canvas material of his Converse before you let your eyes roam up his long, tanned, muscular legs. Finally, you reach the familiar dark green shade of his school-branded shorts and your eyes wander up the expanse of his stomach and chest, covered by the grey t-shirt he wears, the familiar eyes of Hawkins High’s tiger mascot staring blankly into your own.

You nearly gasp as your eyes trail up to his face again, only to find his steely eyes already looking at you, a knowing smirk etched into his face as you feel the apples of your cheeks flush.

“It’s rude to stare, princess,” Billy drawls, catching you red handed.

“And it’s not rude to perv on me stretching?”

“Never said it wasn’t,” he shrugs with a little chuckle, sitting up and resting one forearm on a bent knee. You merely roll your eyes as he studies you for a second, the blush on your cheeks deepening enough that you can feel the slight tingle of blood rushing under the surface.

“Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head as you stretch your legs out in front of you again. You stretch forward again, letting out a breath as you grab at your ankles and try to ignore the way Billy sits up, propping his forearm up on a bent knee.

“Could you, like, put your legs behind your head and all that?”

“Probably,” you say with a little eye roll.

“Will you?”

“Not for you!”

The two of you carry on like that for a moment longer — you working through various stretches and familiar yoga poses as Billy seems overly curious about each one, questioning if you can twist into all kinds of poses.

“Can you do a handstand and do the splits?” He questions, grinning when you groan in frustration, eyes trailing up your long legs to the bottom of your short cheer skirt.

With a huff, you stand with one hand on your hip, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as Billy’s incessant questions throw you off the silent count in your head again.

“Did you want something or are you just trying fuck me over?”

“Mmm, close, princess,” the blond teases, earning another glare from you. Playfully, he holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re single, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking triumphantly at the way you balk.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Hargrove.”

His smirk widens when you don’t deny it, blue eyes darkening as they travel over the length of your body once more. “Look, all I’m saying is that the guys talk in the locker room and… well, I can’t help but notice that your pretty name just doesn’t come up.”

“Maybe I have better things to do than put out for you assholes,” you smirk, quickly stretching out your problem shoulder before kneeling back on the tumbling mat, meaning to finish up with a couple quick pushups.

Undeterred, Billy merely matches your smirk with one of his own, watching as you kneel next to him. “Just come with me to Harrington’s Halloween party next weekend, sweetness,” he offers, his voice a low rumble, “Come on, a couple hours, some drinks. Hell, I’ll even dress up with you, whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum, taking a second to tighten your ponytail as you shoot him a playful little smile, “Whatever I want, huh?”

“Name it,” he says lowly, watching appreciatively as you get on all fours.

“Okay, how about…,” you stall, drawing out your words as you extend your legs behind you, grunting softly as your shoulder zings with pain once more, “Willie and Indiana Jo– Ah!” You cut yourself off, exclaiming in pain as you land with a small thud on the mat, wincing.

“Whoa, hey,” Billy says softly, scrambling onto his knees, brows furrowed as he gingerly helps you roll over onto your back, “You okay?”

You nod, glancing away with a little embarrassed huff as you rub at your shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just probably sprained it earlier during practice or something.”

“Lemme take a look at it,” he says, offering a hand to help you up.

Not expecting such chivalrous behavior from Hargrove of all people, you only nod dumbly and let him pull you up off the mat, chest heaving.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently nudging at your arm until you turn your back to him. You can hear the tumbling mat crinkle as he steps closer to you, the warmth from his chest practically radiating through his t-shirt as the spicy musk of his cologne seems to envelope you once again.

“You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up,” you warn, albeit playfully, pulling your ponytail over the opposite shoulder.

“In your dreams,” he teases, goosebumps peppering your skin from the low way he says your name and from the gentle brush of his fingers over the back of your arm as they trail their way up to your shoulder.

He’s silent for a moment, carefully pressing warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin, watching until you wince just slightly when he pokes at your shoulder blade. “That’s where it hurts?”

“Mhm,” you nod, lips parting ever so slightly as he kneads around the area. You can practically feel him smirking when you sigh a moment later, his fingers working perfectly over the sore muscle as his other hand anchors itself at your hip, “You’re… actually, like, really good at this,” you murmur with a little laugh, needing to find some way to break the silence.

“My mom is – was, she was a masseuse, back when we lived in Cali,” Billy explains, leaning in closer, his lips all but brushing against your ear as he speaks softly, like he’s telling you some deep, dark secret, “I might’ve looked at one or two of her books.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowing as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“Sue me, I was thirteen and they had nudes in ‘em,” he chuckles, biting into his bottom lip when your breathy laugh morphs into a moan when he presses just right against your shoulder. The fingers of his other hand tighten on your hip as he pulls you back against him, his lips just barely grazing over the crook of your neck, “But I still picked up a thing or two.”

“Clearly,” you breathe, brows tugging together as you tilt your head to the side, an open invitation. The blond doesn’t need any more convincing and you let your eyes flutter shut as his lips descend upon your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin.

The rise and fall of your chest grows shallow as the two of you seem to lose yourselves; you gasp as the hand on your hip trails down over your thigh, until Billy can drag the tips of his fingers beneath the white and gold hem of your pleated skirt just as the hand on your shoulder begins slowly moving around your ribs, to your front. Despite the AC units humming away, you can’t help but feel flush as he presses himself against you, already half-hard against the small of your back.

With a gasp, you jerk away from him at the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway, muffled voices and laughter filtering in through the closed doors of the gym.

“Dammit,” Billy mumbles behind you as he quickly glances at the clock hanging above one of the exits, sighing disappointedly when he sees the time – fifteen minutes until practice.

Deciding to finally give in to the wants you’ve been harboring for months, you grab one of his hands and playfully bite your lip, nodding to one of the sets of gym doors, “Follow me.”

Smirking, he follows behind you as you quickly make your way to the doors, both of you pausing for a second to make sure the coast is clear before you bolt down the hallway. A second later, you’re pushing Billy through a door into a random classroom.

“This is the old Health room,” you explain, gasping as he turns and presses you against the old door, the metal of it cool against your back as you quickly scan over the empty room, dim other than the early evening light spilling in through the thin slats of the blinds, “No one ever comes in here.”

“Uh huh, fascinating,” he nods, turning his head to spit his gum into a small trash can by the door, before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. He smirks into the kiss as you mewl, his lips parting to quickly swallow the sweet sounds you make.

Always one to give as good as you get, your lips move against his just as fervently, both of your hands trailing up underneath his t-shirt as you rub over his stomach, muscles taut under your touch. His tongue slips into your mouth in the same second he presses against you, his thin gym shorts doing nothing to conceal the hardness of his length as it presses against your lower stomach.

You arch into his touch as his hands cup your breasts through your uniform, a low growl rumbling through his chest as you rake your nails over his chest and down his stomach. Boldly, you reach down and palm at his cock, savoring the surprised grunt he lets out before you quickly nudge your hand down the front of his shorts and into his boxers.

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand still kneading at your breast as the other skates back up your thigh, his forehead resting against yours. Biting your lip, you watch through hooded eyes as you experimentally stroke over his cock, marveling at how hard he already is, like velvet over steel.

Just as you feel him twitch in your grasp, the blond pulls away from you with a teasing grin and presses one last kiss against your lips before tapping the back of your thighs, urging you to jump.

“Fuck, there you go,” Billy rasps, fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you clamber up into his arms, your shoulder only barely smarting as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I gotcha,” his muscular biceps flex as he quickly walks a few feet from the door and deposits on you on top of the, thankfully barren, teacher’s desk pushed haphazardly into the corner.

“Billy,” you sigh, the sound being practically pushed from your lungs as he presses himself back between your thighs, cheer skirt rumbled around your waist as he all but folds you in half – your hands cling to his shirt desperately, one leg wrapped securely around his hip as the other ends up slung nearly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, princess?” He taunts with a wolfish grin, smirking at the way the muscles of your thigh twitch as his fingers move toward your pussy, hardly hidden beneath your boyshorts. You all but levitate off the desk as two of his fingers swipe over your slit, the apples of your cheeks flushing when he chuckles triumphantly, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide how wet you are. “Finally gonna give me what I want?”

You can feel your ponytail bobbing wildly at the crown of your head when you nod, a whiny moan blooming from your lips when he moves his fingers in tight circles against your clit, the flimsy material of your underwear quickly dampening against his touch.

“Yeah, yeah, Billy,” your hands tremble as you pull at his t-shirt, desperate for what you’ve been wanting for so long, “C’mon, please!”

“Easy, tiger,” he laughs, tongue running over his bottom lip as he easily tugs his shirt over his head, your own hands scrambling to push down your boyshorts. Taking mercy on you yet again, he helps you, eagerly tugging the white cotton down your legs. He damn near tears them in two as he pushes your underwear over one sneaker, letting them dangle from your ankle.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, crowding against you again as you lean back on the desk, propped up on your elbows. You stare up at him, lips parted, as he all but folds you in half, warm hands pressing against the backs of your thighs, “Fucking leaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Oh!” You hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down, head thudding back against the desk as Billy quickly tugs his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out, and teasingly runs it through your folds, “Billy, oh my God, just do it!” You all but beg, teeth biting into your bottom lip at the wet sounds of him moving against you, deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Were you anywhere else, Billy would have absolutely no qualms about teasing you to within an inch of your life – payback for playing cat and mouse with him for almost three months straight. Lucky for you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of getting caught with his pants down as you are, shuddering to think what Neil would do if he got expelled over this.

With a barely contained growl, he pushes into you, his cock sliding easily to the hilt with how wet you are. Your back arches off the desk as he slides home, stretching you beautifully as he fills you completely.

“Oh – oh my God,” you breathe as he stills, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hands scramble over the smooth top of the desk before you grab onto his wrists as his hands hook behind your knees.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans – the way he grumbles your name makes your walls clench around his length, punching another grunt from his chest as he starts shallowly thrusting against you, grinding his hips against yours.

The two of you dissolve into a flurry of breathy mewls and sighs, each of you desperately trying to keep quiet as the muffled sounds of skin against skin and the dull creaking of the desk fill the room. Your eyelids flutter as you watch Billy above you, golden curls bouncing with each of his thrusts as a light sheen of sweat covers his tanned chest.

Grunting lowly, he presses harder against the backs of your thighs, practically pressing your kneecaps against the desk below you, blue eyes sparkling as you easily follow his movements. With the small change in angles, the head of his cock thrusts perfectly against that sensitive spot within you, and he grins triumphantly as you tremble beneath him.

“That the spot, princess?” He questions, smirking when you nod your head with a little broken squeak, “Fuck, I can’t wait to get you in a bed – bet you can bend in all kinds of pretty ways, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Billy,” you agree, willing to agree to just about anything as long as he keeps moving. You can hardly contain the moans spilling from your lips as he works you higher and higher, the adrenaline from the possibility of getting caught as well as the rush of finally having him making you rush toward your end faster than you normally would.

Breathing heavily as your pussy clenches at his cock, he lets go of one of your thighs and shoves your shirt up, unceremoniously taking your bra with it. You bite at the back of one hand as he teases at your breasts, using one hand to pinch and pull at one nipple before moving to the other as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration.

“O-Oh, my – fuck, I’m –” You moan brokenly, squirming beneath him as you feel yourself nearing the edge, teeth biting desperately into your bottom lip as you claw at his forearm and waist.

Cockily licking over his lips, Billy leans forward as he grinds against you, his hips putting pressure on your clit as he covers your mouth with one hand, propping himself up against the desk with an elbow as his other still grasps at the back of your knee.

You squeeze him tightly as the tail end of his happy trail rubs deliciously over you, giving you just enough stimulation to throw you over the edge.

“Yeah, princess,” he encourages, grunting with nearly every thrust into you as he feels you clenching around him, pushing him further and further toward his own edge as he clenches his jaw, determined to hang on as long as possible.

After only a few more thrusts, he quickly pulls out with a small groan. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he strokes his cock, painting your lower belly with stripes of his release.

Both of you still for a moment, breathing heavily as you each come down. Half expecting Billy to simply get dressed again and leave, you’re surprised when he softly kisses you, more relaxed this time, as his warm breath fans over your cheek. Dazedly, you kiss him back, your lips moving together unhurriedly as you card your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck.

After a moment, you part and your lips quirk up into a shy smile as he moves back half a step, giving you enough room to sit up.

“Oh, uh,” you breathe, looking down when you feel his cum cooling against your skin. Glancing around the room, you pout a little when you don’t see any tissues or paper towels, “There’s paper towels in the locker room?” You offer, looking over at Billy, watching as he quickly tugs his shorts back into place.

“I got it,” he says with a small smirk and before you have time to question what he means, he quickly tugs your underwear off your ankle and uses them to wipe at your skin, grinning meanly when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jackass!” You exclaim, laughing softly despite yourself, “That’s the only pair I have with me!”

“Nothing wrong with going commando, sweetness,” he says with a wink, chuckling when you wrinkle your nose at the thought while you pull your bra and shirt back into place, “Come back to my place and I’ll was ‘em for you, my parents don’t get back until late, anyway.”

“You just want a round two,” you laugh, hopping off the desk and straightening out your skirt the best you can before running your hands over your hair, trying to smooth out your ponytail.

“Told you I was gonna fold you up all pretty,” Billy smirks, crowding against you yet again once he tugs his shirt back on and lightly grasping at your jaw, “Something tells me you won’t have a problem with that either.”

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Sure, yeah, I dunno what that means, princess,” he says, grinning when you laugh, your hands pressed against his chest as he quickly tucks your boyshorts into the waistband of his shorts, “Just come back to my place, hm?”

“What about basketball practice? Jason hates when people ditch.”

“You really think I give a shit about what Carver wants?” Billy laughs, taking one of your hands in his as he makes his way toward the door.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you finally agree, rolling your eyes playfully as you let him pull you out into the hall.

“And come with me to the Halloween party?”

“You have quite a list of demands, Hargrove.”

“Hey,” he says with a little shrug, glancing at you as you walk side by side toward the locker rooms, “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You merely giggle as the two of you round a corner, nearly freezing and nervously glancing over at Billy when you come across Steve, chest heaving as he leans over a water fountain.

Standing straight, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Billy, watching as he quickly scoops up his duffle bag from where he’d tossed it down earlier in the hallway. “Dude, why’re you leaving? You’re almost, like, half an hour late for practice.”

“Yeah, well, tell Carver something came up,” the blond boy huffs dismissively before taking your hand once more. You shoot a bashful smile at Steve, blushing as you and Billy walk toward the doors out to the parking lot.

