#but oddly enough... they like it around her
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Sweets to the Sweet
Vergil x fem!reader (one shot)
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dilf Vergil (need I say more đ), au, Iâm sure OOC Vergil (đ i tried), kissing, teasing, dirty talk, praise, biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie(s), multiple orgasms, squirting, mirror sex, cum eating, slight breeding kink
over 7k worth of pwp lol
not proofread âď¸ enjoy!
editing to add: big thanks and shoutout to @ashlinxsloves and đ anon đ thanks to you two, i had the inspo to finish this fic đ
Summer break could not arrive any faster. Your finals sucked the life and joy from you, but now itâs over and done. Nothing left except to empty your brain of concepts, formulas, and essaysâand finally relax.
Nero, who you randomly met in the library trying to cram for an anatomy exam at the beginning of the semester, has invited you to hang out with him for a few weeks. I promise my dad isnât going to care, a crooked grin in place, hell that's if heâs even at home. And I want you to meet Kyrie. Here, a dreamy look comes over his face. Sheâs the best.
So, you pack up and head out with Nero as soon as the last finalâs finished (itâs yours, and itâs history). Then, after a short road tripâmade easier by trading off driving until late the next nightâNero pulls up in front of a modest two story house. After parking, you both climb out of the car, stretching to work out the kinks of sitting in one spot for hours. You grab your bags while Nero grabs his and leads you up the pebbled foot path to the front door.Â
Before he can stick the key in the lock, the door swings open into a warmly lit foyer. The hottest man youâve ever seen in your life stands there, cool gaze flicking from Nero to you back to Nero. Heâs well dressed to be at home, a dark blue cable knit sweater paired with soft grey joggers ending on bare feet; his spiked hair looks messy, like heâs run his hands through it, with several fallen strands highlighting his face. A strong jaw offset by a soft mouth draws in your eyes.Â
âSon,â his raspy voice sends chills dancing down your spine. âWho is our lovely guest?â
Nero brushes his thumb against his nose, a nervous tic youâve noticed about him. âAh, well, surprise,â he hunches his shoulders, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. âDidnât think youâd mind.â
His dadâs glacial eyes snap to you. âPleasure to make your acquaintance.â
Nero hurriedly introduces everyone, making you grin over at him once he says his dadâs name is Vergil.Â
âYou guys like to keep it classic, huh?â
Vergilâs mouth twitches, the hint of a smile trying to appear. âYes, quaint, isnât it?â
You laugh outright and Nero scratches the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. âYeah, Well.. weâre kinda beat.â
His dad nods, smoothly stepping forward to clasp your bags in his hands. âFollow me to your rooms.â
You sputter out a protest that is quickly shot downââA lady never carries her own luggageââVergilâs raised eyebrow and dismissive tone makes your heart flutter. He leads the two of you further into the house and upstairs. Once you get settled in, you fall asleep in no time.
The next few days are filled with Nero showing you around his house and neighborhood.Â
Oddly enough, whenever you and Nero hang out around his home, his dad is nearby. Nero offhandedly mentions a few times that thatâs not his norm.
âHe must be on vacation this week,â he complains to you under his breath, watching Vergil make his way through the living room to the kitchen. âI swear heâs never around when Iâm on break.â
âIs he never around or are you always out with Kyrie?â You tease good naturedly.Â
âShut up,â he laughs, tossing a throw pillow at you before slumping back on the couch. âIt just feels like heâs hovering.â
You shrug, attention going back to the television. Youâd never say it out loud, especially to Nero, but you definitely donât mind seeing his dad hanging around.
Nero eventually introduces you to his neighbor and childhood friend, Nicoâa rowdy young woman who you click with almost instantly. She razzes Nero about everything, and it never fails to make you laugh. The last person he brings around is the infamous Kyrie. Sheâs so kind and pretty, you understand why Nero is so smitten.
The four of you hang out a few times and itâs fun, but you're glad when you have a free day to yourself. Craving homemade scones, Nero is nice enough to run out to the store to grab some ingredients. Itâs only until heâs back that you realize a few items are still missing, and he promises to run out and grab those, too.Â
Alone once more in the kitchen, you decide to get a head start on the recipe.Â
Humming, your brows pinch together, immersed in looking over the recipe you have saved in your phone. Youâre ninety-nine percent sure you have everything added to the bowl, but you just want to double check before you start mixing. Too busy cataloging ingredients, you donât notice Vergil standing near the kitchen entryway.
âOkay,â you say to yourself out loud, pushing the phone further up the counter so you can pull the bowl and whisk to you. âBeat by hand for two minutes.â
âWhat are you making?â
An embarrassingly high pitched squeal escapes you before you can stop it. Spinning around, you see Neroâs dad gazing at you in amusement although his face remains stoic.
âOh my gosh,â you hold your hand over your heart. âI-I didnât hear you come in. You scared me to death.â
âApologies,â he lets his lips quirk up, a shadow of a grin. âIt was not my intention.â
Blowing out a short breath, you shake your head. âNo, I mean I know you didnât mean to. And, uh, Iâm just baking lemon scones. Nero picked up some ingredients for me earlier, but heâs off getting the rest right now.â
He steps closer, eyes dragging down your body before flicking up to your mixing bowl. âAnd do you require any assistance?â
His low tone has you biting your bottom lip, watching when his eyes catch on the movement. âUh, s-sure, I mean if you donât mind.â
He graces you with a half smile, âI would not have offered otherwise. Tell me how you need me.â
Your skin feels hot and a nervous sweat breaks out across your hairline. Aside from a few stuttered words, youâre able to explain to Vergil and in no time you both are working side by side in quiet harmony.
His hands catch your eyes; pianist hands, you think. Long dexterous fingers offset by pale skin with blue veins snaking their way from his knuckles up his forearms. You want to sink your teeth into his skin. Itâs unfair how good he looks.Â
Youâve only spent a little bit of time with Neroâs father; itâs mostly been with his friends and girlfriend. Vergil, youâve noticed, is quietâmore prone to reading in the soft lamplight of the living room than loud conversation. Nico says Nero is much more like his uncle (âA loud mouthed braggart to paraphrase Vergil,â Nico snickered). So lost in thought, you almost miss him speaking.
âThis is nice,â he murmurs at you, side-eying you before glancing back at his hands.
Smiling down at the mixing bowl, you nod. âIt is.â
âI am..â his mouth purses, like heâs tasting out the word heâs searching for, âglad Nero invited you.â
At his admission, you turn to fully look at his side profile. A straight nose with strong cheekbonesâhe notices you looking and turns to face you, shifting your view onto his sharp eyes and Cupidâs bow mouth.
His thumb comes up to brush against your cheek, hand cupping your jaw, and you gasp. Heart tripping over itself in your chest, you feel rooted to the spot, trapped by indecision and nerves. The heat from his hand draws you in, head angling toward his palm.Â
âYou have a streak of flour,â his low voice sends butterflies fluttering in your chest.
Your lips part and his eyes flick from your gaze down to your mouth. Before anything else happens, the side door of the kitchen swings open with a bang, Nero cursing under his breath as he steps through. Vergil easily slips away from you, turning back to the kitchen counter. Hands clenching at your sides, you try to calm your nerves, pulling in a deep breath before shakily letting it out.Â
Nero drops a small paper bag on the counter next to Vergil. âDid she rope you into it, too?â
He grins at you and you flip him off.Â
âNooo,â you roll your eyes with a sigh. âHe volunteered.âÂ
âMore like volun-told,â Nero laughs, holding up his hands as you reach over to push his arm.
âWhy donât you make like a tree and beat it?â You grouse.
A soft chuckle meets your ears, and you shoot a quick look at Vergil and catch his amused expression.
Nero sighs, âWell, I know when Iâm not wanted. I just came to drop off the rest of it, gotta meet up with Nico to look over some project.â
Nodding, you watch as Nero heads out the way he came in. âTell her hi from me.â
âWill do!â He waves without looking, shutting the door behind him.
A slightly awkward silence rings out after Neroâs departure. Clearing your throat, you turn back to the work space.Â
âOkay, so where were we?â
Vergil tilts his head at you, âI believe you were waiting on Neroâs delivery in order to continue.â
âRight,â you smile, embarrassment warming your chest.
You try to reach over Vergil to grab the bag Nero left when he shifts out of the way; nearly losing your balance, he braces your hips and twists the same time you step forward, leaving you pinned between his firm body and the counter. Nervous excitement has your palms sweating as you grip the countertop.Â
âApologies,â you can feel the rumble of his voice from where your back presses against his chest.Â
A warm, woodsy smell encompasses you; the scent of bergamot and birch with an undertone of cloves. It sends a pulse of need through your core. Your fingertips tingle, arousal thrumming heavily in your veins. Belatedly, you realize he now has both hands on your hips. Where Vergil presses against you, heâs warm, the kind of heat that seeps into your bones and keeps you.
His lips brush across the side of your neck, as faint as butterfly wings, sending chills to race down your spine.
Lips touch the shell of your ear. âIs this.. okay?â
âMore than,â you breathe out in reply.Â
In one fluid motion, he turns you around and lifts you up, seating you on the kitchen counter. The gain in height only makes you a few inches taller than the older man in front of you. Running your fingers up across his chest, your hands come to rest on his shoulders. His lips quirk into a half smile and it makes your heart thud heavily in anticipation.Â
His hands slide from your hips down to your thighs, palms a hot brand against the skin. Attempting to squeeze them closed, he clicks his tongue, thumbs digging into the dough of your thighs.Â
âRelax,â he breathes out, stepping even closerâhis clothes rasp against your bare legs and makes you shiver.
You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, and he leans forward with a soft groan.Â
âTempting me with this sinful little mouth,â his words send a pulsing throb to your clit. âShall I sample a taste?â
âYes, please,â you whisper, eyes dilating, fingers curling into his sweater to anchor yourself.Â
Molten heat, like sun warmed honey, drips down your throat. Hungrily, he parts your lips, tongue slipping inside to taste you. Eyes fluttering closed, the dark may hide your sight but the feel of him surrounds you. His hands grip onto your thighs more tightly, a delicious bite of pain that makes your cunt clench around nothing.Â
He whispers something against your lips when he pulls away, but kisses you again before you can ask what. Vergilâs tongue slides into your mouth like he owns it. He kisses slow and deep, taking his time to map out your mouth. You're swept up, unable to think outside of the litany of more more more drumming inside your skull.Â
Hands slipping across the back of his neck, your fingers run through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp earning you a low groan. You greedily swallow it down along with the saliva from his insistent mouth. Rocking forward, you seek out more pleasure for yourself. The zipper on his slacks press against your cunt perfectly, clit swollen and questing for more.
Pulling you closer to the edge, he chuckles against your mouth. His lips drag across your jaw, lightly nipping the skin where it hinges. His tongue and teeth slowly map a trail across your neck. Slick saturates the gusset of your panties, pussy feeling hot. Your hand blindly reaches down and gropes him through his slacks and he grunts, fingers squeezing the fat of your thighs.Â
âLet me take you to bed,â he mumbles into your neck, dropping a small kiss to your skin.Â
âOkay,â you whisper against his hair. Lifting his head, he kisses you again, soft and wet.Â
It seems like you only blink, and you find yourself in his bedroom. You donât really take much in except for the bed, a large mahogany centered against the wall. Feeling him at your back, your trembling legs take you over the mattress. Laying down, a whiff of cloves and bergamot steals into your nose.
Recognizing the smell from earlier in the kitchen, his sheets are saturated with it, making you bury your face into them. Breathing in makes you dizzy with want.Â
âLet me see your face, lovely one,â he coos, strong hands gripping your waist to flip you onto your back. âSuch a sweetheart, arenât you?â
âVergil,â you whimper, legs parting, allowing him to slot himself between your thighs.
He kisses you, rough and heated, tongue slipping into your mouth before coaxing your own past his lips. Sucking the wet muscle, his canines press down gently, sending a pulsing want through your clit. Your fingers tangle in his hair and tug on the light strands. Whining, your hips roll up, grinding along the bulge pressing against the apex of your thighs.Â
Vergil sits back, hands dragging down your body. The knuckles of one his hands rubs across the seam of your lounge shorts, rubbing soft circles against the material, pressing it into your clit.Â
âI can feel how hot and needy you are,â he murmurs, blue eyes blown out in arousal. âMay I?â
At your nod, his fingers slip into the band of your shorts and underwear, tugging them both down and off at the same time. Strings of slick cling to the gusset of your panties before snapping when he pulls them away.Â
âLook at you,â he groans. âSuch a slick little cunt.â
âFuck,â you whimper, thighs twitching with the effort to keep them open.
Kneeling between your thighs, he drops a kiss at the bend of your right knee before slowly trailing kisses with the soft hint of teeth up your thigh. Skipping over your soaked slit, he presses kisses into your left thigh, leaving off with a gentle bite to your leg.Â
Hands grasping at his sheets, you writhe and whimper, hips jumping up to tempt his plush mouth to kiss your dripping pussy. He smirks up at you, mouth nipping at the junction of your thigh and cunt.Â
âPlease, Vergil,â you pant, letting go of the sheets to run your hands through his hair.Â
âSo sweet.â His fingers wrap around your wrist and tugs your hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of your wrist.
His teeth sink into soft skin, lips and tongue roughly sucking a mark onto your wrist. Clit throbbing with the dull pain from his mouth, your free hand claws at his shoulder, head tilting back with a whine. Letting go with an audible pop, his tongue laps at the teeth indentations left on your skin.Â
âNow, to taste that hot little cunt,â he murmurs, kissing the mark one more time before dropping his head back down to your thighs.
The breath leaves your lungs in a gusty moan. Vergilâs tongue glides along your slit, ending with a soft kiss to your clit. With a groan, he buries his face into your cunt, tongue parting your slick folds to lick into your drippy hole. His hands frame your pussy, thumbs pulling your lips apart, allowing him to lick into you deeper. You clench down on his hot tongue, eyes rolling back when he chuckles against your sensitive cunt.Â
Pulling away with an obscene slurp, his tongue laps upward until he can circle your pudgy clit. Shifting one hand, he softly pulls back the hood of your clit, kitten licking the swollen bud until youâre scratching his shoulders and keening loudly. Humming, his blue eyes gaze up your body, and it makes your core burn hot. Flattening his tongue, he licks a broad stripe across your clit, and it sends more slick leaking from your pussy.
âFeels so good,â you gasp, nails sinking into his soft sweater. Tears clump your lashes together.Â
âYou taste good,â he mumbles against your pussy. âLike ambrosia.â
His tongue presses back inside, hungrily tasting your cunt, strong nose rubbing across your fat clit. Moaning, your toes curl from the pleasure humming through your body.
âPlease, I need you,â you keen, âI need you inside me.â
âYou need what inside you?â He pulls away with a suckling kiss to your clit.Â
Blinking the wetness from your eyes, you tighten your grip onto his shoulders, lightly pulling him upward.Â
âYour cock,â you whimper, lips parting when he presses his mouth to your jaw. You can feel his lips curve into a grin.
âGood girl,â his low voice washes over you as he kisses the apple of your cheek.
He sits back on his haunches, hands stretching behind his head to grasp his sweater. Tugging it off in one fluid motion, strands of hair messily falling around his face while he drops the sweater into the floor. Biting your lip, your eyes greedily take in his toned chest and stomach. Your hands unconsciously reach out to drag down his sternum. Eyes following your hand, they drop down to his lap, tracing the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric.
