mrsbarnesxxx

[mrsbarnesxxx]

[mrsbarnesxxx]

hi ! love ur fics <3

can i request reader as being a massive flirt publicly towards spencer but when its Intimate and Private, reader is suddenly Stunned and Speechless and Blushing and spencer kinda gets the confidence to Do Stuff

im sorry if that was the stupidest described ask ever achh but lov u !

pairing: s9!spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, bombshell-ish(?) reader, fluff warnings: 16+ for kind of suggestive? he’s so in love UGH a/n: thank you for requesting !! wc: 1.22k

Spencer thinks that you are the most beautiful person in the world. He thinks that you’re glowing every time you walk into the room– no matter how upset or disgruntled you may be– and as cliche as it may seem, he’s certain that swarms butterflies fill his stomach and cloud his mind. In fact, he thinks that you have always had that effect on him, ever since he’s met you. You’re touchy, and despite Spencer’s general aversion to physical touch, he finds that he doesn’t mind your germs much. 

Very often he finds himself at your mercy, with the way your fingers brush against his face as if it’s nothing, as if that movement alone was something that you do with everyone (you’ve only ever done it with him). There are other instances where you’ve been very blatant in your attraction towards him, so much so that he ends up with his cheeks hot more often than not. A part of him is grateful that though you work in the FBI, it isn’t his division. He doubts he’d be able to see the end of it.

“Spencer,” you gush, curling your fingers into the ends of his hair. Or rather, lack of hair. “You got a haircut. You’re supposed to consult me first, you know.”

He laughs, looking up at you as you stand over him while he sits at his desk. “Is that what a good boyfriend is supposed to do?”

“Yes.” You speak with mock indignation, properly running your fingers through his hair from his fringe to the back of his head. “It’s so short.”

“Do you hate it?” There’s a momentary pang of unease that strikes at his heart. “Maybe I should have consulted you.”

“No, baby, it looks really good.” You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “You’re warm. Do you have a fever?”

Of course I’m warm, Spencer wants to say while you continue to dote on him, your hands travelling to his collar next and brushing against his throat. You’re touching me in the middle of the bullpen. 

He opts to not say anything when he sees your knowing smile. You’re doing this on purpose. He clicks his tongue, squeezing at your waist lightly as you lean over him to kiss his forehead. He’ll let you win this battle; he’s going to get you back.

***

He doesn’t really know how to get you back. There are a few harmless things he’d thought of doing: sneaking into your department and hiding your mug on the top shelf (he fears that you’d ask someone, a taller more handsome someone, to rescue it for you), not wearing the tie you picked out for him that morning (he can already envision your disappointed frown and his chest aches at the imaginary you getting upset because of him), and putting toothpaste in your Oreos (he doesn’t want to die). 

All of these ideas go down the drain and he ends up not getting back at you for days. It doesn’t help that he’s been gone for a case while you’ve been stuck at home. It isn’t all bad, and a part of him wishes that he can hold himself to the same level of confidence as Derek when Penelope calls him with flirtatious motives. You do virtually the same thing. 

Your words are honey as you shower him with compliments, ending him with a simple “Hey, gorgeous.” 

It is enough to make his heart leap to his throat and his cheeks to warm to a pretty pink. There’s not much overlap between the Human Resources Branch and the BAU, especially considering that you assist more on the training and hiring side of things, so there aren’t many opportunities for you to fluster him when he’s out of the office. He finds that you always make an excuse.

“Hi,” he responds softly, avoiding the teasing gazes of Emily and Derek. “Is… are you okay?”

“Do I need to not be okay to talk to my lovely boyfriend?” 

You’re teasing him, poking fun at the way he so easily surrenders to you. He resists the urge to run out the room. 

“Stop,” he warns half-heartedly. He says your name quietly, tapping his fingers at the edge of the table. “Is there something you needed?”

He can practically hear you smile as you respond, the sound of your mouse clicking in the background. “Oh, yeah. My computer says that my storage is full. What do I do?”

“Your storage is full,” he repeats, smiling. “That’s why you called me?”

“It’s lunchtime in Santa Monica, right?”

He relents, cheeks hurting from how hot and stretched out they are. “Yes.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

He puffs out a breath of air, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re lovely.” He can imagine you batting your eyes, your smile saccharine. “Don’t you wish that you were here, gorgeous?”

He’s definitely going to get you back.

*** 

Spencer goes to your apartment once the case ends, his eyes dreary with sleep and the horrors that he saw only a few hours prior. Your apartment key hangs next to his on his keychain– a limited edition Tardis charm that you got him for his birthday. He huffs out a breath, unlocking your door and stepping inside. He’s met with you dancing around in your kitchen, headphones on whilst holding a wooden spoon. A part of him is concerned with how easily he could slip into your home without being notice, but the other part can’t help but smile at how carefree you look, and he leans against the wall to stare. 

He doesn’t get the opportunity to stare for long. It’s comical, the way you jump upon seeing him, eyes wide as you rip your headphones off. 

“You’re back! You scared me.” A smile stretches across your lips while you press your palm to your chest whilst taking steps towards him. “Don’t do that ever again.”

Spencer laughs, toeing his shoes off and resting his hands on your waist. His head dips down to meet your gaze, peering up at you with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks glow warm and you break eye contact. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” He hooks his pointer finger under your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I missed you.”

He notes the way you don’t respond, in some sort of daze while your lips part in both surprise and flusteredness. He understands your sentiments– it isn’t often that he initiates affection. 

“Did you miss me, too?” Spencer asks softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks. 

“Of course I did,” you croak out, heat building in your head. 

Spencer chuckles, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s doing this on purpose, flustering you to the point of no return. He kisses you again, one hand holding the base of your head while the other squeezes at the flesh of your waist. It’s dizzying, the taste of coffee on his tongue and the feel of his fingers in your hair. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs once he’s pulled away. His thumb rubs a line from the back of your ear to where your jawline starts, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Where did that confidence go, hm?”

reblogs are always appreciated!

[mrsbarnesxxx]

Could I request pregnant reader x eddie x evan where reader is uncomfortable and sore and has morning sickness and eddie and buck take of her?? Idk just some fluff :) <3 I hope you have a good day!!

I'm so sorry this took so long. I started (and quit) a new job, started having new health issues, and then the semester just got hectic, but without further ado...here it is. It's kinda shit, but you know.

Just thinking about how swollen your stomach would get. The pressure it puts on your back. You feel like you're the size of an elephant.

"You're growing a human." The boys would remind you.

You guys hadn't exactly planned for a baby right now, but they were so happy she was coming. Every night they would lie on the couch with you, one of them massaging your feet and swollen legs. The other caressing your stomach as whatever movie you chose played in the background.

When you first found out you were pregnant, you hadn't expected it at all. You had thought you had gotten the flu or food poisoning. You'd gone to the doctor after your symptoms hadn't gotten better after a week or so. Imagine your surprise when she congratulates you and tells you to schedule an appointment with your OBGYN as soon as possible.

You sit in your car for what feels like hours trying to process the news. Eventually, you make it home.

That was nearly 6 months ago. Your baby girl would be here soon. You couldn't wait. Not only at the prospect of being able to hold your beautiful baby girl, but also at the thought of being able to see your feet again. To be able to stand without assistance. To be able to go 5 minutes without peeing. To finally not have pain in your back.

"We're home!" Buck yells and you hear the door close behind them.

"Coming." You yell back waddling into the kitchen where the boys were unloading their things.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Eddie asks brushing your hair from your forehead and pressing a kiss there. You groan as your daughter roars to life at the voices of her fathers.

"Your daughter needs you." You sigh taking his hand from your head and pressing it to your stomach. Eddie smiles, caressing the skin of your swollen stomach. Buck walks behind you, gently placing his arms around your stomach. Your daughter responds by kicking him in the arm. He chuckles, but presses an identical kiss to your head.

"Yeah, it's very funny when you're not the one with feet in your ribs." You whine. Buck gently lifts your stomach relieving the pressure i=on your lower back.

"Oh, I love you." You state, closing your eyes. "I love you both so much."

[mrsbarnesxxx]

Morning Glory (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer goes into way too much detail about nocturnal penile tumescence (or morning wood or whatever colloquialism you prefer). Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Cuddling, accidental grinding (asleep), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

Ever since I was a boy, I’d been plagued by nightmares. My interest in dream analysis had been a great part of my budding interest in psychology — until I’d gone and learned that it was all mostly bunk. That, too, had been a great sense of comfort, because I realized my nightmares meant nothing about who I was (beyond my brain chemistry, which, I suppose was everything about who I was - but I digress).

But still, I wanted them to change. Each night when I laid down, I would force myself to think of anything and everything beautiful. That particular evening, it had been easier than usual.

It wasn’t the first time (y/n) and I had shared a room. The very first time we had, I think we’d both been a bit nervous to see each other in such an intimate setting. Every time after that, however, she’d made a point of picking me in the event we had to partner up. When I’d asked her why, she sort of just shrugged. She’d talked about snoring, weird habits, and schedules, but in the end she’d told me that she simply felt safe when she was with me, and I had happily accepted that answer.

However, when we walked into our room, we noticed something peculiar. Something that threatened the typical comfort we felt together. It was a product, we supposed, of having been a man and a woman in professional dress, asking to share a room in a hotel far nicer than our normal taxpayer-subsidized stay.

There was, in the center of the room, only one king-sized bed.

The woman beside me hardly seemed to notice at first. It wasn’t until I’d asked her if she wanted me to talk to someone that she realized there was a mistake. At that point, she just bit at her nails and shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to be a bother, and she saw no harm in us sharing a bed, especially one so large.

‘It’ll be like I’m not even there,’ she’d said.

She was wrong. Wrong in the best way.

We both knew it the second we fell in bed together at the end of a day that went on for far too long. She had only been right about one thing — the massive space that existed between us. But all it had taken was one look, one twitch of hands too close together in the middle of the bed before we realized that we didn’t have to leave it there.

(Y/n) and I hadn’t talked about cuddling, but we had done it, anyway. It had started with interlocked pinkies and nervous giggling that eventually shifted into her back pressed against my chest. There was still space between us, as physics demanded there always be. But it was not for a lack of trying. Each time I pressed forward, she would press back.

We would meet in the middle, but we said nothing.

I had fallen asleep just like that, with her wrapped safely in my arms. The beat of my heart pounding against her shoulder blades and the smell of her shampoo filling my lungs with each calm, rhythmic breath.

That was why it had been easy to think of something beautiful. I had thought only of her, and how no matter her size, she would always feel small when she sank further into my embrace. I imagined a reality where this was not a one-off, a favor from fate to let us both find something wonderful where we usually only saw death and pain.

My mind spun so many fantasies, all of which turned to dreams filled with her. Every dream, each thought of her became more complex as the night went on. Eventually, it felt like I’d hardly been dreaming at all.

I hadn’t wanted to let it go. Even — especially — when the mood began to shift from the innocent, naive kind of puppy love to something else. Something that made my chest ache with a desire that I’d rarely experienced before. I could still smell her perfume, the lingering hint of her true presence.

My hands gripped her hips harder, pulling her against the true source of my longing. The thought that she would allow me to do that was enough to drive me mad with lust. But she hadn’t stopped there; hellbent on turning me to nothing but a feral animal seeking warmth in the cold, she began to move against me with a similar need.