Behind you, Steve takes a minute to connect the dots, brows furrowing as he plants his hands on his hips. After a second, his eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“Come on, at school?” He calls down the hallway, shaking his head as you and Billy laugh, “Fucking animals, man.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

#my writing #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #dacre montgomery #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #smut

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n3ptoonz · 2 months ago

Text

'Addiction'

Pairing: CivilWar!Bucky/F!Reader

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings/tags: Smut, Explicit; pathetic bucky!!scent kink, jerking off, dirty thoughts, implied dominant reader, reader is implied to be thicker, half proofread

Word count: 1.9k+

thisbfucking gif oh ny god.

Bucky was taking time getting used to being still, being in a more "normal" environment. The Avengers Tower was very accommodating and Steve was sure all his needs were met. There was only one problem. He was obsessed with you.

It's like you crawled into his brain and made yourself at home. Everyone was aware he had a staring problem, so whenever his gaze would linger just a little longer on you, most didn't really take note of it. They figured he was still adjusting and maybe even deterred from meeting new people.

But it was the exact opposite. He craved every last bit of you and he hadn't a clue what to do about it. Part of him wondered if it was from being painfully touch starved for almost a century (it is) but the other part of him thought he was just being dramatic.

He didn't know if it was the confident sway of your hips, your unique laugh, maybe even how your hero suit hugs your figure. That was until he looked down at the article of clothing being clutched for dear life in his metal hand. It was the jacket you gave him that one time it started raining and he ran inside a little later after. It was a simple gesture. You were just being nice.

Albeit none of that shit mattered as he quickly became aware of the nightfall that peered through the main room's window. He sighed, knowing that simply staying as quiet as possible with his hand down his pants does nothing for him anymore. Honestly he can't even remember how your jacket got in his hand in the first place. But it's like I said, none of it mattered. Especially as he slowly stood up and quietly walked to the hall bathroom, jacket in his vice grip.

The door shut quietly behind him but he didn't bother turning the light on, still feeling a little ashamed he got on his own two feet and waltzed his ass all the way here. He might as well finish the job, he thought.

He took no time shoving his hand down his pants, leaning against the wall, and pulling himself out. Bringing the jacket to his nose made everything he liked about you flood his senses. The confident sway of your hips, your unique laugh, maybe even how your hero suit hugs your figure. Your smile. Your kindness. Your bravery, your will, your goddamn personality.

Your scent.

"Fuck-" he breathed while furiously jerking off to the mere thought of you and the overwhelming smell coming off your jacket. He's surprised the scent didn't wear off by now considering he's been indulging in this obsession. This addiction.

Bucky was still mindful though. As much as he wanted to let out a whine and prolong this as much as possible, he knew he should just get this over with. Get out every thought of you while he could for the night. Sleep the shame away; the guilt. Carry the weight of beating off to his own teammate's smell back to his room where he'd pretend none of this ever happened until he needed his fix again-

The lights switched on and a loud gasp filled the room. Bucky's eyes shot wide open as he looked to his right. You stood there in shock and quickly shut the door, a quiet "Sorry" coming from the other side before the sound of receding footsteps became more apparent.

Bucky stood there, frozen and dick in hand. His heart was beating out of his chest when he caught a glimpse of how he looked in the mirror.

Pathetic.

His hair messy, some of it stuck to his forehead from sweat. His chest heaved from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The guilt pumping through his body; fear. Did he just completely fuck this up?

Bucky quickly pulled up his pants and rinsed his hands before drying them on his shirt. He sighed heavily and gripped the sink while his head hung low. Guilt, shame, everything in between. Oh, he was feeling it.

He stood at your door with his fist hovering, too scared to actually knock. Too scared to face you and apologize over and over again that you had to see that. This side of him that was supposed to only exist at the dead of night, when everyone was sleep and completely unaware.

However, the dramatics were cut short when you opened the door, standing casually in a tank top and...no bottoms. Underwear. Bucky was taller than you, sure, but that held no relevance as his eyes just subconsciously focused on your pillowy thighs. Bare before him with no thought to cover up. You stood there in the doorframe and folded your arms, seeing your jacket still in his grip as you cleared your throat. His eyes snapped to yours and he shifted where he stood. He was going to speak, maybe? Hand you your jacket, but you suddenly turned away and walked back into your room, leaving the door open.

Bucky cursed to himself under his breath. Were you upset? Ready to chew him out? Why were you half naked in front of him like it was nothing? Why did blood suddenly start pumping behind his briefs the more he thought about it?

"You coming in or what?" he heard you call out, nearly flinching. He looked around the dark, empty lounge before he took slow steps inside and closed the door behind him. Your room was lit by just a lamp by your bed and was decorated to match your exact vibe--as he imagined countless times.

Bucky watched you stand there and organize your dresser. Again, so casual and unbothered in your tank and underwear. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze out of respect. Or perhaps so he didn't lose his mind.

"I meant to give this back." he said quietly as he extending his arm towards you. You look to your left and see him holding out your jacket. His face half obscured by his long hair and the shadows casting over him.

"You can hand it to me." you said. "I don't bite."

He huffed softly and took a few steps toward you. His eyes still trying to look literally anywhere else. You grabbed his shoulders and had him stand in front of you, but what confused him was when the sound of you spraying perfume in the air hit his ears, and then came the very scent that landed him here in the first place filled his nostrils. He blinked a few times and turned to the side but you caught him by the bicep, looking him in the eyes with that soft glow casting over one side of your face.

The feeling of your hands clinging onto him made the cogs turn in his brain and on top of all that, it just occurred to you how fucking massive he really is. Dude's a god damn unit and that red Henley was no joke.

"It's okay," you said and sunk down to your knees. "Finish what you started."

Bucky's brows furrowed as his heart raced to jump out of his chest. He watched you look up at him and tensed at the feeling of your hands on the sides of his thighs. He was stiff at first from pure confusion but overcome with lust he couldn't control. And you? You noticed.

"I'm not upset about the bathroom." you said while gently palm him through his sweats. He inhaled sharply and balled his flesh hand into a fist to keep himself grounded, the metal still gripping the jacket.

"And I want you to finish what you started," you repeated in a soft whisper. He swallowed thickly and shuddered.

"You want me...to..." he started, his fist loosening but his throat went dry.

"Finish on me."

It sounded like a demand. Like he'd be bound to whatever is holding him down until he completed this task you've given him.

"Would you like some incentive?" you added, but didn't wait for him to answer before you slowly brought the tank top straps down your shoulders to reveal your breasts. Your arms hooked under them to present them more clearly for him. His eyes widened and shut tightly afterwards as he reached down his pants and pulled his dick out. The cool air sending another shudder over him.

He grunted softly and opened his eyes, spitting into his hand and stroking himself to not only the lewd sight of your lit up expression, your beautifully--fucking perfect tits, but the smell of your perfume still permeating the air. Bucky clutched onto that jacket for dear life. He brought it back up to his face to muffle his growing moans and groans.

It was pure greed. All of this. He didn't deserve such a moment, he thinks, and yet still he whimpered and bucked into his own hand from the pace he set.

You could tell how pent up he was, the way his brows twitched upwards and his breaths became shallow. Every time he'd curse and tighten his fist around the shaft. How you wondered what his obsession was with the way you smelled. His addiction. The many nights he would fall asleep to the thought of fucking you after an intense training session or how your lips would look wrapped around him, messy and puffy from the force.

How he just wanted to see what it'd be like to pick you up and feel your thighs around him. What it'd be like if it were you jerking him off instead, looking him in the eyes and telling him he's not allowed to cum until you say so. To explore you and see what makes you tick. To hear you whispering his name in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. To hold you by the neck and watch you watch yourself unravel in front of that mirror. To creampie you and mark his territory. To bury his face in your chest while kneading at you like a cat. To be the only man in your mind and for you to just understand that you are only woman in this god forsaken world that does this to him. Makes him feel like this for the first time in a long. Fucking. Time.

As long as he got to be in proximity of your scent. He'd be satisfied for the rest of his life.

Bucky came. Hard. Every sound he made was poured into that piece of fabric. He was whiny and almost boyish. Heavy breaths and hot white ropes coming out of him were your sole focus. He opened his eyes with slightly burred vision and exhaled. His cum, all over your chest and some caught on your face and tongue. You made sure he watched as you swallowed.

He let out a short breath that was shaky and released himself from his own grip. You stood up and saw him look at you with guilt in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." he muttered softly, his eyes darting to the mess he only intended to land on your chest. You sighed softly and turned around to face the mirror, making him drop the jacket and wrap his arms around you so his chest was pressed against your back. You leaned back to whisper in his ear.

"Make it up to me."

#n3ptoonz #smut #bucky barnes imagine #civil war bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader

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untitled-document-95 · 4 months ago

Text

Back and Forth (jake "hangman" seresin x reader)

Summary: Jake doesn't know why you're playing hard to get. Only you know that you're not playing at all.

Warnings: Language, the state of missouri

Requested: by @x3zerochanx3 see full ask here

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: I typically try to keep the "reader" character as nondescript as possible, but I had to give a lil background for this one

*gif is not mine*

_________________

“Jake?”

That single word caused Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin to flush with warmth and relief.

“Hi, momma. How was your flight?”

“Oh, you know how public transportation is these days! Not a bit of southern hospitality in sight. Guess that’s why it’s called southern hospitality!” Mama Seresin ranted into the phone, causing Jake to chuckle.

“We’re getting our luggage now, sweetie. Are you still meeting us at the hotel for dinner when you get done for the day?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jake replied.

“Wonderful. I can’t wait to see you, honey.”

The mother and son exchange “I love you”’s and goodbyes and hang up the call, dragging Hangman unwillingly back to the cold locker room. He finishes changing into his flight suit for that afternoon’s training exercises. Just a few more hours and he’d get to see his parents for the first time in too many months. He’d requested a few days off, and his parents taking the time and energy to travel to him meant he got to make the most of those days. He couldn’t wait.

Finally, Jake was driving through the sweltering San Diego streets towards the address his mom had texted him. She’d said their hotel was new, so "it had better be good". He was pleasantly surprised to see the hotel was a mere two blocks from The Hard Deck. It was new, the exterior a sun bleached white stucco with black accents.

A blast of air conditioning greeted Jake as he entered, but it was nothing compared to the hug his mother pulled him into just seconds later.

“Jake!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of excitement and relief. Jake responded only by holding her more tightly and humming into her hair. Her scent was familiar and comforting, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. Pulling away, Jake reached out to hug his father as well. What a lucky guy I am, Jake thought.

“Now, where are you taking your parents to eat?” Mama Seresin asked. Jake laughed.

“Well, what sounds good? I’ll be honest, I haven’t been around town much.”

“Let’s ask the front desk,” mama says, making towards the sleek marble counter. A tight-laced looking guy stands there; the kind Jake would have called a string bean if he weren’t trying to mind his manners in front of mama.

“Excuse me, sir, could you give us some recommendations for somewhere to have dinner?” she asks sweetly.

“There’s some brochures in the breakfast room,” he says curtly, immediately bringing a frown to Mrs. Seresin’s face. Jake opens his mouth to tell him where he can shove his brochures when a woman Jake hadn’t noticed in the shadows behind him makes herself known.

“Allow me,” she says, practically hip-checking the other employee out of the way. “Are we wanting to try some of the local flavor?”

I sure do, Jake thinks. The girl is pretty. Not in the typical San Diego girl way. She’s sun kissed but not overly tan, she’s got muscle and a body, not the skeletal figure of too many of the local girls who frequent The Hard Deck, trying to pick up a pilot. She must live here, or she wouldn’t work here, but Jake somehow doubts that she’s from here. There’s a twinge of an accent in her voice.

“I think that sounds lovely, dear. Where do you recommend?”

“There’s a cantina just down the road that serves the best tamales. There’s usually no wait and they don’t take reservations, otherwise I’d call ahead for you.”

“Well, if there isn’t a little southern hospitality left outside of Texas. You have been most helpful, dear. What’s your name?” The woman sticks out a hand, gives her name, and introduces herself as the hotel manager.

“You must be from a southern state,” Mama Seresin assumes.

“Sort of, ma’am,” the woman replies awkwardly. “I’m from Missouri.”

Mama Seresin’s smile shows a flash of confusion for a moment before perkily replying, “Well, close enough! Thank you so much, dear. Come on, gentlemen!” As the family retreats, it doesn’t escape the hotel manager’s notice the way Jake’s eyes stay on her as he walks away, giving a quick wink just before stepping through the front doors.

____________

Jake’s time with his family flies by, and he doesn’t see the cute hotel manager again. Saying goodbye before they leave for their late evening flight is more painful than he would ever say aloud.

He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he heads to The Hard Deck after dropping them at the airport for a beer or two. Finding an empty stool at the bar, he begins to nurse his pint, not feeling up to pool or darts or any of his usual exploits. None of his pilot buddies are there yet anyway, it’s too early for them. He may try to duck out before any of them arrive in order to have some more alone time before having to face everyone at training again tomorrow.

A boisterous laugh echoes across the room, and Jake looks towards the sound reflexively. It’s her - the hotel manager. She’s no longer dressed in her professional blazer, but a casual tank top. Something Penny and/or some old regular just said must’ve made her laugh. There’s a cocktail glass in her hand, but no friends in sight.

Better yet, no boyfriend Jake thinks, climbing off of the stool to approach her.

“Hey, Missouri,” he says as he draws closer, leaning against the bar near her.

“Hello!” she replies cheerfully as though she’s still at work. “How did my dinner recommendation turn out?”

“Delicious, thank you. The tamales were quite good.”

“Well, good! Can’t wait to go try them myself,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

“Wait…” Jake starts. “You haven’t eaten there yet? Then how’d you recommend it?”

“I have spent an ungodly amount of time scouring reviews of everywhere within a 10 mile radius. That place had some of the best, and everyone mentioned the tamales.”

“Are you saying…you lied to my mother?” Jake says, both shocked and amazed. The woman laughs into her drink and her cheeks flush pink, making Jake wonder how many drinks she’s had.

“Well, I can’t try everywhere at once. I’m working through it, though. That’s why I’m here tonight. A bar within walking distance of the hotel? I’ll recommend it all day and night if it’s good, which…” she looks into her glass and then back at Jake. “It is.”

“Is that part of a hotel manager’s job?” he asks.

“It is if you want to be a good one,” she answers, eyebrows hiking up.

“And are you? A good one?”

“I’d like to think so, or I at least want to be. This is my first time,” she admits.

“As a hotel manager?”

“During the day, anyway. I’ve been a night auditor in a few different places.”

“And how did a girl from Missouri end up all the way here in San Diego? That’s a long way from home,” Jake smirks and sips his beer. She smirks back to let him know that she’s onto his little game.

“I have family here. You’re not from here either I’m guessing, given that your parents stayed in my hotel to see you. Where are you from, Captain Obvious?”

“It’s Lieutenant.”

