#Science of Yawning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebarneschronicles · 4 months ago

Text

For Science

(A Closer To Home Blurb)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Synopsis: Science demands answers. And when your boyfriend happens to be a genetically enhanced super soldier, well… some questions are simply too intriguing to ignore.

The challenge is set, the air between you electric. Bucky might have super-soldier stamina, but you? You have determination. And there’s only one way to find out who taps out first.

For science, of course. Trigger Warnings: Mild Sexual Themes; Explicit Innuendo; Light Dom/Sub Dynamics; Flirty Banter with a Competitive Edge; References to Trauma (Brief mention of Bucky’s past); BUCKY BARNES BEING A MENACE !!!!

Closer To Home Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is set within the Closer To Home world, but it can be read as a standalone. I wrote it as one of the first things and it's a little spoiler of what's to come for them relationship-wise (*cough cough* labels *cough cough*) but I couldn't resist sharing it. Hope you like it! B x

Curiosity was a funny little thing.

It had a way of sneaking in, settling in the corners of your mind like a cat making itself comfortable on an unoccupied chair. It stretched, yawned, extended its claws, and before you knew it, it dug them in, impossible to ignore. It whispered, nudged, demanded attention, poking at the thoughts you tried to bury beneath layers of logic and restraint.

That’s why dating Bucky Barnes was a problem.

Because he wasn’t just a person. He was a living, breathing, walking contradiction, a story begging to be unraveled. And you? You were a journalist to your core, a person who thrived on understanding the depths of things, the untold truths hiding beneath the surface. You weren’t just curious—you were driven. And Bucky, with his quiet demeanor and storm-filled past, was the ultimate enigma.

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t pry. You respected him, respected the journey he was on. You had read the files, you knew the history, at least the version that had been documented. And yet, there were questions, so many questions, buzzing in your mind like a radio stuck between frequencies.

And tonight, sitting in your apartment with Bucky stretched out on the couch, those questions felt louder than ever.

The domesticity of it all was what really got to you. The contrast between the myth, the legend, the ghost of a soldier who rewrote history, and the man now lying on your couch in grey sweatpants and a fitted black t-shirt, sock-clad feet resting on the armrest. He looked… soft. At ease, even. The glow of the television cast a faint blue hue over his face, his vibranium arm catching the light in fleeting glints as he absentmindedly tapped his fingers against his stomach.

And it made you wonder.

Not about the mission reports or the classified files, but the little things. The gaps in his story that paperwork couldn’t fill. The nuances, the memories, the pieces of him that weren’t written down but were just as real.

You turned a page in your book without really reading it, your fingers skimming the edge absently. Your eyes flickered up, drawn to him like a magnet, lingering just a beat too long.

Bucky must have sensed your distraction because, without looking away from the screen, he spoke. “I can feel you staring.”

There was a hint of amusement in his voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. It was subtle, but you caught it.

You bit your lip, shifting in your seat, debating whether or not to ask what was on your mind. Guilt gnawed at you, but curiosity was louder.

“Can I ask you something?”

He finally glanced at you, smirking. “You just did.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you with a small smile. The teasing was new—subtle, cautious, but there. A part of him he seemed to be rediscovering, piece by piece, the more time he spent with you.

“Smartass.”

His grin widened slightly. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

You hesitated. Just for a second. Then, with a quiet exhale, you shut your book and set it aside, leaning forward. Elbows on your knees, fingers twisting together as you searched for the right words.

“It’s about the serum.”

The change in him was instant. His easy smirk faltered, replaced by something more guarded. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he leaned back. “What, exactly?”

“I don’t want to pry,” you said quickly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just… wondering.”

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing something in his mind. This. This was what got you about him. That even after everything—after decades of being used, after having his agency ripped away—he still gave people a chance. Gave you the benefit of the doubt. He could have shut you down, told you to never bring it up again, and you wouldn’t have blamed him. But he was listening.

Instead of answering right away, you pushed yourself out of your chair and made your way over to the couch. He watched as you settled in beside him, forcing him to shift and sit up, his arm draping across the back of the cushions as he turned to face you head-on.

“Alright,” you started, exhaling slowly.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. His gaze flicked over you, assessing, like he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were working up the nerve to push forward. “This should be good.”

You reached out without thinking, your hands resting on both his thighs, giving a gentle squeeze. A grounding touch—for you or for him, you weren’t sure.

“Alright,” you repeated, tilting your head slightly. “Is there a difference between your serum and Steve’s? Physically, I mean.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked down briefly, noting the way your hands fidgeted against his thighs. His brow twitched—just a little—but he didn’t call you on it. Instead, his lips quirked at the corner, dry amusement flickering in his expression.

“Didn’t know you were so interested in science,” he mused.

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes. “I’m interested in you,” you corrected before you could think better of it.

The words landed heavier than you expected, sinking into the space between you. Bucky breathed in. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched against his knee. A faint flush crept over his cheeks, subtle but unmistakable.

He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his jaw, buying himself a moment. “There are some differences,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Steve’s serum was perfected—the version Erskine meant to create. Mine… wasn’t.” His jaw tightened, his gaze unfocused like he was looking at something far away. “Hydra tried to replicate it, but they never quite got it right. It still made me stronger, faster, but…” He trailed off, lips pressing into a thin line.

You nodded slowly, watching the way his fingers flexed again—muscle memory of something darker.

“How does it feel?” you asked, your voice softer now. “For you, what’s it like? Is it something you can actively feel, or is it just… there?”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment, as if weighing whether to answer at all. His jaw flexed, and his eyes dropped to his metal hand, turning it over as if seeing it for the first time. His fingers curled experimentally before straightening again, the quiet whir of machinery barely audible - a physical manifestation of the power that ran through his veins.

“It’s always there,” he finally said, voice lower now, a little rough. “Like an engine running in the background. You don’t have to think about it, but you know it’s there. The strength, the speed… it’s not something I have to call on. It just is. My body reacts before I do.”

There was something about the way he said it, something that made heat creep up your neck. You swallowed, your curiosity veering sharply away from scientific and into far more dangerous territory.

“Is it just strength and speed?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice a little lighter, a little breathless, a little too casual. “Or are there other… enhancements?”

Bucky’s brow lifted slightly at your tone, and you quickly cleared your throat, eyes stubbornly locked on the center of his chest. It didn’t help.

“Like what?” His voice had dropped just a fraction, enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You forced yourself to keep your composure, though you could feel your pulse picking up. “Reflexes? Body temperature? Sleep? Endurance? What’s the heaviest thing you can lift?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with something caught between amusement and curiosity. “God, you really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea,” you admitted, then immediately winced, your nervous laugh bubbling up before you could stop it.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. His lips curled into something dangerously close to a smirk as he leaned in, just enough to make your breath hitch. “That so?”

Your brain screamed at you to backpedal, but your mouth had other plans. “Mmhmm.” You crossed your arms, attempting a look of nonchalance, which was entirely ruined by the warmth spreading over your skin. “I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone with literal super-soldier genetics. It’s, uh… fascinating.”

“Fascinating, huh?” Bucky’s voice was smoother now, teasing, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” Bucky murmured.

You ignored him, reaching out to press a hand over the smirk he directed at you. “Do you get tired the same way normal people do?”

Bucky tilted his head, considering, flesh hand wrapping around your wrist. “Not really,” he admitted. “I can go for a long time before I feel it.”

Your brows lifted. “How long?”

He shrugged. “Depends. I can run for hours. Fight for hours. I don’t really hit a wall.”

“That’s… something,” you muttered, mind already running in a direction you probably shouldn’t be entertaining.

Bucky chuckled, low and knowing. “Have I impressed you yet?”

“Stop that.” You pinched his thigh, watching as his muscle barely reacted. You chewed your lip, thinking. “So, like. What about sweat?”

He huffed. “I sweat. You know I sweat,” he said, giving you a pointed look.

Oh, you knew. You knew very well.

Images flashed through your mind, beads of sweat sliding down his neck, dampening the strands of hair curling at his temples as he hovered above you. The way his shirt stuck to his chest after a run, or worse—when he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. You had to take a steadying breath before continuing.

“But not as much as normal?”

“No. My body regulates temperature better.”

You hummed. “So you don’t overheat.”

“Not easily.”

“And you don’t cramp up.”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t get sore?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t get drunk?”

Bucky grinned now, a slow, teasing thing. “You’re really working through this, huh?”

“I’m invested,” you shot back, lifting your chin.

Bucky snorted. “No, I don’t really get sore. Muscles repair too fast.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “So… if you work out, do you even get gains?”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

“You know, like, gains.” You gestured vaguely at his chest. “You’re already built, but does lifting even do anything for you?”

For a second, Bucky just stared at you. Then, to your absolute horror, he burst out laughing—a full, genuine laugh that made his shoulders shake.

“Answer the question, James!” you demanded, fighting a grin of your own.

Still grinning, Bucky wiped a hand down his face. “Yes, I can build muscle. I just don’t need to.”

You groaned dramatically and reached up, sliding your hands over his chest and up to his shoulders, fingers squeezing lightly, practically groping him. Oh, who were you kidding, you were groping him. “So you’re just built like that, huh?”

“Pretty much.” His voice had dipped lower, his gaze flickering to where your hands rested against him.

You exhaled, shaking your head, eyes dragging over his body. “I hate you.”

Bucky smirked. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He chuckled, the warmth between you lingering. His smirk softened into something lazier, more playful. “So, what’s the real question you wanna ask, doll?”

The way he said it—low and deliberate—made your brain short-circuit for a second. You fought to keep your voice even, despite the sudden warmth pooling in your stomach.

It took you a moment to gather the courage. “What about… endurance?”

Bucky frowned slightly, confused. “Didn’t we already cover that?”

You shifted, resting your chin on your hand, your eyes twinkling. “Not exactly.”

His brow furrowed as he searched your face. “Then what do you mean?”

You tilted your head, studying him, eyes flickering down. You could practically see the second realization hit—the flicker of intrigue in his eyes, the way his smirk melted, turning into something sharper.