The friction and the sounds of rustling sheets and her breath became too much to bear. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see anything but visions of her riding my thigh until she begged for something more. With frustrated tears streaming down her face, she choked out a plea for me to take her until there was nothing left but one two-headed beast.

“Spencer,” she whispered apprehensively.

“(Y/n)…” I returned, dragging my nose along her neck just to feel her shiver. Which, she did. And with just a few seconds of self-reflection, I realized that the sensation of her name in my throat had felt just a little bit too real.

Because it was.

“U-Um… Spencer?”

And so was that.

“Hm?” I sleepily replied, somehow still not caught up on the fact that my dream had not, in fact, been confined to my own mind.

That poor girl seemed too petrified to speak at all, much less explain the nature of what was happening.

“Um…” was her dreadfully inarticulate reply. I didn’t blame her for not knowing what to say, though.

There were very few suitable options for when you awake in the morning with your coworkers dick pressed firmly against your ass, and his mouth buried against your neck. In fact, I think ‘Um’ was probably the least hurtful of them all.

What did hurt, however, was the sharp sound that left me immediately thereafter. That pain was shared, as was the guilt that followed. Because as soon as I’d jumped away from her, I realized how close to the edge we’d come over the course of the night. My head hit the nightstand with a terrible thud, and my body hit the floor much the same.

“Are you okay?!” she screeched, holding the blanket to her chest like she’d actually had something shameful to hide.

Meanwhile, I was sitting there with a persistent erection that apparently was impervious to pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied in the least convincing manner. All of my genuineness would be saved for the next word to leave me — which really ought to have been the first: “Sorry.”

She didn’t accept my apology. Instead, she jumped from bed and landed on two feet that quickly took her out of the room.

“Let me go get you some ice!” she yelled, as if I wouldn’t notice the way she’d left the ice bucket behind.

Unsurprisingly, she left for quite some time. I could only hope that she would return at all. Thankfully, she did. She’d even managed to snag an ice bucket from someone or somewhere else, and I prayed that it wasn’t a member of the team. I really didn’t want to think about anyone other than the two of us knowing about this just yet.

I wanted to be a bit more diplomatic about Derek Morgan finding out I had basically just assaulted a coworker because I couldn’t control my dick.

Diplomacy, however, was apparently not a skill I had perfected just yet.

“Okay, first, before you say anything,” I said much too loud and much too fast to a girl simply trying to tie off a thin bag from a cheap hotel ice bucket.

I’m not sure what I had expected her to do, but she stared at me with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and her eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. The poor thing looked petrified, or some other kind of powerful emotion that I would project everything negative onto. If I’d thought about her feelings for even one second before I started to speak, I might’ve realized that I could have asked her if she was alright, or if she needed anything from me.

But no, I just started talking. Per usual.

“I just want to assure you that nocturnal penile tumescence, or NPT, or—or morning wood, or morning glory, or whatever… colloquialism you prefer, is completely unrelated to sexual arousal or thoughts.”

Not entirely true.

“I wasn’t… like… arousing myself by touching you, I swear.”

A bald-faced lie.

“It’s actually theorized that the cause it the lack of the normal noradrenergic neurons of the locus ceruleus, which inhibit penile erection during the day to prevent… disruptions,” I continued, just barely catching myself before I said something even more regrettable. I should’ve figured, though, that there was no right answer when I was playing with the trolley problem’s tracks.

(Y/n) still said nothing.

So, like an idiot, I just kept talking.

“A-And testosterone levels are highest in the morning. Although, most men have several erections at night, they just only notice in the morning because they wake up.”

“Spencer, I—“ she actually tried, but it sounded so terrifying that I immediately cut her off again.

“Sorry, I know I’m rambling and it’s not even 9am and you really don’t want to think about your coworker’s penis but, I want you to know that I also don’t want to think about your genitals, and that I wasn’t doing that before.”

The disgust or rage or whatever it had been faded into a frightening apathy. (Y/n) looked down at my feet, still clutching a bag of frozen water that had been meant to make me feel better. If I’d let her speak, I might’ve heard the crack in her voice and realized that she hadn’t actually been apathetic at all. In fact, she almost seemed… sad.

I had been so busy being wrapped up in my own shame and self-hatred, though, I hadn’t cared to look. My concerns were entirely set on self-preservation, and even more so, repairing any damage I’d already done between us.

I just didn’t want to hurt her, and I wasn’t quite sure how to undo what I’d done. I didn’t know how to assure her that, although I found her beautiful and I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything or anyone, I would never have touched her without her blessing. That I would only ever want it if she showed a similar amount of enthusiasm.

But then again, I didn’t exactly want to explain to her that she had been displaying that desire for me in my wildest fantasies. Nor that I had wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and feel them again.

Instead, I firmly repeated, “It has… nothing to do with sexual attraction or arousal.”

That time, I did see a flash of anger in her eyes. It was a palpable pain that I very much wanted to avoid if given the chance. I figured that the best way of doing that was either humor or guilt. I tried, and failed, to do both.

“A-And, you know, women get it too, nocturnal clitoris tumescence, it’s just not visible because while most penises are visible when erect, the clitoris tends to remain hidden,” I stated with a tight-lipped smile and a sure nod.

“Right,” was all that she replied.

In the awkward silence that followed, I squeaked, “Yeah, it’s all very interesting.”

“Yes. Interesting,” she sighed. “Can I… get ready to leave now?”

It was regrettable, really, that all I could say was a pitiful beg. Just one small, “Please,” that I hadn’t meant at all.

Nonetheless, she had accepted it.

“Okay. I’ll… bye,” she muttered, dropping the dripping bag of ice back into the sad plastic bucket.

As she disappeared into the bathroom with a door that shut a little too hard for comfort, I continued to stare at the discarded trash. I thought for a second that I should use it, considering she had gone through the trouble of getting it for me. But then I figured that I deserved the dull ache as a reminder of just how fucking stupid I had been.

Relief was a luxury I didn’t deserve. The least I could do for the girl I’d practically defiled in my sleep was to suffer in honor of the death of her perceived notion of safety. Not even halfway through the day, I found myself mulling over that same feeling to the point of near-obsession.

And I came to a realization. Whoever said time heals all wounds was a goddamn liar.

As the hours stretched on, the only thing that got any easier was avoiding (y/n) at all costs. Truthfully, that also had nothing to do with time and everything to do with the fact she had also made the executive decision to avoid me at all costs.

Enough so, in fact, that it had only taken Derek approximately three hours to realize that something had happened. As I’d promised myself, I was much more diplomatic in explaining the incident that had happened that morning. I left out a lot of the… more distressing details, and left it a simple, conclusory statement: “We woke up cuddling in a slightly disturbing way.”

He hadn’t asked for any clarification, immediately understanding what had happened and instead going directly for the jugular.

“You apologized, right?”

“Yes?” I answered, “Or… possibly no? I mean, I-I explained that it wasn’t anything to do with sex. I think I said sorry.”

“You think?” he balked, only barely resisting the urge to smack me upside my already injured heard. “You have an eidetic memory, man. What do you mean you think you apologized?”

“I was panicking! I don’t remember things I say when I get flustered, you know that!”

“Give me the shortened version,” he demanded with a heavy sigh.

Condensing the conversation was hard for a number of reasons. One, because I had a massive headache and a lump on my head that I probably should have looked at. Two, because I actually did remember the conversation with a frightening amount of clarity and was horribly embarrassed by it.

And three, because about halfway through the story I noticed the way his jaw dropped, and never came back up.

The silence in the room was deafening. The normal sensory overload I struggled with had disappeared, replaced only with the suffocating lack of noise. Even as I nervously bounced my foot and tapped my fingers against the desk, I could barely hear them over the blood rushing through my ears.

“So… let me get this straight,” Derek started, and I knew I was doomed. “You rubbed your business all over a girl, and then spent the next five minutes repeating over and over that you find her repulsive?”

Slowly, I felt rusted gears in my head start to turn. I repeated what he’d just said over and over to myself, trying to formulate why he was the one who’d mistaken the meaning of a social interaction. But the longer that I tried, the more exasperated the man sitting across from me became.

“Reid. We’ve talked about this.”

“First of all, I have an eidetic memory and I can confidently say that we have never once talked about this—“ I stated sharply, pointing an accusing finger that I quickly corrected and turned to numbers, instead, before continuing, “—and second, that’s not what I said at all!”

The only answer worse than a denial was the knowing stare that I received.

“… Is it?” I squeaked.

With just one nod of his head, I felt the depths of my self-loathing rise to levels unknown. I felt myself be swallowed by the dread that I almost certainly deserved to feel, and I dropped my bruised head down onto the table with absolutely no attempts to save myself any of the pain.

“Yeah,” he agreed as he stood from his seat to leave me alone in my misery. His final parting gift was a simple, and well-deserved, “Good luck with that one, dumbass.”

To say that I’d had a bad day would be an understatement. The day wasn’t even over yet, but I’d dug myself a hole six feet deep and I was more than ready to find my way to the bottom already. However, this particular hole would prove to be more difficult to crawl into because it would already be occupied.

Spencer and I hadn’t really talked since that morning, and I knew that was what he’d wanted. But knowing that my best friend didn’t want to talk to me didn’t make the day any better at all. It made it much, much worse.

I hadn’t stopped replaying the morning in my head, but each time that it started, I found the pit in my stomach growing larger until it threatened to swallow me whole.

I knew Spencer well. Well enough to know that when he was put in an even slightly uncomfortable situation, he would panic. But when I’d been backed against a rock and a… hard place, I hadn’t really had any good options.

The options were these: wake up Spencer before either of us did anything even more regrettable, or take advantage of his sleepiness and built my repertoire of fantasies for when he awoke and inevitable hated me forever. And honestly, both of those things made my heart race in entirely different ways.

It didn’t matter anyway. It was in the past now, and all I could do was attempt damage control now that we’d be forced into a room together again.

However, seconds after the door closed behind me, I realized that it would be easier said than done.

The poor boy was like a deer caught in the headlights, but with cheeks the color of the sports car the animal was about to total. After a few seconds of tense and prolonged eye contact, he turned away from me and refused to meet my eyes again.

We said nothing, instead going about our nightly routines as if the other person weren’t there at all. I wasn’t sure which was worse; him avoiding me, or him ignoring me. Either way, I knew that the feeling wasn’t fading anytime soon.

I tried to tell myself that things would be better again soon. I just needed to get him into the bed with me again, to wrap his arms around me like he had the night before. Neither of us were exceptionally great at talking, especially about feelings. But not that many hours ago, we’d expressed more about our feelings than we ever had before.

When Spencer held me, I felt nothing else. The pain and suffering I’d witnessed faded like the later Summer sun. Fiery hues of pink and orange consumed me, and the sheet of blues calmed heated skin. Our embrace felt like safety and home and everything good.

So, when it slowly became less and less innocent, moving away from it was the furthest thing from my mind. My body was still burning from the love, and I sought only to stoke the flames higher and higher until they licked at my jaw where his breath ghost over a frantic pulse.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this, I reminded myself as the heat returned to my cheeks.

“Do you, um… do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Spencer squeaked from where he stood on his side of the bed. “B-Because I can. I don’t mind.”

“No, Spencer. Don’t be ridiculous,” I sighed, although I think we were both tempted by the thought. “I know you didn’t mean to make me uncomfortable or anything.”