This response causes her to nearly choke to death on the drink she was taking a sip of. Penny looks over to see what the fuss is.

“He has that effect on people, sweetie!” Penny hollers.

When she has stopped coughing and taken another sip to clear her throat, she speaks again.

“Was that to be funny, or…?”

“No, I’m really a Lieutenant, from Texas but stationed here at the moment. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, nice to meet you…again,” he says, offering her a hand. She shakes politely but doesn’t reintroduce herself.

“Nice to meet you,” she says.

Just then, a group of fellow pilots enters the crowded bar. Spotting Jake, one comes over and claps a hand enthusiastically to his shoulder.

“Hangman! Come on, man, rack ‘em up with me!” the guy shouts.

“Hangman?” she asks.

“Call sign. Old Navy tradition,” he says to her. “I’m a little busy at the moment, guys,” he replies to his friends.

“It’s okay,” she says, climbing down from her stool and getting out a card to close her tab with Penny. “I should get going anyway, I have a ton of paperwork to get done.”

Reluctantly, Jake pulls away from the bar.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Missouri,” he calls to her.

“Not a chance, Tex,” she replies, smiling and turning away.

—-

The next day, Jake is perusing cottage cheese options at the grocery store when someone bumps into him. Literally - her body collides with his, no doubt from lack of attention. The woman stands and immediately begins apologizing, but stops dead in her tracks when her eyes lock with his.

“I am so sorry, I was not looking where I-“

“Hey, Missouri,” Jake says flirtatiously. She attempts to speak, but each word she starts gets lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth, so Jake fills in the blanks for her. “Funny running into you here.” His tone drips with arrogance, like he knows just how much his sudden reappearance has thrown her and he wants to revel in it.

“Are you stalking me?” she asks, but there’s a lightheartedness to her tone.

“I could say the same for you,” he retorts.

“Fair enough. I’m sorry for running into you, I guess I got carried away looking for yogurt.”

"I'll chalk that up as the weirdest excuse someone has given for trying to get my attention," Jake says smoothly.

"Ah-" she starts, clearly outraged but with a smile on her face. "I was not!" she finally says.

"No, it's okay!" he says. "I'm irresistible, I know."

"Whatever makes you feel better," she quips back.

"What would make me feel better is if you'd just, you know, give it up and let me take you out properly."

A surprised smile stretches across her face as she crosses her arms.

"Is that what you think I've been trying to do?" Her tone is still casual, playful. Jake simply maintains eye contact, even giving her that signature wrinkle of his nose to really drive home the point: he doesn't need to say anything more, because they both know the mutual desire is there.

"Ohhh..kay, I'm gonna get my yogurt now." Jake smiles and rolls his eyes as she does just that. When was she going to give up the "hard to get" act? Jake reaches back as well, selecting a container of cottage cheese.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you how we do it here in Fightertown, USA."

"Oh, now you've ticked me off in more ways than one," she says, tossing her selected yogurt into her cart and pulling it around to face the direction she intends on moving, but a laugh threatens to bubble out of her.

"How so?" Jake asks, his brow knitted in confusion.

"You called me 'sweetheart' and you eat cottage cheese." She begins pushing her cart away from the dairy section. Jake remains, dumbfounded.

"What's wrong with cottage cheese?" he calls to her retreating figure.

"It's disgusting!"

_________________

That night, Jake lay on the couch and did something he had never really done before - he searched for her on Facebook. He knew her name, her home state, and her current city and occupation, but it still took a while to find her. The posts on her profile were frustratingly private, but it did answer the most basic questions he had about this mysterious girl. Was she in a relationship? Was that why she was always rejecting his advances? No, her profile said "Single". Was she gay? Also no, a deep dive of her "About Me" said she was interested in men. He figured she would have said something a lot sooner if either of those things had been true, but you never knew.

Jake couldn't decide if this whole experience was new because women didn't generally reject him or because he didn't generally chase a woman this way. In fairness, she'd never technically said "no", she just deflected. Frustrated and confused, Jake ran both hands through his hair before turning on a show to calm his mixed-up feelings.

_________________

"I don't know mom, she just...isn't biting on anything," Jake tells his mom through FaceTime a few days later. Some people may assume the ever-confident, always-"on" Jake Seresin wouldn't discuss the minor details of his love life with his mother, but they'd be wrong. He always leaves out the more colorful details, of course.

"Well, just go talk to her! You know where she works," Mama Seresin replies.

"Mom. It's not 1958, I'll look like a stalker if I do that," he says.

"Whatever you say, dear. Oh! Did I tell you about..." Jake's mind swirls more as his mother updates him on more gossip and neighborhood news from home. Maybe it's time to move on, give up on this girl. She clearly doesn't want to be courted, so why waste the mental energy? But a part of him nags that she's worth whatever it takes to break down the walls she's put up between them.

"Jake? Jacob Michael, are you listening to me?" Mama snaps. Ah, shit. Middle name.

"I'm sorry mom, I got distracted," he admits.

"Well, if you're gonna be distracted, might as well be useful. I need you to run by that hotel your father and I stayed at." Jake's heart pounds. Where she works? Why?

"What for?"

"Your daddy thinks he left his glasses in the desk drawer. You know how he is with those damn things. Insurance won't cover a new pair for 6 months and with his lenses alone we're looking at over a hundred dollars, not to mention whatever the hell frames he wants, and-"

"I got it, mama. I'll run by there this afternoon."

_________________

Why the hell am I nervous? Jake wonders as he approaches the front desk of the hotel. So far, it didn't even look like she was there. If she was, she at least wasn't the one working the desk. He couldn't decide if he would be relieved or disappointed if he made it out of here without seeing her and getting another shot at convincing her.

Just as it was his turn in line, the phone at the desk rang. The gentleman working the desk called her name, the one that occupied so much of his brain at the moment. The man answered the phone, turning his attention away from the line in front of him. Presumably from the back office, she appears and looks astonished to see him standing there.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" she says, remaining professional but with a new look of intrigue on her face. Too late, Jake realizes this is the first time she's seen him in any kind of uniform, still in his service khakis from work that day.

"Afternoon, ma'am," he says, tipping his head in her direction cordially. "My mother and father stayed here last week, in room 510, and they fear they may have left a pair of eyeglasses behind in the desk drawer."

"Let me go check the lost and found, I'll be right back," she answers, dazzling him with that smile of hers. She returns shortly, no glasses in hand.

"I didn't find them, but there's no one in that room right now and no one has stayed there since your parents checked out. If you'd like, we can run up there and take a look?" she offers.

"That would be great, thank you."

"Want me to take him?" the front desk guy says, now finished with the phone call. Not taking her eyes off of Jake, she answers him.

"No, I've got it. You finish helping the rest of these lovely people out."

The elevator ride to the room is quiet but not awkward. Jake can almost sense every modicum of professionalism in her body working to keep something inside, to hold her back in some way. Inside, they scour every drawer and cabinet and look under the beds for the missing glasses, to no avail.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Seresin, doesn't look like they're here," she says regretfully.

“That’s alright, Missouri. They’re probably in my dad’s pocket but at least now I can say I looked.”

“True,” she chuckles.

“You know, I usually take a girl out for dinner before bringing her to the bedroom,” he teases. She scoffs.

“Oh, my God. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Literally,” Jake smirks. “Maybe we can rewind and do it right this time.” Jake steps closer to her, causing her breath to catch in her chest.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very persistent?”

“Not since last week,” he says, getting a chuckle out of both of them.

“Lieutenant S-“

“Call me Jake,” he interrupts.

“Jake,” she says slowly. “I’m sorry, I just-“ her eyes dart to her feet and she bites her lower lip before looking up at him. She squints up like he’s as bright as the sun. “I just moved here. I don’t do one night stands. I don’t have the capacity for a relationship right now.” She says each sentence like they're bullet points; a rehearsed rejection.

Jake swears he feels part of him begin to bruise, and not his ego this time.

“I understand,” he says, still gazing at her…lovingly? He winks. “Let me know when you’ve got room for me, huh?”

Looking all too much like a starry-eyed school girl, she replies, “I will.”

Back in the car, Jake tries to shake off his disappointment by calling his mom to update her on the glasses situation.

“Jakey?” she answers.

“Hey, mama. I just went by the hotel, they didn’t have dad’s glasses.”

“What glasses? Your dad’s glasses are on his face?”

“You asked me to-“ Jake stops mid sentence as the realization dawns on him.

“Mom!” he exclaims, hearing his mom’s raucous laughter in the background.

_________________

The next night, Jake’s friends drag him to The Hard Deck to try and cheer him up from whatever it is that’s bothering him, since he doesn’t seem keen on sharing with them. They encourage him to put his moves on some new lady. Despite his reservations, he figures it can’t hurt. He’s surprised by his own behavior when he scans the bar, not only looking for a potential lady but looking for her. If she’s here, he won’t be able to bring himself to talk to anyone else. She’s magnetic, that one.

He doesn’t spot her, but does spot a nice looking gal hanging a little too close to the dart board to just be a fan of darts. Approaching her and putting on the charm is like muscle memory, but there’s a soreness in the muscle. He can feel how much he wishes he was putting all this charisma down for her, not the woman in front of him, pretty and nice as she may be.

An hour and a few drinks later, Jake has Allie, as she introduced herself, on the dance floor. Spinning around, Jake wonders if it’s too early to try and get her out of here. Moreso, he isn’t sure he even wants to. The distraction has been nice, but bringing her back to his place doesn’t have the same impact it would have before meeting a certain hotel manager.

On one of many spins, Jake loses all sense of balance. Not physically, but emotionally. All because he spots her across the bar, standing at a high top table and having a conversation with another guy. What the hell is she doing? What happened to “not having the capacity to date right now”?

Jake is this close to marching up to her to ask her just that when Allie drags him to the bar for another drink. His eyes dart over to her every few seconds. At first, her interactions with the guy seem casual. Jake can tell from the way the guy shifts his body and looks between her eyes and her lips more frequently that he wants the conversation to be less casual. There’s no way she’ll reciprocate…right?

_________________

She hadn’t noticed Jake and his date on the other side of the bar. She'd remained steadily focused on her job for the evening - entertaining her boss's son, who'd unexpectedly rolled into town that day. She, like Jake had, scoured the landscape of the bar upon her arrival, but didn’t manage to lay eyes on the aviator who seemed hell bent on flying around her mind all day and night. That is, until she hears his voice boom over the din of the room. Looking over, she watches as a girl drags him to the dance floor. Wait - had he or had he not just insinuated that when she was ready to date, he’d be there? She thought that meant he’d be waiting for her…this sure didn’t look like waiting. But...who was she kidding? A guy like him and a girl like her? She was lucky he’d even been so persistent. If she’d wanted him, she should have let him in when he tried the first several times.

But oh, did she want him. So, so badly. She couldn’t admit that the fear of her previous relationship’s failure - the one that had sent her on this journey to get a job as far away from home as possible - was what was keeping her from entering into a relationship so soon. Ruminating on her regret stoked a fire in her chest - if he could move on so quickly, why couldn’t she?

In a snap decision, she purposefully leaned closer and “turned it on” as her friends always told her to do: allowing her eyes to drift to parts of Liam other than his eyes, sipping her drink a little more sensually, but still holding back just a bit so she could defend herself if she were accused of being unprofessional. She couldn’t help but feel that Liam wasn’t exactly interested in remaining strictly professional.

_________________

Across the bar, Jake was nearly turning red with frustration. Splitting his attention between Allie and the date over at the high top table, he couldn’t help but notice the changes in her body language. The way she leaned in, the way she damn near batted her eyelashes at this guy. What did he have that Jake didn’t? Jake resented the seed of self-doubt she’d planted in his chest.

He continued to watch as she actually brushed her hand down his arm.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jake mutters under his breath.

“What’s that?” Allie asked.

“Nothing, darling. Not a damn thing,” he replied, gritting his teeth a little as he looked back over at them. He began formulating a plan for intercepting their little tête-à-tête somehow when, lo and behold, someone unplugged the jukebox, sending a round of groans throughout the room. Jake had been around long enough to realize what was happening. Sure enough, moments later, someone started up a song on the piano. Looking up and over the crowd, Jake spotted - who else? - Bradley at the keys. Normally, Bradley’s piano peacocking would annoy him, but tonight, it was his chance.

“Let’s get closer!” Allie begs, grabbing around Jake’s bicep.

“You go on, I gotta do something real fast,” he shouts in order to be heard over the cheers and initial notes of Rooster’s song. Allie smiles and rushes off to get closer to the piano.

Before his targets can do the same, Jake hustles to the opposite side of the bar. Unsure if it's the beer in his system or something else making him so bold, Jake walks right up behind her and touches a gentle hand to her elbow as he says her name.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Her forehead knits and unknits just as quickly before she turns to her date, excusing herself. Jake carefully guides her out to the deck, closing the door behind them to muffle the sounds of the music inside. It’s much calmer on the deck, the sun just about to set on the horizon. The sound of the ocean waves and the faint smell of salt soothes Jake's nerves just a bit.

“What the hell is going on in there?” Jake asks, as calmly as possible despite his un-holy language.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says modestly, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing, back to the sea.

“Don’t give me that, Missouri. What happened to being too busy to date?”

“I’m not on a date, Jake. I’m entertaining a VIP guest of the hotel, and yes, that’s part of my job too.”

“Yeah, that looked a lot like a business meeting.” His tone is heavy with sarcasm.

“Well, it’s not like you did much waiting around, either!” she retorts. Jake snickers, but has no response. If only she knew how truly remarkable it is to render him speechless.

“What is this, Jake?” she asks. “Why do you care so much, anyway?” Something in her voice seems wounded, like someone who has been hurt before and fully expects to be hurt again. That phrase in and of itself digs into Jake sharply, like a knife.

Jake's hands find his hips and he looks to the sky, practically begging God to send him the words he needs to convince her to give him a chance. There’s a figurative whisper in his ear - his mom’s voice, reminding him to be himself. But who is he, really? He didn’t want her the way he wanted the girls he usually found at The Hard Deck - in the bedroom sense only. He wanted her for so much more than that. With a heavy sigh, he looks at her once again.

“I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want. But I want…us. I think that we could be something amazing, and I don’t know if I can go my whole life without finding out if I’m right or not.” His voice cracks on the last sentence, a fact that makes her look stricken, as though she takes accountability for his sudden show of emotion.

Her cheeks are a violent shade of red. Exhaling, she allows her arms to uncross, palms moving to rest on her lower back. She, too, looks to the sky. For her, though, it’s not because she has no words - it’s because she has too many. She fears drowning him with her words, unsure if that would be preferable to the drought she’s already left him in.

Jake slowly draws closer to her, but remains just barely within arm’s reach. He reaches out a hand to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers. She lets out a shuddery breath.