He knew. And he was going to make you say it.

Bastard.

Fine. If he wanted to play this game, you weren’t backing down.

“How long could you keep it up? Keep going?” you asked, voice slow and deliberate. “In bed?”

The words landed between you, thick with unspoken tension. Bucky didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a second. Then, his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, and his fingers flexed slightly around your wrist.

You were definitely blushing now, heat rising to your cheeks like a slow burn, but you refused to look away. “I mean, you said you have insane stamina. How insane? Like, do you even get tired? Is it a position thing? Can you hold out, or can you—” your voice dipped lower, deliberately, teasing “—cum multiple times? How long does it take for you to recover between rounds?”

Bucky exhaled, dark lashes lowering as he regarded you with something wicked and unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped an octave, silk and smoke.

“Jesus Christ… Are you really asking me that right now?”

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. “I’m just being scientific.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Science my ass.”

“Well?” You raised a brow, daring him.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, exhaling sharply before leaning in just slightly—enough that his breath ghosted over your lips. Your breath hitched.

“Like I said,” he murmured, voice curling around the words in a way that made your stomach flip, “I don’t get tired like normal people do. I recover faster. And yeah, I can go multiple times.”

Your pulse stuttered.

His smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed, how your thighs pressed together involuntarily. “As for how long I can last…” He tilted his head, watching your reaction, dragging out the moment just to make you suffer. “Lemme put it this way—you’d tap out before I would.”

Your stomach flipped violently.

Oh, he was enjoying this far too much.

“I—” Your throat was dry. You cleared it quickly, but your voice still came out weaker than you intended. “That’s bold of you to assume. And not specific enough.”

Bucky let out a short, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair as he studied you. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Call it obstinate.” You grinned, emboldened by the slight exasperation in his tone. “Come on, soldier. Tell me.”

“No.” He shook his head, though his grin never wavered.

“Give me a number, Bucky.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know! C’mon, just ballpark it.”

“Why?” he asked again, this time leaning even closer, the question murmured right against the shell of your ear.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of his breath sending another wave of heat rushing through you. “Because you’re my boyfriend. I have the right to know what I’m working with.”

Bucky exhaled dramatically, as if you were truly exhausting him, though the amused glint in his eyes betrayed him. Then, like it was the simplest answer in the world, he shrugged. “Hours.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

He said it so casually, so easily, like it was a simple fact. Like it wasn’t going to rattle around in your head for the rest of eternity.

Your lips parted, but all that came out was an unintelligible noise, somewhere between a breath and a strangled sound of disbelief.

You recovered quickly, though. “One hour?”

Bucky gave you a look.

“Is that low or high?”

His jaw clenched.

“Oh my God, is it low? It is, isn’t it?” Your hand came up to cover your lips. “Does that include foreplay or penetration alone?”

Bucky made a strangled noise and dropped back against the couch. “Doll. I haven’t… tested it out.” he admitted. “But a bit more than that, I’d think. More than two, for sure. Penatration alone.”

You blinked. Oh. Oh.

Cocky bastard.

Your lips parted, a retort already forming, but before you could utter a single word, he was stretching his arms behind his head, casual as ever. As if he hadn’t just sent your entire nervous system into overdrive.

“Y’know,” he mused, his grin lazy, “I do take requests for demonstrations.”

Your jaw dropped. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

He just grinned wider. “You did say you were invested.”

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed, but he saw right through you. You saw the moment he caught it—the slight tremor in your fingers, the way your breath hitched again, the way you had to fight to keep your expression neutral.

Bucky let a smile spread lazily over his lips, looking the perfect picture of temptation as he laid there, an Adonis in the middle of your cozy living room, sending another ripple of heat down your spine straight between your legs.

“Tell you what,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “We could test that theory… if you’re really that curious.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants, fisting it. “And if I am?”

His brow arched, slow and knowing.

You didn’t let yourself hesitate. Instead, you crawled over, grabbed him by the shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you yanked him to his feet with you, backing toward the bedroom. Your smirk was slow, teasing, the kind that promised trouble.

“Come on,” you purred, walking backward, eyes locked on his. Your voice was thick with challenge. “Let’s see if you’re all talk.”

“Right now?”

“What, you need a warm-up?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your lips, then lower. He followed without resistance, though the muscle in his jaw flexed. “You’re gonna regret this,” he warned, but there was no real heat in it—just hunger.

“I won’t,” you murmured, tilting your head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. “But the neighbors might.”

That was all the provocation he needed. Before you could react, he lunged, strong arms hooking around your thighs as he hauled you up and over his shoulder. You let out a startled yelp, squirming, but he only tightened his grip, one hand gripping the back of your thigh while the other landed a sharp slap to your ass.

The crack of it echoed, followed by your sharp gasp. Heat flared in your core, the sting shooting straight between your legs.

“I should tease you more,” you admitted breathlessly, fingers fisting the back of his shirt as he carried you toward the bedroom like you weighed nothing at all.

Bucky chuckled, dark and knowing, his hand smoothing over the place he’d just smacked before squeezing. “Oh, sweetheart,” he mused, voice dripping with promise. “You have no idea what you just started.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader smut #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan

1K notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 4 months ago

Note

Okay okay so I was watching episode 6x6 (Devil's Night) and the beginning when Spencer was really excited to share the origin of Halloween and talk about his Halloween plans and everyone just went 🙄 when he invited them mad me so sad - my poor baby just wanted someone to talk to :(

So is it alright if I please request fem!bau!reader just shyly being like "I'd love to come, if that's okay 😊" and he's like 😳🥹🥰 "yeah"

I found a link to that scene if it helps (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WrBzi9VBIFw)

halloween — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: some facts abt halloween a/n: thank you so much for your request ( and the link !! ) <3 i hope you like this <3 also this healed something in me bc this scene always made me sad like i'd go with you pookie ☹️

You sat at the conference table, flipping through the file in front of you. Next to you, Rossi sipped his coffee, deep in thought, while Derek leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly twirling a pen between his fingers.

Suppressing a yawn, you blinked tiredly at the text on the page. But then your ears picked up on something, or rather, someone.

Spencer.

His voice carried through the open door and just like that, your mood shifted instantly, a small smile tugging at your lips before you could stop it.Derek caught the change. From the corner of your eye, you noticed his amused smirk as he tilted his head slightly in your direction.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to.

The look alone was enough to say busted. Still, he simply shook his head and returned his attention to his paperwork, letting you off the hook.

Moments later, Spencer and Emily entered the room. Spencer was mid-sentence, his voice animated, eyes bright.

“—it became a little more commercialized in the 1950’s with trick or treat and today it only rivals Christmas in terms of popularity.”

As he spoke, his gaze found yours, his expression softening just slightly as he smiled in greeting. You felt your heart stutter in response, but you quickly masked it with a small nod, returning the smile.

Emily, on the other hand, looked less than amused. With a sigh, she dropped into the chair beside Rossi, rubbing her temples.

“All I asked was what he was doing this weekend,” she muttered, exasperation evident in her voice.

You glanced at Spencer, who remained standing, still lost in his Halloween tangent. Your eyes trailed down, taking in his outfit, a soft red cardigan over a button-up.

It suited him, and you had to resist the urge to comment on how ridiculously cute he looked.

Across the table, Rossi, Derek, and you were all watching Spencer with varying degrees of amusement. His hands gestured slightly as he spoke.

“You know, I'm toying with the notion of either going to the Edgar Allan Poe puppet theater or the reenactment of a 19th-century phantasmagoria,” he said, sounding excited when naming those two events.

As he talked, Garcia swept into the room in a burst of color, her outfit an explosion of orange hues. Your gaze flickered to her for a brief second, a smile forming at the sheer Garcia-ness of it all. Rossi, however, had no interest in indulging Spencer’s train of thought. He raised a hand in protest, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.”

You frowned at his answer, turning back to Spencer with genuine curiosity. “I do,” you chimed in, tilting your head slightly as you watched him.

“Phantasmagorias are these amazing pre projected go shows invented in France where the showman attempted to spook the audience using science magic.” Spencer explained, his voice picking up excitement.His eyes lit up as he emphasized the words science and magic, his enthusiasm practically infectious.

And if you weren’t already hopelessly smitten, well, you were pretty sure you had actual heart eyes by now.

Spencer met your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, his confident rambling faltered. A faint blush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks as he registered the way you were looking at him. But, ever Spencer, he pressed on, his hands moving expressively as he spoke.

“And it just so happens that I have an extra ticket,” he said, nodding slightly, his voice just a touch more careful now.

You weren’t oblivious, you could practically feel the impending remark forming on Derek’s lips or the teasing smirk playing at Garcia’s expression. Rossi looked thoroughly unimpressed, as if this entire conversation was a waste of his time. The disinterest from the others was obvious, and you knew exactly where this was going.

So, before anyone could ruin the moment, you spoke up. “I’d love to join you,” you said, your voice warm.

The room, somehow, impossibly, grew even quieter.

Spencer’s wide eyes locked onto yours, his lips parting slightly as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “Really?” he practically whispered.

You nodded, offering him a warm smile. “Sure. It sounds fun.”

For a second, Spencer just stared at you, as if trying to determine whether or not you were joking. When he realized you were serious, his lips curled into a small, shy smile. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his cardigan, and you could see the gears turning in his mind, he hadn’t expected this.

Garcia’s eyes flicked between the two of you, a knowing grin slowly spreading across her face. Derek, meanwhile, chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

Spencer, still looking a little shocked but undeniably happy. “O-okay,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “Uh, great. I mean—yeah, it’ll be fun.”

“Well, pretty boy, looks like you’ve got yourself a date,” Derek teased, his tone light but clearly pleased.

Spencer’s face went an even darker shade of red. “It’s not a—” He stopped himself, glancing at you quickly before deciding not to finish that sentence. Instead, he cleared his throat and adjusted his cardigan, trying to regain composure. You just smiled to yourself, finding his flustered reaction entirely too adorable.