“Did I?” he asked.

“What?”

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

What kind of question is that? was what I’d wanted to say.

“Um… no. It’s fine,” was what I said, instead.

Because it felt like a trap. What had I been meant to say? That yes, he had made me uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the part where he pressed his dick against me, it was the part where he extended my rejection well past the minute mark.

Talking had been bad enough already, anyway. We’d both proven time and time again that our mouths couldn’t be trusted to open without causing panic or something much worse. So, I hoped that my next instruction could be one of the latest sentences uttered to end the worst day.

“Come get in bed. I’m cold.”

To his credit, he did follow my directions. However, he also made a point of staying so close to the edge of the bed that a light breeze probably would have tipped him over the edge.

“Do you want to put a pillow between us or…”

My answer came in the form of a heavy sigh. I actually heard Spencer’s voice crack into the nothingness. Over rustling sheets, he continued to make pitiful sounds like I was honestly about to hit him for being kind.

But I wasn’t going to hurt him. I wanted to do the opposite.

My hand on his wrist was gentle, but firm. I wanted to show that I had no doubts nor reservations when I yanked him closer.

“It’s fine, Spencer. I mean it.”

Spencer did not fight my grip at all. If anything, it almost seemed like he leapt at the opportunity to hold me closer. But I knew that was probably just wishful thinking, and I was trying to keep things as relaxed as one can be when half-clothed and vulnerable with a coworker in a king-sized bed. When he was finally in his rightful place beside me, however, I realized that I wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

It was not my idea for Spencer to wrap his arm around me so that we could continue to hold hands without putting stress on my shoulder — but I did not deny the offer. Not even close.

While it was frightening and exhilarating to think that he was close enough to me that he could almost surely feel the way my heartbeat went wild and my lungs struggled to fill at the risk of losing any part of his hold, I still felt so free. So at home in his arms that my tongue became loose and threatened to spill all of my secrets.

“Your hands are so warm.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, but he said nothing. I closed my eyes and prayed that it would stay that way, because I was terrified what words might come out. I also sort of hoped that when he made a noise, they wouldn’t be words at all. At least not any shaped like my name.

I could still hear his sleepy voice calling out to me, the first word uttered that morning between soft sounds of pleasure. The feeling it elicited deep in my chest was so powerful that I had hardly noticed when my hand, still in his, began to steadily descend down my stomach.

It wasn’t until our skin touched, the gentle pads of his fingertips brushing over the exposed skin of my stomach, that I gasped. Goosebumps littered my skin, each particle of my existence reaching out in the hope of touching him.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered with broken words half-muffled against the column of my throat.

As if to prove his point, Spencer slipped his hand further underneath the hem of my shirt. Abandoning my hand as it fell between my legs, the man behind me recounted his steps now that he’d rid himself of the barrier in the way. If I’d thought my heartbeat was wild, his could hardly be counted in its frenzy. But I still tried. I paid attention to every place where his body pressed against mine, relishing in the way it felt to be desired in the way he swore to me that he wasn’t.

When the backs of his knuckles brushed across the underside of my breast, though, he paused. Whether he was catching his breath or seeking my permission, I didn’t care.

“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, don’t stop.”

Spencer’s response was immediate and powerful. Forcing his leg between my own, his other hand appeared out of seemingly nowhere to ensure that I was exactly where he’d wanted me. With a ruthless hold and hands that shook under the pressure, he began to lead my hips to move against his leg. His other hand continued its previous path, tenderly kneading my breast just enough to make me want more.

I’d always want more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised just before laying a sloppy kiss against my throat. That kiss, too, was followed by another, and together the sensation robbed me of my breath and any remaining sense.

I became nothing but what I’d always wanted to be — His.

“Spencer…” I called, allowing his name to slip between parted lips.

His leg wasn’t going to be enough. I wanted more, craved that sunset feeling of him enveloping me and burning through each and every defense. I wanted to be nothing but ash and dust in his wake, still dancing along the rays.

After a few more moments of passionate, breathtaking adoration, Spencer had also decided that our current situation was both too much and not enough. Pressing a now familiar hardness against my ass, he finally rewarded me with a long, drawn out sound of pleasure.

“I want you,” he groaned, “Please, I want to have you so bad.”

There were many ways I’d envisioned this happening. Fantasies about sleeping with the ever elusive, always awkward Dr. Reid were plentiful and pervasive. I’d always envisioned something remarkably special; a romantic outing or a deep, emotional conversation following something terrible.

But when he offered himself to me in the heat of the moment in a beautiful hotel and a king-sized bed, romantic gestures seemed simpler. It didn’t have to be rose petals and wine. I didn’t want anything to distract us from each other.

I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me, and I wasted no time in demonstrating that to him. I tugged down my shorts, trying my hardest not to kick him while also removing my clothing as quickly as fucking possible. His job was easier. He didn’t even need to pull his pants all the way down — and he didn’t. In the moment, that testament to just how eager the two of us were felt a lot like romance to me.

As did his hand on my cheek, pulling my face back so that he could kiss me for the first time. It felt less like a checklist of things we were meant to do, and more like a bucket list of dreams that suddenly seemed accessible. That would explain why we hadn’t stopped with just the one. We kept going, a flurry of kisses that broke into lighthearted laughter.

It felt exactly how it always did with him. Safe. Comfortable. And when the feelings became less and less innocent, with his legs intertwining with mine and his cock slipping between my thighs, it still felt like home.

Again, Spencer paused. His body stalled there, no matter how much he struggled not to continue. He waited with heaving breath and tiny, desperate whimpers until I gave him my permission to cross that last line.

“Fuck me, Spencer,” I whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said with a dreamy chuckle, “More than you could ever know.”

There was no more hesitation. With utmost care, he answered my call. He pressed into me slowly, with both of his hands holding me tightly and his mouth buried against my neck. I felt each moan and every gasp shaking my throat, and I tried my hardest to offer him my own in return.

But we both knew we weren’t the best at talking, and (for the most part) let our bodies speak for us. Still, it was sweet to hear just how much I was affecting him with each inch deeper he went.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he practically sobbed. I’d never heard him so exasperated, so raw and vulnerable and rendered speechless. “And so… fuck…” he mumbled, “God, you feel amazing.”

“So do you,” I offered in exchange, unable to predict the visceral reaction he would have.

His hips thrust forward, filling me completely with little warning. The sudden stretch of the sensitive muscles caused a chain reaction, and before I knew it I was clinging to any part of him I could reach. The shoulder he’d been kind enough to think about earlier was now craned back, leading my hand to grab fistfuls of his hair to keep his lips against my neck.

“Harder,” I demanded.

And harder, he provided. Everything about him became harder. Our hips met with a brutality that seemed too crude for him. His breath came with more force, too, causing his lips to slip on the dew of my neck. That didn’t stop him, though. The same way that I had been dedicated to finding new ways to hold him, he used every bit of his 187 IQ points to ensure that our bodies were never farther apart than they needed to be.

But while his moans were drowned out by the debaucherous sounds of skin slapping together, mine were freely flowing through the room. That was, until those same, soft fingertips clamped over my lips.

“Shhh,” he said, not as a command, but a humble request. “It’s okay. Be quiet, sweetheart.”

As if that hadn’t made me want to sing his praises more. When my jaw dropped open, his fingers toyed with my lips that begged to be kissed. But he couldn’t, because we were both too caught up to let each other go long enough to turn around.

I didn’t need to face him, though. I just needed to feel him. Always more of him. My lips closed around his fingers, sucking them in until the sounds coming from my lips were just as lewd as the ones between my legs.

“Oh, good girl,” he choked, “My sweet girl. I can’t wait to taste you.”

My heart skipped a beat, or several, on his command. If it weren’t for the revitalizing sensations he was providing, I very well might have dropped dead right then and there. But death wasn’t strong enough to separate the two of us now that we’d finally gotten our hands on one another.

Things continued to devolve, with Spencer’s pace fluctuating based on the rate with which I lavished his fingers. I could only imagine the things he was thinking, the images a mind like his could conjure now that I’d given him the tools necessarily for all his little hypotheses.

I, however, remained firmly in the present. Because I knew that it was almost the end, and I wanted to enjoy the finale to the fullest.

Which was why when he asked, “Tell me where you want it.”

I already knew my answer.

“Inside.”

“What?” he balked, but not in the way that sounded surprised. It was more like he was… excited.

“Come inside of me,” I repeated without hesitation.

Spencer, ever the gentleman, remained unconvinced. Despite having intimate knowledge of my medical history and my nightly routine, he still wanted to ensure that nothing about this night would be regretted in the morning.

“Are you sure?” he urged.

To which I cried against his fingers wet with my spit, “I need it, please!”

No more words were needed. Whether he’d been convinced or caught off guard, it didn’t really seem to matter. Because when the fireworks began, we were both lost to the beauty of the lightshow. Stars burst behind my eyes, my hands gripping tightly to his on my hips as he gave a few more powerful pumps of his hips.

He didn’t stop, even after it was over. He continued to rock against me exactly like he had that morning; a comparatively innocent demonstration of his insatiable desire. The way he still wanted me, the same way I would always want more of him than I could have.

As if on cue, Spencer’s voice was quiet when he called, “Come here, sweetheart.”

The instruction seemed superfluous, considering he immediately used his existing handle on my hips to turn our bodies. He hoisted me onto his lap until I sat on his lap, facing away from him in a way that made me suddenly feel bashful.

… and that feeling got much, much worse when he slowly lifted me from his softening dick, and I felt the aftermath of our actions drip out of me and over his stomach. The feeling sent a shiver down my spine, which again was worsened by the sound of a deep, rolling moan from the man underneath me.

Because we would both always want more than we could have. Not in the sense that we couldn’t be together, but because the laws of the universe dictated that no matter how close we became, there would always be a layer of particles separating us.

But as I started to stand on shaky legs, laughing and watching him struggle not to spill all over our only bed, I thought that Spencer and I… might find a way to truly touch one another. If any two things in the universe stood a chance, I believed that it was us.

“How considerate of you,” I sighed, motioning to the mess he’d made on himself so I would have less of it between my own legs.

Unable to spout his usual facts, on account of being out of breath, he merely muttered, “Physics.”

“It’s all very interesting,” I teased to a man whose pink cheeks suddenly had a very different meaning. “You should tell me more about it sometime.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he chuckled like he’d been in on the joke.

“I hope you do,” I said, “I hope you never let it go.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[mrsbarnesxxx]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair. 

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please. 

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type. 

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?” 

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers. 

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?” 

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Mm-hm.” 

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?” 

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.” 

“So you’re in need of company?” 

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?” 

“What are you drinking?” 

“Cherry spritzer.” 

“Can I buy you another one?” 

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.” 

“What’s that?” he asks. 

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much. 

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.” 

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference. 

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started. 

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast. 

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek. 

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest. 

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold. 

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side. 

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely. 

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over. 

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. 

“Just this.” 

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.” 

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything. 

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows. 

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear. 

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone. 

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back. 

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee. 

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are. 

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?” 

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?” 

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.” 

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.” 

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder. 

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone. 

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can. 

“Nowhere.” 

“So where have you been?” 

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose. 

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek. 

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs. 

“You okay?” a voice asks. 

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face. 

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.” 

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.” 

“I know, I’m  sorry.” 

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes. 

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently. 