Flushed with heat, you bite your bottom lip, blown out gaze meeting his own. Palm pressing flat to his abdomen, you slide down to cup him through his slacks. A low sound escapes him from deep in his throat; it makes your clit throb. His hands quickly undo his pants, tugging them down his muscled thighs. Your mouth waters, a whine slipping out to see him bare before you since heâs not wearing anything underneath.Â
âThe way you look at me drives me crazy,â his raspy tone sends chills across your skin.Â
He fists his cock with one hand while the other one moves up to your face, brushing a thumb across your bottom lip. Pressing forward, the digit slips into your mouth, pinning your tongue down as he cups your chin with his forefinger. Whimpering, you hollow your cheeks, sucking on his thumb softly, inner thighs trying to close but stopped by his body centered between your legs.
Letting go of your face, he swipes his wet thumb across his leaking tip before popping it back into your mouth. Salty musk floods your mouth and you moan, eyelashes fluttering as you run your tongue all around his thumb, lapping the precum up greedily. Tugging the digit free from your mouth, he smears your spit all across your lips.Â
âIâm very eager to be inside you, to stretch you open until you cry,â his eyes are nearly black, pupils swallowing up the blue until itâs a thin ring.
Reaching down, you grasp the hemline of your shirt and tug it up. Vergil joins you in removing your clothing, nimble fingers undoing your bra and slipping it away from your body. His hands grope your tits, thumbs brushing over your stiff nipples and making you cry out pitifully.
âSo sensitive, too,â he murmurs, more to himself; his eyes take in your naked body before snapping up to meet your gaze. âArenât you a sweet treat?â
A shadow of a smile flits across his face; if you had blinked you wouldâve missed it. His head dips down and he drops a kiss to your sternum. Breath hitching in your chest, your hands drop to the sheets to grip them tightly. His lips trail across your breasts, taking his time to kiss and lick each one. Sinking his teeth into the underside of your left breast, you keen softly, thighs falling open even further.Â
Suckling at your nipples, Vergil reaches down and grasps his cock, rubbing it across your soaked slit. The slick dripping from your pussy costs his dick, letting him easily grind against you. Fingers circling the base, he grips his cock and slaps it down onto your cunt, aiming the tip to graze at your swollen clit.
âOh, please,â you gasp, hole clenching around nothing.Â
Ghosting his teeth against your hard nubs, he continues to suck on your nipples. His wet lips grail from one stiff peak to the next, blue eyes slitted in pleasure. Using his thumb, he presses the head of his cock against your hole.Â
âI can feel you trying to suck me in already,â his lips brush against the soft skin of your breasts.
Notching his cock at your fluttering pussy, he slowly pushes inside with a low groan. He buries his face into your neck, strands of hair tickling your jaw.Â
âI-itâs too big,â you pant, hands moving to claw at his shoulders. âOh, god, itâs so good.â
He growls at your words, hips rocking into you harder than before. Your breath slips from you, the total feeling of fullness overtaking your sensesâcunt stuffed with Vergilâs thick length.  Â
He laces your fingers together, palm to palm, heart line to heart line; you canât stop yourself from kissing him, helplessly, irrevocably ruined on his cock.Â
âDoing so well, taking me so deep.â He licks the shell of your ear, and you shudder, clenching down on his dick. âSnug little pussy feels like she was made for me.â
Youâre unable to stop yourself from babbling, âPlease, please, feels so good, youâre so big, please, I need it, I need it so bad.â
âHush,â he coos, kissing the corner of your eye, tasting the salt from your tears. âI wonât leave you wanting, my sweet.â
The heat is suffocating; the heat pulsing through your veins, the heat buried in your cunt, the heat from his body pressing you down down down into his bedding.Â
âAre you going to cum for me?â His grip tightens around your hands. âI can feel this needy hole suckling at my cock.â
Whine smothered by his tongue licking into your mouth, your eyes roll back, climax washing over your body like a slow rolling wave. He keeps up the smooth rocking thrusts that have his pelvis grinding perfectly into your swollen clit.
âGood girl,â he drops kisses across your cheekbones and the corner of your lips. âMilking my cock so perfectly.â
Nails digging into the backs of his hands, your legs squeeze his waist, pussy clamping down on his dick, post climax tremors racking your body. He bites down on your neck, and you rock your hips, grinding his cock deeper into your pussy.
âI shouldnât cum inside you,â Vergil whispers against your neck, voice wrecked. âIt's not responsible.â
âDonât care,â you plead with him. âWant it, want you to cum inside me.â
He groans, hips thrusting harder, cock easily slipping in and out of your sopping wet pussy.
âIâll spill so deep inside you.â He drags one set of your clasped hands down your body to press into your abdomen. âYouâll feel it, so hot and thick.. my cum breeding your needy cunt.â
Your pussy walls flutter and squeeze down on his cock, slick coating his cock as his words fan your arousal from smoldering embers to a blazing flame.Â
âVergil, please.â Sounding like a broken record, you beg him for more. âYou can cum in me as much as you want.â
He growls, teeth sinking into your shoulder.Â
âYes, fuck,â you choke out, tears beading your lash line. âMark me up, do whatever you want.â
âYou must stop offering me such delightful gifts,â he groans. âIâll keep you full all night.â
He presses your hands more tightly against your lower abdomen.
âYouâll be dripping for days.â
With a low grunt that makes your cunt pulse, he flips you two over without pulling out. Now, his back is to the mattress with you sitting atop his lap. Your cunt flutters wildly around his dick, clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.
âLook at you,â his eyes are dark, drawing you in easily. âSo lovely.â
Moaning, you eagerly bounce on his cock; Vergil laces your hands together again, helping you brace yourself. Biting your bottom lip, you roll your hips faster, grinding his cock along your g-spot and making your pussy gush so much slick it drips down his balls.Â
You want to cum; you want to cum so bad. He feels so good inside you, you think you might go crazy. Heâs thick, stretching you open on that perfect edge of almost too much and just enough. His fat tip keeps knocking into your womb, the pleasurepain skittering down your spine and making your eyes water. He has to cum inside you.Â
You think you say as much out loud since he gives you one of those hidden smiles, wicked eyes promising you pleasure. He thrusts upward, cock rutting into your squelching cunt with deep, steady strokes. He bunches your hands together so he can clasp them in one of his, using the other to loosely grasp your neck and pull you down. Your noses bump before he nips your bottom lip.Â
âAre you going to cum for me, dear heart? Squeeze me until I spill all sticky, sweet inside your perfect cunt?â He whispers against your lips, the words stealing into your mouth and settling deep into your core.
Pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips, his tongue slides into your mouth, flicking against yours. You whine, pussy clamping down on his cock, climax beginning to crest inside you once again.
âThatâs it, let me feel you,â Vergil coaxes, voice low and silky. âCum for me.â
His hand moves from your neck down between your bodies to lightly rub across your clit. Pussy clenching, your grind down onto his cock and whimper. A few more soft circles against your pudgy bud and youâre cumming again. Moaning his name, your body flinches and shudders, orgasm buzzing through your senses until all you can feel is him.
âDo you still want me to fill you?â He asks, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, tugging it slightly before letting go.
âYes, yes, please, Vergil.â You nod, body still trembling. He groans and kisses you with fervor, hands gripping your hips so tightly it stings.Â
Cunt dripping your cum and slick, Vergilâs cock fills you over and over until he buries himself inside your soft, fluttering walls. Groaning, his head falls back to the mattress, eyes clenched shut, his balls pumping rope after rope of cum deep inside your pussy.
Slumping forward, your nose presses uncomfortably against his collarbone. His hands loosen their grip and he runs his fingertips across your back and side, raising chillbumps in their wake. Humming, you tilt your head and kiss his neck.
âSuch a sweet girl,â he rumbles in your ear.
Your eyes drift closed, and itâs not until you feel movement that you realize you have even fallen asleep.Â
âI did not mean to wake you.â Vergil shifts you in his arms. You can feel his spend oozing from your puffy cunt sending a frisson of heat through your clit.Â
Shaking your head, you ease yourself up onto your feet. âI need to go clean up.â
His eyes drag down your naked body to see the mess he left between your thighs. His cock flexes, but stays soft.Â
âShall I accompany you to the bath?âÂ
Feeling shy and a little intimidated, you nod. âThat would be nice.â
He ushers you into his en suite bathroom, fussing over the towels and water temperature before finally settling you both under the shower spray. Vergil lathers you in his body wash, being careful to wash every inch of your skin. You hum, eyes closed and totally relaxed. Soft kisses are pressed into your shoulders and neck. Between the warmth of his body and the drumming heat of the water, you think to yourself itâs quite easy to fall for someone like Vergil.
Once he finishes with you, he sets to cleaning himself. Vergil bats your hands away from helping him wash off. He keeps it perfunctory, just a quick and thorough cleaning before heâs pressing back against you in the water, lips seeking yours out. You look up at him, his hair beaten down by the water and making him look younger. Fingers running through his wet strands, you slick it back.Â
âYouâre really handsome,â you mumble, feeling embarrassed and juvenile once the words escape you.
He grasps the wrist marked by his teeth and drops a soft kiss to your palm.Â
âAnd you are unequivocally lovely.â His blue eyes never waver from your gaze. âYou have bewitched me quite easily.â
His hands cup your jaw, thumbs brushing across your cheek bones. âWould it be forward of me to ask for a courtship?â
You laugh, blinking the water from your eyes. âKind of did things a bit backwards, huh?â
His lips tic into a half smile. âYes, a bit backwards.â
Smiling, you slip your arms around his shoulders. âIâd love to go out with you.â Pausing, your eyes dart to the side, a frown pinching your brow. âYou donât think itâs weird Iâm Neroâs friend?â
âAs long as you do not find it odd that Iâm his father,â he jokes, and it makes you smile up at him again.
âThen, itâs settled,â you stretch up on your toes to kiss his nose.
A huff of laughter escapes him before he kisses you sweetly. His hands still cup your jaw, keeping your head angled perfectly for him to deepen the kiss into something hot and heavy. After a few minutes of making out under the shower spray, you both begin to feel the water cooling off.Â
âLetâs get out.â He kisses you one last time, a quick peck to your lips, before shutting the water off and stepping out of the shower.
Returning quickly, he wraps a towel around you and gently dries you off. Once youâre ready, he drops the towel and has you put on one of his bathrobes. Itâs too long in the sleeves and the hem touches the floor, but itâs soft and comfortable. He towels off quickly, eyes never straying too far from you. You watch him, with a dopey smile on your face youâre sure.Â
After cinching the towel around his waist, Vergil runs a hand through his damp hair, brushing it back from his face except for a few strands that stubbornly refuse to move.Â
âLetâs find you something to wear.â He tugs the end of the robeâs sleeve. âBut it seems like my clothes may wear a bit long on you.â
You shrug, following him back into the bedroom. âI can head back to my room andââ
âNonsense,â he cuts you off. âEspecially since youâll be sleeping in here, there is no reason to leave the room for tonight.â
âOh!â Surprise suffuses your features.
âDid you think I would have you leave?â A nonplussed look combined with an eyebrow raise leaves you feeling sheepish.Â
âI didnât think about it honestly,â you smile awkwardly. âBut Iâm more than happy to stay.â
âGood,â he tugs you in for a kiss before guiding you over to his closet. âI have a few items you can wear comfortably.â
Walking into the closet, he moves over to a built in wardrobe, leaving you to look around the space. You wander over to a tall mirror seated into the wall. Vergil turns with a shirt in hand and sees you admiring the ornate frame.
âIt was a gift from my mother,â he says conversationally, stepping behind you.
âItâs gorgeous,â you smile at him through the reflected surface.
âThank you,â he nods, then holds up the shirt. âMay I?â
âOh, sure,â you go to turn and he stops you.
One hand undoes your robe and lets it fall to the floor; his nostrils flare, eyes dragging down your naked body. Surprisingly, he doesnât do anything more than help slip the shirt over your head. The fabric is soft and it smells like him, making your heart beat fast. He smoothes it down your body, hands resting on your hips.
Vergil pushes up against you and you bite your lip to feel his cock rutting against your thigh.Â
âLike what you see?â You tease, lifting the hem of the shirt from where it falls against your upper thighs, barely concealing your naked cunt.
âAlways,â he nips your earlobe, hands drifting under your shirt to pull it up over your breasts.
He pinches your nipples and your head falls against his chest. Mewling, you rock back against his chubbed cock. One hand groping your tits, he slips the other away to undo his robe. Vergilâs hand then grasps your hip, thumb digging into your lower back. Notching his cock at your pussy, he swipes through the slick leaking from your hole.Â
âSo eager,â his svelte voice fills your ears the same time he sinks inside your wet pussy. Â
He pins you to the mirror, the cool glass almost too much for your hard nipples. He pistons his cock harder into you, smushing your tits into the reflected glass. Face turned to the side, your breath fogs the mirror with each gasping pant. Your reedy moans and his soft grunts fill the closet space; long deep strokes of his cock send pleasure surging through your body. Youâre still so sensitive from earlier, it doesnât take long to push you to the edge.
âLook at you,â he groans. âSpread open and perfect. Taking me so well.â
âVergil,â you whimper, eyes fluttering with every bump against your cervix.
âDo you know how delectable it is that you can cum like this?â He rumbles, raspy tone making you clench down on him. âI donât even need to touch your pretty clit, just fill this slick cunt with my cock until youâre cumming around me.â
âOh, god, Iâm so close, please,â you babble, spit smearing against the mirror from your parted lips.Â
He shifts his grip from your hips to your ass, squeezing hard enough for fat to dimple between his fingers. Grunting, he fucks into you even harder, cock splitting you open with every deep stroke. His drippy tip bumps into the opening of your womb and sends pleasure careening through your veins. Pressure builds up in your core and you twist your hips, trying to change the angle of Vergilâs dick.Â
âW-wait, IâmâI think Iâm gonna pee,â embarrassment makes your voice squeaky. âVergil, please, I donât wanna make a mess.â
He grunts, hips thrusting harder. âLet yourself go. I promise it will be fine. Your sweet cunt is just feeling good.â
Hands pushing at the mirror, you raise up but the angle only drives his cock in deeper, the head nailing your cervix and making your legs tremble. Clit pulsing, the tight band of arousal centered in your core finally snaps. Slick gushes around Vergilâs cock, nearly pushing him out of your pussy. Pussy walls flutter and pulse around his thick length, sucking him further into your soaked cunt.
âPerfect girl,â he groans, leaning forward to bite and kiss your neck. âLook at you squirting for me.â
Your watery eyes turn to your reflection and you take in your fucked out expression. Eyes moving from yours to Vergil, you watch him in the mirror. His eyes meet yours and he smirks.
âDidnât that feel good?â He coos. âNow, rub that sweet, swollen clit. Letâs make you feel even better.â
Feeling wrung out, you sluggishly do as he says. Your fingers rub your clit in soft circles and your pussy flutters around his cock.
âPerfect,â he whispers, burying his face against your shoulder, teeth biting into the muscle. âSo lovely.â
You whimper and whine, pussy swollen and sensitive and yet you still want to cum for Vergil, let him feel you squeeze down on his cock. He continues biting into your shoulders, breath hot on your neck when he finally raises his head to stare at you in the mirror.
âIâm close,â he murmurs. âAre you ready for my seed? Ready for me to spill inside you.. right here?â One hand slides up to press his palm flat to your lower abdomen. âCum inside you so deep, youâll be dripping for days.â
âPlease, please,â you beg, tears clumping your lashes together. âI want you to cum inside me. Please, Vergil, please.â
âHow can I deny such a sweet request?â He hums.