Maybe this Halloween was going to be more fun than you thought.

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

1K notes · View notes

cinnxmxngxrl · 1 month ago

Text

“Stormy night” pt.2: Late night calls

Pre Outbreak!Joel Miller x babysitter!Reader

part two of STORMY NIGHT but can be read as a stand alone

part 1 here | Joel’s Masterlist here

Summary: Joel’s mind is full of doubts after you two slept together for the first time, but you remind him of how much you want him in a heated phone call.

WC: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, age gap, phone sex, masturbation, joel feels insecure about his age, reader babysits sarah.

You’ve continued your life with normality, babysitting Sarah like you’ve been doing for the last six months.

Joel hadn’t touched you since that night a week ago in his kitchen. He hadn’t talked about it either. You didn’t insist. You wouldn’t even know what to say.

The silence screamed every time you looked at each other too long. It sat between you like a ghost, whispering reminders of the way his body had crushed yours into the counter, the way you’d gasped his name like a prayer.

But things had shifted—subtle, unmistakable. The air between you buzzed differently now, thick with something unspoken and restless. The way his eyes lingered on you when he came home and found you curled up on the couch. Like he was memorizing the shape of you. Like he was fighting the urge to touch. The way his fingers brushed yours a little too long when he handed over your pay. That fleeting contact burned like a brand.

He was more talkative too. He’d open up more often than before, telling you about his day—grumbling about busted tools, long hours, or the price of gas. His voice would soften when he talked to you, his words less guarded, like he forgot to keep the walls up. Sometimes, he’d even eat dinner with you before you left.

But he still hadn’t touched you. And it was killing you.

Because you remembered. Every second. The feel of his rough hands trailing over your skin, claiming every inch of you. The way his palms had held you like something precious, like he didn’t want to let go. The way he moved inside you, how his body fit against yours like you were made for him.

You still heard your own moans echoing in your head when you closed your eyes. Still felt the ghost of his weight pinning you to the kitchen counter, still ached from the way he took his time. You tried to recreate it, night after night, fingers buried deep between your legs—but it never came close.

It wasn’t Joel.

One evening, you were with Sarah, both of you sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, working on her science fair project—a little volcano that had already claimed half the carpet with glitter glue.

You first heard the rumble of the truck engine, then headlights sweeping across the living room wall.

Moments later, the front door clicked open and Joel stepped inside. He looked wrecked. Hair tousled. Shirt clinging to the sweat on his chest. Dust streaked across his jeans.

But his eyes—those warm, grey eyes—they looked like he’d barely slept, but yet they landed on you, and they didn’t leave. Heat coiled in your belly, sharp and familiar

“Dad!” Sarah shouted, springing up to wrap her arms around him. “Look at the volcano we’re making!”

Joel smiled, tired but real. “Goddamn, that looks amazin’, sunshine,” he said, voice full of that proud dad tone.

Sarah beamed, pulling him down to show him all the little details, explaining exactly how you two had made it and how the lava would erupt.

You watched Joel watching her, and something twisted in your chest. He looked at her like she was his whole world. That softness—the gentleness in his voice, the way he crouched next to her with such care—it made your heart ache.

Eventually, a little yawn slipped out of Sarah.

“Alright, kiddo. Time for bed,” Joel said, playfully squeezing her arm before leaning in to kiss the top of her head.

For once, Sarah didn’t protest. Didn’t beg for another episode of her favorite show. She just mumbled a sleepy “Goodnight, you two. Love ya,” and trudged upstairs.

“Sweet dreams, sunshine,” he called softly.

And then it was just the two of you.

The silence was immediate. Charged. Heavy with the words neither of you had dared speak.

“You alright?” Joel asked, voice low and rough.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with a slow, tired motion—like the weight of the world sat there. “I mean… well—” His words faltered, caught in something unspoken. “You been okay since… that night?”

There it was. The question hanging in the air, the elephant you both had danced around. He was addressing what had happened between you two.

You lifted your eyes to meet his—searching, honest. “Yeah. You?”

He swallowed hard. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I shoulda stopped. Shoulda been the adult.” He let out a humorless breath. “Hell, I am the adult.”

“I am an adult too, Joel,” you said quietly. “And you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Your voice was steady, but your chest was tight with everything you wanted to say and couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t wanna screw this up. You’re… you’re important. To Sarah. To me.”

The way he said it—quiet, unsure, like it hurt to speak—made your chest tighten. You wanted to take that weight from him, to make him believe he wasn’t doing anything wrong just by feeling.

Your heart pounded. It thudded so loud in your chest you wondered if he could hear it. “Who said anything about screwing things up? You’re not screwing up anything.”

Joel exhaled slowly, like he was trying to breathe out the tension in his chest. “I been sleepin’ on the couch every night. Can’t even look at my bed without seein’ you in it. Smellin’ you. Even after changin’ the damn sheets.”

“I don’t want you to pretend nothing happened,” you whispered. The words cracked as they left your lips. Your hands trembled slightly, clenched into fists in your lap.

“I’ve been tryin’ not to think about it,” he said. “But I can’t. I walk around half-hard every time you’re near. I don’t know how to act. Don’t know what to say.”

“Joel—”

“I don’t get it,” he muttered. “You’re young. Hot. You could have any guy you wanted. Why the hell would ya want me? I’m old. Rusty. Can’t even get through a day without my back crackin’ in three places. Probably forgot half the shit I used to know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, almost laughing. “Joel, we had a great time the other night, it was probably the best night of my life. You’re overthinking it. Don’t do that.”

“You don’t get it… I—” He shook his head, covering his face for a moment. His shoulders hunched forward like the weight of his doubts was too much to carry. “I need time to process this, yeah? Gimme time to think, I don’t wanna ruin it.”

You nodded softly. You weren’t going to push, there was no use in that. That would only make him retreat.

If he needed time, then you’d give it to him. Even if it hurt.

You grabbed your bag quietly, your fingers lingering on the strap a moment before you murmured a soft goodbye. Stepping out into the night, the cold air hit your skin like a shock—but it was a relief, somehow. You let the door click shut behind you and took a deep breath, knowing this was far from over.

Joel had been tossing and turning for forty minutes, nowhere near sleep.

Your conversation kept replaying in his mind on a torturous loop. Your voice, soft and sure, kept echoing in his ears—“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” And it only made the ache in his chest deepen.

He cursed himself—quietly, sharply—for getting tangled in this whole mess.

Was it wrong? Maybe.

Sure, you were over a decade younger. But you were an adult. You wanted him, he’d never pushed you or forced you into anything. And It wasn’t like he was a pervert chasing every younger girl who walked by, it was only you that he liked.

And that terrified him.

What if this was just a phase for you? Just a fun, wild story to tell later, he pictured you laughing later with your friends telling them about— “That time I hooked up with the hot single dad I worked for.”

You were just a girl in her college years, trying to experiment, testing boundaries. Joel knew that world well—hell, he remembered exactly what it was like when he was your age: reckless, hungry for anything new, chasing moments that burned bright but didn’t last.

Joel wasn’t stupid. You’d get bored real soon, grow out of this. Move on and go for someone your age. Someone who didn’t wake up sore from bending the wrong way. Someone who didn’t carry the weight of a lifetime of mistakes.

Someone with a future who could provide something more than a mortgage and a busted back. Someone to have your own family with, not having to take care of someone else’s daughter. Not bound to a man still trying to figure out how to be enough—for himself, for Sarah… for you.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, curling into himself.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Joel’s name lit up your screen, and your breath caught in your throat.

You scrambled to grab it, heart thudding, fingers fumbling just a little like your body already knew it was him.

You answered quickly. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry for callin’ so late,” Joel said, his voice low and scratchy. It was that deep, half-broken tone, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. Like he’d been lying in bed thinking about you just as hard as you’d been thinking about him.

You could hear the exhaustion in him. And something else. Something heavier. Something low and aching, wrapped in need.

“I just needed to hear your voice. That okay?”

“Of course,” you said softly. “It’s good to hear yours too.”

“What’re you doin’?”

“I’m in bed.” You said, shifting under the blanket instinctively, suddenly hyper-aware of the heat pooling between your thighs, the empty ache. The place between your legs throbbed sensitive and wanting.

You heard his breath hitch—just a subtle catch, but it made your skin prickle. Your nipples tightened beneath the fabric of your shirt. Your thighs pressed together on their own. One little sound from him and your whole body was already unraveling.

“Me too,” he whispered.

“I miss you,” you confessed. “So bad it hurts. I wish you were here. I wish your hands wer—”

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice breaking. “You know you’re killin’ me right now, right?”

You smiled, cheeks heating.

Your thighs pressed together under the covers, trying to soothe the throb you felt blooming low in your belly.

Silence stretched between you, humming with tension. The kind of silence that pulsed with need, with wanting, with everything you both weren’t saying but felt too deeply to ignore.

Then Joel’s voice came back, low and thick. Like honey and gravel, dragging across your nerves.

“You touchin’ yourself, babygirl?”

You swallowed, heart hammering.

“Not yet.” Your voice came out breathy, almost trembling with anticipation. Your fingers twitched, already itching to move.

Joel let out a low groan—the kind that made your toes curl. You could hear the frustration in it, the hunger.

“Can I hear ya? Please. Lemme listen.”

Your breath caught. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” he rasped, voice like silk.

Your whole body shivered at the praise. You slid your hand beneath your oversized T-shirt, the fabric brushing over your hardened nipples. Your skin felt electric, too hot.

You trailed your fingers slowly down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your panties until you found your slick folds. You were drenched. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your pussy aching, begging.

God, you were soaked. Swollen. Your body already reaching for something it knew only he could give.

“Tell me what you’re doin’,” Joel murmured. “Wanna picture it.”

“I’m… touching myself,” you whispered, lips parting as you circled your clit, just small circles around that bundle of nerves. A soft moan spilled from you, your hips already lifting slightly, chasing the sensation.

Joel’s breath hitched again. “You wet for me, baby?”