“I’m scared,” she admits.

“Of what?” She sniffles and drops her eyes to her feet.

“That another person will be so cruel as to pretend to care about me more than they really do.”

For a minute, the only sounds are the muffled music and cheers from the bar goers inside, the crashing of the waves, the calls of the seagulls swooping down for one last snack.

Jake looks into her face more intently than anyone ever has. He notices that her eyes are no longer on him, but beyond him, through the large windows of the bar. Turning to follow her gaze, he sees exactly what she does - the guy she'd been with inside and Allie, wrapped up in one another like they hadn't both been there with other people less than 5 minutes ago. Jake turns back around.

“I would say it’s their loss, but it’s not.” A look of befuddlement takes over her face, until Jake clarifies. “It’s not their loss because anyone who has done that to you is clearly too stupid to realize what they lost when they walked away from you. You’re too smart, too powerful, too beautiful for them to realize what they’re missing out on. I’m not going to make the same mistake…if you’ll let me prove it.” With each sentence, Jake has inched closer. Their faces are so close they’d be cross eyed if they were trying to make eye contact. That’s probably why, when they both look up, their lips brush one another. With a level of synchronization that can’t be taught, they both reach for the other, pulling each other close. Their lips crash together quietly but inside, there’s an explosion. All the tension and build up to this moment melts into the kiss, like two lovers reunited after years apart instead of practical strangers who met less than two weeks ago.

The tension ebbs as they pull apart and lock eyes. Tentative smiles sneak into view, perhaps both a bit embarrassed, but neither regretful. Not one bit.

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #untitleddocument95 #top gun fanfiction #tgm

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 2 years ago

Note

Hi sweet angel, I have to admit that I'm new to your profile, but my obsession with your writing is almost as great as my obsession with snow, I have a request that changes the story a little bit.

Coryo is completely obsessed with the reader, but she thinks he is just an affectionate friend, both become mentors and instead of snow falling in love with lucy, it is the reader who falls in love with her tribute, and begins to move away from Snow, he can not accept this and manipulates the games, Not for lucy to win, but rather, to get rid of the reader's tribute. (Sorry for any mistake, English is not my mother tongue, so I use Google translator)

Slipping Through My Fingers || Young!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by i forgot sorry :( divided by @firefly-graphics

A/n: this took me forever to finish idk why 😭 also this has to be the longest fic i've written so far.

Warnings: mention of blood, possessive coryo, mentions of death

Wc: 2,975

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

"Can I see you tomorrow morning?" Coriolanus looks down at you with hope in his eyes, you open your mouth but close it before sighing. "I can't, sorry. My parents want me to be home when my grandparents are there," You lie through your teeth as he hums, nodding.

"That's fine, tomorrow afternoon then?" His hand touches your waist as you smile up at the boy. "Of course Coryo, I'll see you then?" You touch his hand that was at your waist as he nods. You give him one final smile before disappearing around the corner.

You felt bad for lying to him but you didn't know how he would take it if he found out that you were actually going to meet your tribute first thing when his train from the districts arrived in Panem. Your tribute, Dean, from district 8 intrigued you. You couldn't keep your eyes of the screen when he appeared. He caught your eye immediately.

Coryo couldn’t stop complaining all day about his tribute from district 12, Lucy Gray. Saying that she would not last a second in the game. Unlike him, you had faith in your tribute.

So here you were, standing on the platform waiting for the train to come to a halt as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. A smile on your face, dimples on display as the doors open revealing Dean. He was taller than you imagined, but nonetheless, he looked surreal. There was no denying that Dean was good looking, incredibly good looking which you would imagine would play a role in the amount of donations he would have.

"Dean. Y/n Y/l/n. I'll be your mentor." You extend your hand out in front of him as he looks you up and down before shaking your hand. His shake was firm, his fingers calloused. An indication that he was a hard worker.

"Are you supposed to be here? I don't see other people like you around here," He says as he looks around the train station. You notice Coriolanus' tribute, Lucy Gray walking by and staring at the two of you questioningly. You make eye contact with her before clearing your throat and looking back at Dean who hadn't kept his eyes off of you.

"No. I'm not supposed to be here." You confess, your hands fidgeting with the ends of your skirt as Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "Then.... what are you doing here?" You pause. What were you doing here? You could have waited like the others for tomorrow to meet him.

"I uh- I wanted to welcome you to the Capitol." You offer him a smile. Silence. "Can I be blunt with you Dean?" Your head slightly tilts, a habit of yours when you ask questions. "Sure," He shrugs. "I see potential in you," You hold his hands in between yours as he glances down at your intertwined hands with an expression you couldn't quite figure out.

"You can win this hunger games. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you do. Such potential like you for a bright future shouldn't be wasted," You solemnly smile at him. Dean stays quiet for awhile, his hand still in yours before a peacekeeper roughly pulls him away from you.

"Hey!" You shout as you follow the two. "It's time for them to go Miss." The peacekeeper says as he throws Dean into the back of a van. Just as he walks away from your view to close the door, you jump into the van along with the rest of the tributes. "What are you doing!" Dean whispers yells at you as you stay hidden behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors close. "What's this? Is this your mentor, Dean?" A girl you recognised to be Carol asks with a sinister smile. You push past Dean and extend your hand out for her to shake. She looks at your face then your hand and lets out a laugh.

"Why would I shake hands with someone like you." She spat as a few others laugh alongside her. You notice Lucy Gray once more, sitting there silently. "Why do you get special treatment Dean, huh?" Carol pushes you backwards catching you off balance as Dean catches you.

"I could kill her right now," Carol chuckles like a maniac. Dean moves you behind him, "Leave her alone," He voices out, his tone screaming authority. Before Carol could respond, the van shook violently as you all lose your balance. You let out a groan as you felt your body slam against the van door before it flies open, causing you all to roll out onto hard rocks.

You let out a groan as you slowly lift up your head, squinting your eyes at your surrounding before you hear Dean's voice. "Y/n! Are you alright?" He asks worriedly as his grips your bicep, aiding you to stand up as you realise where you were. You were at the zoo cage.

You place a hand on your head as you let out a low groan. "Excuse me! Hello! Over there! Can they not hear me in there?" You hear a familiar voice belonging to Lucretius Flickerman. Dean takes a hold of your forearm, helping you keep balance as he whispers to you, "Own it." You look up at him with a small smile. He offers his arm to you as you link arms and walk towards the iron bars.

"Y/n Y/l/n, one of the mentors for the 10th hunger games." Lucretius says to the camera as he then directs his gaze towards you. "The game makers did tell you to jump into the cage with them," His tone was skeptical. Dean looks down at you as you glance at him before looking at Lucky.

"They didn't tell me not to. They just said it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem, and I thought well if Dean is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be too?" You say with confidence, "For the record, I didn't have a choice," Dean butts in.

"What is Y/n doing there?" Arachne gasps as she ctaches the attention of Snow and the others as they look to the screen. There you were, linked arms with a tribute, looking awfully comfortable with him to add. Snow furrows his eyebrows at disbelief that you were there.

You told him that you were to be at home, but clearly not. Coriolanus watches with intent as you look at Dean when he spoke. His fists bawl up as Clemensia makes a comment. "You alright Coryo? You look.... bothered," Her hands rest on Snow's upper arm as he pries her touch off of him.

"I'm fine," He snaps as he leans forward on his seat. He was bothered. Very bothered seeing you so close with a tribute. "He's obviously not fine, he's bothered seeing Y/n so touchy with her tribute, isn't that right Snow?" Arachne teases as he slams his hand on the table causing her to shut up. "Shut it, Crane." Coriolanus says through gritted teeth as Arachne puts her hands up in surrender.

"They look really close. Can't blame Y/n honestly, she got a good looking one," He hears Clemensia quietly say before he had enough and stood up, storming off.

"Coryo," You call out as you catch up to him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you offer him a smile. He says nothing, his face stern as he continues to walk, not bothering to look at you. "Hey listen, I'm sorry I stood you yesterday, I just got super busy-" "Yeah I saw, busy with your tribute right?" He gives you a sarcastic smile as you scrunch your eyebrows.

You were all making your way to the enclosed cage to talk to your tributes. "What?" Snow rolls his eyes at you, finally stopping. "I saw your interview with Flickerman. Looked awfully close to your tribute," You let out small chuckle as his face shows no sign of amusement.

"Coryo, I was just introducing myself to him and getting to know him that's all. I have faith in him that he will win and I wanted him to know that. Wouldn't you do the same with your tribute if you had faith in her?" You touch his arm as he looks at your hand.

"Right?" You try and get a response from him as he sighs, "I guess," Is all he says before intertwining his hands with yours. You look down at your hands, a sweet gesture from him. When you both get closer to the tributes, you unclasp your hands with Snow and walk towards Dean who has already seen you and was making his way closer to you.

"Hey," You greet Dean as you look through your bag and find the half of your sandwich and cookie which you put away for him. You hand it to him as he thanks you, immediately taking bites as you watch him. He could feel your stares as you look away. Your eyes land on Coriolanus and Lucy.

He was talking to her about something as Lucy looks towards you and Dean. Snow finally looks at you, his expression cold as you gulp and look at Dean who was already looking at you. "He your boyfriend or something?" He asks as he takes another bite of the cookie. Your eyes widen. "Who? Coryo? No." You laugh as Dean stares at you.

"He's just a close friend of mine." You say as he nods, unbothered. "Do you? Do you- uh- have a-" "No." He deadpans as you slowly nod. From afar, Snow was watching the two of you interact the entire time. "Do you want to win Lucy Gray?" He turns his attention from you to his tribute.

"Do you think I can win?" She asks him as he thinks. "Honestly? no." He admits as Lucy scoffs. "But if you listen to what I say and do what I tell you to do, you will." His tone was stern as Lucy nods, her eyes following his eyeline which led to you and Dean. "That your girlfriend? That girl who was with us yesterday in the van."

"Her and Dean seem to be close, don't you think?" Lucy watches Coriolanus' face, his jaw clenching at the mention of the two. "They're not close, she just knows how to play the game," Coriolanus snaps before standing up and backing away from Lucy Gray.

You hadn't spoken much to Coriolanus the past couple of days. You were with Dean quite a lot, making up strategies and scenarios for when the games started. "I care about you, Dean. A lot." You take his hands in yours, the sound of his iron shackles making you cringe as you look him the eyes. Dean looks around the room before caressing your hand.

You and Dean have gotten very close over the past days. You both had faith in each other, trusted one another. Coriolanus narrows his eyes at the two of you, 2 desks away from him before his gaze settles on your touching hands.

He lets out a quiet scoff as Lucy Gray looks over to you and Dean. "Do you know him?" Snow asks her as he cocks his head towards Dean. Lucy shakes her head. "You want to win, don't you?" He leans in close to her.

Lucy hesitantly nods her head, "Yes. Yes you do Lucy." He answered for her, his gaze hard on her as she squirmed under his stare. "You need to kill Dean first. You need to before he kills you. He's a strong competitor, I can tell, that's why you need him out first. Then, it will be a piece of cake." He smirks as he leans back on his chair. "What do I need to do?"

“Y/n,” Coriolanus calls out as you turn your head to his direction, a small smile on his face as you beam at him. You run to him, throwing your arms around him as you hug him tightly. Coryo was caught off guard but eventually hugs you back.

“Good luck,” You say, although it was slightly muffled against his shirt. “You too,” He says back, his hand rubbing your back as you pull back, giving him your pearly white grin that only a few were able to see. Coriolanus felt a pull at his heart for he knew what was going to happen would break you.

Your other classmates arrive as you get settled for the 10th hunger games to start. Your eyes were trained on the screen as you watch Dean kill 2 people. You bite your fingernails as you continue to watch it play out infront of your eyes. Coriolanus offers his hand as you take it, squeezing it as you watch Dean.

A couple hours pass by and everyone sits up when they watch Coryo's tribute, Lucy Gray being corned by a few of the others, Dean included. In the corner of your eye, you watch Coryo come up to his screen and rapidly click.

Your eyes flicker back to the screen as drones of water come flying at the tributes, knocking them out as the room erupts in gasps. "These drones are not very good," Flickerman comments. "Hey! What are you doing?" Vipsania shouts as she stands up.

"You can't attack the tributes Coryo!" You snap at him. "I'm just sending water," He coolly says as you shake your head and scoff. Dean managed to dodge them luckily. You watch as Lucy Gray runs, Dean chasing after her as your leg bounces.

She manages to hide in one of the vent holes as you notice Snow let out a sigh of relief. Dean punches the vent in anger as he eventually leaves her. A few more hours pass by as you fell asleep, the sound of banging wakes you up. Coryo was nowhere to be found.

Your eyes focus on the screen as Dean and Coral stand underneath a vent pipe. Coral's pitchfork was reportingly stabbing at the vents above. Dean follows the noises, his gaze on the vent. "Coral. Coral she's right here," He whispers to her as she continues stabbing at the vent. Coriolanus then runs in, "Lucy Gray, is she okay?" He says out of breath.

"She wont be for long," Festus comments as everyone's eyes are trained on the screen. All of a sudden, Dean touches his nose as he looks confused. You immediately stand up on your feet, "Wait, what's wrong with Dean?" You move closer as he falls on his knee making your heart race.

"Did Coral do something to Dean?" You panic as Dean starts spazzing out on the floor. Coryo glances at you. Lucy Gray did what he told her to do. He had snuck her rat poison to use, if a small amount was to be inhaled, it would be deadly.

You cover your mouth as your eyes widen. Dean was laying on the ground, not moving at all. You flinch at the sound of a buzzer going off, indicating that he was in fact dead. Dean was dead. And you didn't even know how it happened. You storm out but before you could, Coryo grips your arm, "I'm sorry," He says as you furrow your eyebrows at what he meant before snatching your arm from his grip. "Dean is down. Good afternoon Miss Y/l/n," Flickerman calls out.

You storm out with rage. Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to make it out alive. You even promised him he would come out alive and go back to his family. One moment he was perfectly fine, and then the next, he's on the floor spazzing out and then dead. Your mind drifts back to Coriolanus' words, I'm sorry. What did that even mean? You assumed he was just apologising that your tribute was dead.

Lucy Gray had managed to win. You were happy for Coryo of course. But Dean’s recent death still plagued your mind. “Y/n,” Coryo breathed out the moment you opened your door to him; he reached out for you, pulling you against his chest.

It caught you by slight surprise before you hugged him back. The pent up emotions finally releasing the moment he rubs your back affectionately. “Shh” He softly shushed you as waterfalls fall down your cheeks. Everything was chasing up to you.

“I-I don’t even know what happened to him,” You sob in his embrace as he traces shapes on your arm. You continued to rant to him as he brought you to your living room.