His hand joins yours, fingertips strumming across your clit and sending electricity zinging through your brain. He kisses a sensitive spot on your neck that leaves you shuddering, and he latches onto the skin, teeth and tongue working to leave a mark. Cock brushing against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt paired with his fingers playing with your pudgy clit sends you spiraling into another orgasm.Â
âUtterly perfect,â he growls, letting your walls milk his cock as you slump into the mirror, climax wiping out your muscles.Â
Reaching under your thighs, Vergil hooks your legs over his forearms and lifts you up. Too tired to care, he spreads you open, showing you both where heâs splitting you open. Grunting, he fucks you, cock barely pulling out before filling you once more. It doesnât take long for him to drop you down onto his dick as he thrusts up, stilling with a low groan. Hot spurts of cum coat your pussy walls, making you gasp and clench down on his cock.Â
âSuch a good girl,â he moans in your ear and your hole clamps down on him even harder.
Grunting, he pumps his cock slowly in and out, spurting the rest of his thick, sticky load into your cunt. Thereâs so much, you can see some of it bubble out from around his cock. When Vergil finally pulls out, his dick is coated in your slick and his spend; a quick glance at your hole shows it completely stuffed with his cum.
Feeling self conscious, you squirm in his hold. âY-you can put me down now.â
He chuckles and it sends butterflies through your chest.
âI rather like this view,â he noses against your ear before kissing the shell.
His half hard cock rubs against your ass and you whimper.
âMaybe we should call it a night, hmm?â
You nod, watching as Vergil continues to nuzzle against your ear. He turns his attention back to you, eyes locking on yours in the mirror.Â
âSo much for that shower,â you mumble, surprising him enough he barks out a laugh.
âApologies,â he kisses your cheek. âShould we have another?â
Shaking your head, you turn your head to kiss his temple. âNo sense. I have a feeling weâd only end up this way again.â
âI fear you are right,â he kisses you before slowly lowering your legs down to the floor. Clicking your tongue, you wince at the thick glob of cum oozing from your pussy.Â
âBend over,â he suddenly orders and you have no reason to resist.Â
He spreads your cunt and slides his tongue into your messy hole.
âVergil,â you squeal.Â
âHush,â he pats your ass and you bite your lip. âIâm cleaning up my mess.â
Overly sensitive, you moan quietly, feeling every swipe of his probing tongue as he licks his cum out of your pussy. Once he canât taste any more dripping out of you, Vergil pulls away, dropping one last kiss to your lower back before standing up.Â
Once more, he smoothes down the shirt he picked out for you to wear to bed, eyes warm in and otherwise stoic expression.Â
âNow shall we head to bed?â
You laugh, legs shaky enough that Vergil wraps a hand around your waist to let you lean against him.
âAre we going to bed? Or are we going to bed?â You raise your eyebrows at him, amusement coloring your voice.
âBoth,â he deadpans, and you snort before covering your mouth.Â
âHow is that funny?â He murmurs, grabbing your waist and manhandling you down onto the bed.
His hands brush your thighs and your hips, seeking out any ticklish spots. Laughing, you sink your hands into his hair and guide him up to your mouth for a kiss. He sighs against your lips, and you whimper to taste yourself on his tongue.
Pulling away, he glances down at your bare thighs. âShall I procure undergarments?â
âNo, thank you.â You run your hands down his neck to his shoulders. âI donât think Iâll need any.â
His shoulders twitch under your hands as he breathes out a soft laugh.
âAre you suggesting that I cannot keep my hands to myself?â
âIâm suggesting,â you whisper against his mouth, âthat I donât mind if you canât keep your hands to yourself.â
He licks into your mouth, groans muffled against your tongue. Hot, open mouthed kisses simmer down to sweet, soft presses of his lips until he finally pulls back.
âAs delightful as another round would be, we should attempt to sleep,â he sighs, forehead pressing against your temple.
âMmm hmm,â you agree readily, your body starting to feel how tired you truly are. âNo complaints from me.â
He hums, the sound tickling your face and making you giggle. Tossing the covers back, he helps you get comfortable before tugging the sheets back over your bodies. Sighing happily, you snuggle into Vergilâs chest, letting his scent and body heat lull you to sleep.
#vergil x fem!reader#dmc vergil#vergil devil may cry#vergil x reader#vergil x you#vergil smut#devil may cry fanfiction#dmc fanfiction#dmc smut#devil may cry smut#au#dmc au
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vi x f!reader
synopsis: when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night/when you think about me all of those years ago...
a/n: i said i wanted to write something based on good luck babe by chappell roan and here we are :)
When you wake up in the middle of the night, it's with a gasp. A gasp so harsh that it leaves your throat sore for a second. Your heart's a thundering drum in your chest, and you try to calm it downâtry to breathe in and out.
It almost doesnât work until you feel your muscles start to relax. Until you're able to rest against the headboard with a heavy sigh, your soul weary as you look around the dark room.
Beside you, your husband sleeps peacefully. Unknown to the troubles that plague your mind and the woes that sit heavy on your spirit.
He makes you happy; he does everything for youâgoes above and beyond for you. Out of all the men that have tried to capture your attention, he succeeded with his kind and soft nature. He is, what many would call, a dream.
But it's horrifying to find out when you don't love someone like that. When you don't love someone who is so startlingly right for you. Because love is a funny thing; it's unbalanced and unpredictable and inconsiderate with how it behaves. It's an awful thing to experience, especially when it refuses to go where you need it to.
Your wedding ring is oddly cold against the warmth of your finger. It's chilling when you rub your thumb against it; it provides a reason for you to take it off. There are other reasons, but those aren't ones you're able to conquer just yet.
Because love is the defining factor once more.
You're happy.
You're happy.
You should beâ
"So youâre going to marry him?" Vi asks you on your wedding day. She's gorgeous in a two-piece suit that fits her like a glove. It's hard to take your eyes off her, especially with the way she's looking at you.
"I am," you tell her, fixing the necklace around your neck. It was a gift from your future husband, golden and covered in diamonds. "Isn't that what people do when they're in love? Get married?"
Vi scoffs and murmurs, "oh please," beneath her breath, loud enough for you to hear. Loud enough to have your hands still as you stare at her in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" You question, a bit of anger injected in your tone. "And don't tell me nothing, we both know you're not shy with your feelings."
"Okay," Vi says, sliding her hands into her pant pockets. "You wanna know what I think? You don't love him."
Your heart drops a little despite knowing where this conversation is heading. "Not this again," you say softly, turning around so you can look at Vi. "Vi, you can't keep doing this. You can't keep dictating how I feel." You point towards the dressing room door, the one that leads out to where you'll say your vows. "I love him and I am going to get married to him and you need toâ"
Your next sentence is cut off by Vi's fast approach, and her lips smashing against yours. You gasp in surprise, fighting back weakly for a mere second before you're succumbing to her kiss. Your mouth opens eagerly to welcome her tongue, moaning as she kisses you deeply. Her arms around your waist feel like home and the way she makes you feel with a single kiss...
Your future husband has never been able to achieve what this feels like.
And you doubt he ever will.
When Vi pulls back, it's reluctant, and she kisses you gently one more time, like she can't help herself. Then she's resting her forehead against yours, breathing you in as you clutch at the lapels of her suit jacket.
The moment stretches on for almost too long until Vi asks, one more time, "You're going to marry him?"
No, you want to yell. No, I'm not going to marry him. I'm going to run away with you and be happy with you.
But you don't say that.
Because you can't.
You aren't allowed to.
"...I am," is what you say, voice weak and thin with your pain. "I have to."
Vi doesn't reply, but the way her arms tighten around you says more than words can.
Her lips are light when she kisses your forehead, soft and lingering, before she's walking out of the room and she's...gone.
And you haven't seen her since.
You wish you could cry, but the numbness won't let you. It only offers you the hellish sanctuary of loud thoughts that shake you mercilessly, leaving your head ringing.
Your husband shifts beside you, the sheets shifting with him, and your heart breaks a little more.
And as you stare off into space, you can't help but wonder.
#vi arcane#vi x reader#vi x you#the moon rambles đ#me while writing this: GOOD LUCK BABE WELL GOOD LUCK BABE
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Love In The Sky
Jake âHangmanâ Serein Fanfic
Part One: Orders and Whispers
OC - Ava âNovaâ Brooke. Everyone calls her Nova. Except her father, he calls her Ava.

The sheets were tangled. Their breathing was uneven.
Jake Seresin had just collapsed onto the mattress beside her, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other still loosely wrapped around Novaâs thigh. Her skin glistened in the early morning light leaking through the blinds â flushed, warm, and still tingling from the way heâd made her fall apart just minutes ago.
âDamn,â Jake breathed, voice raspy. âYou always do that to me, baby.â
Nova hummed, turning her head on the pillow to face him. âYouâre the one who couldnât wait to get my clothes off the second we walked in.â
Jake chuckled, shifting just enough to look at her. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, hair a mess from her fingers pulling through it, chest still rising and falling with the remains of adrenaline and need. âNot my fault you wore that flight suit like a sin.â
Nova rolled her eyes, a soft laugh bubbling from her lips. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âMaybe.â He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. âBut you like me this way.â
Before she could fire back some snarky response, the room was pierced by the sharp buzz of a phone vibrating against the nightstand. Then â another.
Both their phones lit up at once.
Nova blinked, reaching over Jake to grab hers. âThatâs weird.â
Jake sat up, dragging his pants from the floor as he checked his own. âSame exact time. That canât be good.â
Novaâs eyes scanned the message. âWeâve been summoned to base. Commander wants to see us. Now.â
Jake cursed softly under his breath. âGuess post-orgasm bliss was short-lived.â
She threw a pillow at him before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. âGet dressed, Lieutenant.â
He grinned at her tone but obeyed. Service khakis went on, boots laced tight. Jake watched her from across the room as she tucked in her shirt, adjusting the collar with military precision. Her face was focused, calm â but her eyes⌠something flickered behind them. Something distant.
They arrived at base less than thirty minutes later. Neither said much during the ride, the weight of a sudden summons not something either took lightly. When they entered the Commanderâs office, the atmosphere was thick with urgency.
âYouâre both here,â he said without looking up from the folder in his hands. âGood.â
Jake stood straight beside Nova, shoulders squared. âSir.â
The Commander finally looked up, sharp eyes assessing. âTop Gunâs calling. Youâve both been selected for classified training. Youâll be shipping out in 48 hours.â
Nova blinked. âTogether?â
âTogether,â he confirmed. âAnd before you ask â no, I donât have the mission details. Not yet. Youâll be briefed when you arrive.â
Jake nodded once, but Nova said nothing.
They left in silence.
Back in Jakeâs truck, the air was oddly heavy. He kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, one hand loose on the wheel. She was staring out the window, her profile sharp and unreadable.
âYouâre not excited,â he said after a minute.
Still, no response.
âNova?â he pressed.
She finally turned her head toward him, face composed, voice even. âIâm fine.â
Jake didnât believe it for a second.
Back at his place, they walked in together. Jake kicked the door shut and watched her as she took off her boots with mechanical movements. He hated seeing her this way â closed off. Distant.
âTalk to me,â he said softly.
Nova let out a breath, then crossed the room to sit on the edge of his bed. âItâs not the mission. Itâs⌠going back there.â
âTo Top Gun?â
She nodded. âMy father is there. Admiral Charles Brooke.â
Jakeâs brows rose slightly. âThat Admiral Brooke?â
âThe very one,â she muttered. âHe trained half the brass in the fleet. And heâs⌠strict.â
Jake sat beside her, concern etched into every line of his face. âStrict how?â
Nova let out a dry, bitter laugh. âHe doesnât like me going against him. Doesnât like being surprised. Heâs the kind of man whoâd ground me in flight school for dating someone.â
Jake paused. âWaitâhe did that?â
She nodded, looking down at her hands. âHe found out I was seeing someone. I was nineteen. He made one call and I was pulled from the sky for three weeks.â
Jakeâs fists clenched on instinct.
Nova looked up at him with a tired smile. âI swear he still thinks Iâm a virgin.â
Jake barked out a surprised laugh, trying to lighten the mood. âYeah, well⌠I definitely know thatâs not true.â
She smacked his chest, laughing despite herself. âJake!â
He caught her wrist and gently pulled her into his lap, his hands resting on her hips. âHey,â he said softly. âI know this scares you. But weâll be careful. Weâll be smart. And no one â no one â is coming between us.â
Nova looked down at him, eyes soft. âEven if my dad tries to kill you?â
Jake smirked. âHe can try.â
She snorted. âYouâre impossible.â
âI have self-control.â
Nova slowly began kissing up his neck, fingers trailing beneath the collar of his shirt. âDo you?â
He swallowed, throat tightening. âNot when it comes to you.â
And just like that â it changed.
Her lips moved with heat, hands tugging his shirt loose as she straddled his lap. Jake groaned, hands sliding up her back, his control crumbling with every inch of her skin he touched. The tension, the fear, the rush of being together in these quiet stolen moments â it all exploded between them in a kiss that burned down the silence.
They didnât make it to the bed.
Later, breathless again, tangled in blankets and limbs, Jake brushed her hair from her face and whispered against her skin, âWeâre gonna be okay.â
Nova rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. âYeah,â she whispered. âAs long as we come back to each other.â
He kissed the top of her head.
âAlways.â
#jake seresin#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin fic#jake seresin smut#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin x oc#jake seresin x reader#top gun maverick#top gun fanfiction#top gun hangman#jake hangman seresin#hangman x reader#hangman fanfiction#jake hangman fic#hangman fic#hangman smut#glen powell#glen powell x reader#glen powell x oc#glen powell smut
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đ đŻđ°đ¸ đŠđ°đ¸ đŽđśđ¤đŠ đ˘đłđ˘ đŞđ´ đ¤đđ°đ´đŚ đľđ° đľđŠđŚ '96 đđŞđŻđŚđłđ´
ę°ŕ¨ đasterlist ŕ§ęą

âş â
ęŤÂ á´á
á´ đđśđŻ ę
# đđŹđĄđđ đđ ŕŞââ´ top 3 junhui supporter
# đĄđđ đ ŕŞââ´ juara
# đŁđ˘đŁđ¨đđđĽđđ§đŹ ŕŞââ´ 85%
ę° đ˝ŕ§ ęą đ ara wasn't sure what to think about jun at frist as he was one of that just ignored her esistence, or was extremely awkward around her. he was quiet, weird and didn't talk much unless he really had something to say. she used to catch him watching her pratice the same steps over and overâ it wasn't judgmental, more like curiosity. for a while they just existed in the same space rarely talking, until one day out of nowhere, he finally decided to approach her.
how? he corrected her timing, leaving her stunned for few seconds and just as she was about to open her mouth, he spoke again "but your energy is better than mine", and he casually walked off like it was the most normal exchange ever. ara still remember this interaction and bought this up during insomnia-zero, teasing him.
from that moment, something shifted. jun started to approach her more oftenâ still in a weird way but she founded it oddly refreshing. over time, she started defending him during group jokes or casually slipping in compliments when no one else noticed his hard work, making him blush. and just like that, she silently enjoyed the elite fanclub that was always rooting for jun. seungkwan and woozi had competition now.
# đđđĄđ˘đĄ đđŠđđĄđ§đŚ ŕŞââ´
jun always buying her favorite drink and giving it to her
pinching his cheeks when he get embarassed at something she says
have to do at least one night out per month where they share the most spicy food and lets her try chinese dishes

âş â
ęŤÂ á´á
ᴠ����đ°đ´đŠđŞ ę
# đđŹđĄđđ đđ ŕŞââ´ enemies to bsf to lovers
# đĄđđ đ ŕŞââ´ hora
# đŁđ˘đŁđ¨đđđĽđđ§đŹ ŕŞââ´ 97%
ę° đ˝ŕ§ ęą đ none rubber hoshi the wrong way quite like ara did back in trainee days. everyone could feel it from the cold galances to the snarky comments during praticesâ he made clear he didn't think she belonged. to him she was an outsider added last minute to something they had been building for years, and everything was worse because she was goodâ really good. they were both among the strongest dancers in the group, they fought for attention in monthly evaluations and refused to back down. the debut was coming soon and they had to decide their performance unit leaderâ competition between the two was insane.