“So wet,” you gasped. “I’m dripping.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Wanna spread you open. Eat you out. Make you cum on my tongue.”

You whimpered, your fingers teasing just enough to build the pressure. Your hips rolled instinctively, chasing more. You imagined the scratch of his beard against your thighs, the heat of his mouth, the way he’d groan against you like he was starving.

“Joel,” you moaned. “I wish it was you…”

“I know, baby. Think bout my mouth on you,” he said, voice rough. “Think bout my cock inside you. Stretchin’ you out. Fillin’ that pretty pussy up.”

You sucked in a sharp breath and pushed two fingers inside your tight entrance, your walls clenching around the intrusion. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. You needed him. The weight of him. The stretch. The depth.

You let out a cry, hips arching off the mattress.

“That’s it, babygirl. Touch yourself f’me. Make yourself cum.”

“Joel…fuck,” you gasped. “My fingers… they’re not enough. I want your cock. It’s so big—I need it.”

You heard the faint rustle on the line, Joel groaning as he fumbled with his belt. You could picture it so clearly—legs spread wide, back against his sheets, his strong hand wrapped around himself, around his thick, throbbing cock, desperate and slick, stroking to the sound of your voice.

Then you heard the wet sound of him spitting on his hand.

“Shit—I’m gonna give it to you next time I see you. Gonna give you my cock. It’s all yours.” You could hear the rhythmic creamy sound on the background. Wet and steady. Fucking obscene. It made your walls flutter again, clenching around nothing.

You moaned, waves of pleasure crushing over you as you pumped your fingers, knuckles deep, in and out of you, fucking yourself harder, the slick sound of your fingers echoing in the quiet room, your breath coming in gasps.

“Put the phone closer, baby… lemme hear how you fuck yourself,” he said, voice thick with breath, gravel dragging at every word.

There was hunger in it. A rawness that made your toes curl. Like he was starving for every part of you—even just the sounds.

You obeyed, lips parted, breath catching as you shifted the phone lower. Your hand trembled slightly as you moved it, angling the speaker toward the slick heat between your thighs. The wet sounds of your fingers working through your folds filled the receiver—slow, messy, obscene.

You heard him groan on the other end. Sharp. Desperate.

“Wish I was there,” he muttered. His breath hitch, the sound of him losing control. “Wanna bury myself in that sweet little cunt. Fuck you slow. Make it last all night. Give you every fuckin’ inch.”

You moaned his name with a broken sob of pleasure, thighs trembling, back arched as your fingers fucked into your drenched heat.

“Joel…fuck—” your voice cracked, wrecked with want. “Nobody’s ever touched me like you… nobody’s ever fucked me like you do.”

His breath came through the line sharp and ragged, almost pained.

“I know, baby…” he groaned, voice thick with pride and hunger. “You were insatiable. Wasn’t enough to fuck you in the kitchen, was it? No— you wanted my cock when I took you to bed too, again and again.”

Your body jolted with the memory. The way he had fucked you over the counter, so hard you nearly screamed. And then the multiple rounds that followed after you two went to bed, allegedly to sleep.

He had picked you up, carried you to his bed like you weighed nothing, and then mounted you like a man starved. He hadn’t just fucked you. He owned you that night.

“I kept beggin’,” you breathed. “Told you I couldn’t take another round but I still opened my legs for you.”

Joel groaned like he was in pain. “God, I remember. You said you couldn’t, but your pussy was still so fuckin’ hungry. Grippin’ me tight, milkin’ every drop I gave you. You took it so well f’me.”

“You came inside me so many times,” you whispered. “It was leaking out of me all night.”

“Shit— I remember when you were lyin’ on your stomach, ass all red from how hard I’d fucked you. Still twitchin’. Could barely breathe. You kept beggin’ me not to stop.”

“Tell me what you’re doing now” you begged, breathless.

“Got my fist ‘round my cock,” he said, voice breaking a little on a breath. “Squeezin’ tight. Thumb right over the tip. It’s—fuck—it’s leakin’, baby. Been hard since I called.”

You whined at that, pressing your fingers deeper, hips arching up. The ache inside you swelling like it knew his voice could reach all the way in.

“Wish it was your mouth,” he groaned. “Wish I could fuck into that pretty throat, hear you gag on it like a good girl.”

He groaned again, louder this time. The rhythm of his stroking matched the slick, wet sounds coming from your end of the line.

“I’m close… Joel, I’m so close—” your voice broke as your muscles tensed, your body strung tight like a bow, curling your fingers just right to hit your g-spot.

“I’m right behind you, baby… cum with me. Wanna hear you lose it.”

You cried out, pleasure crashing through you like a wave.

Your thighs trembled violently, your back arched, and you clenched down hard around your fingers. You came with a broken sob, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

“Oh, fuck—Joel—fuck—”

“Jesus, baby… I’m comin’,” he hissed. “Fuck—fuck, that’s it—your voice—your fuckin’ moans—”

You heard him gasp, and then his breath hitched a ragged, broken sound as he came. Hard. There was a wet, rhythmic slap and a final low growl from deep in his chest as he spilled into his hand, breathing heavy, almost panting.

You could picture him now—spread out, chest rising, hand still loosely around his softening cock, skin flushed, hair damp at his temples, thick ropes of cum coating his stomach.

“That’s my girl… fuck, you sound so goddamn good when you cum,” he said, still breathless. “Shit… made a mess on the sheets.”

“Was it worth the mess?” you murmured, breathless.

Joel let out a lazy chuckle. “Darlin’… you have no idea how much it was worth it.”

“Don’t change the sheets,” you said between gasps, still catching your breath. “I want to see it tomorrow.”

He chuckled, deep and low. “You wanna see my dry cum on the sheets?”

“I want the proof of how bad you wanted me.”

“Jesus… you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered, voice reverent.

“Just so you know, I’m not going anywhere, Joel. No matter how much you try to push me away.”

“Don’t say that shit unless you mean it,” he said, voice low, but vulnerable. “Not if this is just somethin’ you’re gonna grow out of.”

“I meant it, Joel,” you whispered. “I still mean it.”

“I just… I don’t get why. Why me? I’m not—”

“How can you not see it?” you said with a soft laugh, still glowing from the high. “Joel, the other night you made me cum so much I felt like I was gonna pass out. I’ve never been with a guy who could make me cum, and you do it just by talking to me. That’s how much I want you. How can you not understand?”

“I just worry… one day this won’t be enough. You’ll get bored once the thrill’s gone, that you’ll wake up and realize you should’ve been with someone younger. Someone who can give you a clean slate, not a man with a teenage daughter and a bad back.”

“I promise you, Joel, I’m not in this for the thrill,” you said gently. “You and Sarah… you both matter too much. I wouldn’t mess with that.”

Joel let out a shaky breath. “How can ya be so fuckin’ perfect and still want an old man like me?”

“Well, the old man has some serious skills.” You said, hearing his chuckle on the other side of the line.

“I just— Christ, I’m like fifteen years older than you. My back cracks every time I bend down to tie my boots. I make old man noises gettin’ outta bed. I got a mortgage, a busted knee, and a daughter who depends on me. I don’t exactly scream eligible bachelor, darlin’.”

“Joel, listen,” you tried to say.

“I just don’t get it,” he muttered, quieter now. “You’re smart. Young. Fuckin’ gorgeous. You’ve got a future. Hell, I probably already lived through the best parts of mine.” He let out a bitter little huff. “What happens when you want marriage? Kids? I can’t start over again. I—I don’t know if I have that in me.”

“You’re not just some older guy to me. You’re Joel. The way you see me, the way you listen… that means more than anything else.”

He chuckled, shaky but real. “Damn, you’re good at this. Makin’ a man feel wanted when he’s been feelin’ invisible for so long.”

“Do you believe me then?” you asked. “That I want you? That I mean it?”

“I do,” he whispered, soft as a secret. “I wish I could be there right now,” he murmured. “Just to hold you. Just to—fuck—I don’t even know. Fall asleep next to you. Wake up with your leg thrown over me. Make you coffee in the mornin’.”

A beat passed. Then: “I know I’m older, baby. I know there’s things you’ll want one day that I probably can’t give. But I swear to God… if you let me keep you, I’ll try to do my best. I’ll damn well try.”

You smiled, curling into your pillow, heart full.

Your body still tingled, warm and sated, but it was his voice in your ear that soothed you. That made everything feel right.

Joel stayed on the line, breathing steady in your ear, until sleep took you both— the connection crackling softly, his breathing a steady comfort in your ear like a silent promise.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the support on the first part. It made me so happy to see how much you enjoyed it, I hope you liked this part as much🫶🏻🩷

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

699 notes · View notes

l0vergirlwrites · 2 months ago

Text

relaxation ; spencer reid

synopsis: relaxing has never been a part of spencer’s daily routine, but he finds it to be much easier with you.

warnings: established relationship with fem!reader, season 4 spencer with glasses (HEAR ME OUT), like one sexual innuendo but mainly sweet fluff between spencer & reader!!!

note: thank you to the anon who requested this! i hope you enjoy 💌

spencer reid has always struggled with relaxation. the high adrenaline & stress of his job mixed with the constant overthinking in his mind causes him to always be thinking ten steps ahead, which can be good for cases, but bad for his mental health over time.

whenever he feels overworked, a sentence you once said always replays in his mind as a gentle reminder.