“I’ll leave soon.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.” 

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving. 

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?” 

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?” 

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?” 

“Just while I was waiting for you.” 

“What do you do?” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror. 

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Like, statistics?” 

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly. 

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.” 

“And you’re good at it.” 

“I’m good at math, yeah.” 

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?” 

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss. 

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away. 

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.” 

“Me too.” 

“And you’re okay?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing hurts?” he asks. 

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.” 

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb. 

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day. 

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.” 

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes. 

For a pause, you just sit. 

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good. 

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask. 

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.” 

”Really?” 

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.” 

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again. 

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?” 

“We might have to stand very close.” 

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to. 

— 

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride. 

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked. 

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other. 

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way. 

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details. 

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles. 

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him. 

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?” 

“You wanna share?” 

“Yes!” 

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly. 

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.” 

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand. 

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face. 

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?” 

��No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.” 

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.  

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling. 

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says. 

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?” 

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.” 

“You know what shampoo I use?” 

“I deduced it.” 

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?” 

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.” 

“You distract me, too.” 

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.” 

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.” 

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend. 

“I like you too,” he laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course I do.” 

“Not just…” 

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing. 

“Should we go out, then?” 

“We do.” 

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.” 

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight. 

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.” 

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.” 

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.” 

“And if I don’t?” he asks. 

“Then we get married in Vegas.” 

“You could meet my mom.” 

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks. 

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.” 

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin. 

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough. 

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile. 

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks. 

“I can’t remember.” 

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.” 

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted. 

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.” 

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all. 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3 

[mrsbarnesxxx]

or smut if it's literally only fluff...

Can you guys PLEASE stop tagging (character) X reader IF ITS NOT THAT CHARACTER 😭 I'm sick and tired of searching (character) X reader and it's every different character possible X reader like😭😭

[mrsbarnesxxx]

ahhh!!! This! Everyone needs to read this! It's the perfect like subby James (without a mommy kink thankfully!!!) please please write more!!!

don't want you like a best friend

Description: James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help. (based on an idea formed in part by @amiableness. check out the post)

Pairing: bsf!james potter x f!reader

Warnings: DESPERATE!james, inexperienced!james, blowjob (m receiving), porn with barely any plot

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: kind of muggle!au? doesn't really matter in the context of this though lmao

You walked into James's flat, quite pleased he'd given you a key. It was much easier to bother him whenever you pleased when you could just waltz in any time.

"James!" you called out, toeing off your shoes.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You followed his voice to his room, seeing him laying on his tummy watching tv. You ran up to his bed and flopping down on it next to him. He laughed in that squeaky, joyful way he only ever seemed to do around you.

"Hi," he greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Hi," you replied with an equal grin, then glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nature documentary about penguins," he responded simply.

You glanced up at him with a quirked brow. "Why?"

"Cause I like penguins," he shrugged.

"...we need to get you a girlfriend."

He went a little quiet, prompting you to look at him again. You tilted your head.

"James?"

He chewed his lip. "I– I do kind of have a date. Tomorrow."

"What?" you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight. "Who? Since when?"

His cheeks went a little pink. "Sirius set it up for me."

"Oh my god! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm nervous!"

You chuckled softly, still in a bit of disbelief. The boy had been single for far too long in your opinion, especially considering how much girls threw themselves at him in school. He always said that it was just because he had high standards, but part of you was half-convinced he must be terrified of girls. Or commitment. Maybe both.

"I just... I can't believe it. Is she cute?"

He almost grimaced. Not a great sign.

"Uh oh," you snorted a laugh.

"It's not that she's ugly! She's... she is pretty, its just," he sighed, shrugging a little, "she's not really my type, I guess."

"At this point, I'm beginning to believe you don't have a type."

He frowned. "Hey."

"Just saying, James. You never date, and it's not for lack of girls who like you."

"I kind of have to like them back for that to work."

"You sure you're not scared of girls?" you asked with a laugh.

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "No."

"Commitment?"

"No."

"...Sex?"

"Ugh, don't say that," he groaned, dropping his face against the mattress.

You laughed again. "Sounds like a yes. It's really not that scary."

"It's kinda scary," he mumbled against his comforter.

"James," you called quietly, resting your cheek on the mattress to look at him.

He turned his face towards you, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. His lips were slightly pouty. Frankly, it was absolutely adorable.

"Everyone but me has done it at this point. The furthest I ever got was touching a boob over clothes in fifth year."

You couldn't help but to laugh at that, causing him to whine your name in protest.

"Sorry..." you said, not all that apologetic. "It's just... cute. You get so flustered. It's really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal to me."

"Aw. I'm sorry, Jamie. I just mean that nobody's going to fault you for being inexperienced."

"They might!"

"No they won't."

"You don't know that."

"At any rate, I think it's sweet."

"But I'm not having sex with you," he argued, then snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks going even darker. "That sounds... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "I just mean to say that I'm sure if I think it's sweet, other girls would also probably think it's cute."

"I'm a man. I shouldn't be cute, I should be... strong and masculine. Hot."

"You're very hot, James."

He sighed, still pouting a little.

"Put that lip away," you muttered, tapping his bottom lip.

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm not."

"You're teasing me," he pouted again.

"What? How?"

"You're very hot, James," he mocked in an overly-high-pitched voice.

You snorted a laugh. "Heaven forbid I tell my hot best friend that he is, in fact, hot."

He fell quiet for a moment. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do."

"Mm," he hummed softly, then sighed. "Why can't there be more girls like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, smiling curiously.

"You're always so sweet to me. I just wish there were more girls who act like you, cause then I could just... do it with them and not be so worried about it."

You raised your brows, trying to hold back another laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Just, why don't–" you stopped abruptly.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"If you're so worried about getting your first time over with, then why don't you just do it with me?"

He looked like he got the wind knocked out of him in that moment, blinking a few times as if he was trying to wake up from a dream. He opened his mouth a few times, though no sound came out.

"I just mean that... you said you'd do it with a girl like me, so why not me? You trust me, I know what I'm doing, you know I won't judge," you listed off some reasons. "It could work, you know?"

"Cause you're... you're my best friend."

"And?"

"And friends don't do that."

"Friends do that all the time," you replied with a shrug.

"What?" he asked, looking totally mortified.

"Friends have sex all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," you chuckled a little. "I'm not saying we have to. Just putting it out there, since you're so nervous about it and all."

"I–I don't..."

"You don't have to say yes."

"I know," he nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's just... I don't think I'm ready to do all of that right now."

You smile a little. "I'm not saying I'd take you to pound town right now..."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Sorry. I just mean to say that, if you wanted to, we could start slow. Work you up to the main event."

He chewed his lip, looking away from you. You sighed softly, then stood from the bed.

"Alright. Let's go and grab a snack or something and take your mind off all this. Stop stressing so much," you said, trying to grab his arm to pull him up.

He shook his head. "Can't."

"What? Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," he emphasized, his cheeks still dark.

"Why not."

He stared at you for a moment, then whined, dropping his head into the comforter again. He mumbled something into the fabric, causing you to groan in annoyance.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you when you mumble."

"You don't understand," he said, looking at you again with a pouty face. "You're not a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to... Oh," your eyes widened. You let out a disbelieving, delighted little giggle. "Are you–"

"Please don't talk about it. It'll make it worse," he said quickly in his whiny little voice.

"Aww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

"Let me see."

His eyes widened comically. "What?"

"Let me see. Come on, turn over," you giggle, trying to turn him.

"Lovie, no, I..."

"Please?" you pouted, knowing he could never resist it.

He whined. "Please don't. It's embarrassing."

"It's hot."

He gulped. "...It is?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of flattering, too. The fact that I barely suggested it and you got all excited."

"It's not my fault. I just... my brain started thinking..."

"Yeah, brains tend to do that," you joked, relishing in him being all flustered. It was so unlike his usual demeanor. "Come on, Jamie. I just want to see."

He swallowed, nodding a little awkwardly before he turned onto his back. You smirked a little to yourself at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You sat back on the bed right next to him, glancing back at his nervous face.

"Can I touch?"

"I... I don't know."

"Just over the pants right now."

He considered it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay," he said quietly, his hands balling into fists.

You smiled. "Relax."

You let your hand rest on his thigh first, watching him as his eyes trailed your every move. You slowly slid up his leg, teasingly, just so you could see him sweat a little at the thought of being touched for the first time. He was generally quite confident, but somehow missed out on anything and everything intimate outside of kissing.

He sucked in a breath as you reached his hip, looking as if he could pass out.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to catch his eye. "Take a deep breath. Relax. It's supposed to feel good."

He sniffed, nodding shakily. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jamie. Just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay."

You let your hand move again, barely ghosting over his bulge, the tips of your fingers touching the fabric of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and almost glossy. His pretty, pouty lips were just barely parted as he waited in anticipation for your next move.

You lowered your hand, gripping him gently through his pants, forcing a shaky gasp through his lips. You smirked to yourself a little, stroking him through his pants.

"Feels good, huh?" you asked in a quiet voice.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little moan. You chuckled at the sound, stroking him again. He was bigger than you expected him to be, but not terribly massive. His hips bucked into your hand, another soft whine coming from him.

"Aww. You like it, huh?"

He nodded, breath coming in short.

"Can I do a little more?"

"Uh..."

"I think you'll like it."

"M-maybe," he gasped out, looking utterly wrecked already.

"Can I take off your pants?"

He looked at your face again. "Huh?"

"Can I take them off? I wanna touch you," you stated simply.

He whimpered. "Um... For... for what?"

You furrowed your brow. "So I can feel you. I just want to touch your skin. It'll feel better for you, too. You touch yourself, right?"

"I... Y-yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

"And I assume you don't do it through your pants, right?" you laugh a little.

He merely swallows, nodding dumbly. "Right."

"So... Can I touch you like that? I won't do it unless you say yes."

"Oh..." he sucked in a shaky breath. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

You smiled, hooking your fingers in his sweatpants and underwear. "Hips up, please."

He followed your instructions easily, lifting his hips for you. You tugged everything down in one go, leaving it all pooled at his ankles on the bed. You nearly moaned yourself when you saw him, hard and leaky and ready. You traced his dick softly with your fingertips, impressed with him, and drawing another moan from his lips.

"So pretty, Jamie. Look at you."

"Don't... fuck," he gasped. "Don't say that."

"I mean it. Your cock is perfect."

He whimpered again, sounding like he could cry. You wrapped a hand around him, stroking him softly as hips bucked into your hand, soft moans and squeaks leaving him in utter desperation.

"P-please," he begged, staring at you as if you hung the stars.

"Please?"

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, his lip quivering.

"You need more?"

He sniffled, nodding quickly. "So bad. Please."

"Can I suck your cock, love?"

The sound that left his lips was utterly pornographic, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon.

"God..."

"That's not my name, baby," you stroke him again. "I need you to say yes if this is what you want."

"Y-yes. Fuck yes," he said, his hips still shifting under you, trying to get more friction from your hand.

"So needy," you chide jokingly, moving to settle between his legs.

He whined watching you climb between his legs, nearly hyperventilating at the sight and feeling of you kissing along his stomach with your hand pushing his shirt up.

"So pretty," he groaned, stroking your hair.