But rivalry has a funny way of creating respect. he started watching her more carefullyâ the way she corrected her own mistakes without a word, the way she stayed hours after everyone else left. ara watched him too, notcing the way he lowkey cared and how is passion wasn't just ego. slowly jabs turned into banter, to collaborations, late-night choreo and shared headphones.
by the time the debut finally came, something had definitely shifted between them. hoshi still rolled her eyes at ara but now he did it with a smile or while handing her a water bottle. ara, as the living tease she was, never missed a chance to tease his tiger obsessionâ she didn't approved his tiger agenda at all. their rivalry didn't vanished overnight but it softened slowly like ice melting on the sun. instead of outshine each other like they wantedâ and usedâ to do, they just pushed each other to get better and better.
late nights in the pratice room became their thing. when the others reached the dorms, hoshi and ara stayed behind to run throught choreos over and over. and when they were tired enough, when their legs didn't answered to their brains anymore, they just layed down the floor side by side catching their breath. then a word came out of her mouth, she answered and it just happened to have the best convos, sharing their favorite songs or giving each other dance tips.
# đđđĄđ˘đĄ đđŠđđĄđ§đŚ ŕŞââ´
teasing him about his unhealty obsession with tigers
creating choreo togheter just to be forgotten the day after
his wardrobe is hers now

âş â
ęŤÂ á´á
á´ đŚđ°đŻđ¸đ°đ° ę
# đđŹđĄđđ đđ ŕŞââ´ grumpy x sunshine
# đĄđđ đ ŕŞââ´ wara
# đŁđ˘đŁđ¨đđđĽđđ§đŹ ŕŞââ´ 74%
ę° đ˝ŕ§ ęą đâwonwooâs personality was similar to junhui's, he was quiet and in his own world most of the time. he didn't bother to approach her first and shamelessly avoided her at first.
ara, being super extroverted and loud, found wonwooâs calm and distant nature confusing but also kind of intriguing. she was used to people reacting to her energyâwhether they laughed, rolled their eyes or argued back. but he? he didnât flinch. didnât respond. he simply blinked at her like she was background noise. and yet, he never looked annoyed.
maybe thatâs why she made it her personal mission to get a reaction out of him. loud greetings when he entered the room, dramatic sighs when he didnât answer, or even sliding granola bars across the floor toward his spot during breaks. she thought he hated itâuntil she caught him hiding a small smile when he thought she wasnât looking.
they never had a big turning point. no dramatic moment, no heart-to-heart at 3 a.m. it was all quiet shifts: the way he started saving her a seat during meetings, or how she always handed him her extra earbud during van rides. their energy was opposite, but somehow it workedâher chaos filled the spaces he left quiet, and his quiet grounded her noise.
# đđđĄđ˘đĄ đđŠđđĄđ§đŚ ŕŞââ´
pulling him in when he is too anti-social
when she gets too excited and caught up in the momentâ like in gose, he hold her hand and pull her down
changes personality when he lays on her shoulder

âş â
ęŤÂ á´á
á´ đŚđ°đ°đťđŞ ę
# đđŹđĄđđ đđ ŕŞââ´ short king x skyscraper
# đĄđđ đ ŕŞââ´ woora
# đŁđ˘đŁđ¨đđđĽđđ§đŹ ŕŞââ´ 82%
ę° đ˝ŕ§ ęą đ woozi got some silent beef with the girl at fristâ she was too loud, too bright, too tall. he was reserved, focused and permanently stressed about pratice and song arrangements, she was a distraction no one asked for. he rolled his eyes back everytime she bounced into the room, made faces when she interrupted rehearsals with her endlessy blanter with hoshi about some moves, avoided every attempt she made to talk to him.
anyway, she wasn't something he could ignore foreverâ they were going to debut in the same group and she didn't let all the bad things take her down, she was a tease. she joked about his height, called him "tiny producer-nim" and somehow she never took his deadpan expression personally. if anything, she founded him hilarious. it took timeâ long days, tiring pratices but most of all overhearing her defending his name to another traniee.
he never admited it outloud but, at one point, her presence stopped being annoying and even started to feel kinda necessary. he liked hearing her humming his demos under her breath, he noticed she was serious, hardworkingâ and kind when he didin't deserve it. at the point he wanted her being part of the vocal unit.
# đđđĄđ˘đĄ đđŠđđĄđ§đŚ ŕŞââ´
her lowering at his height beside him
lowkey compliments her about her vocal skills during recording, getting embarassed right after
always talking about how he hated her
#âŚđđłđ˘-đłđŚđ˘đđŽ#seventeen added member#14th member of seventeen#seventeen 14th member#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#svt oc#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#seungcheol x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#jun x reader#hoshi x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#mingyu x reader#dk x reader#minghao x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#dino x reader#seventeen#kpop addition#kpop oc#seventeen oc#seventeen x oc#kpop x reader#kpop x you#kpop x oc
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Reblogging your response since Iâm saying more or less the same thing.
Kevin technically is the weakest so him doing worse than Gwen in fights is less of the writers having an agenda or anything, but more of something thatâs bound to happen. Magic that serves as a deus ex machina at times plus green lantern powers>>>>absorption man, but with a drawback. That being said, he is by no means weak.
Everyone in the show takes Ls sometimes but itâs extra egregious with Kevin to the point it seems that whoever is writing the fights has something against him. Kevin losing a fight to 10 year old Ben wasnât just odd, but served no purpose. You have scenes where he is running around concrete floors to try to find something to absorb instead of just absorbing the floor or just covers himself in the worst material possible. Most of the moments when he coats only his arms donât make sense since his vitals are left unprotected. Sometimes, they have Kevin going into fights without even absorbing anything at all.
Adding on to your point about how Kevin doesnât grow from his sexism. A lot of the other characters have their own flaws that arenât really addressed, much less grown out of. But a lot of these characters also have episodes where their specific actions/line of thinking is wrong that ends with them realizing and even admitting theyâre wrong. Granted, these lessons absolutely donât stick all the time, but theyâre still some of my favorite moments from the series.
Oddly enough, Kevin doesnât really get an episode like this. Charms Way feels like itâs the closest but it still ends with Kevin only caring about Ben calling him a jerk only because he realizes Gwen has been doing exactly what he wanted her to do. It shouldâve ended with at least a conversation between him and Gwen, but instead thereâs no actual resolution to the episode and itâs never brought up again. Even in the episode where Eunice gets introduced, while Gwen realizes she should be more welcoming to Eunice, Kevinâs behavior towards her is only treated as a joke. Thereâs quite a few episodes that feel like Kevin should learn something, but it goes nowhere. Things that feel like stuff Kevin should grow out of are more like quirks that the other characters should just more or less put up with. I donât want him to apologize or have a learning moment from every single hiccup, questionable or bad moment. That would be unrealistic, unreasonable, and unfair because nobody else in the cast is learning/growing from every single thing. Iâm just saying at least once would be nice.
The way Kevinâs powers, intelligence, sexism, and growth is handled is partially a consequence of the writers leaning too much into him being the comedic relief. Donât get me wrong heâs hilarious and I love him for it, but I wish it didnât come at the expense of other parts of his character.
And since Kariachi brought it up: Kevin running away and not returning because he views himself as a burden to his family, especially since they donât have the ability/resources to properly support him and his powers, after destroying his home seems to add up pretty fine imo. The show spells out why Kevin dislikes Harvey when he states âif ma really loved dad, she wouldâve never remarriedâ. He feels that Harvey is replacing the father heâs still grieving. Nobody is the bad guy here (outside of Max/the plumbers, but thatâs a conversation for another day), itâs just two people who arenât in the right headspace coexisting under one household. My problem is that Kevinâs home and family life is very under-explored and his stepfatherâs appearance feels very random and out of nowhere. We shouldâve gotten an episode that focused on them instead of just having one scene. Also, kevin looks four years old at minimum in the picture with Devin but itâs not like the show ever cared about making his backstory make sense.
I have more problems with the way Kevin is handled but Iâve done enough yapping.
overthinking kevin hours
so it's no secret there's mixed feelings about kevin's development and characterization in uaf. (I still have my own pov on it bc i really like how the show did some things and not others.) I've heard some people say he's like "beast boy part 2" which lowkey has some truth in it.
I guess i wanted to ask other fans -- what do you think the show gets wrong about kevin? what characteristics do you think were truly out of character? what would you have done differently? i'm gonna make my own post with my views but i wanted to hear everyone else's thoughts first.
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everybody who went to a private catholic school name the craziest personal belief an instructor lectured the class on.
i'll go first: mentally disabled people are free of original sin, just like animals, so they get a free pass to heaven
#bonus points if the lecture was not-so-subtly referencing you specifically#ye i was the only super obviously autistic kid in my class since we did not have special ed classes or accommodations of any kind#and yes this teacher did seem to believe that i fell into the category of 'mentally disabled people who are like animals'#oddly enough this kind of made me her favorite student#she was really big on infantilizing ppl who were a certain level of mentally disabled#and yeah i guess dehumanizing too#except like how people says 'all doggos are good boys'#and even if a dog bites someone you can't like claim that dogs know the difference between good or evil#so it's not like...a fucking sin or something#so yeah she did openly express this stuff in class#i can't remember her explanation for mentally disabled ppl being free of original sin#but it was like tied in with the whole 'tree of knowledge' thing#and how not having that knowledge/sin is what makes us like innocent and dumb#got compared to a dog and also a lamb. not directly. like she did not call me out by name#but the entire class was super uncomfy because it was really obvious she was indirectly talking about me#at the time i was also like 'huh that explains some of her behavior around me'#and also thought it was hilarious that i got a free pass to heaven in her mind#also thought it was funny that she thought i was mentally disabled#because at this point i just thought i was a deeply weird person being mistaken for a mentally disabled person#but uh nope. i was like. really autistic. like lots of classic negative shit too like biting other kids and self-harmful stims and stuff
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sometimes itâs late at night and youâre cleaning your room and you come across a few old black and white photos of a young girl and you stare at them for a long minute wondering how on earth they got lost in an old Kroger shopping bag with an unopened pack of cigarettes and a receipt dated 2017.
and you look at the girl in the pictures sat on the floor of someoneâs home you donât recognize, smiling and playing with a set of keys and a tiny part of you feels like it recognizes her but you arenât sure.
and you flip the pictures over hoping to find some sort of annotation that would give you context and all you find is the year 1964 stamped in tiny font along the edge.
and you flip them back over and time stands still as you realize that the recognition you feel is because she looks so much like you once did and next thing you know your hands are sweating and shaking and you have to sit on the floor because youâre crying so hard because it hits you all at once that youâre looking at your mother.
#hey Siri play In Color by Jamey Johnson for me please#music stuff#you shouldâve seeeeen it in cooolllloor#Seven.txt#Sevenâs Public Diary#normal Sunday night behavior#me? up all night hyperfocused on cleaning out my depression cave to achieve a sense of change and accomplishment -#- and ignoring every other aspect of my life including abandoning time sensitive tasks lest i get distracted and lose all motivation???#more likely than you think!#iâve been at this since new years and iâm only like. halfway done. Gods help me#like i donât mean âcleaningâ as in doing some light dusting. i mean thereâs junk and trash piled 2/3rds of the way to the ceiling#when i call this room my depression/mental illness cave i Mean it#but no longer. i shall finally return this room to an acceptable state for the first time since. uh. 2022? i think?#i found a plastic container of dates buried under some laundry and the sticker says theyâre from March of last year lmao#i forgot about those/thought i threw them away. but they were thankfully sealed so well that they hadnât drawn any bugs#and oddly enough hadnât even visibly molded/gone bad. but i didnât open them up for a smell test i just chucked âem in my giant trash bag#iâm finding all kinds of shit i forgot i even had which is nice but itâs also distracting me like those pictures did#iâll have to show them to her and ask her about them tomorrow#and ur probably like âu found old pics of a girl that looks like you why didnât you immediately recognize ur own momâ#and 1. thereâs countless pics of countless old relatives around this house that i barely/donât recognize and never even met#and 2. iâve barely ever seen any pics of my mom from such a young age so i have no images to reference in my mind#and it just fucked me up bc. i donât look like her anymore. i only see Him in the mirror. but i Used to look like her. iâm turning into him#and i fucking hate it so much. i donât like that she looks at me and sees him. great now i feel sick.#anyways thats enough reminiscing i need to get some water and food in me and get back to cleaning. i shanât rest until iâm satisfied#well. my period + depression combo kinda Did make me rest which is why itâs taken 5 days but still. the horrors persist but so do i#itâs not just for the sense of accomplishment tho. i also need to move the 75gal tank out of the living room thanks to the floor situation#so iâm trying to make room in my room for it since it has the newest & strongest floor. i just need to find a level spot thats big enough#my back is gonna be so fucked after all this cleaning that iâll have to rest for a fucking week before moving that heavy ass glass box#i hate moving big aquariums it makes me so anxious. and i literally donât know if iâll have anyone capable of helping me#so it might not even happen and itâll just have to sit empty in the living room forever. but Maybe he can/will help me
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gojo likes watching porn.
not in that weird, pervy wayâ actually, letâs retract that statement. he doesnât watch it to fuck his fist to the girls getting dicked down by some scrawny guy.
he uses it as a reference.
oddly enough, he gets aroused by the thought of doing it to you. he memorizes the way the girlâs legs were pushed up to her chest, the pillow placed below her lower back, the angle the guy was hitting it from⌠he just canât wait to try it out with you.
gojo follows his usual routineâ stuffing two fingers up your wet cunt and swirling them around in that torturous circular movement that had you squirming in seconds, squelching noises almost becoming louder than your own moans before shoving his dick into your needy hole.
his hands wrap around the back of your knees, spreading your legs just enough for him to slot himself in between them. the small tuft of hair at the base of his cock brushes against your swollen and sensitive bundle of nerves with every move of his hips, each thrust carefully thought out to maximize your pleasure. the tip of his cock constantly pushes against your g-spot, brushing against your cervix and causing you to gush all over him.
gojoâs never heard you moan this loud beforeâ and neither has he felt you squeeze around him so good.
#jjk smut#7hursday#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x y/n#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk x reader smut#jjk gojo
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separation anxiety
⤡ caleb experiences a rut after a long time, and it just so happens that youâre in his path.
cw. 18+ smut, hybrid! caleb, knotting, dubcon if you squint, breeding, obsessive/possessive behavior, perv caleb, fem human! reader, ruts, size difference, also a lil breeding, 3.5k words because i physically struggle to write smut without a preamble, reader is ovulating and it triggers his rut this time for whatever reason
an. saw this trope going around & wanted to try it <33 heâs got that DAWG in him đŞ also i cant decide if hybrid caleb gives german shepherd vibes or samoyed vibesâŚ. that moments post lives rent free in my mind tho idk (>_<)
đđđđđđ, đđđđđđđđ, & đđđđđđđ đđđ đđđđđđđđđđđ
! (ŕšÂ´ `ŕš)âĄ
Caleb would say he hates you for the time youâre gone, but itâd be a big fat lie. His love for you, big and bursting in his chest, deepens in the quiet windows where youâre present at work or running errands throughout Linkon before returning home to him.
Thereâs a permanence of you in his mind and being. He wants it no other way.
His devotion for you doesnât necessarily drown him- no, youâre always there with a lifering waiting- but it certainly sweeps him up and threatens to.