“the work & words on the page will still be there in ten minutes. you’re allowed to take a breath”.

spencer doesn’t always follow through, but he’s been making an effort too when he noticed his dark circles becoming more prominent, the constant tossing & turning in bed, & how you’ve developed the habit of smoothing the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb.

so, on this rare day off from the bau, spencer decided he was going to force himself to relax. first, he woke up a little bit before you, his head nuzzled in the space between your shoulder blades like he was meant to be right there.

he angled his chin up a few inches, pressing light kisses with his lips to the bare skin that peeked out of your tank top, releasing any tension in his shoulders before he slowly got out of bed.

with slippers on his feet & glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, spencer stretched & yawned as he made his way to the washroom to freshen up, brushing his teeth to rid him of morning breath & washing his face to further wake him up.

he even applied some moisturizer to his skin (a fancy kind you had gotten him hooked onto a few weeks ago).

by the time the clock struck ten in the morning, spencer was brewing a pot of tea & quietly rummaging through kitchen cupboards to plan breakfast for the two of you. he decided on pancakes & eggs, something simple but also fun since you both haven’t made them in a while.

since baking & cooking were basically forms of science due to the commonalities between recipes & formulas, spencer found himself to be in his element. he tied his hair back, scooped & levelled flour, cracked eggs with one hand, mixed all the ingredients with precision, & cooked each side of the pancakes to a perfect golden brown.

he concluded that three minutes & thirty seconds to four minutes & fifteen seconds was the ‘golden window’. he made a note in his mind to tell you that when you woke up.

it wasn’t long until breakfast was ready to be served, & the sound of the bedroom door opening only made spencer more excited. when you came into view, looking like a goddess in your pyjamas & bedhead, spencer couldn’t resist resting his hands on your waist & pulling you closer in the warm morning light.

“good morning, honey” he beamed, watching you lazily wrap your arms around his neck, blinking up at him with a kind of fondness that made him melt.

you pressed up on your sock-clad toes to kiss him. “good morning, early bird. thought you were at the office for a minute”.

spencer only kissed you again at that with a shake of his head. “today’s my day of relaxation with you”.

you hummed, wiggling your eyebrows teasingly to make him laugh. “how do you wanna relax then, hmm?”.

“well, first” he pushed his glasses up, noting in his mind to let that innuendo play out later. “i made us breakfast! we’ll need some fuel in order to properly relax, right?”.

pulling away so you could see the island counter, you audibly awed at the arrangement of two plates of pancakes & eggs, yours cooked just the way you like them, with two steaming mugs of tea. looking back at spencer, you couldn’t help but nuzzle yourself into his chest, pressing a kiss just above his heart.

“you didn’t have to do all of that, thank you” you said with sincerity, about to gush at the kind gesture more before spencer cut in.

“you deserve it,” he brushed a thumb along your cheek when you looked back at him with love. “plus, i like cooking for you. it’s quite relaxing”.

by ten twenty-five, you both were sitting on two of the island chairs, passing the salt & pepper & syrup, filling each other in on what happened the previous day between bites of food, your left hand resting on spencer’s thigh once you noticed it bouncing.

he only gave you a sheepish smile in return before continuing his tangent regarding the plane ride home the previous night, & how he obliterated derek in uno.

“… & he completely forgot to say uno when he had one card left, so i sent a gentle reminder by giving him two pick up four cards” he took a sip from his mug with a smirk, a laugh bubbling in his throat when you gasped, nails gently grazing his thigh.

“that’s so brutal! remind me to make sure i only ever play before you in uno next time because you always get the good cards” you nudged your foot into one of his as you finished the last remaining bit of your food.

“that purely happens by chance, but it’s not like—“.

“do you calculate the probability of you getting all the good cards & where they might be in the deck?”.

“… maybe—“.

you both broke out into more laughter then, both of your heads thrown back in tandem before one of his hands reached down to his thigh to hold yours, his palm smooth & warm against the back of your hand.

“i love you & your mind” you sighed, still grinning wide & happy.

the honestly in your voice made spencer flush, resulting in his hand squeezing yours a little tighter, hoping you could tell how grateful he was for you with the simple gesture.

“& i love you a whole lot more”.

the rest of the morning was filled with gentle touches. spencer’s arms were wrapped around your torso as you stood in front of the sink, refusing to let him wash up after cooking. later, his head rested on your chest as you both laid along the couch, the soft tone of your voice as you read aloud coaxed him into a state of content.

for the whole day, spencer didn’t think of paperwork or unsubs or anything—only you, & that was the most relaxing thing of all.

#l0vergirlwrites💌#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid short #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubbler x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you

532 notes · View notes

syrecjh · 17 days ago

Text

─ .✦🪷 Loud for the World, Quiet for You

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

The ramen shop was noisy — not from the crowd, but because the BakuSquad had turned their table into a warzone of chopsticks, spicy dares, and Katsuki’s yelling.

“Oi, shitty hair! You call that a spice tolerance?” Bakugo barked, jabbing his chopsticks toward Kirishima, who was already sweating bullets. “I could eat three of those ghost pepper dumplings without even blinking!”

“Do it, then!” Mina dared, eyes gleaming, phone ready to record.

“Hell yeah, man!” Kaminari cheered, halfway to choking on his gyoza.

Bakugo did, naturally. And won, naturally. But not without shouting, slamming his fist on the table, and nearly flipping Kirishima’s plate in the process.

“YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO DAMN WEAK.”

The table erupted in chaos and laughter. He was all sharp edges and ferocity — loud, relentless, and wild. That was Bakugo around his friends: competitive, commanding, and the undisputed center of gravity.

But when he turned his head and spotted you at the door, waving with your gentle smile, everything about him changed.

His voice softened like a dial being turned down.

“Oi, I’m goin’ out for a sec,” he muttered.

The table blinked in shock as he left his chaos mid-battle and walked toward you, casually grabbing your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t say anything at first — just stood there, thumb brushing over the back of your hand while his eyes scanned your face like he was checking if you were okay.

“You eat yet?” he asked, voice lower than the wind, barely matching the volume of his shouting just minutes ago.

“Not yet,” you smiled. “Had a long day.”

His hand moved to your waist, guiding you just a bit closer so the noise behind him faded. “Then sit with me. You’re not goin’ home hungry.”

He pulled out a chair beside him, not across — beside — and put an arm behind your back, resting it over the booth like a silent shield. You leaned against him without thinking, his warmth melting the ache of your day. He adjusted your collar gently, and when a bit of your hair stuck to your lip, he brushed it away with a gruff, “Tch, how do you always look like you fought a storm, dumbass?”

But he said it while tucking the hair behind your ear. Soft fingers. Soft voice.

The BakuSquad watched the transformation like stunned scientists. Kirishima almost dropped his chopsticks.

“Is that... our Bakugo?”

“Bro, he’s whispering,” Kaminari hissed.

“He’s smiling,” Sero gaped.

“Shut up before he hears you,” Mina grinned, filming discreetly. “I’m documenting this for science.”

Bakugo didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. With you, he was no longer the loud Bakugo that everyone knows. He was just Katsuki — the boy who remembered how you liked your broth extra spicy and always gave you the meat from his bowl because he knew you secretly wanted it.

And when you yawned, leaning your head on his shoulder, he tilted slightly to rest against you too.

“Sleepy?” he asked.

You hummed.

“Okay. Five minutes. Then I’ll walk you home.”

And despite the world thinking Katsuki Bakugo burned like fire and roared like thunder… only you ever saw him quiet.

908 notes · View notes

shotosjupiter · 25 days ago

Text

LOOKING FOR AFFECTION — M. LUFFY

pairing — monkey d. luffy x gn!reader

summary — when you need a date to accompany you on a double date, your best friend, luffy, is the one who offers to step in. however, can you still contain your feelings for him after going on a date with him that tests your control every step of the way?

𖤐 word count — 5.01k

𖤐 genre/tags— university! au + best friends to lovers. fake dating, maybe a little ooc! luffy, FLIRTY LUFFY FLIRTY LUFFY, tension, namvivi mentions, slightly suggestive, both the reader and luffy are absolute idiots in a horrible state of yearning.

𖤐 author's note — vaguely inspired by the song affection by between friends + mood board here

꒰masterlist꒱

THE lab’s cold air burned your nostrils as you released a sigh and carefully closed the door to the cold room. It was a long, grueling, class with the lab managing to take up the full three hours slotted for the class. The hallway lights flicker slightly and in the distance you see a slumped figure curled up in a red hoodie and clutching their backpack for dear life.

Stepping forward, you let out an incredulous, “Luffy?”

It was indeed Luffy who was loudly snoring outside the room to your laboratory class with his (practically empty) backpack being cuddled in his arms and a Hello Kitty bento box tucked by his side. You nudge his thigh with the corner of your shoe, trying to gently wake him up.

After some gentle nudges and a (less than gentle) flick to the forehead, Luffy wakes up falling forward and with a snort. He looks around blearily like he isn’t quite sure how he got there - there being the math and science building - before he squints up to look at you towering over him, standing and exhausted.

He brightens immediately at the sight of you and hauls himself upwards with his backpack strapped on to his chest rather than his back and engulfs you into a hug. You let out a slight oof at the sudden contact before you’re also wrapping your arms around him despite the front side of his bag digging into your ribs.

“That class is so long, I think I spent half of my life just sitting here!”

You feel your heart skip a beat at the feel of him wrapped around you. His skin is warm somehow despite the cold environment and you feel your skin warming at the contact of his skin on yours. You take a deep breath to compose yourself and with a roll of your eyes you release him before giving him a nudge with a smile. “What are you even doing here? You know my labs are always long.”

He grins before flourishing the pink bento box towards you, waving it at you for you to take. “I missed you! Plus, Sanji is trying out some new recipe for his international cuisine class and he wanted you to try some.”

He leans in a bit closer in a conspiratorial way before saying in a stage whisper, “It was really hard to not eat it, I think I deserve a thanks, personally.”

You let out a snort before shoving his face away. “Right, thank you so much for not eating the food that was intended for me.” You press a hand to your chest and mock a princess-like swoon. “My hero, really.”

Luffy grins before shuffling closer to you as the two of you slowly walk out of the freezing building and out into campus, the sky shadowed by the dark colors of dusk and the peek of starlight.

It’s a subtle thing really, the way Luffy’s fingers brush yours, slowly but almost intentionally, waiting for the right time to strike. He continues talking to you about his day, ranting about his professors and their sheer audacity to assign a paper to be done over the upcoming fall break and how he has yet to start his Global History project. He continues to talk and talk, not because he doesn’t want to hear you but because he knows you’re tired. He knows in the slump of your shoulders, the tiredness lining the creases of your eyes, the yawns that filter through your mouth every few minutes. He knows you.