You smiled against his stomach, licking nearly up to his chest just to hear him make that sound again. You kissed back down his stomach, barely ghosting over the tip of his cock at you looked back up at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded, in a trance as he watched you. You kept his eye contact as you darted your tongue out, tasting him for the first time. He practically sobbed in pleasure, pulling on your hair slightly.

"Told you it would feel good, baby," you mutter, licking from base to tip as he squirmed under your touch. "Isn't this nice?"

"Mmmm..." he nodded, chest heaving.

"Good boy," you kissed his tip.

You stared up at him, smiling to yourself at his sweet little reactions as you started stroking him. He looked so adorable totally wrecked. Like he could pass out at any moment. You couldn't help but to want more.

You wet your lips, figuring you could probably fit most of him into your mouth in one go: so you decided to give it a go. You licked him once more, then shoved his cock down your throat, letting it hit far enough to make you gag.

He shouted, gasping for air before he fell into a puddle of moans and desperate praises of your name. You pulled off of him, but only for a second before you went back down, sucking on him as if your life depended on it. It felt like it did.

He gripped the fabric of his comforter, sobbing in pleasure as his hips jutted up into your mouth. You were about to pull off to make some sly remark, when he whimpered loudly, shooting his cum down your throat. You hummed around him, swallowing everything you could despite your utter surprise that he had finished so quickly. He whined and kept his grip tight in your hair until he was done, his seed dribbling past your lips as you couldn't quite swallow everything. You weren't sure if you'd ever witnessed someone cumming so much before.

You did your best to clean him off without making him overly-sensitive, and finally pulled off.

"Mm... Holy fuck, Jamie. You cum that much every time?” You ask, chuckling a little despite being wildly aroused.

He shook his head, sweaty and still whimpering.

"Awww," you cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"

"That... that felt..."

"What?"

"Best thing ever," he managed breathily.

You laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he uttered, a small smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "I... you're really good at that."

"Apparently too good," you snorted.

"Maybe," he nodded, then hummed softly in pleasure. "Sorry for cumming so fast."

"It was sweet."

"It's not sweet," he shook his head.

"I think so. You're so sensitive," you kissed his cheek.

He hummed again, then sighed softly. You watched him as he took a few steadying breaths before he moved his eyes back to you. He let his eyes linger on your form for several moments, then chewed his lip. He looked up at you, clearly debating something in his mind.

Then he smiled a little.

"Can I return the favor next time?"

[mrsbarnesxxx]

here we go?

[mrsbarnesxxx]

Just amusing myself tonight. I thought about the song "thanK you aIMee" and how I could relate it to the marauders and then I was like...Lily and Snape after he calls her a mudblood and she's reflecting on it, but then I was like but the original is supposed to spell out the (alleged) person's name. "thankS for EVERything bUt uS"....this is what I came up with...probably time to go to bed

[mrsbarnesxxx]

thank you, McLaggen

inspired by the TikTok audio of Phil Dunphy saying "if you ever say anything disrespectful about my wife again, I'll kill you. Sorry, I don't know why that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

James Potter x fem!reader who was apparently 'too much' for McLaggen

CW: they're at a party, readers last relationship left her feeling small, but she loves James and is all good now

It took a bit of unlearning when you found yourself in a relationship with James Potter. 

He sensed your hangups immediately; as if you were a duffle bag containing paraphernalia and he was a well-trained drug dog.

He noticed the way you seemed to fold in on yourself when you were excited, the way you cut yourself off when you began rambling, and the way you seemed to make yourself smaller as if that was what was required for the people around you to feel comfortable.

“Why do you keep snuffing out your own light, lovie? I miss your spark.” He’d said to you one night.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been aware you were even doing such a thing.

But you certainly knew why. 

Though your mother always told you to never look back on life with regrets, you’d spent about a year in what you now consider to be a rather unfortunate relationship with Tiberius McLaggen. 

And though you hadn’t noticed he’d been doing it; by the time your relationship ended, you realised you were perhaps a mere shadow of the person you used to be.

He’d ended the relationship after suggesting you were ‘too much’.

The irony of it was you were the smallest you’d ever been at that point; the ‘least’ you that you could possibly be. How could you be ‘too much’ and diminished at the same time?

You spent a lot of time reflecting after that, but it seemed that when you and James started your relationship, those old habits and qualities made their way back into your subconscious and it took James pointing it out for you to even notice.

You were glad he had, though. He was lovely, and he was caring, and he loved you. He loved your energy, he loved your passion, he loved your excitement, and better yet, he loved sharing those qualities with you.

All of the traits that your ex had deemed unseemly or unflattering were the traits you loved most about James, and in turn what he most loved about you.

And why would you deny such a lovely person of anything they wanted?

You just couldn’t.

So the two of you had been dating for nearly five months already, and you felt more comfortable in yourself than you ever had before.

You thought perhaps that this was just the effect James had on people; you found it almost impossible for any of his friends to be anything but their best selves when they were in his presence. 

You loved him immensely for it. 

You were getting a first hand look at exactly that from your spot on the arm of the sofa as you watched Peter throw his head back in boisterous laughter not usually seen from the typically soft spoken marauder. James didn’t even spend any time being smug about eliciting such a laugh from the cushion below you before he was complimenting Remus on his jumper, knowing very well that Sirius was the who picked it out for him - and also knowing Sirius would absolutely take full responsibility for the compliment - only to coo about how sweet they were together and leaving both boys blushing messes. 

You had almost forgotten you were sitting in the middle of a Gryffindor party when someone sidled up beside you.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N.” McLaggen commented as he looked you up and down.

You fought the urge to grimace as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Tiberius.” 

“Didn’t think I’d see you here; not really your scene, is it?” He commented with an air of casualty you knew was entirely for show. “I’m here with my new bird; she’s in Gryffindor.” He carried on without waiting for you to respond.

You hummed in acknowledgement as you looked around the room. “It doesn’t look like you’re here with anyone, McLaggen, seeing as you’re standing here talking to me.” 

“Come now, can’t old friends catch up?” He said salaciously. 

“We’re not friends, Tiberius.” You retorted forcefully.

He held his hands up in mock surrender as he chuckled at you. “Down girl, no need to get all jumpy now. You always were a bit of a handful, weren’t you?” 

You didn’t even have a chance to tell McLaggen where to shove it before James was standing up from his place hidden behind you as McLaggen’s face fell. 

“Ah, if it isn’t Tiberius McLaggen; kicked off the Ravenclaw quidditch team, failing Astronomy, received a mere acceptable in Herbology last term, and totally shit the bed with the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts. I’ve heard so much about you!” James recounted with faux cheer as he stuck his hand out to McLaggen, forcing the bloke to give him an awkward handshake as James stared at him hard.

James Potter was still flashing his (what should be award winning) smile, but it never met his eyes which were no longer their warm hazel. 

“Sounds like you’re the one I have to thank.” James carried on as he dropped McLaggen’s hand, wiped his own hand off on his trousers and threw his other arm protectively, possessively, affectionately over your shoulder. “Turns out if you hadn’t been such an absolute fucking tosser and fumbled the best thing to have ever happened to you, I wouldn’t have my sweet, gorgeous girl here. Congrats on losing the most lovely little thing to have ever looked your way; now sod off before I decide to do something that might just be worth making her frown over.”

You were unsuccessful in hiding your snort of amusement as you hid your face in James’ shoulder and listened to McLaggen scoff and stalk away. 

“Merlin’s tits, Prongsie! Did anyone else know James could be mean!?” Sirius cackled as the two of you turned back towards the group. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen James end a conversation without at least wishing someone a good day.” Peter carried on.

“Did you actually threaten the sod?” Marlene continued.

“No, I didn’t threaten him.” James muttered somewhat petulantly. “I promised him pain if he ever spoke to my girl like that again.”

The group cheered as you felt a shy yet pleased heat spread across your face and you shoved your face back into James’ shoulder.

James, for his part, accepted you eagerly and rubbed his hand up and down your arm as he pressed a kiss into your hair. 

“I’ll never let anyone make you feel small ever again.” He promised quietly; whether he was promising himself, or you, or McLaggen, you weren’t entirely sure.

What you were entirely sure of was that it was a promise he intended to keep.

[mrsbarnesxxx]

warm

pairing: james potter x reader

summary: james deems you marriage worthy because you play with his hair (and he likes you)

james loves having his hair messed with, especially if it’s by you. he swears it’s the most relaxing thing ever just simply being in your presence with your hands raking gently through his curls. “i would marry you just for you to play with my hair.”

you hummed, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers. “i’d be offended if you married me just for me to play with your hair.”

“nah.” he snickered opening his eyes to look up at you. “just an added bonus really. that wouldn’t be the only reason.”

“what’s the other reasons then?” you questioned, using your nails to lightly scratch his scalp and loving the way he melts into you even more.

his eye close again and he looks so peaceful and comfy with his head resting on your lap. “you ground me- you’re like.. i don’t know you’re just you.”

“i’m just me?”

“yeah.” he paused. “you’re always so patient with me whenever i’m acting like a divvy and you’re just really nice to me. i also just love being around you, i swear i could be with you 24/7 and i’ll never ever get sick of you” his hands came up to cover his face like he was embarrassed. “you make me feel warm.”

you couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of you. “i make you feel warm?”

“yeah.” he groaned. “stop laughing at me! i’m pouring my heart out here.”

he was laughing himself, so carefree. so beautiful. “m’not laughing at you. i think it’s really sweet.” you defended yourself. “why’re you covering your face?”

“i’m ashamed.” he cried out. “i’m mortified i just said all that..it’s all true and i meant every word but merlin!”

you pried his hands away from his face until he eventually opened his eyes to look at you. “i guess we could get married then.” you joked. “since i know you wouldn’t be using me for my head massage skills.”

“tomorrow?”

“what?”

“let’s get married tomorrow.”

“bit too soon james.”

“boyfriend.”

“what?”

james cleared his throat before talking, now sat up with you face to face. “boyfriend. me. sound good?” he blurted out bashfully. “i mean i can be your boyfriend first…if you want.”

“take me on a date and i’ll consider it.”

“right now! off we go!”

“james!”

[mrsbarnesxxx]

James: Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? Imagine the toll.

Regulus: I beg you, be quiet before I suffocate you.

[mrsbarnesxxx]

A/N: Literally no idea what to do with this, but here it is because I've given up on it.

Warnings: Implied smut

It was late when James and I made our way up to the dorms. His roommates had been in bed for well over an hour when we stumbled up the stairs, bumping into various things once we entered the dorm, loudly shushing each other and trying to keep our giggling down. It's a wonder we didn't wake anyone. After another hour of James slotted between my legs, we finally went to sleep. I awoke with James' bare chest pressed to my back, his arm draped protectively over my waist, holding me like a teddy bear, afraid I'd slip away. It was early when we woke, too early. James had a midafternoon quidditch match, so it was only a matter of hours before he would be leaving me for pregame practice.

"Morning." He rasps into my ear. I smile turning around in his hold to face him. I admire the hues of red along his neck for a moment before whispering back, "Morning".

His hand is running gently up and down my back. That's the thing about James Potter. He's a Sunday morning kind of lover. He'll always take care of you in whatever way you ask, or don't ask. Because that too is the type of lover James Potter is. The type to steal you breakfast because he knew you were up late and didn't think you'd make it to breakfast before classes.

"We should get up...get ready. Have a big day today, Captain." I smile pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Our lips separate, but James pulls me closer by my waist, burying his face in my crimson-dotted neck.