He gets a bit ahead of himself sometimes, heâs aware of that; energetic, bulging at the seams with vigor; whether itâs an integral part of his personality or just a consequence of his breed, the pound he came from never quite knew. Your Gran never figured that out, either, and for as sweet and trying as she was, she soon realized she couldnât foster him for long.
Because he was a big boy, hungry for attention and wired to please, well-meaning but oft over involved with personal spaceâ and he brought a loaded package that your Gran just couldnât sign her name off on, not after a few months, anyway. She tried her best before nudging him into your care, because she sure as hell wasnât about to give him up to that squalid pound or the streets again- and besides, the mutt liked her granddaughter; all those visits she paid throughout the summer obviously endeared Caleb to her, and quickly.
You admit, itâs a mite difficult to juggle between long days at work, little tasks that drag you from point to point throughout Linkon, and your own personal life on top of caring for a hybrid stowed away in your shoebox apartmentâ but your grandmother was all but sapped of her energy then, turning to you for aid although she seldom ever did, and youâd always lend a hand where you could.
The mutt- Caleb, is his name (and you call it fondly even as heâs pawing at your thighs for attention or drooling on your collar)- has grown on you considerably in the past half year, anyway.
You wonât let him down or leave him at the curb. Heâs yours. The red collar you bought him says as much, printed with your number on a silver plate, and he wears it not because you make him but because heâs proud of it.
Heâs a good boy, he is. He always has been and for that youâre thankful.
Except, this week heâs⌠different.
As of a few days ago, itâs like heâs been testing the waters- and your patience- on just how far he can go before you tell him off or say bad dog. He must find them warm because heâs just been diving deeper as the week progresses.
You donât know what to do. Heâs oddly aggressive. Itâs not rare at all for him to follow you all around your apartment, but heâs foregone the very last shred of respect for your personal space and nips when you try to push him away. Not hard enough to actually hurt- the yip you make is more surprised than anything when he pulls you back in and licks at the small red patch- but you look wounded at it.
Because Caleb doesnât biteâ he just doesnât.
He wraps you up in seemingly endless embraces and breathes your smell in until heâs dizzy, laughing into your neck like a giddy child. He does this every time you try to leave for work and heâs made you late for it.
Maybe itâs just because youâre ovulating and a little hormonal, but it makes you quite sour and the mood stays even when you return in the afternoon. Heâs never liked when youâre gone, sure, but heâs always been there to see you off at the door with a pout as you scratch behind his ear- more or less tame about it.
Your patience really frays at the odd uptick in his possessiveness, though. Itâs hurtful.
Youâve always treated him less like a pet- a hybrid- and more like a friend, and you feel quite indignant for it when he growls and tells you that he hates the smell of other men on you, hearing none of your excuses that itâs âjust coworkersâ, glaring at you like some brainless extension of him. You feel less like a person and more like an object, a streetlamp in which he emerges from the shadows for just to piss on to show it belongs to him.
Heâs touchy. Snippy. Glued to your side at all times. Itâs concerning and frustrating and confusing all at once.
By the fifth day mark, on Friday night, youâre tuckered out by it and donât question where he is when you return home early from a shift and heâs, uncharacteristically, not there to greet you.
A red collar however, laid on the floor, its tag glittering under dim hallways lights, strikes you as both curious and unsettling.
He never takes that off. No- says itâs his way of showing you and the whole world that he belongs to you, andâ have you been too impatient with him lately? Brusque? Maybe youâre a little hormonal but itâs no cause to get short with him, even when heâs acting up, and what if he no longer wants you as his ownerâ
A gasp.
You find him in your bedroom, humping your pillow, yowling as he comes undone- unawares- and the walls spin as you nearly faint.
You drop your purse. âCaleb!â You shriek, and a visible shiver rolls down his spine as he turns around.
âBad dog!â
âŚ
You sleep on it.
Well, you wash your sheet and your pillowcases- and then you sleep on it.
Maybe you overreacted. If anything, you should be grateful for what you walked in on because otherwise, he wouldnât have known how to tell you heâs been going through a bit of a hot phase- the first of his youâve experienced- and doesnât know how to control himself.
You blush just thinking about it, shame knocking in your chest as your heart beats heavy. You feel awful for walking in on him for a number of reasons. One of them being he came all over your bed- and his tummy- and you had to clean both up through furious tears as you peeled your covers off the mattress and pointed him off in the direction of the bathroom, telling him to run the faucet and quick.
A pass of guilt, the fear of you being angry with him, made its round across his kicked expression but he held off on arguing.
For the first documented time in the whole week, Caleb appeared mellow- not agitated, restless, or tense- and rather crestfallen, and you noted it only vaguely as you irately turned on the washer.
Now, itâs in the forefront of your brain.
Well, if heâs been going through some kind of rut lately, it only makes sense heâd be all kinds of pent up, and that his release (albeit in an inconvenient way and place) would provide some relief.
Itâs closer to noon when you finally exit your bedroom and meet him at the sofa- the same one youâd all but banished him to last night. He prefers to spend his nights with you, either curled up at your side or splaying his full weight over your back- a breed-relative habit, youâre sure. Youâve heard of some other kinds who enjoy a room to themselves or do just fine with the couch, on their lonesomeâ But not Caleb.
He looks tired but perks up when he hears you patter down the hall, violet eyes lighting when you timidly take a seat.
With a bit of hesitation, he inches closer until you sheepishly wave a hand and he barrels into your arms.
âAh- Caleb-â
Before you can even apologize for your jumping the gun last night, he beats you to the punch. âMâ sorry. You donât hate me for it, do you?â He sighs into your collar and you shiver, âI wish you could understand what it feels like- I wouldnât have done it if it was somethinâ I could control, I hope you realize that.â
You swallow, digesting his words as you belatedly place a hand on his head to pet. He positively melts. âY-Yeah,â you mumble back. âItâs okay. I actually wanted to say sorry too. I- I didnât understand what was going onâŚâ
A deep groan looses from his throat, his chest swelling with content as you itch that spot behind the furry ears say upright on his head. They give a few twitches as he leans against you and wraps his muscular arms around your middle, resting his chin by your shoulder.
âItâs my fault, though, not yours. I didnât know how to tell you- I was worried youâd just end up scaredâa me, orâŚâ
His pause instills interest in you. Your fingers smooth back his brown locks, mussed from fitful sleep, and he sighs. âOr what?â You press softly.
You pull him back just enough to get a look at him, his cheekbones almost shiny with a dusting of pink. His thick brows furrow together.
âOr that youâd leave,â he whispers.
Your eyes widen. You lasso your arms around his neck and pull him to you, your head slotting above his shoulder as his fingers quickly move to support the position, one hand perched at your thigh and the other braced at your side.
âNonsense,â you grumble at his ear, a bit angry at the suggestion. âIâd never leave you.â
Something hard, then, prods at your middle- too fleshy to be something in either of your pockets- and you stiffen at the realization as it comes a beat too late.
Calebâs voice is breathy at your ear, low, his tail thumping on the cushion. âYeah?â He murmurs, a pang of heat stirring in your belly at the sound. Suddenly aware, you gently go to push at his broad chest but he stops you with an imploring look- although the desire, brewing in dilated pupils, isnât lost on you- and musters a pout.
It looks out of place, the wholesome gaze marred by hunger as it reshapes his puppyish look.
âEven when I am no better than a bad dog?â
Your brow quirks, âI didnât mean it,â you whisper, wide-eyed as his eyes bore into yours. Every micro expression you make is being catalogued and noted with utmost care, his pink tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as they grow dry.
âItâs okay if you did,â he murmurs back. âIâm just glad I have you around to remind me of my placeâŚâ Long, slim fingers reach up and you watch, unseeingly, as they stroke your cheek, his other hand creeping dangerously close to the waistband of your sleep shorts.
He chuckles, but the humor wanes quickly.
âOtherwise, Iâd always be misbehaving. Do you even know what you do to me?â His voice is meaningful, torrid, as he draws in and the tip of his nose brushes with yours. You canât find it in you to move as your thighs- the ones he slithers a singleminded hand in between- begin to roil with unexpected warmth.
You plant a hand to his chest, shying away, âC-Caleb-â
âDonât worry,â he says sweetly, âMâ not gonna hurt you. I justâŚ.â He lets out a sigh, long and perhaps just a bit exaggerated- but it has the intended effect on you. You purse your lips and feel a trace of guilt twist in your heart.
âYou drive me crazy. Y-Your smell- I donât know why this is happening, either. Honestly? I havenât had a rut in a couple years. But thisâŚâ
Caleb lets out a soft noise of pleasure, lending his full weight to you when he breathes you in and shakes.
When he speaks next, his words come out raspy and so low you hardly register them as his breaths grow labored- theyâre all you can hear as the living room space shrinks down to just him and the knuckles that dare to dip into your panties.
âThis is just too unfair. You wonât leave me hanginâ, pretty,⌠w-will you?â Breathy. With an undeniable streak of need. You canât miss the lust that usurps the softer parts of him and makes him look less puppyish and cheerful and more wolfish, calculating.
And, well, when he puts it like that, how could you?
âŚ
He doesnât fuck you on the couch. He takes you to your bed and fucks you there like a lover would.
He fucks you deep and fast- to his credit, he doesnât hurt you, staying true to his word, but the possibility of bruises becomes a nearer thing when he folds your legs back and his grasp becomes constricting, plunging in and out of your cunt with rapt focus. Indigo eyes glow with something feral, like youâve given him no choice but to claim his ownership over you through sloppy kisses and clinking teeth as he pounds into you, driven him into a corner- but his touch turns worshipful when he presses his forehead to yours and moans.
âAh- y-you feel so good, so tight,â he compliments, words almost slurred. His pupils expand and he looks no different than a drunken, babbling man, his cheeks a rosy red.
His murmurs are wet against your lips as they graze and mush with his, Calebâs face so close to yours that his lashes tickle your brow as he gawks at you, so entranced by whatever it is heâs seeing to look away.
A fluffy tail sways unevenly behind him and touches your leg on occasion, almost like itâs trying to curl around you, prickling and eager. Every part of him gravitates to you. Youâre the ground beneath his feet. Fertile land.
âAnd youâre all mine, okay? Nobody elseâs. I want you to wear my scent- to carry me with you no matter where you go. You have to promise me you will- mmph- That sound good-?
âC-Calebââ
You groan when he stuffs himself deeper inside and you swear you feel his length throb inside your walls, stretching. The veins running along his shaft carve out a new pathway in you, one special and just for him, as his balls- heavy and fat, with a hell of a lot to give- slap against your ass. Slick oozes out from the squelching seam of you, coating his thick cock but you still struggle to accomodate his size despite the lubrication.
Heâs made to make you feel as if youâre losing your mind. You snatch your jaw with your own hand to keep the flurry of high-pitched sounds from spilling out lest they embarrass you, but he shoos it away and cuffs your wrists with a hand splayed over them.
âNah- I wanna hear you, baby. You canât keep holdinâ out on me like this... Iâm giving you my all right now, so it should be pretty obvious that you can do the same, yeah?â
A mewl punches out from your lungs half a second later and he seems quite contented at that. He sighs, closing his eyes, saying,
âIâve been good all along. Canât you play the part, too? I just want you to see how much I really love you,â his confession is by no means considered casual what with the passion in which its conveyed, but you canât help but feel itâs a little sudden, said a little too quickly, and you wonder if he means what he says or if the rut is responsible for all these novel, amorous feelings in him.
I mean, heâs probably too wrapped up in the moment to even contemplate his own admissions as they all spew outâ
âCaleb, too bigââ you gasp, cutting him off, and he lets out a strangled kind of noise when your walls clamp around him.
Holyfuck holyfuck holyfuck do it again, he wants to say, suffocate me, but nothing comes out and he realizes after a long second that his vision has whited completely. He canât see anything; heâs in a fuzzy, dazzling world with the blinders on and all he can smell and feel is you- your scent, sugar sweet and about as inviting as a barstool pulled out, envelopes him and he canât breathe. Canât speak.
He fucks into you with reckless abandon, huffs you in like itâs his final breaths, and then lets it all go without care for anything else. Far as heâs concerned, everything he knows is defined by you. This is a give and take relationship: he actually gives a damn about your opinion of him and takes all you have to offer.
Heâs in love, puppyish and clumsy but fuck you lead the way and lead him on.
âShh, I know,â he rasps out, steaming up your neck like a fogged window pane as he insinuates himself there. Your whole body feels like a furnace, burning up for him as he opens you up and tucks himself inside.
âI know itâs big, but you gotta be ready for-â he clips his sentence short, thinking better of it.
He wants to warn you of his impending knot- the one thatâll no doubt leave you yelping and writhing away from him- you certainly deserve as much of a foreword to it, but part of him is just so terrified youâll reject him or deny him the priviledge of shoving it inside you and fuck he canât have that.
Calebâs nothing if not loyal. Heâs also nothing if not selfish. Thatâs always been a wriggling bug heâs tried to stomp out but it remains in the baser part of him, only amplified by the intense rut that came right out of the blue.
He wants you singing his name and bonded to him (or as much of a bond the two of you can form), and so thatâs what heâll get.
Heâll apologize later, and you will forgive him. So allâs fine.
âY-You can take it,â is the simpler thing he settles on, and you let it pass, because between the fat cockhead splitting you apart deliciously and the sweet, somewhat perturbing nothings he gushes at your ear, youâre deaf to most of everything.
But when you come- unexpected and sharp, overwhelming your senses as your hips ruck up and he has to pin you down in place and ride it out with you as you cream around him- the scream you let out rings in your ears and so does his ferocious grunt. Itâs loud and youâre so numb as seconds pass that feel like eons; pointed teeth teasing at the squishy chunk of your shoulder, invoking a buried sense of alarm.
And then heâs biting down hard- not just nipping- the pleasure thankfully driving off the pain as he ploughs inside, muffling a string of curses as he picks up his pace. Caleb gets sloppier and sloppier and then heâs burning white-hot inside you and moaning like a pornstar, pelvis juddering as he comes.
âMmh- f-fuck- Good girl!â he rewards with half a brain, fucked out into perfect oblivion, and for a second you wonder why his voice sounds more meant for comfort than praise- until you expect him to pull out but he doesnât, something big and round forming at the base of his cock that has his eyes fluttering back as it pops in. He goes boneless on top of you as every limb of yours stiffens and coils around his broad back.
You scream his name. He shivers.
It feels enough to shatter your mind- the pain searing you, but the ghost of pleasure that creeps up along your nervous system makes you go like jelly beneath him, helpless to whatever heâs got planned for you.
âC-Caleb, you-!â
âYeah, a bad dog, a bad dog,â he stammers, whimpering at your earlobe, âI know, baby, I know. Just- donât shut me out, okay? I- Itâll be over soon, just- ah- loosen up around it, okay? Itâll feel so much better that way. Just⌠hold on to me.â
âI-It hurts-!â
âNgh, shhhâŚâ He trembles out, shifting to sample a broken mewl from your lips, cupping your jaw with all the love in the world and staring at you as if you told the sun to rise this morning. âBe a good girl and take it, mm? Your pussyâs squeezing me so tight, I think she wants it too, but she has to relax a little first, yeah? Mm⌠I could give you a whole litter of pups. Give your Gran a bunch of cute lil granbabies to drive her crazy.â
You choke on your own spit, the brunet letting out a near delirious chuckle at the idea and your reaction to it before his brow gives a wince, your walls instinctively trying to push his swollen knot out.
âWha- Caleb, is that even-?â
âI donât know,â he kisses your forehead tenderly, his tail giving a heavy, excited thump behind him on the bed as you grab the sheets for dear life and they wrinkle, pinched like your conflicted expression.