It feels like he’s known you for almost an eternity - when you were children, screaming and running as you tagged each other as ‘it’, when you were in that middle space between child and teenager and you had told him about having your first ever crush, the way it felt like your heart was being twisted and turned in every direction, when you were teenagers and were each other’s rock, motivating the other to push through school because then in the end it’d mean the two of you would land in the same school, always together.

It was always you and him. He knows you like the back of your hand and you know him down to the freckles littered on his back (all sixty six of them). So when you feel the tips of his fingertips graze yours, you feel your heart catch in your chest. Somewhere along the way of pinky promises and midnight adventures, you had caught feelings for him. Not the fleeting kind you once had for crushes in your childhood, but the full throttle of feelings that threw your heart in a blender and wanted more, more, more from every touch, every glance.

You glance over at him as he continues to talk animatedly as if he isn’t aware of his hand inching closer and closer to yours, continuously meeting for the briefest of seconds before separating again. Until you feel the skin of his pinky finger curl around yours, tight and snug, ensuring it won’t go anywhere. You let out the smallest gasp at the contact before smoothing over your expression and looking back at him again. Luffy? He’s the picture of nonchalance right now - like he’s not even aware of your racing heartbeat or that he’s practically two steps away from holding your hand. No, he just continues to rattle on about how he had to search up what an MLA header is again like that should be the main concern right now.

The two of you continue to walk all the way across campus till you reach your dorm building. Standing by the heavy metal door, you stand there as Luffy lets go of your pinky finger (are you supposed to already be missing the touch?) and leans in close to you to tap on the bento box in your hands. He’s so close and his smile borders on a smirk as he says, “Let me know how it tastes, yeah? I’m gonna make Sanji cook some more of it, if it is.”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh as you say, “Like you care if it’s good, you’d eat fried plastic if it was free food.”

Luffy leans back and shrugs, grinning as he says, “Hey, free food is free food, if Sanji made fried plastic I’m sure it’d be gourmet plastic at the very least.” He pinches his fingers, mimicking a chef.

You let out a laugh, before you feel him reach out to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. There’s mirth in his eyes but also so much care as he says softly, “Go inside. You’re tired and you should eat and get rest for your classes tomorrow.”

Feeling warmth rise in your face, you nod lightly before opening the door to your building. You give him a light wave and he smiles a bright smile, waving back, and watches you go inside before he turns back to start his walk back to his dorm.

Inside, you clamber up the stairs and burst into your shared dorm and immediately flop onto your bed, groaning loudly. Behind you, you hear shuffling and Nami’s exasperated voice ring out from across the room. “Luffy again?”

You get up from the bed to face her and run a hand down your face slowly before nodding. You can still feel the warmth lingering on your face as you recall to her the way he had held your finger and close proximity as he smiled at you. Nami had been the subject of multiple hour long talks about Luffy and your feelings for him since freshman year. The two of you had been assigned roommates and since that year, you’ve been rooming with each other every year proceeding that. If Luffy was your best friend then she was right after him on that list.

She has been a witness to many of you and Luffy’s interactions and she has been adamant on her verdict on the issue ever since she first saw the two of you. Not that you agree to it, only hope.

You can hear Nami’s frustration more than see it as she drones out, “You know he likes you, right? Surely, you can’t deny it now.”

The warmth resurges on your face at her declaration but still you shake your head at her. “No, I doubt it. It’s just…Luffy being Luffy y’know? He’s always friendly.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh at your words, “Right, that’s why he also walks me home to my dorm and waits for three hours for my class to finish and looks at me with those disgusting puppy eyes.”

You’re about to retort a comment back to her, denying her accusation before Nami flaps her hands around in a shooing gesture. “This is exactly why I’m dragging you along on that double date. You need to either jump his bones or find someone else. Clearly you won’t do the first option so double date it is.”

Curling around the blanket of your bed, you let out yet another groan before tossing a pillow over to her side of the room. “I still have to go to that? I don’t even know the guy you set me up with.”

There’s a small pause in the room and you look up from your blanket and squint at Nami who’s awkwardly shuffling in her slippers and avoiding eye contact with you. “What?” you ask.

She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, still avoiding eye contact with you. “Well… actually the guy that was supposed to be your date cancelled.”

Your eyes are still narrowed at her, waiting for her to continue. “Which means?”

She lets out a sigh. “Which means, we’re still going on that date but now you have to find someone who’s going to be your date for the double date.”

“Why can’t I just not go?”

She gasps dramatically at this, the mischief back in her voice. “You can’t leave me alone! I need my best friend to join me, you have to come.”

Flopping back against your mattress you wave a hand at her. This would be a problem for later. “Fine, fine, whatever, I’ll figure it out, I’ll come with.” You say half-begrudgingly.

You hear a squeal and she jumps on top of your bed to give you a tight squeeze as she declares her thanks. Smiling, you return her embrace, feeling at peace in your own bed and next to your friend, romantic feelings be damned. It’ll be a problem for later.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

‘Later’ comes way too soon and suddenly you’re hit with the dilemma of having to find someone to drag along with you to this dreaded double date.

The library is cold and leaves its cold air on the rich wood desk that you and Luffy were currently sitting side to side by. There’s a laptop covered in pirate flag stickers and two open notebooks strewn across the table and covered in tic-tac-toe matches (he was losing). You groan before sinking lower in your seat and resting your head against the cool table.

“I don’t know what to do, I mean who am I even supposed to ask.”

Luffy takes off the earbud that’s connected to his ear. You’re both sharing a pair of wire earbuds, an indie song’s bass blaring from the tinny speakers. He tilts his head in question before asking, “Ask who? For what?”

You lift your head, feeling the imprint of the desk left on your forehead. Rubbing it gently, you grimace and tell him, “The double date Nami signed me up for. Apparently my date cancelled - not that I’m all bummed out about it - but now I have to find someone else to come with me.”

Luffy takes you in, down to the light imprinted line on your forehead. He hums in response, nodding lightly and taking in the words. He taps his fingers almost impatiently against the lacquered table as you continue to explain the situation.

“It’s just awkward to ask anyone and I wish I could just bail but I’d feel bad if I just left Nami alone and-”

“I could be your date.”

“It’s just annoying- what? You?”

He eases back into his seat and grins his bright grin at you. He shrugs, “Why not? We could pass off as a couple, we know each other well enough.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst as you stare at him incredulously, at a loss for words. He stares sincerely back at you, the curl of his smile the whole situation just that more heart-throbbing. Was he insane? Did he want you to suffer through heart palpitations? Did he enjoy this? Was he some kind of sadist who was reveling in your nervousness?

A silence passes between the two of you before you release a tentative “Okay.”

Luffy grins and pushes his shoulder against yours. You feel him gently place your fallen earbud back on, the wire re-connecting the two of you to the soft tune. His hand lingers near your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone gently. There’s a look in his eyes, a look so soft and so gentle that it nearly makes you question all of this. A look so soft, almost akin to yearning. Or maybe it is a look of yearning.

“It’ll be the best date you’ll ever go on.” He murmurs softly.

Your faces are so close to one another that you can feel the soft puffs of his exhale fan over your face as the two of you are stood frozen in motion. One hand is twiddling with the hem of your shirt, always touching you while his other hand is still gliding gently across your cheek. He traces down your face lightly, cupping it, and you’re staring at him with a mixture of love and curiosity, melting into his touch.

Then, as it does, the moment is broken when someone on the desk near you lets out a horrendously loud sneeze and the two of you blink at each other. You slap a palm to his forehead and shove his face away from yours, laughing nervously. “Well- you better finish your history paper first then! Don’t want to be worrying about the assignment while we’re on our date.” The word sounds awkward coming out of your mouth now.

Luffy moves his hand away from your face, blinking rapidly as if trying to wake himself up. He nods almost robotically before you feel his pinky finger curl around yours. He drags your hand closer to him before using his one hand to pull his laptop back open and start typing up his assignment. You try to tug your hand back from him to let him do his work with more ease but he only tightened his grasp on you, refusing to let you go.

He really was going to be the death of you.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Smoothing down the front of your jeans, you inspect yourself in the mirror taking in every aspect of yourself to see if there was anything else that needed adjusting. The plan was to meet at a nice ramen restaurant before switching over to watch one of the newest movies that came out at the theater. Luffy was coming to walk both you and Nami to the restaurant, ever the gentleman, despite Nami nagging in your ear about how he just wants to spend more time with you and how she was now being forced to third-wheel.

When the doorbell rang, you rushed to the door to open it while yelling at Nami to hurry up and her responding back with throwing some random cosmetic in your general direction. Once you do get the door open, Luffy stands behind it dressed in a loose black short-sleeved button up and clutching a bouquet of red petunias in his hand.

For a moment you gape at him, momentarily taken aback by not only the flowers but him. He looked beautiful with his perpetually messy hair and the sliver of a necklace peeking out from his shirt where the top button was unbuttoned. He looked like the epitome of boyfriend material and you were trying your hardest not to make it apparent that you were flustered by it. To his credit, he looked equally as in awe at the sight of you. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he nervously ran a hand through this already ruffled hair, looking at you up and down.

He clears his throat before flourishing the flowers at you, the brown paper crinkling slightly. “For you,” He pauses, taking his time to let his eyes roam your figure once more. “You look pretty.” Another pause. “Very pretty.”

You feel a flush warming your face, the heat taking over your ears. You gesture to him frantically, trying to play off the compliment, “You look nice too, perfect, actually, for a fake date.” You had said it to lighten the mood but Luffy imperceptibly frowns at this, as if realizing the circumstances of the situation and disliking them.

“Right. A fake date.” He repeats hollowly.

Just then Nami bursts from the front door, a cloud of vanilla perfume following her trail as she shoves Luffy past the door. “We’re gonna be late, what’re you guys standing out here for?”

You and Luffy make eye contact with each other and burst into laughter while Nami grumbles and saunters off ahead of you two.