You rested your head against his chest as he listened, sometimes he would bite his tongue at the things you were saying about Dean. "He was just a tribute y/n-" "He was not just a tribute." You snapped, lifting your head up as you stared at his blue irises.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes the minute you turn your head back around. "He's human, just like you and I. He had dreams, he had a family to go back to Coryo, do not just sit there and tell me he was just a tribute. He's more than a tribute," Coriolanus listened to every single word that came out of your mouth.

He did not agree with most of the things you said but for the sake of it, he said nothing. When you spoke about Dean, it grew on Coriolanus that you infact liked him, alot. Perhaps even more than like. And that was why he felt the need to kill him. You were his, only his. And after all, he couldn't have some lowly district boy taking over your body and soul.

#fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x lucy gray #the hunger games #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas imagine #young coriolanus snow #young president snow #president snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut

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queenariesofnarnia · 5 months ago

Text

the future mrs. torres {j.t}

Joaquin Torres x Reader

gif not mine!

wc: 633

a/n: just a fun little thing of Reader and Joaquin stressing Sam out.

🩵🩵🩵🩵

This weekend you were finally off to visit Sam. You were so excited to meet the new Falcon as well, Sam has talked about him a lot. Your flight to Virginia wasn’t bad, you rented a car driving to Sam’s place from the airport to surprise him. You pulled up behind his truck, leaving your bags in the car heading up to the door before knocking. When the door opened, you inhaled deeply hoping your surprise would be a welcomed one.

“Shut up” Sam was in disbelief looking at you before he pulled you into a hug. “You’re actually here” he pulls away getting a good look at you. “You grew up too fast go back to being the annoying teenager again”

“Absolutely not” you laugh remembering how Sam had the privilege of raising you, being your father figure.

“I can’t believe you’re really here Peaches” using the nickname everyone called you growing up.

“I finally got the time off and wanted to surprise you. Hopefully I get to meet Joaquin since you speak so highly of him” you say with a smile. At the sound of his name Joaquin happens to walk by, let’s just say the both of you were momentarily speechless. Sam being the protective father figure he is he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Nuh uh. Absolutely not” he starts but you just sidestep him, offering Joaquin your hand introducing yourself, but letting him know Peaches is also okay. He shakes your hand eagerly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you” you say with a smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you! Sam and Bucky talk about you all the time” his smile made your heart flutter a bit.

“Please tell me they say good things. Sam loves to embarrass me” your tone was playful, and Joaquin was definitely one to match that energy.

“I promise they said good things. However, if you have anything on them please tell me. I’m all ears” he says finally dropping your hand.

“Absolutely not. Get away from him Peaches” Sam interrupts pushing you away from Joaquin.

“Sam come on we just started a conversation” you try pushing back, looking around him to see Joaquin laughing .

“Yeah Sam come on, I just met the future Mrs. Torres and you’re not letting me be great” Joaquin sends you a wink. You’ve never seen Sam move so fast when he turned around.

“Stay away from my kid” he points at Joaquin, you take the moment to go to Joaquin’s side hugging him, and his arm goes around you too.

“But daddy I love him” you quote The Little Mermaid. Sam rubs his hand down his face.

“I’m walking away before you get annoying” Sam turns away walking off.

“I promise to treat her right Sam” Joaquin yells after him.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” you call out.

“There’s room in my bed” he says loud enough hoping Sam hears. Before you could answer Sam’s head pops back in the room glaring at you both.

“You better not” he warns you.

“You’re no fun Pops.” you say laughing making Sam crack a smile.

“I have to go call my mama and abuela” Joaquin announces removing his arm, “Have to let them know I just met my future wife” he smiles walking off.

“Tell them I said hello” you call after him, before looking at Sam “Sooo can I move in?” you ask him with a smile.

“Whatever Peaches” Sam rolls his eyes, “Let’s go get your bags” he wraps his arm around your shoulder pulling you out to the car.

“I think being Mrs. Torres doesn’t sound too bad” you comment walking out to the car.

“Don’t make me send you away” Sam jokes, knowing that you might actually become Joaquin’s wife.

part 2🩵

#joaquin torres oneshot #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres x reader #the falcon x reader #joaquín torres #joaquin torres x fem!reader #joaquin torres fluff #danny ramirez fic

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lazycats-stuff · 15 days ago

Note

Hi! I've always been fascinated with people who can speak a lot of languages. How about Batfam x Brother Reader (not a vigilante) who somehow has the gift of omnilingualism (can speak all languages ever created)? Whenever they or the Justice League or any of the hero teams need help with an ancient language that nobody speaks or has even heard of, they call him. And every time he identifies the language and translates it perfectly, everyone is impressed by his ability, and jealous of Bruce for having a son like that. Superman loves talking to him in Kryptonese, Wonder Woman speaks to him in ancient Greek, Damian in Arabic, Dick in Romani, Cass in sign language.

Thanks for writing!

That sounds like a cool power, but I know my brain would explode from it. I only know my native language and English and I'm glad to be European for once. Also, lets pretend that this GIF represents all languages. I had an exam the day I started writing this and couldn't find anything better. Also, yes, I emerged from the exam hell.

And yes, this is short, but honestly, this is sitting way too long in my drafts. Also, a quick edit in, it's not my best work, but I just needed to get it out.

Summary: (Y/N) has one hell of a power.

Warnings: swearing

Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne glanced at one another as they tried to decipher what this unearthly language might be. It is something alien, but not even Clark could figure out what it might be. So they were in a shit position. J'onn J'onzz tried as well, but the trio of men were just at a loss for words and comprehension. But, they did have a trick up their sleeve.

Bruce's youngest son, who is not a vigilante, but has an immensely cool power. Being able to speak every language ever created. Human, alien, animal... If it's a language, (Y/N) will speak it, understand and translate it for you. For a fee of his choice of course. And as much as he loves his family, including the Justice League, there is a certain inconvenience in dropping everything in order to help translate and/or speak something.

"Bruce, you should call (Y/N). Now. Because the 3 of us are getting nowhere with... These hieroglyphics. Because this makes no sense, " Clark muttered, rubbing his chin.

Bruce stepped to the side and called his son, having to turn away as he noticed a sleepy voice over the line. And Bruce had to throw in a few bribes, such as a new book, newer sneakers and fast food for a whole week. Yes, (Y/N) can throw wagers like that.

"He will be in within 10 minutes," Bruce came back to the Martian and Superman.

And just on the dot, (Y/N) came in 10 minutes later, a mug of coffee in his hand, clothes messy and hair that looked liked he just rolled out of bed.

"Before I start, you 3 realize that it's 2am back in Gotham?" (Y/N) asks before raising the mug to his lips.

"No (Y/N), sorry." Clark put his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder and gently led him to the desk where the document was.

(Y/N) took a look at it and started translating it for the trio. He wrote it down on a pad of paper and then handing it to Bruce.

"Don't worry about, they didn't write about anything dangerous. Just some trades and what not. Now, excuse me, I'm going back home. And I expect my payment in the next, 5 business days. Have fun dad. And of course, bye uncle Clark and J'onzz," (Y/N) waved before he went back to the Zeta Tubes and being taken back to the Batcave.

"Bruce, I am beyond jealous," Clark commented as he turned to Bruce, who simply let out a the infamous Bat smirk.

(Y/N) was called in, yet again. But this time, Wonder Woman, Aquaman and Flash needed him. And it was, yet again, the middle of the night. What about now? An ancient language, a human one, that no one has ever even heard of. And it is a human one. (Y/N) came in through the Zeta tubes again, in his PJs, hair sticking out in every way and his he would yawn every few minutes.

"What is it now?" (Y/N) asked as he walked up to the table. "Now it's 4am in Gotham. And I have to get up at 7am. And you 3 couldn't wait to, oh I don't know, call?" (Y/N) grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, approaching the table to look at the document.

"Jesus Christ, this is like..." He leaned forward, squinting since he forgot his glasses in a hurry. "This seems to be from South America, my guess would be Brazil... And it's very harmless. May I know why you were so insistent I get here?"

"We found it with the League of Light. We did a raid and found this. We were worried," Wonder Woman explained and (Y/N) sighed.

"Jesus Christ, you all panic over nothing. It has not... Allusions to the League of Light or their shit. But I'll translate it for you, so you can panic even more... Also, my payment is going through B. But now, I'm going to bed. And I swear to God, I'm going to charge actual fucking money, cause this is getting out of hand." He turned on his heel and walked back to the Zeta tubes, ready to go back to bed and sleep. He might start charging money. 10k per minute.

(Y/N) was sitting in the Batcave, reading over an old ass language that he was asked to translate.

"How's the translation going along?" Superman asks in Kryptonese as he walks over, somehow managing to get into the Batcave.

"Just started. Should have it done in about 2 hours. Also, for the record, I'm charging now. With money. 10k per hour."

Clark laughed at that, enjoying the banter they have as an uncle and nephew.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. We may call on you often because you are the only one who can help us. Omnilingualism is a rare power."

"It may be a rare power, but you people call on me all the time. It's starting to get annoying. Maybe I'll force dad to put me on a payroll or something like that." (Y/N) put the papers off to the side and turned to look at his uncle.

"So, what brings you here?" (Y/N) pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

"I was looking for Bruce. There is some new information about a case we've been working on. But I can't tell if he's here or not," Clark glanced around the cave, trying to figure out if Bruce was here or not.

"He's not here. He's at Wayne Enterprises. It's the daylight after all and all the major criminals are sleeping and he has to do stuff as the CEO after all," (Y/N) explained to Clark who nodded. "Are you having a day off?" (Y/N) added and Clark nodded.

"I have taken a day off and have decided to look into our case," Clark said as he moved around the cave, glancing around.

"Where's the car?"

"The Batmobile is getting a check. Got to make sure that it works," (Y/N) answered and Clark hummed and then nodded.

#dc comics #x male reader #dc x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader

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all-my-love-for-harry · 1 month ago

Text

❧ Almost Eden (part two)

pairing; jake seresin x childhood friend!reader

summary; Jake is forced to return home, and no matter how hard he tries not to, he finds himself searching for even the smallest trace of you.

word count; 1.7k

a/n; part two is here!!! we did a little time jump to the present on this one. i'm still figuring out this type of narration, so my apologies if it seems a little weird at parts. also!! i know so far this is very-jake-based, but i promise next part they'll finally meet again!!! i just really want to establish who jake is now, that being said i'm hoping to finish part three even sooner as i can't stop thinking about these two lol!!

series masterlist

GIF by unicornships

Present day.

As Jake grew up, so did his ego. And in many ways, he's earned the right to be cocky. The right to feel invincible. After all, he was the only aviator on active duty with two confirmed air-to-air kills. So what if his ego was so big it couldn't physically fit through the door?

But aside from being an incredible aviator, Jake was also only human. And humans get hurt when they eject from a moving plane and their parachute gets tangled at the last second. It shouldn't have surprised Jake as much as it did when they told him he'd need some time to heal the three broken ribs and the sprained wrist he got from ejecting during a training exercise.

In addition to his physical injuries, his ego was pretty bruised as well. His bigger than the fucking moon ego took a good hit after he woke up in the hospital bed and realized his long no-ejection record was gone. So when the papers were signed and his twelve-week leave was approved, saying he was irritated was an understatement.

He tried to avoid it by taking desk duty, which allowed him to remain on base. But Maverick was very adamant about him getting his rest and slowing down for the first time in forever. He didn't care about Jake's huffing and puffing as he helped him load his bags into his truck before driving him to the airport, where his flight to Texas would take him straight to his mama's house, where she'd nurse him back to health.

The sling on his left arm was making it a bitch to carry all his luggage while avoiding knocking someone over, and the Texan heath was already making him sweat. And while he was used to it, he was also still pissed at the whole situation which made him ten times more dramatic. And then he saw her—his mother, all five feet of her (heels and all), standing there just like she used to, hands clasped to her chest and wearing that wide, familiar smile—the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes, even from far away.

"My baby," Caroline cried as soon as Jake was within arm's length. She pulled him down in a crushing embrace, yet still careful not to brush against his left arm. "You scared me to death."

"I'm sorry, mama." He managed to say while he was still pressed against her shoulder.

"Why didn't you let me fly to you? I would've taken care of you while you were in the hospital." She finally let him go, but raised her hand to cup his cheek.

"All I did was sleep and eat tasteless gelo. Good news, you'll have me for about ten weeks." He said somewhat humorously. He then noticed Harry, his family's driver, standing on the side, watching the little reunion with fond eyes. "Good to see you, Harry."

"Glad to have you alive and well, Mr. Seresin."

"I don't know about well, but we'll see about that once I get you home, darling." His mother then asked Harry to get Jake's bags, wrapping an arm around his good side, still careful not to squeeze him too much, no matter how much she wanted to.

It had been years since Jake last came home. After he left for college and then joined the Navy, it seemed like her baby boy was too busy flying everywhere but to his hometown.

The ride to the Seresin's state was filled with her mother's never-ending share of town gossip, making sure he was up to date on everything that had happened in his absence. Still, it did not go unnoticed to him the way she carefully left out anything that had to do with you. Caroline never asked, never pried to know what happened all those years ago, and why Jake never made an effort to ask about you. To put it simply? He didn't think he deserved it. He didn't deserve to know what you came to be, who you came to be. He didn't deserve to know you, not even through his mother's stories.

Yet, what was weird is that his silence on you never stopped her from dropping a random update here and there. Through the years he knew when you made it captain of the equestrian team during your time in boarding school; he knew you never went home for the holidays not because you didn't want to but because your mother had insisted you stayed in Switzerland; he also knew how much it had broken you when your father passed away when you were twenty, but that he witnessed with his own eyes. The last time he saw you.

It had been seven years since he last saw your face. Life, he figured, had a cruel sense of humor—this was the first time he laid eyes on you in nearly a decade, and it was like time hadn’t moved at all. The same tear-streaked cheeks. The same glassy eyes, now older but still wide, still full of something fragile and breaking. Your baby face had sharpened—hollow now, with high cheekbones and a jawline more defined than anyone he knew. Your hair, once long and carefully styled, now fell in uneven waves to your shoulders, disheveled in a way he knew your mother would never have approved of. You looked different, older… but somehow still heartbreakingly familiar.

He didn't talk to you that night, but then again, you didn't talk to anyone. He had flown in just for the service, to pay his respects and express his condolences. Your father was an amazing man who never cared about money and status, only about keeping his family happy. Jake shook his head, not wanting to go down memory lane, and instead tried to focus on his mother's voice.