âBut Iâve been dyinâ to try it out for myself.â
#love and deepspace#lads x reader#love and deepspace x reader#lads smut#lads caleb#caleb x reader#love and deepspace caleb#caleb love and deepspace smut#lads x you#lads x y/n#xia yizhou#calebrity#cant tell if i like or hate this but alright#that puppy caleb moments post lives in my head rent free tho so#âhello are you calebâ#I BAWLED ITS SO CUTE#also im being dragged back into cod again so idk when next fic will be#hopefully for sylus bday idk#anyways i officially wrote some caleb smut now so#:]#â§â đ°.âđđđđđđđđĄđđđ
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JEALOU$Y. â CALEB.
đ đ˘đđđđđŚ. at the end of the day, you and caleb are just childhood friendsânothing more, nothing less. so, when you mention going on a date, itâs totally logical that he wouldnât care, right? if only that were the truth.
đ¤đđđđđđđ . fem!reader, current!caleb, zayne mention, jealousy, pet names, praise, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie. đ¤đ. 5.4k.
đđ°đ¤ đđđđŚđđđ. jealou$y â the neighbourhood.
â â â â â â â â â â§ masterlist | request
Doomsday has finally dawned upon Linkon City, though Caleb seems to be the only person truly affected by this catastrophe.
It was all his fault in the grand scheme of things. He hadnât been clear enough, hadnât shown the full extent of his feelings for you. But above all, he should have never offered Zayne those measly words of advice.
He should have known that the doctor had ulterior motives. Why else would he have called Caleb up one week ago to ask about you of all people?
It was a mean ploy, truly. Anyone and everyone knows about Calebâs inability to shut up about you, his sole weakness was being exploited right in front of his eyes and he was none the wiser. The questions seemed harmless then. Posed as genuine curiosity, Caleb would have never been able to decipher the hidden intent behind each word that Zayne spoke into the receiver.
What are her days off? What does she do in her free time? You said that the restaurant around the corner from Akso Hospital was her favorite, yes?
In retrospect, he should have absolutely seen this coming. But then again, nothing could have ever prepared Caleb to hear those four life-altering words slipping from your lips.
âI have a date.â
A record scratches in his brain, forcing him to halt his steps for an abnormally long time before he slowly turns to face you. âYou⌠what?â
Hearing the words repeated in that saccharine tone of yours only added salt to the wound, oddly enough. It physically pained him to ask for more information about your date, though he managed to hide his disdain with that boyish grin of his and a bit of lighthearted teasing.
But inside? That little green monster was stirring, and there was very little he could do to quell it.
Begrudgingly, he managed to get the key details before forcing himself to stow away in his bedroom and⌠think. Next Thursday. 6 PM. Maltosio Restaurant. With Zayne.
The next week passed by in an agonizingly slow fashion. It was as though each X that marked a passing day was a physical blow to his already aching heart, and those adorable images of the kittens on his calendar (the calendar that you picked out) did very little to help him.
Subtlety was never his strong suit, but then again, desperate times call for desperate measures. And believe Caleb when he says that he is very much desperate.
âSooâŚâ heâd drawl, leaning over the back of the couch to peer down at you. âI heard thereâs a screening of that movie youâve been wanting to see at the drive-in next Thursday. Wanna come with?â
You perked up like a ball of excitement, and for a moment, Caleb allowed himself to get his hopes up, but your frown quickly dissipated them. âNext Thursday? Oh, no, I canât make it! Iâm going out with Zayne, remember?â
Of course he remembered. That was exactly why he hadnât let upânot even onceâin his attempts to distract you just enough to make you forget all about your dinner plans. He could take you out for a nice dinner too. Say, thatâs actually a good ideaâŚ
The next day, Caleb tried that one.
âOh, pip-squeak,â he sang, his airy voice ringing through your apartment as he walked down the hallway. âI got us reservations at the restaurant in Skyhaven that youâve been itchinâ to check out.â
You perked up, just like you did before. âReally?â
He nodded with a triumphant grin, internally patting himself on the back for his own good idea. âMm-hmm. Next Thursday. Got us those window seats you wanted tooâthe ones that overlook the city.â
And once again, your gaze softened, and an all-too-adorable pout tugged at the corners of your mouth. âOh, Caleb, Iâm sorry. Iâm busy that day.â
You really are too sweet for your own good. He canât even blame Zayne for taking an interest in you, heâd be downright shocked if any man with two seeing eyes had the audacity to not think that you were the most beautiful thing heâd ever seen.
Caleb sure does. He always has. He always will.
It wasnât long before the day of reckoning was upon him. Thursday evening. Sunlight cut through the blinds in the living room, casting golden hues across the vast space. Much to his dismay, the trashy reality television youâd left on the screen did very little to soothe his worries.
He fidgeted with the dog chains youâd gifted him, his thumb brushing along the gift that you had so kindly given him. It was a testament to your bond. A bond that something as trivial as a single evening apart couldnât tamper with⌠right?
âCaleb!â Your antsy voice cut through the air, forcing his wandering mind to snap back to reality.
He was up and down the hallway before you could even say another word, pressing a flat hand to your door to nudge it open. It was then that he saw you, all dolled up in your robe with your favorite dresses laid out on your bed.
Your hands grasp onto two of the hangers, holding them up side-by-side to help him get a better look at them. Though, his eyes were noticeably distracted, contorted in an unfamiliar lovesick expression as they pierced into yours. âQuick! Which do you think is cuter?â
Caleb blinksâonce, twice, three timesâuntil he forces himself to finally look down at the dress options in your grasp. Heâd seen you wear them plenty of times before, and the thought of someone else seeing you in such beautiful fabric nearly made his stomach lurch.
He raises his forearm, leaning against the doorframe as he rubs the back of his neck. âOh, câmon, thatâs an impossible choice. Youâll look beautiful no matter what you wear.â
It was a typical response, one that you were expecting, though his lack of advice made you hmph as you lost yourself in your thoughts. âWell⌠I hear polka dots symbolize happiness and stripes symbolize slipping between realms. Pretty interesting stuff, huh?â
âVery interesting,â he says, the corner of his mouth tugging up at the mere sound of your voice. âIs that why you buy so many things in those patterns?â
You quirk an eyebrow, confusion etching into your expression. âHuh? What else do I buy thatâsâŚâ It quickly dawns on you, and you can feel heat creep up your neck and reach your face. âYouâre a jerk.â
Caleb canât help but laugh, taking a few steps into the room so that he can properly look at each and every one of the dress options laid out on your bed. âWhatâs the matter? If I remember correctly, someone was begginâ me to do her laundry. Somethinâ about the laundry machine being sooo far and your feet hurting sooo bad.â
Huffing and far too flustered for your own good, you shake your head. âWell⌠well I didnât realize you were so observant.â
He clicks his tongue, absentmindedly pinching your side as he leans down to rest his chin in the dip of your shoulder. âTsk. You know Iâm always observant when it comes to you. Even if itâs remembering something as trivial as the patterns of your cute little undies.â
You swat him away. âYouâre so annoying!â
To that, he can only chuckle, giving your sides a brief squeeze before taking a few steps back. âAlriiight, alright, Iâll leave you alone.â Before exiting the room entirely, he hangs onto the doorframe, giving you a soft smile. âIâm serious though. Youâll look beautiful no matter what you wear.â His lips curve into a smirk. âBut if you want my inputâyou know Iâve always been a sucker for seeing you in florals.â
And with that, he whisks away, silently hoping and praying that this date will fall through on its own. Plopping back down on the couch, his eyes are practically glued to his watch. 5:48 PM. It wouldnât be long before Zayne would be knocking at the front doorâpunctual as ever. Oh, it made him sick.
How could he have done this? To you, to himself? Caleb should be ashamed. He should be the one sitting across from you later tonight, holding your hand and listening to you ramble about whatever your heart desires. It should be him. It would have been him if he wasnât so damn afraid.
But the sound of approaching heels clicking along the hardwood floor quickly snapped him out of his pity party, prompting him to look over his shoulder. And there you were once again, now adorned in a floral sundress that had made him lose his mind more times than heâd like to admit.
Under his breath, he canât help but mutter, âYeah, youâre gonna kill meâŚâ
It was his favorite dress of yours, too. You really were trying to kill him. A white dress that was littered with blue flowers, the fabric fit you perfectly, loose and fitted in all of the right places.
Zayne didnât deserve to see you like this. Plain and simple.
Standing from the couch, he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. âThere she is,â he says, taking your hand to spin you around a single time. His smile only widens as he sees yours. âYou look gorgeous, just like I knew you would.â
You roll your eyes with a bashful smile, one that he has to physically fight the urge to kiss away. âOh, you flatter me,â you say through a laugh.
He shakes his head, bringing a hand up to gently smooth down a pesky hair on the top of your head. âCanât be flattery if I mean every word of it.â
A breeze wafted through the open window, blowing the fabric of your dress ever so slightly. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers infiltrates the living room, though the scent of your perfume and something that was uniquely you had his full attention.
âYâknow, you can be pretty nice when you want to be,â you say, raising an eyebrow.
Chuckling, he simply nods, his large hands settling on your middle. âYeah. When I want to be.â
You brush past him, padding over to the back door. Pushing it open, you step out onto the warm concrete patio, breathing in the fresh air that the backyard had to offer you. Spring in Linkon was always a delight, though the warmth that Caleb radiates behind you serves to be the most comforting thing about the entire scene.
His hand comes to rest on the curve of your shoulder, his fingers nimbly pulling at one of the straps of your dress. With his heart rate shooting through the roof, he forces himself to take a moment. He needs to get this right. This may be the last chance heâll be able to do this.
âI⌠look, thereâs something that Iââ
But suddenly, the sound of rapping knuckles at the front door cuts through the tense silence. Both of your attention is drawn to the closed door, and having left the back door open, you both have a clear view of it.
You turn around to face Caleb, offering him a sheepish smile. âThatâs probably Zayne.â
He only nods, forcing his hand to fall back to his side. âYeah, probably.â
This was it. He was losing you. It stung to know that this was no oneâs fault apart from his own. His inability to be honest about his feelings, his lack of forwardness with you⌠what was he expecting? That youâd never date? That he could keep you happy forever without offering you anything more?
It was a stupid fantasy, one that had earned him this spot. But when he saw you turn to leave, your eyes still locked on his, a surge of panic shot up his spine. His eyes flit aroundâthe grass, the flowerbeds, the hose⌠that was currently filling up the poolâŚ
âBe mad at me later,â he suddenly says.
Your eyebrows shoot up. âWhaâ ah!â
Before you could even begin to process what was happening, you were suddenly pushed back into the chamber full of chlorine infested water. Caleb watches with a wry expression as you shoot up from beneath the water, splashing aimlessly as you swim towards the edge.
âWhat the fuck was that?â you bark, perching one elbow up onto the concrete as you reach the other one out to him. âWhat the hell are you looking at? Help me out!â
Caleb canât even protest, not with the incredibly irrational stunt heâd just pulled. âIâm sorry, pip-squeak, I justâŚâ And so, he reaches down, his hand clasping around yours⌠until you pull him forward with all of your strength and send him tumbling into the pool too.
And when he comes up for air, you splash him the moment he opens his eyes. Serves him right. The chlorine will sting his eyes almost as much as your mascara is stinging yours right now.
With that, you pull yourself out of the pool, a trail of water marking your path as you wring out the fabric of your dress. After that, you disappear inside of the house, leaving Caleb to rub his eyes in utter defeat.
He gives you both a long stretch of alone time before he retreats back into the house like a kicked puppy, his head hanging low as he runs a hand through his wet strands of hair. Youâve evidently told Zayne that today wasnât going to work anymore, judging by his lack of presence, and that thought alone makes Caleb more happy than he should be.
Sucking in a short breath, he knocks twice at your shut bedroom door. âHoney? It⌠itâs me.â
âGo away,â you retort without missing a single beat.
Caleb pokes his tongue into his cheek as he leans forward, resting his forehead on the cool surface of your bedroom door. âCâmon. Just⌠talk to me.â
It doesnât take long before the door is swung open, revealing an incredibly angry version of you with a freshly cleaned face. He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, to try and rectify the situation in any way he can, but you beat him to it. Quickly.
âHow dare you?â you spit, jabbing your index finger into his chest. âWhat was that, Caleb? Are we ten years old again? Your method of communication is⌠is pushing me into the damn pool?â
He sighs, catching your hand to unfold your closed fingers. âYouâre right. Iâm sorry, Iââ
âNo!â you cut him off, sticking your other index finger into his chest. âItâs your turn to listen. Youâve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, youâre all Iâve ever known, all Iâve ever wanted. Do you know how it feels to have everything you want dangled in front of you for so many years, and⌠and just torn away? Time and time again?â
Caleb is rendered speechless, his brows furrowed in both confusion and a sense of odd relief as you unleash all of the thoughts that youâve kept hidden for so long. He doesnât bother catching your other hand, instead, he allows you to repeatedly jab at his chest. It hurts, but he can handle it. Just like he can handle the words youâre saying.
âSo, you know what? I decided that enough was enough!â you continue, your index finger pressing wildly into the hard planes of his chest. âI wasnât going to wait around, I wasnât going to pretend, I was going to move on! And⌠and I was going to!â
He tilts his head, his amethyst eyes growing fuzzy as he looks down at you. âWas going to?â
You huff, eyes narrowing as you jab your finger into his chest for a final time before turning away from him. âWell, Iâm not exactly going on a date anymore, am I?â
Caleb nods, though you canât see it. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze tracing your silhouette through the soaked fabric of your dress. Sighing, he straightens off the wall, but before he can turn away, you spin around to face him.
âAnd you know what else?â you huff. âYou know the solution to this problem just as well as I do.â
He nods his head with a single jerk of his chin, beckoning you to continue. âYeah? Whatâs that?â
You step closer, and for the final time, you stab your finger into his pec. âYou need to grow a pair.â
Inhaling deeply, all he can do is smile. It infuriates you and he knows it, but he just canât help himself. He takes both of your wrists and tugs you forward until your chest presses against his own, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.
Youâre slowly simmering down, the heat of your outburst dissipating as your skin cooled. With your eyebrows still furrowed, all you can do is look up at him, daring him to speak. To do anything.
âAre you still mad at me?â he asks, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.
Swallowing thickly, you nod. âA little.â
He slowly nods his head, his fingers curving along your jaw before he cups your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. âIs there anything I can do to help with that?â
You can feel his breath fan along your lips, cool and minty and just about everything you could have ever fantasized about on your own. You part your lips to reply, but this time, Caleb is the one who beats you to it.
âWeâre making puddles all over the floor, you know.â
Glancing down, you see the truth in his words. The pool water dripped from your respective clothing and gathered around the two of you, making a wry smile find your lips.
âOh,â you breathe, âI didnât even notice.â
âI like to think Iâm pretty observant when it comes to you,â he murmurs, smoothing his free hand along your side until it grasps onto the fabric of your dress. âNeed some help with this?â
You look up, meeting his gaze once more. âWith⌠with what?â
âWell,â he drawls, his fingertips brushing along your outer thigh as he slowly drags the fabric upward. His movements are hesitant and cautious, his eyes flickering between each of yours. âYouâre wet. Iâm wet. Maybe we can⌠help each other dry off.â
Your eyelids falter as they flit between his, your gaze instinctively falling to the plush curve of his bottom lip. âOkay,â you murmur.
A smile tugs at his mouth. âOkay. Arms up.â
Slowly, you lift your arms above your head. His hands work together to slowly push the fabric of your dress up and over your head, letting it slip onto the floor with a wet plop.
His breath is nearly torn from his lungs the moment he sees your bare skin, so beautiful and soft and made to be his. Hesitantly, his fingertips trace the curve of your hips with a sense of reverence.