Quickly, you tuck the flowers into a pretty glass jar before hurriedly locking up and following behind Nami with Luffy right by your side. The rushed walk to the restaurant included being led by the click-clack of Nami’s heels and the feel of Luffy’s arm brushing yours, each touch sending shivers down your spine. When you had glanced over at him, wondering if his touches were purposeful, wondering if he knew just the effect he had on you. He smiled back at you and you felt your heart clench at the radiance of it.

When the three of you had arrived at the restaurant, Nami’s date was already sitting there waiting. She’s pretty, you thought, with elegant long blue hair cascading down her back and glimmering gold jewelry adorning her ears and wrists. She had introduced herself as Vivi and you could see the instant chemistry between her and Nami, as the two hit it off instantly, damn near leaving you and Luffy in the dust.

Not that you needed it, because Luffy was playing his part of your date and he was playing it well. He fiddled with your fingers as the four of you debated what to order from the menu (Luffy insisted on getting the family meal for himself), when you took your turn to narrate a funny story for the group, he trailed a finger down your arm, leaving goosebumps behind as a trail. When the food had arrived, he insisted on feeding you a bite of his food and he insisted you give him a bite (or three) of yours in exchange, only accepting the food if it was you personally offering it to him.

When the bill was paid (Vivi had paid for Nami, claiming something about a rich father - nepo babies, right?) and the four of you were wrapping up when you heard Vivi mutter something to Nami, something you assumed they thought was beyond your earshot.

“Are they in love?”

A strangled laugh from Nami comes out, “Worse. They’re stupid.”

Then, when it was finally time to head to the movie theater it seemed the world was trying to trip you - for better or for worse. Somehow, your seats had been upgraded from single seats to loveseats. Brown cool leather that reclined and cooled and heated at the touch of a button and all with close proximity to your lover. What a deal! Nami was excited by this upgrade undoubtedly, seizing her chance to further chat up her date and bond with her, but you? Being in close proximity with Luffy was the best and worst thing for you.

He would sit so close, thighs side by side, elbows knocking against each other, and hair brushing against the other’s shoulder. While your heart would race at this, it would also fall, knowing none of his touches were intentional and were just a byproduct of his personality. Nonetheless, you basked in the moment, taking in his affections like they were the only time you’d receive them and maybe they were.

The movie passed with him just like that - slowly edging closer to you till his head was laid down on your shoulder, tucked perfectly in the crevice between your neck and shoulder like it was meant to be there. He had managed to intricately intertwine your fingers together, like they were weaved together instead of the regular way to hold hands and you could feel strands of his ever-messy hair brushing your cheek. And when it was over, the two of you slowly, reluctantly, peeled away from each other and glanced to the other loveseat pair where Nami and Vivi were laid only to find the two of them holding each other’s faces softly, not a single speck of attention towards the movie, kissing each other.

You and Luffy exchange a quick glance at each other, unsure of what to do. He kicks a foot in their general direction, letting out a stage whisper in your direction. “Do we… separate them?”

Nami’s head pops out from a mess of limbs and gestures at the two of you in a shooing motion. “Go already, I’ll meet you at home, I’ll walk her home first.”

You let out a giggle before waving back at her, “Alright, alright, we’ll leave you to your… business.”

The two of you burst into peals of laughter as you exit the movie theater, giggling about the whole interaction and placing bets if your friend would get laid tonight.

“She was basically sucking that poor girl’s face off, she has to do it as an act of service now!”

You cackle, “Nami’s a gentleman, I think she’d wait until the next few dates though.” You pause as the two of you keep walking. Like always, he insisted on walking you back home like it was his personal knight duty. Your shadows meld together in the dark of the night, the moon and streetlights leaving a trail of lights on your backs. “I think she had a good time though, they seem like a good match.” You murmur, letting the words float in the wind.

This time, his hand doesn’t creep slowly against yours but grasps it solidly and firmly like it’s meant to be there. “Yeah? You think it was a good date?”

You warm at his words, feeling like there was a double meaning to his words. You hold his hand tighter, squeezing it. “Yeah. It was a good date, Luffy.”

The walk ends too soon, with the two of you awkwardly standing by the door to your dorm building once again. Somehow, even though it wasn’t a real date, it very much felt like the end of one. The one where you wait, you hover, for the first kiss. The kiss that ensures that the date went well, that you want more. But that’d never happen, this wasn’t a real first date, and Luffy didn’t have those feelings for you. He was just here to help his best friend out.

He stares at you with an indistinguishable look in his eyes and steps closer to you. There was barely a foot of space between the two of you now, and he reaches out to cup your face and your heart lurches at the touch. Surely he’s not- his head leans down towards your and his breath is fluttering over yours. His nose brushes your and he looks at you, unsure, maybe he’s trying to figure out if this is what you want.

He doesn’t kiss you. Not on your lips at least - but he leaves a chaste kiss on your cheek before he pulls away from you. There’s a rosy dusting across his cheeks that’s seen from the moonlight as he grins at you. “Gotta end the date with a kiss, right? I’ll see you tomorrow." He waves, walking backwards until he sees you enter your dorm building.

Once the door closes behind you, you clutch your cheek like it’s your lifeline. Luffy just kissed you. Or well- he kissed your cheek and that definitely means something, right? Luffy wasn’t going around kissing everyone’s cheeks so surely this meant something, held some kind of meaning.

Were you supposed to say something to him? Reciprocate it back? What if he didn’t want you to do that though? You sighed, collapsing onto your bed, and replayed the moment in your head. Once, twice, and then you lost count of how many times you had rewinded the moment. You’d wait for Nami. She’d know what to do, how to go about this situation. Yes, you’d wait on her to help dissect this.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

You found yourself back in the library a few days later. It felt like a mimicry of the day when Luffy had offered to be your date, except this time you had a plan residing in your back pocket as courtesy of Nami. The cool air of the library blew out and left the brown wooden table cold to the touch. Earbud wires were connecting you and Luffy once again, some love song blaring in your ears. It was the first time you had seen him since the (fake) date and you were determined to make a move.

Slumping downwards in your chair, you let out a groan and set down your phone. “Nami wants to set me up for another date since hers went so well.”

You felt Luffy still next to you and stare right at you. He set his pencil down gently and then said softly in confusion, “What?”

Got him. You nod vehemently, as you imitate frustration, tugging at the earphone wire as you continue, “Mhm, she said she wants me to have as good a date as she had with Vivi.”

A loud exhale and Luffy runs his hands through his hair. “I thought-” He pauses. “I thought I had made it clear, I thought I was obvious.”

You cock your head, tilting it in confusion. “Made what clear?”

Now he tugs at the black strands, like he was going insane. “I thought I made it clear that I like you. I thought it was clear that I want you. I want to be the one who takes you out on dates, who holds your hands. I want to be the one that kisses you and the one who’s taking you back home late at night. I thought I made it clear I want to be yours, that I am yours.”

There’s a silence where you’re just gaping at him in awe. You had expected something from your little ploy but not this. You hadn’t expected him to bare his whole heart to you, to feel all that he did about you.

“Luffy-”

He plows on, “But either I’m the idiot or you are, because I thought I was being obvious and I thought you liked me too but-”

There’s a muffled sound and your lips are on his. Clearly, he wouldn't have let you get a word in so you had to silence him somehow. You cup his cheek as you kiss him, letting your thumb trace the scar on his cheek. His hands trail down your spine, his fingers following the path of your spinal cord before they find home at your waist. He squeezes your waist lightly, as if trying to confirm that this was real.

Reluctantly you pull away from him, breath panting from the intensity of the kiss. “I like you too, idiot.” You pause for a minute, fiddling with the front strands of his hair. Taking a deep breath, you soldier on, “I want to be the only one you go on dates with, the only one you do that weird finger weaving thing, the one you steal food from, the one you kiss, the one you want. So yes, I want you just as much as you want me Luffy.”

You glance back at him and your heart stutters at the look of pure love in his eyes. The affection in his eyes was so clearly abundant that you wondered how you hadn’t noticed it before. His pupils were blown wide and his thumbs were tracing circles on your hips as he pulled you closer into the stuffy library chair he was sat in.

He kisses you again, more softly this time, but just as emotion-filled. His lips are soft and he opens his mouth slightly, gasping for air in between kisses but refusing to let go of you for too long before he’s on you again. His tongue licks the bottoms on your lip once before you pull away all too fast, suddenly conscious that you’re still in the library. He chases your lips all the same and you push away his face, giggling, “We’re in the library, Luffy.”

He lets out a laugh but still brings his face close to yours. “Can’t blame me when my dream just came true.”

“Ugh, since when were you such a smooth-talker?”

“Always, you just were too oblivious to notice. Plus, I can feel your face being warm right now so I know you like it.” He leaves a kiss on your cheek gently before burrowing his head in the junction between your neck and shoulder, lightly biting the skin there.

Later, you send a picture to Nami – it has Luffy cuddled up in the warmth of your arms, letting out a snore, both of your lips slightly swollen from kissing, and earphone wires still tangled somewhere in between the two of you, all you get in response is a ‘Finally.’

729 notes · View notes

thistle-wrote · 1 month ago

Text

John finally gets the bird he’s been watching

Cw: sex, implied sadist John, mostly just smut with little plot.

F!reader X John price

Zero self preservation, this girl. John noticed it quickly: the way she was completely unaware of her surroundings; the way she smiled and apologized to each and every man that"accidentally" touched her; the way she politely chatted to blokes at the bar, all while completely oblivious to their unmistakable advances. All sunshine and smiles, her demeanor made him watch her closely. It was intrigue, maybe.

John isn't what most people would consider comfortable. He doesn't care much for social graces; he stands too close, stares too hard. He's just not exactly the soft, loving type that little thing probably needs. This fact doesn't stop him, though. She doesn't stop him either.

She doesn't seem to mind when his hand runs up her side while he's talking to her, nor does she seem to understand what's going on when he buys her drink after drink. This happens every weekend; she and her friends are here every Saturday at exactly 8 p.m. He's got it down to a science at this point.