Still, a part of him wondered if now that he was home, he'd run into you. He knew you were in Texas; your Instagram bio said as much. He didn't follow you, your account was private, and he never dared to press the request button. He didn't deserve to know you. He didn't allow himself to think much about you, only when he was alone late at night with his lifelong insomnia, at a time when your brain likes to play tricks on you and show you all your mistakes in the form of a PowerPoint presentation. He's made a lot of mistakes, but his brain always haunted him with that day.

"House's quiet," Jake murmured, setting his duffel bag down once they were inside. "I'm guessing he's not here."

Caroline shot him a look. "Business trip, but he should be back by the end of the week. Charlotte and Victoria are coming over for dinner. In the meantime, why don't you go lie down? I had Martha prepare your old room."

Jake wished he could say he put up more of a fight, but the truth was he was exhausted. His physical injuries, combined with his lack of sleep due to the poor excuse of a hospital mattress, made his body yearn for a comfortable bed and, hopefully, a twelve-hour nap.

As he climbed the stairs, his eyes drifted to the photographs perfectly lined along the walls—snapshots of a picture-perfect family frozen in time. His two sisters, one older and one younger, smiled back at him from nearly every frame. They were his favorite people in the world—each married to kind, steady partners, each building a life not too far from home. Just the way their father liked it. Unlike Jake. In his father’s eyes, he was still the reckless one—the one who never stayed, never settled, never quite fit the frame.

But he didn’t care what David Seresin thought. Not anymore. Whatever sharp comment his father had ready, it couldn’t cut through the warmth of his mother’s voice, the way she always spoke to him with pride, even when he didn’t deserve it. Her steady encouragement, her unwavering belief in him, had long since drowned out the cold edge of his father’s disapproval. He might have inherited David’s eyes, but everything else—the heart, the fight, the stubborn hope, and the confidence—that was all Caroline.

He loved his family and missed them dearly, but God he wished he didn't have to see his father as well.

[...]

"Where is my convalescent little brother?" Victoria, his older sister, pushed past the door and made a beeline for Jake. Last time he saw her in person was when she went to visit him right after the Uranium Mission six months ago. She had been so worried about him, a phone call assuring her he was fine wasn't enough for her, she had to fly in to see that her little brother was in one piece. Once they hugged, she pulled away and flicked the back of his head.

"Hey!" He protested.

"That's for scaring us. Only you'd get your bones cracked to cause us a heart attack."

"I think he made a bigger deal when he fell off his bike when he was twelve." Charlotte finally stepped in, clinging to his good side.

"Well, yeah, but that was because he had Bambi on the back." The three women momentarily froze. "Who wants pie?!"

Jake rolled his eyes as his sister and mother scattered around the room, as if he'd react negatively at the mention of his childhood friend. Ex-friend, the voice in his head reminded him.

"They are terrible at disassembling, you know that, right?" Still, he followed them to the dining room, where tons of food were waiting for them as well as two of the housekeepers in case they needed anything.

"I saw her the other day." Charlotte softly said, keeping her voice quiet enough so only he would hear. "She seemed good, as good as you would expect someone to be after everything she's been through."

"Michael's death really changed her, or so mom has said."

"Well, yeah, but also—"

"Charlie, that's enough, sweetheart. Let's sit at the table." Caroline gently cut her off, guiding both of her younger children to their assigned seats.

Jake furrowed his brows, yet followed his mom's orders. He wanted to ask the youngest Seresin what she meant by her comment, and wanted to ask why his mom would cut her off like that. Jake never asked, but what he never did was pretend he didn't care whenever Caroline would throw him a bone, even the most minuscule detail about you. So why now would she go and deny him of those tiny crumbs he's been feeding off of?

What happened to you that was so bad he couldn't kn— They didn't think he deserved it either.

❧

taglist; @khouse712 @madsothree @xhazzz @daggersquaddoll

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 2 months ago

Text

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 6

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: You and Matt discuss baby names and the future. Despite how happy you are with all the romance and support he's giving you, he struggles to open up about the difficult things in his past.

warnings: AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Pregnancy and discussion of having a baby.

Notes: Thank you for the patience, I'm back from hiatus for now. It's really frustrating to see this story keep going down in notes from week to week and people not respecting my rules about having their age in their bio. It's also frustrating when people asked to be tagged and then never hearing from them again. And people stealing the gifs I make for each chapter and posting on their own writing with no credit and not taking them down when I ask. It's all made me burn out and not want to participate in this fandom space anymore. So I needed the break. I'll keep writing for now, but if things don't get better, I don't know how much more I wanna do. Fandom spaces aren't ai content mills where you can just take and take and take and expect to not give anything more than a silly heart button that takes you less than a second to push. The things you love are made by real people who take real time to create this free thing that you get to enjoy. Creation takes time and if you want the blogs and writers and artists you love to keep making it, then you need to do better. Rant over.

w/c: 3,575

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

“How about Helen?” Matt suggested

“Ew, no. That was my freshman roommate’s name and she was not a nice person.”

Matt chuckled warmly as he continued to run his hand softly against your back. You were draped across his lap, face down, with your growing bump between his spread legs as he lulled you into relaxation. Just ten days into trimester #2, you had begun to “pop”; bulging belly only able to hide under baggy clothes now.

Colleen reacted exactly as you’d expected when you finally shared the news, smugly declaring she knew you and Matt were compatible but also overwhelmingly happy for you. All of Matt’s friends were ecstatic too. Kirsten immediately set up an appointment with her finance guy so you could figure out getting a college fund started. Karen dropped off a bag full of baby clothes to the apartment twice already and Foggy declared himself the baby’s godfather, Marlon Brando impersonation and all.

“Krystal?”

“Stripper name.” you replied with an eye roll

Matt scoffed, feigning offense at the implication of his suggestion of a name for your sweet unborn baby would certainly lead her to a future career of debauchery.

“How about Amelia?” you countered

Your face was pressed into the sofa but you didn’t need to see him to know that Matt scrunched his face up in disgust above you.

“I’ll consider it only because I love you.” he replied

I love you.

You could practically hear, and you’re pretty sure Matt could too, the real time stop of your blood flowing through your veins. You sat upright to face him, still a little stunned. Matt blankly stared at you with pitiful eyes like a sad abandoned puppy begging at your stoop to come inside from the rain. His mouth was quirked up to one side and his shoulders were practically at his ears with how tense he was. It was painted all across his face that he was clinging on to every clue your body was giving, hoping that just maybe if he listened a little harder, he’d be able to read your thoughts.

“You love me?”

“I— I thought it was obvious. Yeah?”

Say it back, you idiot! You already thought it! At least a dozen times! Why can’t you just say it back?! Damnit!

The sofa underneath you suddenly felt too lumpy, the air in the room too stifling. You felt like your throat was going to close up until oxygen couldn’t pass through and when you tried to swallow and clear it, it just felt drier than a desert. You hoped Matt couldn’t sense the way your palms had been getting more and more sweaty and how your heart sped up as soon as he said those words. Panicked, all you could think to do was lunge forward and kiss him fiercely, feeling him relax into your kiss as he brought his hands up to card through your hair.

“But you still hate Amelia?” you joked

“I really do, yeah.” he chuckled, dejection painted across his face at the fact you had made a joke of what he thought should be a romantic milestone in your relationship

You shifted to sit beside him and leaned your head into his strong bicep, unable to handle looking at his lugubrious expression any longer.

“Any other suggestions?” you asked softly, hoping that if you just ignored it, the awkwardness would go away

“I still like Margaret best. After my mother?”

“Still a no from me, considering I haven’t even met the woman yet. And I don’t love the little you’ve told me about her.”

Matt sighed.

“We’ll get there.”

“What’s the hold up?”

Maybe the hold up was you couldn’t even bare to tell him out loud how you were feeling yet, doofus.

“I told you about how my relationship with her is still complicated?”

“Yeah.”

“I just don’t know if this,” he reached across your body to rub at your bump “will make it better or worse.”

“You— have you even told her about me? Or the baby?”

Now it was your turn to be hurt. Was Matt really that ashamed of you and this life you were building that he couldn’t tell his mom? He rubbed at his temple and sighed again.

“No, I’ve been avoiding seeing her lately.” he replied

“Oh yeah, that’ll fix all your issues.”

Matt’s eyes practically rolled out of his head at your sarcasm.

“Sweetheart, she’s a nun. I just know I’m going to be told how ‘children are a blessing’ and what not. Which is always what she says about all the kids she works with in the orphanage. Meanwhile, she couldn’t even walk five blocks to be a parent to me.”

Your heart broke for Matt, knowing how becoming a father was bringing up all this harm from his past. Would his mom want any relationship with your child? Seeing her possibly love this baby in the way she couldn’t love Matt might devastate him. You didn’t want to put him through that pain, but you wanted your child to know her grandmother.

“Plus, I know how she feels about unwed mothers, considering that’s the only reason she left the church and married my dad. I was an oopsie which is a huge no-no for Catholics,” he continued “She will absolutely bring up us getting married and I do not want to get into it.”

“Oh yeah? I assume she’ll want us to have a big ol’ Catholic wedding too?” you teased, trying to snap Matt out of his rant

“Yeah, but I— wait. Do you? I mean, would you ever want to?”

“Have a three hour wedding with 300 people I barely know watching in a stuffy old building? Um, no.”

“I meant marry me.”

You didn’t quite tense up as much at this mention of marrying Matt like you did at the doctor’s. Warming up to the idea that you and Matt were indeed a serious thing and with the baby on the way, in it for the long haul. It felt too good to be true still. A life, an actual stable and committed life from a man who was proving to you every day he would be there for you.

Mostly.

Except when he missed the gender appointment. You still hadn’t forgiven him for that. But even so, he made you feel seen, special, and even sometimes like you were worthy of the romance and attention he gave you.

You nervously plucked at a pilling spot on the upholstery beneath you, contemplating how to respond.

“Ma- Maybe? I don’t know?” you stammered “I’ve never considered it. Marriage that is! Not about you, specifically. Or anyone for that matter…”

The clacking of his tongue and the way his brows furrowed together let you know that was not the answer he wanted to hear. Wow, you were really winning in the ‘breaking Matt’s heart’ category today.

“Let’s maybe focus on the baby and getting her here and settled.” you offered taking Matt’s hand in yours and placing it on your bump.

You hoped it helped Matt to know it wasn’t a no, but just not something you were ready to think about yet.

“Right.” he agreed “And pick a name that doesn’t suck.”

Matt cowered as you picked up a throw pillow and swung it at him, smacking it away with a giggle.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Your picks don’t suck!” he plead, taking the pillow from you and tossing it aside “But really sweetie, have you looked over the stuff the doctor gave you? We should be thinking about our birth plan.”

“Our!? You’re not the one squeezing a watermelon out of a straw.”

Matt held his hands up in surrender.

“The plan is,” you continued “Go to hospital. Give birth. Fin.”

Matt rolled his eyes, leaning back on the couch and casually throwing his arm back around you.

“Har, har.” he replied sarcastically

“We’ve got time and right now I’m craving pretzels and peanut butter from that German deli in Midtown, so I can’t exactly think straight.”

“What about a home birth? In a birthing pool? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable here?”

“Drugs. Matthew. I need drugs.”

“Yeah? You don’t want to try a natural—”

“Watermelon. Straw.” you said firmly

“Right.”

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you in to a calming hug. Any reservations you gave him tonight clearly weren’t going to hold him back from still giving you his all.

“Whatever happens, I just want you and the baby healthy.”

“Me too.” you agreed

Those three little words you could feel were growing inside you and dancing in the wings ready to make their debut. Even with talk of marriage and him confessing it first, you couldn’t find the strength to say them yet.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes as he continued to hold you.

“Matt?” you asked sheepishly, cutting through the peacefulness

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt nodded, standing up and grabbing his keys and wallet to head up to the German deli.

Another perk of dating a successful and popular lawyer was all the former clients he’d built relationships with, many of whom were happy to welcome Matt into their homes and lives as a thank you for all he did for them. Which is how you ended up at a prime table in the Upper West Side’s most popular restaurant on a busy Saturday night, with a complimentary appetizer and dinner already in your stomach. You were currently staring down an enormous slice of cake sitting on the plate in front of you that the waitress just dropped off. The head chef was a former client of Matt’s who he’d helped in a workers comp case and told him to ‘swing by any time’ for the best meal in town. Boy was he right.

“Hnnggg” the sounds you were making were downright pornographic, pregnancy hormones amplifying the taste of every thing. And right now, this chocolate cake was beyond indulgent.

“Am I at least going to get a bite?” Matt asked with a chuckle

You threateningly waved your fork in his direction as you ran your tongue along your teeth inside your mouth to ensure you tasted every single crumb.

The restaurant was cozy and down to earth, despite how decadent their dishes were. A South American and Italian infusion spot with moody lighting and enough nooks and crannies that your booth was incredibly private. Matt had been nursing a whiskey (also comped by the kitchen) all night and was more laid back than you’d seen him in a while.

You took another sip of your mocktail, preparing for another bite of the heaven-sent dessert.

“You never finished your story. What happened to Foggy and the girl from Punjabi 101?”

“Oh, she moved back to California and married her cousin.”

“You’re joking!”

You loved when Matt laughed, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes behind his glasses and his damn adorable smile beaming through the dark room.

“Nope. Broke Foggy’s heart. But it was for the best. He never would have gotten with Marcy if she’d stayed.”

“Did he take it the next term? Or drop it since she wasn’t around?”

“Oh no, he took it all 3 years of law school.”

“Has it ever once come in handy?”

“Nope.”

Your threw your head back in laughter, unable to control how amusing you found the story. Matt shook his head as if he was remembering many more stories he wasn’t saying out loud from his and Foggy’s yesteryears.

“Wow, so you and Foggy have been friends since law school?” you inquired

“Yeah, it’s why we started our firm together. He’s the best of the best and there’s no one I’d rather work with.”

“And he’s the reason you stopped, you know, your night job?”

Matt scowled at your question, fidgeting in his seat as he thought of his response. There was a look of melancholy on his face and it reminded you of how he looked when you’d had the conversation about his mother.

“Yes. He— he never liked that part of me. But he’d grown to accept it over the years.”

“And then?”

A despondent sigh left Matt’s lips as he brought his glass to his perfectly pouty lips and downed the rest of his whiskey. You regretted dampening the mood with such a sore subject. But you were curious. There was still so much about his life he hadn’t shared.

“He got hurt. He nearly died. His heart even stopped, I heard it. And it was my fault. Being Daredevil put the people I care about the most at risk.”

“What happened?”

Matt shook his head, waving his hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’ll ruin the evening. Foggy’s mostly fine now. And I’m not him anymore.”

“And you’re happy about that? To not be him anymore?”

“I’m happy to not complicate my life any more than it already is.”