"Guess we should." He murmurs into the skin of my neck. After a few more minutes, he finally releases me. I climb out of one side of his bed while he climbs out of the other.

"Well, well, well...what do we have here?" Sirius teases upon seeing me. I'm sure I'm a sight for sore eyes. Hair a mess from sleep, neck covered in bites and various shades of crimson and violet, bare except for James' shirt that hits at mid-thigh.

"Morning Sirius," I say ignoring his teasing as I make my way to the bathroom with a yawn. I brush my teeth while James hops into the shower.

"Care to join me, love?" He offers with a cheeky smile peeking out from behind the shower curtain. I offer him a toothpaste-y smile before slipping in beside him. I giggle as he wraps his arms around my waist, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

"Good morning, love." He mumbles against my lips

[mrsbarnesxxx]

hiiii! can i request a cedric x fem reader fluff?!

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! I honestly had no idea what to do with it.

Warnings: Poor writing, curse words?

When you'd heard that there was going to be a ball at Hogwarts you'd initially panicked. All of your friends had adored the idea. There were all of these Durmstrang boys here for them to go out with. Two of them had already been asked to the dance, you however, had rejected two guys who had asked you. It was pathetic. Waiting around for your best friend to ask you to the dance. You shouldn't have said no to the other boys who'd asked you. You were entirely obnoxious.

"I mean, I shouldn't wait around for him to ask me, right?" You ask your friends as you try on your third dress of the day. Angelina had already decided on a dark purple dress and Hannah on a navy blue dress.

"He'll ask you. Don't worry about it. Now let's see the dress." Angelina exclaims.

I step out in an ice-blue dress and their jaws drop.

"Yes. That one!" Hannah says.

"Okay. Okay." I laugh stepping back to get changed so we can pay for our dresses.

We pay for our dresses and decide to hit Hogsmeade while we're here. We step out of the shop and head towards the three broomsticks. I spot Cedric and his friends heading out from there. They're all laughing at some joke one of them just said. Cedric's cheeks flush when he spots me. He mumbles something to his friends before heading towards us.

"Hey, uh can I talk to you for a second?" He asks.

"Sure." I smile ignoring the look the two girls give me. "Why don't you two head inside and I'll meet you in there."

When it was just the two of you, you noticed just how nervous Cedric looked. He was fidgeting with his hands, looking at them, and then he gave you a sheepish smile once he finally met your eyes.

"So, I know I might be a bit late to ask you this, but I was wondering if you'd like to go to the ball with me?" He asks offering a soft grin.

A smile makes its way onto my face, "I'd love to."

His grin grows at my answer, "Wonderful! Uh...well, I'll let you get back to your friends." He says ducking his head.

"Alright." I smile offering a quick nod before heading inside the snow-covered tavern.

There were crowds of students already lining the halls. Bloody hell, and I thought the halls were a mess before two other schools joined us.

"Bloody hell," I comment aloud taking in everyone.

"Oh look, here comes your man." Hannah teases nudging me. I follow her gaze and find Cedric, sure enough, heading towards me.

"Hello, you look lovely." He smiles taking my hand and offering it a kiss. "I'm afraid I have to pull you away. Apparently, it's tradition for the champions to dance first. McGonagall is insisting that I come find you."

"Oh, sure." I say lamely.

"If you would excuse us." He says to my friends as we walk away.

Sure enough, McGonagall is having us line up at the entrance of the Great Hall. Cedric offers me his arm as we do so. I smile, taking it.

The doors open to reveal an intricately decorated hall and a large crowd of people parted down the middle, apparently for us to walk through whilst they clap.

As we begin to walk, Cedric leans down to whisper to me, "I'm sorry about this. I had no idea."

"It's alright." I smile.

"You know, if you wanted to get me away from my friends you could have just asked. You didn't have to plan this whole elaborate entrance and such." I tease as we dance.

"Is that so?" He smiles as we twirl around. The music dies down and after a few dances we break apart from each other.

"I need a break." I giggle pulling him with me. We stop for a drink before finding our friends. We chat with them for a few more moments before a slow song comes on.

"Come dance with me, Diggory!" I exclaim excitedly tugging him with me.

"And what if I wanted to kiss you? How would I go about that?" He asks teasingly as I pull him back to the dance floor.

"You just have to ask, Diggory." I smile as we reach the dance floor and turn to face each other. His gaze goes to my painted lips before they flick back to my eyes.

"Can I kiss you, darling?" He asks caressing my cheek. I nod, leaning into his touch. He tips my head back slightly and our lips meet. It's entirely tame, but fireworks still erupt inside of me.

[mrsbarnesxxx]

Either poly!marauders x fem!reader or remus lupin for characters!<3

Reader talks back in public to them/him and gets told off or yelled at or punished(😏😏😏)

Hope your day goes swell love!

A/N: I absolutely loved this request! I'm always a bit lost on how to write actual smut, so I'm sorry!

Warnings: Suggestive content, hints at poly! relationship, cursing?

His brow quirked at your words, "You wanna say that again love?"

"I said I don't have to listen to you." You repeat. You don't know why you were acting this way. It's not like the request he made was unreasonable. It wasn't like he asked you to stand on your head and juggle.

He nods, jaw clenching and unclenching. "Love, I'm only going to ask you one more time."

"I already told you, I don't need a jacket." You say crossing your arms. You hadn't chosen the best place to have this argument either. The two of you were currently standing in the middle of the common room, his friends standing behind him. It wasn't like you were being quiet either. For some reason his request infuriated you, it was like he thought if he said jump you were supposed to jump right then.

"Love, it's 30 degrees outside. You need a jacket or else you'll get sick." You ignored him. You wouldn't even look at him. His jaw tightened once again before he turned around smiling at his friends. "Why don't you guys go along without us. We'll meet you there." He said through tight lips and even his friends knew not to ignore him.

That got your attention. You were in trouble now, you felt the blood rush from your face, you got dizzy at what those implications could be.

They nodded and headed through the portrait hole, muttering quietly to themselves.

"Let's go find you a jumper, love." He says grabbing your wrist and guiding you upstairs. His grip wasn't tight, he didn't want to hurt you.

"Which one do you want love?" He asks holding up two jumpers. You point to a tan and brown patterned one. He helps you slip it over your head before pressing a kiss to your head and pulling you back downstairs. The two of you walk to Hogsmeade in silence. You're honestly shocked you're still going. Usually by now, he'd have you bent over his lap, ass covered in handprints, but instead, he guides you gently into the three broomsticks and over to a table with his friends.

He stays like this for the afternoon. It's almost like he's forgotten about your attitude...almost. You know he'd never let it slide, but for now, you soak in his attention and kind touches.

By the time you make it back to the common room, you've forgotten about your argument with Remus this morning. That is until you bid them goodnight, kissing Remus on the cheek and heading for the stairs. Remus's hand encircles your wrist as you walk away.

He tuts softly, hand combing through your hair gently, "Didn't think I'd forgot, did you poppet?" He whispers into your ear causing goosebumps to arise across your body. "Can't let you get away that easily. Come on."

He pulls you up to the dorms, the others had already headed up there. You couldn't even imagine what he had planned. You guys reach the dorm and he pulls you into a passionate kiss. You melt into him, shocked at how soft he's being with you. It only causes your anxiety to build at what he has planned.

He drags you to the bed and pulls you so you're on top of him. Your back resting against his chest. He spreads your legs over his own. Your skirt riding up exposing your panties to everyone. You frantically try to cover yourself, but Remus catches your hands holding them down.

"No love. Let them see. Let them watch as I tease you. As I bring you to the edge of pleasure only to deny you. As your pussy flutters around nothing, desperate to be filled." He says loud enough for them to hear, his hand coming tom trace lazily over your clothed cunt.

"Get comfortable boys, it's going to be a long night." He says addressing his friends. The others didn't know who they wanted to be more. Remus as he started kissing down your neck, or you as you sat there, being tortured by Remus.

[mrsbarnesxxx]

This quite possibly might be my favorite thing I've ever read!

Sweeter than Sugar

Summary: She broke his heart but you're not going to let her win. Bucky deserves the best and you're going to give it to him.

Pairing: Chubby Baker!Bucky x Reader, mentions of former relationship with OFC.

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), body shaming by OFC, language, mentions of insecurities. painful break up (not reader) bit angst, fluff. As always 18+ only.

A/N: Do not copy, rewrite, repost or translate my works. Comments and reblogs are welcomed. Beta'd by the lovely @deann and @makbarnes but all mistakes are my own.

A/N II: @star-spangled-bingo 2021 Squared filled: Curtain fic and @gotnofucks Body positivity challenge

"Wait till you try this. I think this is my best batch yet." Bucky promises as he pulls the tray out of the oven with his vibranium hand.

You cringe for a second before remembering that he can handle the heat.

You stretch, looking around the large bright kitchen. A fresh breeze floats through the open window carrying in notes of rain and freshly cut grass and the faint sounds of the neighbor's kids playing with their dogs.

Leaning back in your seat, you turn your gaze back to him, a faint smile on your lips as he blows on the pastries, cute little puffs he named after you.

His blue eyes shine under the soft yellow lights, an apron under the swell of his pudgy belly. He looks incredible, wearing only a pair of black boxers that stretch across the curves of his ass. His hair is pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck, and there's always something smeared across his cheek.

Yesterday, it had been red velvet frosting, and today, cherry.

Bucky scoops a puff on to a small white plate, grabbing a fork from the drawer. He beams, his entire face radiant as he walks towards you.

That's the look that makes your stomach twist and leaves you feeling dizzy.

Dating Bucky has been a dream. He's loving, kind and he looks at you with such love that you lose your breath just thinking about him.

According to him, you've improved his life in several ways; he swears his food tastes better now, that you somehow make his cakes perfect, his frostings sweeter, and well, he can’t look at a peach without grinning like a drunk-in-love idiot.

You’ve spent many late mornings and lazy afternoons watching him patter around the kitchen, listening to him explain his baking processes while you lounge in a chair.

You don’t understand half of what he’s saying, but he speaks with such passion, his hands animatedly flying in the air as he talks about chocolates, melting points, and the differences in pans.

Bucky has discovered early on that he loves to watch you eat. To be more specific, if it's his food. Only his food, if he’s being honest. He gets so nervous every time that his stomach plummets because he wants to make things for you.

Give you so many things.

Starting with your own custom-made pastry.

“Here, Peach, it just melts on your tongue,” his deep voice lowering to a near moan.

He slips the pastry into your open mouth, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip as you swallow. Oh, your eyes almost roll back in your head when the flavors explode on your taste buds. You’ve never tasted anything that wonderful.

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you gasp, leaning forward for more. “I-that’s so good! Can I have another?”

He grins, lopsided and wide, his heart thundering so hard it feels like it might fly out of his chest. Bucky will give you pastries as much as you want if you keep looking at him like that. He puts his all into his baking and the fact that you enjoy it makes him feel as if he can walk on air.

Bucky kisses your forehead as you chew, pushing away from the table, he slides on his sock-covered feet to the fridge. “What do you want to drink?”

“What do we have?” You giggle as he dances in front of the fridge, calling out options for you.

It’s hard to believe that the carefree man in front of you is the same one that was ashamed to remove his shirt a few weeks ago.