John has always been methodical about it. He wants that stupid girl, sure, but he wants it to stick, wants her to stay.

"What do ya want today, bird?" He hums, easing himself down onto the stool next to her. Her friends have long disappeared, like usual.

"Better friends." John doesn't miss the way she grumbled, the sour little expression on her face. They've always been such awful friends, he can tell, but that's okay, Birdie. He can make it better.

"Mhm, be better off without 'em," John rumbled out in response. He watched her: her sweet expression, the little half smile. Sweet, pretty thing.

"Yeah, maybe," she sighed but smiled at him. They're friends. Or at least friends until he can get what he wants without spooking her.

"Well, you got me." A smile fell over his face, meant to ease her: We are friends, Bird, don't worry. His hand softly eased up her back; she didn't react, never does.

"I don't even actually know you." A little giggle followed her statement. She has a good point, but that's okay, sweetheart; that can be rectified.

"Mmhm, and what would you like to know about me, little girl?" He watched in amusement as the blush crept onto her cheeks due to the nickname; God, she's fucking cute. The conversation lasted all evening, hours longer than John would usually spend in this shit bar. Slowly, her friends started leaving, going home with strangers, like usual. She thankfully didn't seem to mind all that much, her poor excuse for friends not putting a damper on their conversation.

Months John had been working on this, sweetheart. Talking, smiling, doing his best to stay respectful and friendly, but today was different; it was time. "Alright, we've had 'bout enough, I think. We're going, love."

"Um...together?" she mumbled, a frown followed by a confused eyebrow raise. Sweet thing.

"Yeah, Bird, together. You've had a lot to drink, your friends are nowhere in sight, and I'm not letting you find your way back home alone. You can sleep it off at mine." John began getting up, grabbing his jacket with a small smile, an attempt to make his demand as nonthreatening as possible. To his delight, she didn't argue, didn't even say another word just got up and followed him. One day he'll have to give her a lecture about trusting strangers, but not tonight.

The walk back to his was quiet and peaceful. Just John leading his wife Bird, to his house. She just followed him like the good girl he always knew she was, not a single instinct telling her she was prey caught in a cage.

As soon as he shut the door behind them, he made sure she was comfortable, sitting her on the couch, helping her unbuckle the strap on her shoe. God, even her feet are pretty, and John hates feet. "Good, princess?"

A little nod followed by a sleepy yawn. He couldn't help the way his chest got tighter; she was perfect, adorable. "Yeah? Do you need a shower? Might sober you up a bit," he hummed softly, still squatting in front of where that beautiful creature sat on his couch.

"Uh...yeah, if you don't mind," her sweet voice muttered out. John only laughed a little, placing a hand on her thigh.

"Of course not, love." He led her through the house, into his bedroom, to the bathroom, showed her where all the things you'd need for a shower were kept, showed her where the towels were, and grabbed her a T-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants she would no doubt be absolutely swimming in.

"Just yell if you need anything." He had half a mind to just get in with her, to touch her, to taste her, to watch the way her body moves under the water, but he didn't. He's trying, probably harder than he ever had in his life, to be a gentleman.

She nodded, and he left the room. He was antsy for some reason, sitting in the living room for the duration of her shower, trying to focus on either his cigar or the telly, but he couldn't shake the thought of the sweet, naked woman just one room over.

When she emerged from the bedroom, he realized for the first time that he might actually be getting old, worried for a small moment if he would have a heart attack. Makeup all washed away, hair still wet from the shower, a sleepy expression. "Hi, beautiful." There's no possible way at this point that she doesn't realize he's flirting with her; he's been flirting with her for months.

"Hi," soft, quiet. He watched her little feet hit the carpet, walking towards the couch. He almost let her, but no, no. This was his Bird, in his house, and she was going to find out what happens when you let the older man at the bar take you home.

"C'mere, Bird." It's a demand, though not an unkind one. She stops, turns, and hesitates for a moment before walking over to his recliner. John stubs out his cigar on the ashtray next to his chair and reaches his hands out to grab her, pulling her into his lap.

She gasps a little but overall doesn't seem uncomfortable. He wants her to behave, listen, and be a good girl for him, but he wants her comfortable enough to stick around after he has his way with her. "Bird, do you know what I want from you?" There's certainly no way she didn't, not completely, anyway.

"Um..yes," Her answer sounded more like a question rather than a statement. It was cute and shy.

"You gonna give it to me?" he asked, putting her back farther against his chest, resting his hand on her clothed thigh. He could feel the way her chest rose and fell heavier than normal.

She only nodded. That was all the permission he needed before his hand grabbed her chin, turning it to face him. He let his lips brush hers softly, doing his absolute best to control himself. John wasn't a man who regularly allowed himself things like this; he was too busy, and he had too many important things to think about. But this girl was his reward. She might not know it yet, but she was going to give him lots of things he hadn't let himself have up until this point.

He felt like he was on cloud nine with her lips pressed against his. He didn't waste much time getting her into his bed. She was visibly nervous, but that was nothing he couldn't rectify. He was on top of her, his mouth tasting hers, kissing her like he'd been waiting months to do so, because he had.

"Lift your arms for me," he whispered against her lips. He waited for her to obey, which she did without any protest. John barely pulled his T-shirt over her head before his mouth moved to her nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around it just so he could hear the soft little noises she made. John likes to take his time when he has a woman in his bed.

He let his teeth graze over her swollen peak just to test the waters, just to see what she'd allow. He felt like he won thelottery when he heard her soft little whimper. "J…John," she whimpered. Oh god, this little thing was in trouble, big trouble.

"Yeah?" he spoke, moving his mouth from one perfect breast to the other. His hands explored her body while he continued to suck on her. If these were the noises she made just from this, he couldn't imagine what he could get her to do while inside of her. His cock twitched against his leg just at the thought.

His mouth didn't leave hers when he slipped his hand down the sweatpants she was wearing, but he did groan when he just felt hair. No underwear. "Don't wear underwear?" he questioned, his breath becoming ragged.

"I…well, I didn't have any," she breathed out. Of course she didn't; his sweetheart didn't have any clothes to change into here. She was wearing his pajamas.

"Mhm, we'll remember that for next time," a subtle, silent promise that there would, in fact, be a next time. He lifted his head from her chest to allow himself to see her, to see what he was touching. He ran his hand across her bush, which he wasn't expecting her to have, but he was absolutely not complaining about.

He watched her, the desperation on her face, as he removed his hand to pull her pants down. "Oh, so pretty," he muttered mostly to himself as he got the pants past her ankles. John pushed her knees apart. He didn't even have to feel her to know how wet she was; it was all over her thighs.

John glanced at her face. She looked both incredibly nervous and excited at the same time. He moved his hand, his thumb running over her sensitive little bud and then down her soaked folds."Fuck, you're so wet."

She whined, a precious sound he could get more than used to. He didn't even have time to think before he was undoing his belt. She watched him as his jeans hit the floor along with his underwear. A gasp. God, that stroked his ego.

"That's not going to fit." She whined. It would fit; he'd make damn sure of that. He pulled her thighs closer to his as he crawled back on top of her, placing himself between her legs.

"Oh, it'll fit; we're going to make it fit." John is usually a very patient man; his job requires a lot of patience, but he's been after this Bird for months. He'd be as gentle as he could, but there's no patience left.

John is a bit of a sadist. He couldn't help but chuckle at the little whimper that left her lips as he dragged the tip of his cock against her slick sex. "You gonna be good for me, love?"

He almost shuddered when her words hit his ears: "Yes, sir." Fuck, he normally has to train his pets to behave like that. All that time he spent pursuing her would have been worth it just to hear that.

"Fuckkk." He growled as he pushed into her. She was so wet but so tight that it almost hurt. His bulbous tip was barely in before she started whining nonsense about it being too much, about him being too big.

"Shhh, princess, take a deep breath, relax, let me in." He rested his hand on her shoulder, a means to calm her. The second he felt her gummy walls relax around him, he jerked his hips, bottoming out inside of her.

"Oh my god," she cried softly as he hit her cervix. John ran a hand up and down her side for a moment, letting her settle, letting her get used to the stretch.

"That's it, oh, good girl." His hips began rocking back and forth at a slow, steady pace as he pushed her knees to her chest. He'd waited months to get in this cunt; he was going to make sure they both enjoyed it.

With every moan or whimper that left her pretty lips, he picked up the pace. An obvious sign she was enjoying it was the green light he needed to really have his way with her.

"I knew you were a little slut. There you go, baby, that's it." Every word he spoke was gritted out, every filthy sentence a mix of praise and degradation. This was his woman, even if she didn't know she belonged to him yet.

With every deep thrust into her, he watched her expression change, watching the way her mouth hung open and her eyes glazed over. She got cock drunk faster than any woman he'd ever been with.

"Look at that, pretty baby. Dumb on my cock already." He taunted her. She was too out of it to respond with anything other than incoherent babbling. It was like a reward for his patience with her.

John rutted into her hard and fast. Normally, he'd touch her clit, but he just wanted her to finish on his cock, just wanted to feel her fall apart from only that. He bullied his way in and out of her until his wish came true, until she was squirming and squeezing him so hard he could hardly move, feeling her body spasm around him.

She was saying something, but he couldn't understand it; just noises, mostly. "Fuck, baby, squeezing me so hard," he groaned out as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm.

John's was not far behind. She was too wet, too warm, and too excited. His pace quickened as he neared his end. It was brutal; she'd most definitely be bruised tomorrow. He probably should have asked if she was on birth control before he let go, but it was just too late for that. His hips slowed as he released hot ropes into her.

He rode it out, feeling himself soften inside of her. "You did so good," he murmured as he laid down, pulling her against him. She just let out a little sleepy whine.

"Guess you have something more fun to do on Saturday nights from now on, huh?"

Part two

CoD Masterlist

#captain john price x reader #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #price x you #price/reader #captain john price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #captian john price #cod x fem!reader #cod x female reader #cod smut

858 notes · View notes