You stared at your now empty plate, wondering if Matt would ever want to go back to his vigilante life. It was compelling to you when you first discovered his secret, already finding Matt appealing just as the lawyer who bantered with you at work. But the danger of it all made him even sexier in your eyes; the double life, the rumors you’d heard about the type of people he hurt, the outfit. Now you just worried if there were people out there who still wanted revenge for all the years he spent keeping the city safe. Would they ever come after you or the baby?

“I can tell you why I started though.” Matt offered, a tinge of positivity in his voice as he leaned back in his chair

“Yeah?”

“When the accident happened, I was overwhelmed with it all. My hearing, sense of smell, all of it became sharper. I used to just lay awake in bed at night hearing so many sirens throughout the city. Then right after law school, I was in my first apartment. It was a real shit hole of a place. They don’t pay law interns well.”

You smiled at the thought of Matt in his early 20s, probably just as handsome but also adorable and awkward.

“Anyway, I heard it from down the block. A little girl. Her father was coming into her room at night after her mother had gone to bed.”

“Jesus. And you went right over to beat the shit out of the guy?”

“No, no. I did what you’re supposed to do; called the cops, filed a CPS report. But the asshole was clever, he did it in a way that didn’t leave a mark. I had spent the last 7 years in school and studying for the bar to use the system to help people. But then when it wasn’t working, I felt helpless. The law couldn't do anything to help that little girl. But I could. I knew his routine. Waited till he was alone.”

“Please tell me you killed the bastard.”

“No. I don’t kill. Catholic, remember?”

That fact surprised you a little. The stories throughout the city only told of Daredevil’s rage. You admired that Matt could keep it under control enough to not end a life.

“But last I heard” he continued “he’s still eating through a straw.”

Staring over at Matt quietly for a moment, you reached across the table to place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. The way he had a sort of moral code made you proud and confirmed all that he had shown you so far; that he was a good man and would help raise your child to be a decent human. But the faltering in his voice when he said it made you think it might not be that simple.

“I didn’t realize it was an accident either.” you remarked “I just kind of assumed you’d always been blind.”

“No. I was 9 when it happened. The last thing I saw was my Dad.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of his father. From hints and passing comments in previous conversations, you knew Jack was very important to Matt. While you respected that he viewed him as a hero, you held a little bit of resentment towards the man for how he left this world. His stupid pride robbed Matt of a life with his dad in it and made much of his son’s life more difficult than it needed to be. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the aftermath of loosing him and the effects of it on a poor child. How the tragedy reverberated through Matt to this day and shaped nearly everything about him. All the more reason you were happy that Matt was not going out as Daredevil anymore. He told you he didn’t want to repeat his parents mistakes. He didn’t want this baby to loose her father.

“Is he who taught you to fight?” you asked “I mean, you didn’t just go out as the Devil one night with no skills. He was a boxer right?”

“Yeah. But he didn’t teach me. My dad wanted me to stay out of the ring, get my education and make something of myself. Stick taught me to fight.”

“Stick? Was that like a video game or?”

“Stick was a person. A person who I’m very glad is not around to force his way into our baby’s life.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“That’s also a conversation for another time.”

You rolled your eyes. You really didn’t appreciate all the stonewalling from Matt tonight. He had demons, who didn’t? But trusting you with that information would only improve your ability to raise this baby together.

“We should head home, it’s getting late.”

The air was crisp as you walked arm and arm down the side walk, taking your time to saunter home and enjoy this cozy date night. You couldn’t help but glance over at Matt, his muscular figure and handsome face accentuated by the harsh shadows cast over him from the streetlights and general city glow.

“What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

He must have felt you staring.

“No.” you answered sheepishly

“Then what is it?”

“You just look really handsome tonight, that’s all.”

“Ah, so you’re ogling me?” he teased

“Oh stop. I can’t admire how attractive my boyfriend is?”

“Only if we talk about how beautiful you are tonight.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. The dress you’re wearing is silky, hugs your body close. I liked the way it felt when I helped you zip it up; cool against your soft skin. And I can tell you feel great in it cause you’re walking a little firmer, a little more confident than normal.”

“Yeah, but that’s not—”

“You smell great too,” he cut you off “I really like the new perfume you got.”

“Matt, I—”

“And your laugh — God! I could listen to it on a loop and not get tired of it.”

You could feel the flush rising in your cheeks. Was that really how Matt ‘saw’ you? Sure, you’d allow him touch your face from time to time, content to let him memorize every curve under his finger tips to get an idea of what you looked like. But he really payed attention to all the little details that you didn’t even think about to paint a picture of you.

“And I know it not just me, baby. There were a lot of hearts that sped up when we walked through the restaurant.”

“I’m 15 weeks pregnant, they were probably just thinking about what a whale I look like.”

The way he pursed his lips at your comment distracted you from how his hand was creeping up, reaching under your jacket to give you a tickle.

“Hey!” you giggled “Matty!”

He relented, broad grin clearly delighted by your reaction. His hand found yours, pulling you close to kiss you, still laughing into your lips as he did.

"I love you." he affirmed

"I know."

"Ah, the Han Solo. Classic." he teased, happy to still give you the space you needed until you were ready to say it back

“You’re trouble, Murdock.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause all I wanted to do was go home and groan about how full I am from dinner. But now you’re making me want to go home and be full of something else.”

Matt quirked up his eyebrows at your forwardness, mind running through all the possibilities you had in mind.

“I guess I’m the good kind of trouble then?”

You rolled your eyes as you kissed him again. Matt’s arm slipped around your waist, holding you close. Though you flinched a little at the movement, worried he might tickle you again. His other hand roamed down your curves, coming to rest on your bottom and giving it a flirty squeeze.

“Matthew! We’re in public.”

“Oh come on sweetheart, I’m listening closely and no one’s on the block right now. We could hide in that door way and—”

Matt paused suddenly, eyes darting back and forth behind his glasses. He did that thing when he heard something, tilting his head like a dog to a whistle. You hated when he did that, your anxiety rising wondering if he just heard a car honk or something more sinister.

“What? Matt, what is it?”

Matt didn’t answer, keeping both hands on your waist as he stepped back and squatted down.

“I can hear it.” he finally spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Hear what?”

“The baby. I can hear her heartbeat. It’s faint. And fast. But it’s there.”

NEXT CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts @laaadygisbooornex3 @ninacotte @uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705 @endofthelinegang @buckyssugarchick @hellskitchenswhore @pixviee @themikkapika @bisexualbith @labellapeaky @theoraekenslover @sexyvixen7 @tanyaherondale @marysucks-blog @0callme-mimi @aesthetic0cherryblossom @livewaspsblog @lokifae42 @plutosbear

#frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #fratt #matt x reader #Judex Judicum Infantem #matt x frank x reader #nmcu #mcu #mcu fic #daredevil smut #matt murdock angst #charlie cox #fratt x reader #poly fratt

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taintedheartx · 2 months ago

Text

Crush

(Gif not mine)

Pairing: neteyam x metkayina!reader

Sypnosis: as the eldest daughter of ronal and tonowari, you were assigned to teach the newcomers children your ways, unknowingly that you would take a liking to the oldest son.

Warnings: simp neteyam, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, uses of y/n

a/n: I kinda wanted to do something simple, and I kinda like this..not proofread btw… enjoy!

It was a warm day in the village as every other so when you were finally done with the tasks your mother had given you, you headed out to the moon-pools on the reef where your little sister Tsireya was.

You dove in the water and retrieved your ilu making your way to the other side of the reef, you made it there within a few minutes, instantly recognizing your sister and making your way over to her.

She instantly greeted you and you both talked about casual small things you both waste time for a good half hour just chatting, before you saw what seemed to be giant birds flying above you.

You watched in amazement before you and your sister both exchanged confused glances, before the conch signaled an arrival.

“What do you think this is?” Your sister says as you both jump back on your ilus making your way back to the village.

Newcomers from a different clan. You thought noticing that the giant birds had riders on their backs.

Once you both dismounted your ilus walked the rest of the way to where your people created a crowd surrounding the new people who made their way on the land.

You noticed the newcomers where a different color than you and had a different figure with thin hands and skinny tails. Forest people you thought.

But what mostly stood out to you was one of the two boys, he was taller than the other one and had a cummerbund on his waist which insinuated he was the older one.

You noticed once you were both in their peripheral vision they both turned their heads in your direction.

You felt eyes on you, and you assume your sister did as well because you looked up to see the younger brother eyeing your sister, he looked away shyly when she looked back.

You both stood next to your younger brother aonung, watching your sister scold them for the snarky remarks he already made to the boys.

Your father eventually arrived on his tsurak flying over you and the newcomers and dismounting it and walking to the man and who you assumed to be his mate.

You took this time while he was distracted by your fathers presence, to sneak more looks at him, you watched as he greeted your father with and ‘I see you’ sign and stood in silence with the crowd, as your mother made her presence known by calmly striding towards them.

You and your siblings watched in anticipation as they now greeted your mother who was more likely to have a problem with their arrival.

the man explained his reason for arrival was the need to seek “uturu.” Your mother softly gasped and repeated him in a disbelief tone, before she eventually made her way around the new people and began to verbally express their differences.

“Their tails are weak, you will be slow in the water.”

She picked up the one of the girls arms and made a point to voice that their children weren’t even full Navi.

This made your people gasp in shock at the statement, she made her way to the younger boy and grabbed his hand lifting it up to reveal his four-fingered hand.

This made more chaos erupt through your people before the man showed his hand and shared that he was a sky person and now na’vi wanting to prove they can adapt to our ways.

Your mother and their mother had a bit of disagreement you guessed seeing how they both hissed at each other, quickly the adults shared a few more words with them before your parents briefly gazed at each other, then your father turning to face the people and announce their decision on the matter. ‘toruk makto’s family will be staying with us, treat them like brothers and sisters, show them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.

“My son aonung, my daughters y/n and Tsireya will show your children what to do.” He says, aonung faced him ready to complain but your father shut him down fairly quickly.

“Come we will show you our village” your sister says grabbing your hand and dragging you with her closer to the newcomers, you helped them unload their things unable to pry your eyes from the oldest son, your sister close on your tail you led the family to an unused mauri in the village, then you left back to the healers hut for your lessons.

༺༻

It was later in the day past noon after you had managed to guide the newcomers and their children to their new home and letting them get settled in instructing that their lessons will be tomorrow.

You were currently walking back to the healers hut to give your mother some herbs she asked for, when you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see a forest boy.

“Oh hi, can I help you with something?”You say to break the awkward silence as he was just staring at you.

“Yes, I was wondering if maybe you can show me around the village, just so I get familiar with it.” He says not tearing his eyes from yours which make you a bit nervous.

“Yes of course, I just have to take these to my mother and I’ll come back.” You say gesturing to the herbs in your arms.

He took notice of your filled arms and grabbed some herbs from your arms, “need some help?”not waiting for your response before you found yourself walking through the village with the boy towards your mothers hut, you both caught a few stares from people, who still didn’t know how to feel about forest people seeking refuge in their clan.

You both made your way into the healers hut and gave your mother the herbs that she needed, she was a bit off, and you figured it was because you had one of the forest boys accompanying you.

She had asked your help with something very fast, to which you turned back to the boy and told him to wait for you outside the mauri.

You walked further in the pod, helping her quickly tie the last of the garment that was more of a two person job, “so what are you doing with the forest boy? I thought lessons weren’t until tomorrow?”

“They aren’t, I’m just helping him get a look at the land.” You say helping her finish up with the garment and looking back up at her.

“Okay just remember, no funny business.” She says giving you a stern look, you didn’t know why she said that but she was your mother always scolding you so you forgot about it and nodded, leaving the mauri and leading the boy around the village.

After a bit of showing him around the area and showing him where everyone goes for certain things, you asked if he needed to be back home soon, to which he shook his head and insisted for you to show him more.

You say sure and you both find yourself just chatting and having small talk before you even realize that you didn’t even get the boys’ name.

“I-I didn’t get your name?” You say softly as both your feet met the sandy beach.

“Neteyam, and you?” He says looking back at you briefly his braid swinging down, “that’s a nice name I’m only y/n.” You respond, he smiles at you making you smile back.

༺༻

A few days passed of teaching the sully kids and you grew more comfortable with them, befriending kiri was quite easy as you both collected shells and material for clothes around the coral reef.

The other boy which you learned his name is loak took a liking to your sister tsireya fairly quickly, wanting to be close to her during the lessons.

Since kiri didn’t need much help adapting or holding her breath for that matter, it resulted in your main focus being on neteyam.

He was a fast learner, so it wasn’t hard for him to get a hang of the breathing techniques you taught him and keeping his breathing under control underwater, but when you assisted him with the ilu, it took him a few tries before he got it down.

You enjoyed teaching him, he was awfully sweet and was open to learning new things.

After communal breakfast, she had suggested to go on an ilu ride before our lessons to see where the boys were on their breath control.

You all made small talk on the way down to the beach, taking a deep breath of the fresh aroma scent before calling your ilu and diving in the water.

Neteyam followed after you, urging to keep up with your speed, you flowed through the reef swiftly, before the small group catches up to you.

The ilu’s squealed as you all soared around each other smiling and having fun, the ilu rides were always your favorite thing to do to blow off some steam.

After you all got a bit tired of riding, it was time to start your lesson, so you and tsireya split up, each having a boy to teach, you noticed neteyam was more focused and easy to teach one on one rather than his siblings so you led him to a island patch behind the village, it was quiet there so you felt like it would be easier for you to teach.

You both dismounted your ilus and took a seat crisscrossed from each other and began teaching, an hour passed since you began your lesson and he already knew how to say a few sentences in sign language, so you smiled, “you did good, that’s enough for today.”

He smiled back and nodded his head, ever since neteyam and his family arrived at the reef, he noticed himself being drawn to you, loving the sound of your voice while you taught him the way of water, your hands grazing his while you corrected his sign.

Not to mention even when you two weren’t alone and instead in the company of both each others siblings, it was hard for him to take his eyes from you.

Even though you practically dismissed him he hadn’t moved yet, looking at him he diverted his eyes from yours fairly quickly. finding the chance you spoke, “so how are you adjusting here?”He glanced at you again with his sharp amber eyes, making your insides flutter.

“I love it, I do miss my home, but it’s beautiful here.” He says softly as he spoke nicely of your home. You did consider asking about the forest but you never wanted to pry and ask something too personal, so you kept it vague.

You smiled, “I bet the forest is wonderful.” looking down as your fingers played in the sand.

It was like a light flicked on Neteyam’s head, he had basically brought a piece of the forest with him when him and his family first arrived to awa’atlu.

Both your ears perked as you heard the dinner conch signaling it was time to eat.

“I have an idea, meet me at the shore behind the village after eclipse.” He says with an eager voice getting up, you followed suit not having time to ask details. “okay.”