Bucky holds your hands at your sides, fingers laced between yours as he feasts between your thighs. He promised to make you come for him at least three times and you swear it’s been double that by now. His warm, wet tongue flicking over your swollen, sensitive clit over and over, sucking and pulling it into his mouth like he can’t get enough of you.

You moan incoherently, voice hoarse from begging and mewling, your legs limp around his broad shoulders. “Buc-Bucky, oh right there, Bucky,” you plead, feeling pressure build in your belly as his tongue traces patterns over you.

Bucky grinned, his face covered in your slick. He can’t remember the last time he had a better meal in his life. “That’s my girl, so sweet, need one more taste, just a little more,” he whispers before his lips wrap around your clit again. Your mouth falls open in a wordless scream, back arching off the bed when he gently shakes his head, sucking so hard that you see stars.

Bucky groans actually groans deep and vulgar when you cum,and you feel it as your body explodes, waves of pleasure surging through you until you’re gushing on his beard. He eases up, nuzzling into your puffy folds as you come down from your high. Bucky looks up, his dark slate-blue eyes taking in your heaving chest, a bead of sweat rolling down your belly.

“One more?” he says hopefully, wanting to dive back into your pussy.

Your eyes widen as you frantically shake your head. “No. Oh no. Bucky, I can’t, I really can’t, I’m not sure I can handle any more.” You laugh breathlessly, tugging one of your hands free from his tight grip. You rake your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. "Besides, I’ve been dreaming about you fucking me until I can’t walk.”

A faint blush sweeps across his cheeks as he averts his eyes. “Peach,” he mumbles shyly like he just didn’t spend the past hour worshiping your pussy with his mouth.

Bucky stands up, wiping a hand down his face. He stares at his glistening palm for a second, and then his pink tongue darts out, swiping across the wet surface. You wonder if he’s aware that he's moaning, your pussy throbbing at the guttural sounds.

“You’re filthy,” you jest when he does it again. His face gets even redder as he sucks on his finger.

“You taste better than my pies,” he retorts. “I could eat you all day, every day.”

“Tomorrow, for sure, but right now I want you inside me.”

His smile drops a little when you tell him to get undressed. He’s been dreading this moment, doing everything he can to avoid it. You scoot back on the bed, reaching out for him. Bucky looks down at his body, at his belly, his eyes narrowing, he scratches the back of his neck, telling himself he can do this.

He lifts the edge of his navy blue Henley, freezing when he hears her voice in his head. “Who would want a fatty? No one is going to love you looking like that.” Even now it stings thinking about her. Bucky glances over at you, his heartbreaking at the thought of you rejecting him.

Bucky drops his shirt and reaches for the lamp. “One second.” He says. An unmistakable hint of sadness in his voice has you sitting up. He’s never sounded like that before.

You tilt your head to the side, searching his face. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”

“Just gonna turn the lights off first.” The corner of his lips lifts in a weak, watery smile.

You move to your knees and grab his large hand before he can switch them off. “Why?”

Bucky swallows, “no reason, just like the lights off, 'is all.”

Bucky’s admittedly good at a lot of things, but lying isn’t one of them. He briefly meets your gentle gaze, worry and fear swimming in his beautiful clear blue eyes.

Placing your hands on his chest, you grab his chin. “Bucky, look at me.” He immediately follows your soft command. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Bucky blinks, shaking his head, almost confused at the thought that you could do anything wrong. “No, no, you’re perfect! It’s me. I don’t wanna disappoint you.” His voice tapers off in a whisper, hearing her sharp laughter the last night they were together. “I know I’m fat, so it would be better if we turned off the lights, that way you don’t have to look at me. “

You stare at your generous, doting boyfriend. “Why wouldn’t I want to look at you?,” you question, befuddled because who on earth would jump at the chance to see a naked Bucky Barnes.

He shrugs a shoulder, his somber eyes drifting down. He grabs his belly and jiggles it. Another shrug followed by a quiet, “I look different with my clothes off.”

You crane your head back, “I love your belly, it’s perfect. Who made you feel like you have to hide it?”

Bucky sighs, rubbing his cheek into your palm. “My ex, Moxie- “

Bucky dated her two years ago. She latched on to him when he and Steve bought the bakery, wanting to be the girlfriend of the rising baking star.

Bucky slowly gained weight as he sampled his baking and designed dessert menus for local restaurants, his joy for baking expanding each day, finally getting to see his dreams become reality.

He hadn’t noticed the changes in his body until one night Moxie cruelly pointed them out.

He was getting ready for bed, eager to be with his girl after a full day of running around. He had been telling her about how another restaurant wanted his input, so excited to share his news that he didn’t notice the way she glared at him.

Tossing his shirt in the hamper, he turned to her and smiled, his hands on his belt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day baby, I can’t- “

Moxie sneered at him, pretending to gag. “Are you serious?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “Um, what?”

“Um, what,” she mocked, pulling the blanket up to her chest. There's a pause, tension seeping into the room. “You know what, I have to say it, I can't take this anymore James. Look at you and look at me, why the fuck would I let you touch me anymore?”

Moxie sighed, “can you put on your shirt back on or something because that- “she gestured at him “-is disgusting” She let out an irritated groan when he flinched at her words.

A punch to the gut would have hurt less. Bucky felt his heart split. “Moxie,” he whispered, unable to find words to express the pain currently ripping through him.

“Look, I didn’t sign up for this, you were in shape when we got together, what the hell happened to you? Why do you think I stopped letting you touch me.” She ranted, ignoring his soft pleas for her to stop.

“Either lose the weight or I’ll fuck Steve, at least he still looks good.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, yawning, “can you go somewhere else, I don’t want you accidentally rolling over me and squishing me in your sleep.”

His mouth floundered open, but he couldn’t speak. It all hurt too much, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, the air was too thick and his chest grew tighter with each breath; he needed to get away, terrified of what might happen if he cried in front of her.

Bucky shuffled out the room, his heart shattering with every step. He thought she was happy, that he made her happy. Her laughter following him out to the hallway made his head droop even more.

What did he do wrong?

He spent the night on the couch, staring at his old pictures through tear-filled eyes, Bucky always had a little fullness to him, but he was always happy with his body. And he had been having so much fun with the grand opening and all the new opportunities that he never noticed that he stopped needing belts and his shirts were a little snug over his belly.

Bucky called Steve, his best friend fuming when he told him what happened. By the time he was done speaking with him, Bucky felt a little better, his heart may have been in pieces but he knew what he needed to do.

He kicked her out the next morning.

Much to Moxie’s surprise and Bucky's. He may be chubby but he's not going to be her pushover either.

Bucky ignored her apologies and said she had to go. It shocked her when Steve had shown up with a roll of garbage bags, tossing them at her feet with a sharp quip that he doesn’t fuck losers. Both men stood side by side, watching silently as she packed her belongings.

The only things she left behind were his broken heart and a few nagging insecurities that plagued him.

He finishes, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of his confession, you want nothing more than to stamp out the sadness marring his beautiful eyes.

“I thought she loved me but--“ he sighs, “--I don’t want you to look at me the way she did, I love you too much, Peach, and I know I should probably lose a few -”

You’ve never been angrier in your life. You want to punch little Ms. Moxie in her throat, she better hope she never runs into you because they will have to pry you off of her.

Clearing your head, you clasp his face in your hands and pull him down for a kiss. “Bucky Barnes, you are the sweetest man I know, you’re beautiful and I love everything about you.”

You silence his objections with another kiss. “I mean it Bucky, I love all of you. You don’t need to change anything.”

Bucky swallows the small protest, letting himself relax. You’re not her, you won’t hurt him. Placing a kiss on his soft, round belly, you murmur, “you have no idea how sexy you are, honey.”

You stand on the bed, holding on to his bicep for balance, and tug his shirt off. Looking down at him, you bite your lip. He’s ridiculously handsome and you’re going to prove it to him.

You pepper kisses along the curve of his neck as you sink back down, praising him and telling him how much you love him, describing in vivid detail how each part of his body is perfect.

His confidence and love for you growing with each word. By the time you reach the band of his boxers, he panting, his eyes darkening with an almost feral need to possess you.

Bucky tears off the last barrier keeping you from him and he pounces. You giggle as he pushes you into the soft blankets, the solid, comforting weight of his body encompassing you as he kisses you with such passion you forget to breathe. His warm lips melding into yours, his wet tongue dipping into your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue as it dips into your mouth.

Bucky reaches down with one hand, grabbing his cock, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he deepens the kiss. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours so he can gaze into your eyes. Bucky watches your mouth fall open, a gasp pouring out when he guides his thick cock into you.

He rolls his hips, moving deeper into your wet, hot heat. “That’s it Peach, you’re so good,” He brushes his lips across yours, swallowing your oh Bucky as he stretches your tight pussy around him. The slight burn gives aways to pure bliss, you circle your hips after a minute. A quiet I’m ready breathed into his mouth.

Bucky thrusts languidly into your pussy, each deliberate slow drag of his throbbing cock against your soft walls sends bursts of pleasure up your belly and down your spine. His lovemaking tender, yet so possessive that your head is reeling.

He makes sure that you feel all of him, each inch as you clench down, greedy for more of him, even as he goes deeper and deeper, his soft lips caressing your neck. His body keeping you pinned, so you have to take everything he’s giving you.

That pressure builds again, heavy and hot in your belly, digging your heels into the top of his thighs, you meet his strokes, pleading with him to please move a little faster, you need it so bad.

You don’t have to beg; he wants you to cum for him; he wants to feel your sweet pussy flutter around him as you cry out his name.

Bucky sucks a bruise on your throat, his hips pounding into yours. The headboard smacking against the wall with each powerful thrust. The dull thuds drowned out by your loud moans, the pressure getting more intense.

“Bucky,—” you cry out, scratching his lower back when he grinds his hips down, “—oh fuck, do that, do that again,” you frantically chant, slapping your hands on his ass, keening when he does, god yes, he does it just right, hitting a tender spot inside your cunt so hard that you bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

“That it Peach, is that what you need.” He slips a hand between your bodies, his wide fingers circling your clit, “Go on, cum for me, give it to me Peach, be my good girl, and cum for me.”

You do, your walls clenching down as the pressure snaps, sensations firing off as your orgasms winds through you. Bucky’s pace falters, becomes erratic when he feels you milking his cock, unable to hold himself back any longer he lets himself go, relishing in your warmth until he spills inside you.

He tries to roll off of you, but you wrap your arms around him, murmuring for him to stay for a minute. You smooth your hands over his slick back, Bucky relaxes on top of you, grinning at your contented sigh. “I love you Peach.”

“Love you too,” you respond, plotting all the ways you’re going to let him know how much he means to you.

After that night, you began to praise Bucky, complimenting his body every chance you got, smacking his ass whenever he walked past you, hugging and kissing him.

The first couple of weeks, he would hide his face behind one of his large hands and his cheeks would resemble one of his bright red apples. “Peach, you don’t have to, I mean I’m-” he would stammer each time, always tucking his hair behind his ears.

It took you three days to figure out that he has a praise kink and you amped it. He barely opened his eyes before you were saying something that made him hide his face behind his pillow, laughing when you wiggled under it to tell him how good he looks when he smiles.

While you loved making him blush, you cherished how confident he became. And you reaped the benefits, one second he was a bashful baker with buttercream frosting on his forehead, the next he was bending you over his counter, railing you so good you couldn’t even scream his name.