âDo you need help too?â you ask, your voice breathy from the restrained sense of need that has come over you.
Pausing his exploration of your bare skin, Caleb finds himself nodding, almost immediately lifting his arms over his head. âPlease.â
And now, you take the opportunity to do the same. Slowly, you peel his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly into the laundry hamper near the door. Your gaze traces over the defining lines of his abdomen, your touch doing the same as it trails southward.
His lower stomach tenses up as your fingers brush against the hem of his jeans. He canât help the way his eyes flutter shut, the way a touch so simple can nearly bring him to his knees. Breathing shakily, he leans down to rest his forehead on yours.
âCareful,â he breathes in warning, his voice taking on a raspy tone.
You almost startle at the unfamiliarity of his voice, though you push your hesitation aside as your thumb brushes over the button of his pants. âBut⌠these are wet too.â
A huff of air leaves his mouth, the sound something between a low laugh and a groan. He forces his eyes open, his stare meeting your own. âTrying to get me naked before our first kiss? I have to say, youâre full of surprises.â
Faltering, your hands fall away from his pants. âYouâre right, I⌠Iâmââ
Caleb canât help but chuckle, taking a hold of your hands to bring them right back to where they were before. This time, he guides your fingers through the motion of unbuttoning his pants. âKidding,â he whispers against your lips. âBesides⌠weâre good at multitasking, yeah?â
Youâre nodding before you can truly process his words. âYeah.â
His lips crash onto yours with a groan that omits from deep within, the button of his jeans finally popping open from your ministry. The zipper went next, tugged down along with the fabric entirety until he was left in only his boxers.
His hands roam your curves greedily, eating up every inch of skin that he has deprived himself of for far too long. Your waist, your hips, your thighsâhe needs to feel you in any way possible.
And you return his eagerness so well, wrapping your arms around his neck as you draw him in even closer. His hands worked quickly, hoisting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked the both of you over to your bed.
Laying you down on the mattress, he takes the initiative to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip to gain access that you readily give him. He canât help but moan into your mouth, the sweet taste of your tongue tangling with his own forcing his brain to short circuit in a way heâs never experienced before.
You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and he was loving every second of it. Your hands fisted into his hair while your lips moved in tandem with his, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands gave your hips a firm squeeze.
His lips trail down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck and the curve of your shoulder as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you flush against him. A gasp leaves you at the feeling of his erection pressing against your clothes sex, the friction so delicious that it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.
Caleb is so far gone, kissing his way along your arms, your neck, your sternum, all up until he reaches the valley of your breasts. He wastes very little time there, licking a trail to your nipple before sucking the peak into his mouth. His other hand palms at your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he breathes against your skin, his hips rocking forward as he switches sides, latching onto your neglected breast and giving it a hard suck. âSo beautiful.â
His descent continues as he mouths at the soft skin of your belly, your hips, your inner thighs. His eyes depart from yours as they settle onto the fabric covering your cunt, and a grin stretches across his face. Polka dots.
You scoff, softly shoving his shoulder. âDonât even say it.â
Chuckling, he leans in to press a kiss on the damp patch of fabric. âWasnât gonna say anything, baby.â
His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aimlessly. His lips press feverish kisses to your ankles, your calves, your inner thighs, and eventually, the mound of your pussy.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted this,â he whispers into your heat, hiking your legs up and over his shoulders and he pulls your sex closer to his mouth. âSo damn worth it.â
A cry leaves you as his tongue delves in deep between your legs, his eyes slipping shut as he lets out an unabashed whimper into your sex. His grip on your thighs only tightens, keeping your legs spread apart as they threaten to press in on his head.
He wouldnât have that. He couldnât. He needed to have you in the way that heâs dreamt of for so long, in the way that heâs thought of time and time again as he fucked his own fist to the thought of you. It was filthy, it was lewd, but it was honest.
You tasted better than he could have ever imagined, his tongue eagerly lapping at your inner walls before his lips sealed around your puffy clit, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off the plush mattress.
The stimulation is leaving you feeling overwhelmed, your hands pushing into his hair as your trembling thighs test the strength of his grip. You whine, eyes slipping shut as your head tilts back against the pillows.
âItâ itâs too muchââ
âBe good,â he finds himself saying, pulling you right back to his mouth as he continues to feast on your pussy like a man starved. âYou can take it, baby.â Caleb cracks open his eyes, sucking harshly onto your clit before releasing it with a wet pop. âGo on, pretty girl. Say it.â
You whine, though you hardly have the brain power to say anything else apart from what heâs asked of you. âI⌠I can take it,â you breathe.
He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your sensitive pearl before nipping at it. âThere you go.â
It doesnât take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble once more, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, a final resort for reprieve as he works you over the edge.
Caleb redoubled his efforts, spreading your thighs even wider. Soon, the warmth pooling in your lower stomach was far too much to bear, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.
âIâm⌠Iâm coming,â you gasp out, hands gripping tightly onto his dark locks of hair.
And when you do, his flattened tongue laps at your honeyed release. He works you through your high, his movements eventually slowing down as the twitching of your hips gradually calms.
He pulls off of you with a wet pop, pressing soft kisses to your swollen clit. âYouâre perfect,â he whispers, pressing another peck on your mound before he moves back up your body once more to slot his lips against yours.
You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only spurs you on further. Your hands grasp onto his shoulders, and in one swift motion, you flip him onto his back. Caleb looks up at you with a starry-eyed expression, but when you straddle his hips and sit in his lap, he has no words of protest. None at all.
âYou really are full of surprises,â he says, running his hands along the warm skin of your thighs.
Tugging him free from his boxers, he helps you remove them from his body, leaving you both entirely bare together. He sits up, his back pressing against the headboard as he tugs you closer to him.
âI need you,â he whispers, pressing a longing kiss on your stomach as you shift to straddle him once more. âPlease, baby.â
You gaze down at him, your fingers brushing through his hair. âPlease what?â
He leans into your touch, his hands settling onto your waist as he pulls you lower, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. âMake yourself feel good. Please.â
Calebâs own cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, both from the embarrassment that his own lack of experience brought upon him and the reality of finally having the love of his life in such an intimate way. His amethyst eyes search your face, as if searching for a permission that he didnât know how to ask for.
Dipping your head, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Simultaneously, you swivel your hips until the tip of his length catches your entrance. You slowly lower yourself, feeling the way his cock stretches you out, filling you up in a way that only he can.
He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand. Brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, he kisses you gently. âYou feel so good,â he whimpers into your mouth, his other hand resting on your hip as you roll your hips in a way that has his breath hitching in his throat. âSo fucking perfect.â
Your movements are timid at first, consisting of a slow and meticulous rocking of your hips. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing the deepest points of your inner walls with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.
Calebâs hands grasped tightly onto your hips, helping you set a pace that had the both of you losing your mind. He leans backward, his head tilting against the headboard as it slams against the wall with each intense grind of your hips.
âGood girl, give it to me how you like it,â he breathes, eyes cracking open to watch the way you look down at him as you work yourself on his length. âUse me however you need me, baby, there you go.â
Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him in for a longing kiss. âI⌠youâ you feel soâŚâ you stammer, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder as you lose yourself on his cock.
He nods his head in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss on your damp cheek as he gently pets your hair. âI know, I know.â
You lose yourself all together, your legs shaking as you tighten your hold on him. âCaleb!â you moan.
His hips help you the rest of the way, his grip on your hips keeping you firmly planted as he meets your movements with thrusts of his own. âI know it, baby, Iâve got you,â he pants through a smile, guiding you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. âAtta girl, use those hips.â
His arms wrap around you entirely, crushing you against the hard planes of his chest as you slowly ride the both of you through your shared orgasm. In that moment, in your house, in this space that belonged to you and Caleb aloneâthe two of you became one.
Heavy breathing and hammering heartbeats is all that consumes the two of you for a long while, skin to skin with far too much bliss brewing in your chests for either of you to handle alone.
Huffing softly, Caleb runs a hand up your side. âYou okay in there?â he asks, turning his head to pepper soft kisses along your cheek. âCâmon, I need some proof of life.â
You chuckle, shaking your head as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. âShut up, give me a second.â
He merely smiles, wrapping his arms around your middle once more as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Thirty seconds after finishing and youâre already mean. âThereâs my girl.â
Calebâs hands smooth over the soft planes of your back, giving your hips a soft squeeze as he revels in the feeling of your heartbeat drumming against his own. He canât help himself from pressing a few kisses on the top of your head, his arms opting to wrap even tighter around you.
âI loveââ he cuts himself off, eyes widening dazedly. Would that be too much? A confession of his undying love not long after ruining your date and making love with you for the first time? After a stretch of awkward silence, he kisses your head once more. âI love⌠cuddling with you. Youâre so soft.â
You smile, nuzzling even closer to his chest, your nose brushing against skin. âMm, I love you too, Caleb.â
His eyes widened, though he knows that communicating his confusion is futile. You knew him so well, too well.
âYou do?â he whispers, turning his head just enough to look down at you.
In response to that, you nod. âMm-hmm. Iâll love you even more if you tell me that you didnât cancel those dinner reservations.â
Caleb smiles, running a hand over your hair. As if heâd given up his last ditch effort to take you out. âYou know I didnât.â
đđ°đľđ. rip zayne i still love you king!!! also i actually donât really know how to write for caleb⌠so⌠i hope this didnât suck! this is the only fic that managed to break my intense writerâs block that iâve had for the past two months. reblog/comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate you reading so much <3
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#âĽď¸ tojicide#my louvre#caleb x reader#caleb x you#caleb x y/n#caleb love and deepspace#love and deepspace caleb#love and deepspace#love and deepspace smut#l&ds caleb#lnds caleb#lads caleb#caleb smut#love & deepsace x reader#love & deepspace#lnds smut#lads x you#lads smut#lnds x reader#lads x y/n#caleb
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Still your jaded shadow was forced to look upon
Sights not even a ghost should have to see
And as he slumps so listed, he cannot bear to watch
And yet he cannot draw his gaze away and flee
The reason why there's a white baby fuzz Shadow there holding current Shadow's hand is because it went with my headcannon from that one post I did where he originally had that coat color before he was injected with Black Doom's DNA. (VERY briefly, though)
A homage to what he could've been without the impurity that attached itself to him, the alien dna. Which is ironic in a sense, as Shadow is who he is as an indirect result of Doom's influence.
I really liked a comment on that previous post about the headcannon that said something akin to how his white fur that was left over represented the only place Black Doom failed to corrupt: his heart. Like YES!!! PREACH!!!
And, he has all this chaos energy and some kind of alien power that has dangerous consequences if not kept in check (he didn't know this he was like...10 minutes old) Gerald, of course, was aware of this about Shadow, but paid no mind to warn the hedgehog of his capabilities, as he was sure he had the means to control such a consequence. A fatal flaw of his part. So maybe he had crafted the inhibitor rings beforehand but kept them as a failsafe of sorts.
I imagine that Maria was looking to spend time with newly-released Shadow on a regular morning where she was feeling better, show him some of her favourite songs, or create fun mischief around their space-home, but oddly couldn't find him anywhere. Gerald was probably off doing further research for how to link Shadow to Maria's illness. She found herself peeking into an old storage room where the lights were off, and the door slightly pushed open as if someone had entered but not returned. And then... there's a horrifying and mutated elderich horror in the corner that's growling in pain. It's Shadow, and Maria knew that despite the melting and mutating figure in front of her appearing nothing like a small hedgehog. Because, despite the horrid and dark goup, deep down, it was still Shadow.
She was awfully calm about the entire encounter, too, and managed to get Shadow the help he needed to come back to his hedgehog form. I feel like this says alot about their closeness and relationship, because I bet if a rookie, overworked, below minimum wage employee and scientist walked in on mandela catalog Shadow like that, they would've screamed, peed their pants, and run away. They are NOT getting paid enough for this. (Unless they're used to stuff like that, but idk I'm not a scientist on the ARK guys). Just my thought dump herherher
#done after a month of collecting dust yipee!!!#nothing better than going on an ark sibling spree amirite?!?!?đŤđŤ#Matt Elliott truthers wya đ¤¨#sonic the hedgehog fanart#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#sonic#sonic fanart#sth#shadow#shadow fanart#sonadow#<- heck yeah#maria robotnik#ark siblings#shadow and maria#my art
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Cheat on me please
How to safely rid yourself of a yandere
There's no easy way to get rid of him. He's too obsessive. Too controlling. Too bloody single minded.
You tried talking through it and he just scoffed and said you were being silly. That you were just too hormonal and would calm down in a few days.
You tried going no contact and he showed up at your door. Hammered at it until the neighbours called the cops and they dragged him away.
You tried being nice about it and all he did was grab your wrist so hard it bruised. His eyes like chips of stone when he said he didn't want to hear it.
You weren't breaking up with him. You had no reason to.
And the worst part? He was right. You don't have a reason.
On paper, he's the perfect man. Attentive. Generous. Handsome. He buys you gifts, he lavishes you with attention, he's funny and charming around your friends.
And he scares you.
Not because of anything he's done. (Perfect guy, remember?) But some instinct deep inside you tells you to be careful around him.
This one's a predator, he's got claws and fangs, he'll fill you with venom and never let go, some ancient part of you insists.
But try explaining that to him. He's so mindlessly logical. He's not going to leave you because of a silly gut feeling. Come on baby, what sort of shitty boyfriend would do that?
And that's why you're down to half thought out, borderline silly plans to get rid of him. Get your hot friend to sleep with him. Catch them in the act. Throw a tantrum and finally get to break up with him.
You can't try and excuse cheating. It's abhorrent. And his logical side will surely see that, right?
One little hitch though. He's actually loyal to a fault.
Part of you finds it hard to believe. Is he really turning down your absolute bombshell of a friend? The girl all your exes were just a bit in love with?
Maybe he's just being cautious. Maybe he isn't lonely and needy enough to risk it.
So you up the stakes. Decide to avoid fucking him as much as possible. And oh boy, does it drive him crazy. He gets irritable and needy and somehow even more horny the longer your dry spell lasts.
And you know that you almost have him. He's just a man, no matter how logical he pretends to be.
You pick a fight over nothing. Blow it all out of proportion and storm out to stay with your parents for a while.
Piss him off just enough that a revenge fuck seems like a great idea.
He ends up drinking at a shitty dive bar and oh what a coincidence, your gorgeous seductress friend just happens to turn up. The last text she sends you makes it seem like she's finally hooked him and you hurry over to her apartment, feeling just a little giddy. Your plan actually worked! You feel like a goddamn genius.
And sure enough, his car is parked at her front door.
For a second, you feel a little hurt. Yes, this is the outcome you wanted. Yes, you deliberately manipulated him to get to this point. But it still feels like betrayal.
When you make it to her door, it's oddly silent for a supposed drunken hookup. But you're too geared up to notice it.
She left her door unlocked like you agreed and you tiptoe inside, your heart going a mile a minute. Her bedroom door is cracked just a little and a shaft of light cuts through the dark of the hallway.
You swing the door open with a crash, getting to ready to cuss him out.
And you freeze.
There's no guilty couple leaping away from each other, no smell of sweat and cum, no illicit rendezvous.
Instead your friend is tied to a chair, her mouth taped shut with silvery duct tape and her mascara running in black streaks down her cheeks. Her eyes lock onto yours and she tries to scream something through the tape.
The door clicks shut behind you.
You turn slowly. Like putting it off will make the situation less horrible, less like a dissociative dream.
Your boyfriend looks ragged. His eyes are blood shot and his hair is an unruly mess.
But the worst part is the way he smiles at you. Paternal, almost. Like he's caught you doing something naughty but he's willing to overlook it.