You both mount your ilus and part ways to different sides of the village.

༺༻

A while after dinner, eclipse had arose as the bioluminescence in the water enhanced, you were talking to tsireya as the whole village slowly mellowed out and it was the usual time to wind down.

You didn’t know why you left out the fact that neteyam wanted to meet up with you after eclipse, but you liked the thrill of the secrecy.

You waited until your parents and siblings were asleep, to sneak out of the mauri and make your way around the village.

You made it all the way behind the village, waiting patiently for neteyam. you slowly started worrying that he got in trouble trying to sneak out, and unintentionally stood you up.

Until you saw his figure emerge from the mangrove roots and walk his way towards you. You signed with relief, “finally, what took you so long?” I had to wait a little longer, till my parents fell asleep.He explained and you took in how his freckles lit up his face in the darkness. He was so mesmerizing.

“Oh, well what did you need to show me?” Curious to see why he needed you at such a late hour. “I’ll show you, when we get there.”Neteyam grabbed your hand and led you deeper in the forest.

Your stomach flipped as you felt the warmth of his hand gripping yours, brushing past the greenery and fallen branches the silence only being broken by nearby animals in the foliage.

You admired the back of his figure, his broad shoulders, his skinny tail that occasionally brushed against you, why were you thinking like this.

You snap out of your thoughts when he speaks, “we’re here.” He says releasing his grip on you and walking further into the clearing, there were five ikrans.

You heard the sully boys speak of their ikrans which is how you know about them but you never gave it much thought, but they were huge up close, you kept your distance as he made his way to his ikran, giving him a pat on the side.

At first you were a bit confused as to why he brought you here, you took a look at the 20 foot banshee that towered over you both, he was cute but more intimidating to you, like he couldn’t figure out if you were a friend of food. Neteyam looked back at you and smiles,“you can come closer.” You step closer a bit into view a little weary.

“If you want, you can ride with me.” He says with a cheerful tone.

“What do you mean, you can do that?” You question, he nods.

“Yeah, what’s the harm in getting off the island for a bit?”he persuades you. You never once left the island except for hunting and gathering obviously. So you comply by slowly getting closer eyeing the giant creature.

“He won’t hurt you.” He assures you, taking you hand and guiding to pet the ikran. You feel the skin texture under your hand for a second. “allow me” he says gesturing to the open saddle.

You hesitate for a moment but before you can debate your body is already moving to mount the ikran. You would’ve said no but neteyam had a hold on you, you never were able to say no to him.

He mounts, hovering over you, you felt your heart race at the new feeling, of him so close to you, making you a nervous wreck but you tried your best to hide it.

“Hold tight.” he says wanting you to put your hand where his was to steer the ikran.

You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but know it was too late to turn back now, taking off was the scary part, the fast motion made you buck back into neteyam’s chest.

A quiet gasp left your mouth as you both soared up in the air, you closed your eyes at the fast movement, once you eventually opened them when it became more steady.

You had never been this high up before, it was a bit scary seeing everything so far below. You tightened your grip on the ikran as you felt your palms getting sweaty.

He must’ve felt you get nervous, “it’s okay I won’t let you fall.” He briefly looked at you, that familiar feeling came back and was stronger more than ever, you liked him.

He banked few times chuckling at your nervousness, it was a rocky ride but neteyam made you feel safe.

After a little while of soaring through the clouds and you eventually made your descent to the ground, landing in the mangroves.

He removes his queue, dismounted reaching to help you off, “thank you neteyam, that was amazing!” You say with a cheekish grin.

He smiles, “don’t worry about it, that was fun.” Your wide tail was probably wagging at the strong feeling you felt.

He gazed at you, secretly admiring your curves as you were turned away.

“We should head back before someone notices we’re gone.” You say turning back to him, he retreats his gaze shyly and pats his ikran before you both run off back into the forest.

You both talked all the way back village about the ride, you had never been in the air before so the feeling was foreign to you. He smiled at your fascination, answering all your curious questions.

“I never rode with anyone before, we should do that again sometime.” He firmly stated, turning his head and searching for your response.

You smiled surely blushing while your tail swished swiftly behind you. Neteyam noticed making his ears flick back, “Really, yes I would love that.” You enthusiastically say.

You both took a shortcut back to the village, enjoying the quiet scenery and neteyam’s company. Your mind was at ease as you felt relaxed in his presence with the sound of distant chirps of the nearby creatures and the light waves hitting the shore.

His voice cut through the silence, “I never got to say how thankful I am for your help with teaching me and my siblings..it’s been really hard for them to adjust, thanks for being so nice I’ve really appreciated it.” He looks at you sincerely.

Your eyes widen a bit at his seriousness. You flash him a sweet smile and a nervous giggle.“It’s not a problem, its kind of my job to be nice.” His gaze doesn’t falter but his eyes wander down to your lips.

He thought how soft and sweet your lips must’ve been. How much he wanted to lock his lips between them but he couldn’t, he reminded himself your still the chief’s daughter, he needed to control himself the best he can.

༺༻

The next day you knew that neteyam and loak would be training with your father so you knew he’d be busy, but when eclipse was nearing, we had another group session by the moon-pools. You had brought crystals and trinkets that you thought kiri and tuk would like.

When you and tsireya both came to the signature rock where you were supposed to teach them but sometimes you and tsireya would get distracted and would just be goofing off or talking instead, you giggled at loak’s inability to keep his eyes off your sister, unknown to the fact that his brother had the same issue.

You had all talked and laughed until it was already eclipse so you packed it up and slowly everyone made their way back to the village. Neteyam had lingered around though looking down at the bioluminescent water and the coral reefs as if they were so interesting.

“want me to walk you home forest boy?” You teased as you slid off the rock and he looked up from the water flashing a cheeky smile. His smile always made your heart melt.

“I was waiting for you ask” he teased grabbing the trinkets you had on shell plate intended for your mother, he assisted you back to the village and carried the instruments for you back to your mother’s mauri.

He was so kind and had no problem helping you, which made you love his company, he was so thoughtful and sweet which is why when he asked for help with hunting fish, you went along no questions asked.

He led you to more behind the village where it’s more secluded but still has an enjoyable view of both the village and the waterfront. He brought his bow that was strung on his person. Which surprisingly made him look very attractive.

he took the bow off him and started grazing the water with his eyes while stringing an arrow aside the bow, perceiving the surface of the water in deep concentration. You studied his form and with a swift motion he released the string as the arrow pierced through the fish.

You were unfamiliar with his ways that he already had instilled in him from his homeland. “That’s impressive, you should teach me.” You knew you weren’t exactly subtle in your flirting but you didn’t really care to hide it.

“Sure” he responded, as you moved in front of him to hold the bow and let his hands fall beside yours, guiding your stance and position, with a few adjustments to your posture he signaled that you can let go of the string and make the kill.

When you did the fish flailed around thrashing against your hands as you went to grab it, you let out a excited squeal, “I got it neteyam.” He was just as thrilled as you that you got it on the first try. You were proud of yourself you could prove that you could succeed in his ways as well. “Well done y/n, you did good.”

In the heat of the moment he pulls you into him for a warm hug while you smile proudly, you notice the hug lasts a little longer than expected but you didn’t complain, when you both slowly let go, you could both notice the undeniable tension between you was palpable.

Your eyes trail to his lips, you can tell he knows what your thinking. He’s so close, you could feel your breaths becoming shallow, before you could hesitate, he leans in, closing the distance between you.

It wasn’t what you were expecting as a first kiss, it was gentle and slow as both of your lips brushed together and instantly becomes so desperate his hands move to your back, while your body curves into his.

He breaks the kiss while you almost whine at the loss of contact ,“I’m sorry y/n, are you sure you- you interrupt him to meet his soft lips again, he doesn’t complain as he softly moans in your mouth, the feeling was overwhelming, the ache between your legs.

The moment was annoyingly intercepted.

“Y/n!” you both practically jump away from each other when you hear your mothers voice. You silently scream to yourself as you let out a quiet “sorry” to neteyam before you walk away towards your mother.

you have quite some explaining to do.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #fluff #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #fanfiction

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misserabella · 5 days ago

Text

look at the camera.

satoru gojo! x fem! reader

synopsis; just satoru’s jealousy acting up after suguru’s teasing.

cw; +18 content, minors dni!, suguru having tattoos (MEOWWW), suguru being a flirt w reader and poking at satoru, satoru’s jealousy, use of infinity, dirty talking, blowjob, recording (satoru sends the video of you to suguru), praising (use of good girl), hair tugging, face fucking, cum swallowing…

☆≫ gif from @junabuggy

he was angry.

it was for a stupid reason, really, nothing major. but we all know how childish satoru gojo could be.

it had all started when suguru had visited you two that afternoon, a big grin plastered on his face as he showed off his new brand back tattoo. it was massive. two koi fishes swimming in a loop around each other; one white, the other black.

you’d stared at it in awe, your love for ink and art was not something the two best friends were unaware of.

you’d of course traced the intricate figures, suguru squirming slightly at the sensitivity. it was fresh, after all, but it was not painful, so he let you be, not ignoring the dirty jealous look satoru was sending you two.

now, satoru was a confident man. he knew he was hot. i mean, have you seen him? and he was the strongest sorcerer. there was no better catch than him. but when it came to you… he became so insecure.

and suguru liked to mess up with him. so he, as always, took the opportunity to do so. he flexed his back muscles, naturally, smoothly, and you gasped.

“oh my god, suguru! have you been hitting the gym?” you inquired, and your hands came up to his broad shoulders to squeeze the muscle there.

he chuckled and nodded. “yeah. couple times a week.” he caught the ticking on satoru’s eye as you eyed the changes his body had gone through. he was bigger. stronger. soooo buff. (not as buff as satoru, but you could appreciate his efforts, platonically, of course.)

“you’re doing amazing! what are you doing? could you give me your routine?” you begged.

“what? what for? you look amazing.”

now. suguru was a sweet talker. call it the “satoru influence”. and enjoyed to push satoru’s buttons by flirting a little with his girl. (would he ever make a move on you? hell no. you were off limits. he loved satoru too much to do that shit. but he could always pretend.)

you laughed as he made you do a little twirl, whistling. “beautiful.”

with an amused chuckle and a playful eye roll you thanked him, waving it off, but satoru was seething. he’d had enough.

“yo, suguru. isn’t it time for you to go?” he suddenly spat and you froze, looking back at him. satoru’s frown was deep.

“toru!” you gasped at his roughness.

“mmmh? not really, no. i’m actually free.” suguru smiled at him, as if nothing were wrong. as if he hadn’t been poking at him to see when he would burst.

“well i ain’t. so piss off.” he said, and you watched with widened eyes as he tossed suguru his shirt and practically guided him to the door between kicks.

“shit. okay, okay, dude! bye gorgeous!” but as always, he waved at you, winking you goodbye.

satoru slammed the door shut on his face and grumbled something under his breath, stomping over to the couch and sitting down, all pouts and arms crossed.

oh, he was pissed.

you noticed and cooed a sweet “toru, what’s wrong?” but of course, he didn’t answer, not even looking at you.

you sighed. “is it because of suguru?” he huffed, and you felt as if hitting the bullseye. “baby… you know how he is… he’s always playing.” his pout only worsened and you almost smiled. almost. he was so cute. all jealous. “come on, don’t be mad.” you said as you sat next to him, one of your hands coming down on his thigh, but on the last second, the barrier of his infinite made it impossible to touch him.

and he was still not looking at you.

another sigh made its way out of your lungs. you leaned in, your breath hitting his neck as your lips made out his full name. “satoru…” you bit your lip to contain the smirk that tugged on them when you noticed the goosebumps raising. “toru please, i’m sorry. turn off infinity…” you leant even closer, your lips could practically taste his skin. “…, so i can apologize properly.” suddenly your hand fell onto his thigh, no barriers this time, and you chuckled.

“i’m still mad.” he said, although, his ears, cheeks, hell, even his neck, was burning up and blushing the perfect shade of pink.

“i know…” you said as your lips wetly kissed at his neck, tasting the salt on his skin, smelling the fresh perfume he liked to use. “let me make it up to you?” he groaned, low in his chest, and you took it as a ‘go ahead’.

you dropped onto your knees in front of him, between his strong thighs, the same thighs you’d ground your pussy against many times before. you licked your lips at the imprint of his hard cock through his grey sweats, and hummed when, while pulling them down to free him, his hand came down on the crown of your head.

you looked into his sky blue eyes as you opened your mouth, tongue sticking out to lick the sweet droplets of cum that decorated his flushed tip. “jesus…” he muttered, his cock twitching in your hand, and you smirked. “wipe that smirk out of you face before i fuck it out of it.” you moaned at his words. you hated to admit it, but you loved it when satoru got mad. he became rougher, didn’t hold back his tongue. “such a fucking slut, huh? flirting with my best friend in front of my face just to get on your knees begging for my cock once he leaves.” he pushes you down onto it, hitting deep into your throat and making you gag. “you want him? you like him better than me, hm? tell me, could he fuck you better than i do? fuck this mouth as good as i can?” you shook your head, muffling around his cock as he didn’t gave you the chance to answer him, tip nudging the insides of your throat with every deep thrust. “not good enough.” suddenly, a blinding light hit your face, and you squinted, a moan ripping from your chest as he pulled you off his cock with a harsh tug of your hair, his leaking tip kissing your swollen and glossy lips. “answer me. tell him. tell him who you belong to. whose cock you let fuck your throat, pussy and ass every night.”

your thighs clenched. shit. he was recording you to send it to his best friend.

“yours. only yours, toru.” he smirked and pushed you back down onto his cock, your nose hitting the white tuffs of hair on his base, his breeding balls against your chin.

“atta girl.” he purred, and kept your head in place as his hips started to thrust up into your throat, using you like he would use a toy. you moaned, whined and whimpered, nails digging onto his creamy thighs, making him moan and groan along with you. “look at you. you love it, don’t you? i bet you could cum just by me fucking this tight little throat of yours. bet you’re soaking through your fucking pants.” you whimpered and he cursed. “up. look up. show suguru how much you love it when i fuck your face.” your watering eyes looked straight into the camera, lips stretched wide open around his shaft as lines of spit came down your chin. “thaaaat’s it, fuck, so fucking beautiful taking me like this. now be a good girl and swallow for me, mh? don’t waste a single fucking drop of my cum.” he ordered, and your eyes crossed when warm, thick spurts of cum clogged your throat. satoru fucked your mouth through his high, milking every last ounce of his cum out of his balls. when he popped his cock out, he slapped his still rock hard cock against your cheek, recording as you swallowed his load.

after that, and before bending you over the sofa to remind you why he was called the “honored one”, he opened the chat with his best friend and sent him the video.

a/n: i love these two 😭

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