After a while, he stopped avoiding the bathroom mirror in the mornings. And you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, the first time you saw him cooking, shirtless, in the kitchen. He turned when he heard your footsteps, his face turning that familiar shade of red as you openly gawked.

“C’mon Peach, don’t you start-” he playfully grumbles, his lip twitching as he held in his smile, he moved back to the frying pan turning off the stove as he braces himself.

You squeal, flinging yourself at him, peppering his back with kisses. You couldn’t contain the litany of praises on your tongue, so proud of him. Bucky twisted in your grasp, cupping your face in his hands. “God I love you Peach.”

Bucky and Steve are celebrating the grand opening of another bakery. The largest one to date. The new building is full of investors, press, other bakers and chefs, a live band playing in the corner, drinks, and food everywhere, and of course the tower of desserts in the middle of the room. The atmosphere light and airy, glasses clinking, people dancing and every kind of cake, pies, and pastry imaginable on silver platters through the room.

You’ve never had so much fun, although a slightly buzzed Bucky is having an even better time because you’re wearing one of his favorite dresses. You remember when he first saw you in it, you twirled out of the dressing room and he nearly lost it in the middle of the store.

The more he celebrates, the more he’s giving you that look. Steve has to keep interfering, he’s close to going feral in front of all his guests.

Steve sent him to the kitchen after he caught him trying to put his hand between your thighs. You’re laughing as a contrite Bucky gets up from the table to refill the rapidly diminishing display.

“You know I’ve known Buck my whole life and I’ve never seen him this happy.” Steve remarks as he takes a seat across from you. His warm blue eyes glistening. “Thank you for that. He’s been through a lot and you’re the best thing that happened to him.”

Your cheeks get heated at his words. Steve leans forward, holding your hand between his. “I mean it, even though he’s getting on my last nerve talking about you.“

Steve squeezes your hand as he looks up at the ceiling for a second. “God, the man never shuts up, and I’m this close to strangling him if he compares you to another peach, but I love-“

He cuts off, his head jerks back so fast, you think something struck him. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

You turn around in your chair, searching the crowded room. “Who are you talking about?”

“Moxie,” Steve spits out, his hand curling into a fist. “White dress by the bar.”

You find her flirting with one of the investors. Moxie puts her hand on his chest, her shrill laugh cutting through the surrounding conversations. Whatever she tried fails spectacularly. The tall, sturdy blonde grimaces and walks away. You would almost feel bad if you didn’t want to slam her face into the wall.

She spots Steve and waves, making her way through the crowd. “Hey, long time no see.”

Steve raises a brow, his eyes hardening. “Why are you here?”

She laughs, patting his shoulder. “I’m here to apologize to Bucky, I know he misses me, he must be lonely.”

“Really?” you question, keeping your voice light and even.

Moxie dismissively glances at you before returning her attention to Steve. You chuckle under your breath, tapping your heel on the floor.

Don’t ruin your man’s event. Don’t ruin your mans’ event. You repeat the thought as you inhale through your nose.

“So I heard you two are doing really well.” She says, her manicured nails roaming over Steve’s suit. “Really well.”

Steve flicks her fingers off him, “We are. No Bucky’s not lonely. He doesn’t miss you. He’s very happy. With her.”

Moxie’s polite veneer cracks when Steve points at you. Waving your fingers at her, you grin at her. “You go near my Bucky and I’ll rip that cheap necklace off and shove it down your throat.”

She turns to Steve, gesturing to you as if she's the innocent one here; he raises his glass, blowing a harsh breath through his lips. “Don’t look at me, I still don’t fuck losers, but I’ll call you if that changes.”

You laugh in your empty glass when she sputters. She turns to you, hand on her hip. You slowly raise your eyes, returning her stare. Part of you wanting her to do something, so you can wipe the smirk off her overly painted face.

“Whatever, I don’t need this. Keep the fattie. I can find another rich loser like that.” She snaps her fingers, storming over to the bar. You blink a few times in disbelief. The audacity of this bitch, thinking that she can stay and mingle at his event.

You're debating if you should have her thrown out by one of the staff or if you should drag her out by her hair.

You look her up and down as you ponder your choices, pausing when you see the edge of a tag sticking out the back of her dress. Hmm, interesting. She must plan on returning it after tonight.

A devious smirk slowly takes over your face, you know exactly what you’re going to do to little Ms. Moxie.

You glance at Steve, picking up his wineglass. Steve shakes his head while grabbing your hand. “Hey hey, I know what you’re thinking, and no.”

Before you can say anything, he’s pouring more burgundy wine into the glass until it’s nearly sloshing over the sides. “If you’re going do it, you gotta do it right.”

You exchange knowing glances. No one hurts Bucky. You saunter over to her, keeping your hand steady, not wanting to lose a single drop on the floor.

“Hey Moxie,” you call out. She turns around and you ‘trip’ over your heels, the deep red liquid flying forward in a perfect arch, splashing across her ivory dress, her face and you even got some in her hair.

“Oops, gosh, I am so clumsy,” you state, hiding your grin as she shrieks.

Steve jumps up, offering to help before she can swing at you. “I got you, darling.”

He places a hand on her back, quickly ushering her away “a little club soda will get that right out,” he reassures a pouting, whining Moxie.

He's lying through his teeth, that stain will never come out. Steve gets a peek at the price tag, almost laughing at the $899 imprinted on the card. He maintains his façade, leading her through the room, he stops, giving her a wide smile.

“And you can find some at the drugstore down the street.” He states, opening the front door and pushing her out. Her indignant shouts cut off when he slams the door in her face.

You throw your head back and cackle, startling some guests around the bar, you apologize for your outburst between fits of laughter, wiping the tears pricking at your eyes. You wave down the amused bartender, placing an order for you and Steve.

Steve joins you, raising his fresh glass of wine in a toast. “No one fucks with Bucky.”

"No one."

Neither you nor Steve realizes Bucky saw the whole thing. He ducks back into the kitchen, clutching the tray of Cannelés to his chest. For weeks after the breakup, he had rehearsed what he was going to say that next time he came face to face with Moxie.

But what you and Steve did was even better, the love of his life and his best friend always looking out for him.

Loving him unconditionally.

And just like that, the last traces of his insecurities vanished.

Later that night, you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. He smiles at your hand on his belly. He places his large hand over yours, wondering how he got so lucky to have you.

And if Steve would kill him if he named another dessert after you.

He’ll risk it.

[mrsbarnesxxx]

This is what I aspire to write for buddie x reader.

Rough Night

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Thruple Dynamic, Smut

It was 4:56 am when you flopped over in bed for what felt like the 100th time. You were on the verge of tears at this point because all you wanted was to sleep. You let out a frustrated whine that stirred the sleeping being next to you,

“Y/n. It’s 5 in the morning,” Buck said with his face still smushed into his pillow.

“I can’t sleep.”

He sighed deeply and turned on the bedside lamp; turning over to prop his head in his hand and look at you,

“What can I do?”

“Nothing,” you said with a furrow in your brow.

“Nothing?” He asked, trying to catch your eye. You briefly look at him before huffing and looking up at the ceiling,

“My mind won’t shut off.”

“What’s going on?” His brow started to furrow a bit. The thought of you being riddled with stress or anxiety gave him stress and anxiety.

“I don’t like him out there by himself. He should’ve called.”

Buck’s realization set in and he let out a small chuckle,

“Babe. He’s not alone,” he said reaching out to caress the side of your face.

“You’re not with him,” you said finally turning your head to him.

“It’s a simple call. They didn’t need me.”

“If it’s so simple then why hasn’t he called?”

“Aha. I don’t know. But if he hasn’t called now then it just means he’s on his way.” Buck barely got to finish the sentence when the deep click of the front door being unlocked sent shockwaves through your body. You spring leaped out of bed practically busting through the bedroom door like the Kool-Aid Man to race down the hall.

Your brain registered Eddie coming through the door, but failed to send the signal to your feet to stop,

“Whoa! Ha ha! Hi!” You jumped in his arms giving him no time to put his stuff down. The grip you had on around his neck looked lethal, but was filled with nothing than love and relief. You began peppering his neck and face with kisses until he finally caught you lips.

Buck came around the hall and smiled at the sight in front of him. Eddie walked the rest of the way through the door, shutting it and dropping his belongings. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing you deeply. He started to spin around and you had a giggle fit. You settled down quickly looking in his eyes,

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he stared at you for a couple more seconds before kissing you on the nose and putting you down,

“What are you still doing up?”

“She’s had a rough night,” Buck said coming up behind you.

“Oh yeah? Rough how?” Eddie said expressing slight concern. The look in his eyes made your stomach do the thing and you instinctively looked back at Buck. Not to look for approval, but you’re honestly not really sure why. He just nodded his head and you turned yours back to Eddie.

You’re still getting adjusted to expressing your feelings so you had a staring contest with his chest,

“I don’t like when you go on runs without him.” You slightly turned half of your body towards Buck before looking back to Eddie with a pout.

Eddie looked at Buck in such awe of the girl between them. He grabbed the sides of your face with both hands, pulling you into a sweet kiss. Suddenly you feel fingers tracing your arms before a wet, spongy sensation was being placed on both shoulders. Buck kissed from your shoulders to where the side of your neck connected, biting lightly then running his tongue over the slight sting.

You moaned at all of the attention you were getting when Eddie released the kiss and Buck turned your head, shoving his tongue in your mouth. Eddie took over where Buck left off and attacked the left side of your neck. He kissed down to the exposed skin on your chest peeking from your tank top before kissing down your clothed body.

When he was on his knees in front of you, you felt your shorts being pulled down now exposing the cotton panties you were wearing. Eddie left open mouthed kisses both of your hip bones, teasingly lowering your panties. Buck’s hand wrapped around the side of your neck when you felt a slick strip being placed on your pussy.

You moan instinctively, breaking the kiss from Buck to look down at Eddie. Your chest was rising and falling so hard, but he looked up at you with his mouth never ceasing to stop. Letting out a low growl, he pulled your hips into his face even more. You let out an audible gasp when you reach for Buck’s hands and place them on your clad tits. He immediately began kneading and pinching at your hardening nipples. You rested your head back flush against his chest and closed your eyes.

Buck started to remove the straps from your shoulders when you felt Eddie’s hand scale all the way up your body and wrap around your throat, pinning you in the position. Your tank top was down around your midsection with a hand around your throat and kisses being placed randomly on your upper body.

Buck lifted the tank top up and off completely before teasing your lips with two fingers. You instinctively open your mouth, taking in the same fingers that have given you orgasm after orgasm. He pushes past the soft palate of your tongue until he feels your throat constrict around his fingers and fight against Eddie’s grip. You gag with his hand in your mouth earning a deep moan in your ear. He slowly pulls out, draping the string of saliva down your chin and letting it run down. He keeps doing that until he’s gathered enough for a nice streak to run between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach.

You are incredibly close to cumming when Eddie licks a full strip from your pussy up to the stream waiting for him. He stands up biting your shoulder just as roughly as Buck when he looks his partner in the eye. You couldn’t see Buck’s reaction, but you could guess what it was by the way you’re being flung over Eddie’s shoulder. He lands a nice slap to your ass before beelining for the bedroom. You look up briefly to see Buck right behind, taking off his shirt with a smirk.

You only heard the door close, but the neighbors heard everything else.