"Come on baby, you didn't think I'd actually cheat on you, did ya?"
His voice is condescending, but under the surface you can hear a cold, terrifying anger.
You swallow. Those same instincts that warned you about him are screaming now.
"What the hell is going on?" You demand, trying to sound angry instead of just afraid.
He steps toward you and it takes everything in you to not step away. He picks up a piece of your hair and rubs it between his fingers. Proprietary, possessive.
"What's going on? You should know babe. You're the one who tried to set me up... As though that skank over there ever stood a chance."
He tsks. "I knew something was wrong the second you stopped sleeping with me."
He leans forward and whispers in your ear, his breath ghosting across your neck.
"I fuck you too good for you to give it up so easy."
You jerk away from him, your eyes burning like you're about to cry. How did this go so wrong?
"Are you insane? Untie her right now! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
He backhands you right across the face.
He's never hit you before and the shock is almost worse than the pain. You stumble, clutching your cheek. Your face feels numb at first and then a sharp, fiery pain blooms across your cheek.
He grabs your collar and shoves you toward the bed.
"Oh baby, you're lucky I love you." His bared teeth catch the light and he looks more wolf than man.
The edge of the mattress digs into your thighs and you fall backward. You're still reeling and he has you pinned under him before you can find the strength to scramble away.
"Thought about killing her, y'know. What kind of whore goes after her best friend's man? You deserve better than that."
His grip is unyielding. A part of you always knew he was strong, but until now you didn't realise how big the gap between you actually was. His knee is between your legs and he brings it up to press against your crotch.
"But then a light bulb must have went off. And I decided to see how things played out."
He laughs and there's nothing warm or welcoming in it at all.
"All I had to do was squeeze her throat a little and..." He grabs your throat and thightens his grip until you see stars. "And she was just fallin' all over herself to tell me about your little plan."
He let's go and pats your cheek with rough little smacks. "It was cute, baby. Really was. But fucking stupid."
He leans down and kisses you. His lips are rough and he bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang of it makes you gag.
Your instincts were right. He's dangerous and you never should have tempted this monstrous part of him.
He tastes like cheap whiskey and you struggle to pull away. Your chest heaves and no matter how you buck and twist under him, he still keeps you pinned.
When he pulls away, something in your expression must please him because he hums and tilts your chin up. "But it's okay baby. We'll work through this."
He reaches down and tugs at your belt. "And I know exactly where to start."
#Isn't he fun?#Nothing says husband material more than holding your partner's friends hostage#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere#yandere drabbles#yandere scenarios#reader insert#x reader#yandere oc#Cheating Yandere#Cheater Yandere#Gender Neutral Reader
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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman â s. reid x reader
in which your night out comes to an end, and your boyfriend has to try to keep your wandering hands off of him.Â
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: alcohol consumption. reader is drunk. reader is a brat. spencer is so exasperated. but he loves you so bad. age gap probably. suggestive content. word count: 2.1k a/n: oh my god i miss having a man to pick me up and love me when im drunk #thisshouldbeme final boss level 1000. simple fun fluff i love when he's nice to us i should do this more often. circa summer 2024 ass title i'm rebuilding spencer reid tumblr brick by brick.Â
You were never meant to be this drunk.Â
Truly, you had grandeur plans for it to be a one and done night. Entertain the birthday girl â your best friend â with your presence and take care of her, for it is her night, and then go home and pass out early enough in dark green sheets and the sound of your boyfriend sleeping next to you.Â
You'd even told him about these plans.Â
Instead? He's staring down at his phone with a locked jaw, and four different messages from you glaring back up at him. Incomprehensible, if he weren't as smart as he were. If he weren't as attuned to you and your mannerisms down to the way you text. A man who doesn't even like texting, and he's memorised how you do.Â
Something about him picking you up, maybe, if he wants. Another thing about you finding him pretty. Another with a photo of the â and he quotes â really good vodka coke the bartender made you (he's certain it tastes the same as the last three you mentioned drinking). Finally, a photo of you in the bathrooms, arms around your best friend, grinning at the mirror through your phone, showing off your outfit to him. As if he hadn't memorised, documented, the way the skirt looked on you when you left hours earlier.Â
When he doesn't reply to a single message, you call him, and endearment for you grows, for he can hear the pout on your lips as you speak into the phone.Â
"Why're you ignorin' me?" you mumble, which isn't much help considering how loud the world around you is, your voice nearly drowning out.Â
"I'm not, honey," he says. "I only just checked your messages. I was about to respond."
"Liar. You're ignoring me. You hate me."
"I can assure you I don't," he's amused. He's so stupidly amused, you want to kick him for it. You don't. You can't. Instead, you let him keep sweet talking you out of your predisposed anger. "Are you having a good night?"
"Yes!" you brighten almost immediately. "Did you see the photo I sent?"
"Of your outfit? Yeah, angel. You look pretty," he's practically perfected how to talk to you when drunk. You're oblivious to it, always too intoxicated to register he is extra nice when you're barely able to hold yourself upright.Â
"Thank you," you reply, and he can hear the fluster. "Look prettier inâin person."
"I know. I saw you before you left, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah," your cheeks heat, and you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. The bricks are a juxtaposing cold against your back. Rough, too. Oddly comforting. "Are you busy? Am I keeping you from somethin'? S'that why you were ignorin' me?"
"No," he replies. "I'm waiting for you to be ready to come home. Is that why you're calling?"
"Mm-mm," you shake your head, giggling to yourself because you remember he can't see that. He doesn't know why you're laughing, but he smiles at it nonetheless. "Jus' wanted to hear your voice. Miss you."
"I miss you too, honey," he says, and you can hear that smile in his voice.Â
"What're you doin' then?" you ask, staring at the door to the club you had deserted, keeping an eye out for your friends to emerge.Â
"Reading."
"Reading what?"
"Sofia Petrovna," he tells you, and, as if he can see the way your eyebrows furrow, he adds, "Russian novel by Lydia Chukovskaya. I'll find a translation so you can read it, I think you'd like it."
"You should jus' read it to me right now," you mumble, crouching down to the floor, resting your head on your knees. "Translate for me."
"You most certainly won't remember a thing I'm saying. Where are your friends?"
"In the club. It got overstimulating," you tell him.Â
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and an excuse about how you can actually see your friends still â you can't â manifests on your tongue, preempting the scolding he's no doubt formulating.Â
However, two simple, stern â but not too scary â words kill the faux reassurance immediately. "You're alone?"Â
You hesitate. "...No?"
"Can you go find your friends, please? I don't want you outside alone."
"Yes, sir," you stand back up. His jaw clenches, biting back his reprimand. He doesn't have the energy to lecture you about the dangers of being this drunk alone, and he's sure you wouldn't appreciate it anyways. Or remember it. "I will call you back later! Bye! Love you!"
He continues to hear from you for the two hours following. A photo once you find your friends to assure him you're safe, a mistyped message about how you love him more than anything in the world, another asking if he's mad at you when he doesn't reply. Eventually, you're calling him again, chatter from the smoker's lounge you'd disappeared into loud, but he can faintly make out you asking him to pick you up.Â
He finds himself in an empty enough street just a block away from the last club you told him you were going to, waiting.Â
There were people everywhere, just past the corner of the street. Girls with their bags hanging limply down by their calves, fast food paper bags held up to some of their mouths. Never his scene, but he's shown up enough for you since you started dating to know what he's looking out for.Â
He can see you before you spot him, but when you do, he can't fight the smile at the sight of you brightening up in an instant. Distantly, he hears you call his name, pointing him out to your friends and stumbling towards the car.Â
"Hi!" you collapse against the passenger's seat door, window open and waiting for you, as you lean into the car.Â
Recognising the offer for what it was, he leans across the console to kiss you before you can start drunkenly accusing him of not loving you. Or whatever you can come up with to start a baseless, completely harmless argument with him.Â
"Hi, honey. Good night?" he asks as you finally pull open the door, settling into the seat with a sigh, head nodding as you peel your shoes off of your feet and curl up.Â
"I think so," you murmur, hair covering your face as you drop your head, and a yawn stretches your mouth open. "I'll tell you all about it t'morrow."
"Can't wait," he muses.Â
"You never answered me," you then say â which is generous, considering he could barely make out a word â looking over at him. "'Bout if you're mad."
"I wasn't mad," he reassures you. "Just worried. Thought we talked about not being out and alone when you're this intoxicated?"
"Yeah. I know. Sorry."
Tomorrow, as it turns out, follows a quiet drive home for you to collect your thoughts, and his helping hands at removing your makeup and getting you into the shower. A year old promise that he will always force you under the water before bed no matter what protests you come up with.
Now, here you are, rambling his ear off animatedly on the edge of the bathroom sink, as he brushes a wet comb through your hair.Â
He's listening intently, soaking in every word you were saying about your night out, even if it entirely made no sense to him. Your attempt at stringing together your night's events was poor at best, and he's pretty sure you've re-explained four times that you went into then night with fake names and backstories to try and fool everyone.
"And then we went to... um... I forgot the name. But it was free entry, so we went in, obviously, and this guy bought us drinks because of the birthday sash she was wearing, so that was awesome. That was the vodka coke I sent you, it was so gooâcan I have a kiss?"
Your request catches him off guard, and the comb clatters to the basin beside you when his hand drops from your hair.Â
"Is that all you want?" he hums, leaning forwards. His lips brush against your own, and you smile.
"Yep. Just a kiss," you chirp, slouching your shoulders so you could look up at him with wide eyes you know all too well he can't deny. "Please?"
You just had to ask so nicely, and he was left with very little choice in the matter in the end.Â
He kisses you for only a second, aiming to pull away and successfully get you into bed before you can take this any further.Â
Ever so sneaky, though, you catch your fingers into his hair and tug him back into you, legs hooking around his waist to keep him locked. His hips knock the cabinets, but he's distracted by your lips back on his to fully register the hit.Â
"Honey," he mumbles against your lips. A warning, you think. It sounds it.Â
You don't listen.Â
Instead, you inch closer to the edge of the basin until he's forced to roll his hips into yours to push you back, saving you from falling off.Â
You whine, and the sound has him coming back to reality, deftly pulling away from your lips. You protest, quietly, and he's forced to tangle a hand in your hair to tug your head back, keeping you away from him.
"No," he says, firmly. If you were sober, maybe you'd back down under the demand. Then again, if you were sober, he wouldn't be saying no to you. Instead, his tone of voice only makes your smile widen, and your skin tingle.Â
"It was just a kiss," you protest, slipping off the sink once he steps back, letting him guide you like a lost puppy back into his bedroom. "Spencer?"
"No it wasn't," he says, hand on your back as he navigates you over to his bed. "We've talked about this."
He sits down before you, and despite the scolding, lets you climb over him into the bed anyways, hips straddling his waist as he lays back on the bed.Â
"Just a kiss. I promise," you affirm, breath warm against his lips.Â
He gives in, as he always does, and lets you kiss him again.Â
Hips square above his, chest pressing on his, fingers ruffling the sheets beside his head. You kiss him until you're out of air, and convinced he's drunk enough on your taste to let you go further.Â
He isn't.Â
"Behave," he quips when your hand drops to his waistband, his fingers catching your wrist and lifting it back up. You're too focussed on the way his hand fits around the joint to argue.Â
"IÂ am," you huff, tilting your head with a lopsided grin. "Didn't do anything!"
"Brat," he pinches your hip, and you squirm, bursting into a fit of giggles. "Go to bed."
"Can't. You've got me caged up on top of you," you jut your chin out. "Maybe you're the problem."
"Yep. Sure am," he confirms, letting his arms around you go slack, just to watch you fall off his chest and to the mattress beside him. "Sleep."
"Or what?"
He pushes air out of his nose, but it's all too difficult to stay frustrated with you when you're staring up at him with the hugest smile on your face. You know exactly what you're doing â and he's just letting you.
He thinks he will forever.
He pauses in choosing a response. "Do you want me to be nice when I wake you up tomorrow?"
"Depends," you study him, eyes narrowing; drunken skepticism. "What's your version of nice?"
"You're a smart girl. Figure it out," he kisses your nose, "and go to sleep."
"Are you being suggestive?" you sit up abruptly, and his palms find comfort in his face, running down it. "Spencer."
"I'm not answering that. Go to sleep, honey."
"I can't. Why would you say that? You're such a tease. Oh my God. I hate you," you moan, dramatically falling back down to the bed, head finding the space between his shoulder and his neck. "Do you promise?"
It's like he knows you're giving up, for his voice has dropped into a drawl, exhaustion he'd been expertly masking coming out as he speaks. "Promise what?"Â
"To wake me up nicely?"
"If you're good and go to sleep now, yes."
"Pinky promise?" his eyes are now closed, but you still search his face with keen interest. He smiles. He can feel it.Â
"Pinky promise," he affirms, and he finally â finally â fully relaxes as he feels you curl into him. "Goodnight, honey."
"G'night, Spence."
#liaâs fics âĄ#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer x reader#spencer x self insert#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff
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being spencerâs secret lowkey girlfriend who also happens to work at the FBI, but in a different unit. and thereâs always talk about how hot you are and spencer always hears how much people want to fuck you.
and he just has to laugh to himself because at the end of the day heâs the one who gets to fuck you into the mattress every single night đââď¸đЎ
OH, SHEâS SO HOT â s.reid
â be my addiction, material girl / wrapped âround my finger like diamonds and pearls â đŞ˝
MINORS DNI 18+ áśť đ đ° .á âď¸ | criminal minds. NOTES. thank god u said smthn anon ive been wanting to write about smthn like this. also im only on s1 so those are the characters iâll be using. WARNINGS. fem reader ă established relationship ă everybody thirsting over you is currently single ă suggestive material.
âsheâs pretty.â jennifer relents with a shrug. her curiosity gets the better of her and she leans forward for a better glimpse of you. this isnât your unit, but youâre paying a visit to hotch over at the far side of the room. âsheâs really pretty.â she muses, her tone shifting to one of admission while she sizes you up. itâs not that youâre any kind of threat or unwelcome presence, but now the wheels in jjâs head are turning, âher and hotch arenât⌠they couldnât beâŚâ SPENCER REID, whoâs been sitting politely at his desk, perks his head up. he hadnât seen you come in, but his pen raises and his lips part, all to claim you as someone he knows until heâs interrupted.
âgirl like that? câmon. at the very least heâs thinking about it.â derek chimes in, smoothly taking an open seat in one of the desk clumps to join the gossiping throng. spencer closes his mouth, pen dropping to his lap defeatedly. jj shifts in her position, having leaned her tailbone on the edge of the desk to cross her ankles smartly. now she needs a better angle to see you and aaronâs conversation. derek gestures to your back with his hand vaguely, addressing the group like heâs an expert in using his background in profiling for this specific strain of body language. spencer obediently follows the direction, furrowed brows landing on you as he cranes his neck to see you. âlook at the way heâs standing. toes pointed towards her, making eye contact. he wants her.â derek scoffs, taking a long sip from his coffee as he studies you. itâs hard to tell from just the sliver of your face visible, but heâs seen enough of you to know youâre a catch. the genius starts to scratch his head.
âguys, hate to be the buzzkill, but can we get back on task?â elle interrupts just as jj was opening her mouth to continue scheming. âwe donât know anything about her. besides, hotch isnât the kind of guy.â
âkind of guy to what?â jj clarifies with an impish tug to her lips, pivoting her head to cast elle a sly glance.
elle meets her gaze. âto get into a workplace relationship. heâs too professional for that.â she pinches her one shoulder in a shrug as she organizes a pile of files. spencerâs lips purse, mind racing at the prospect of being judged for unprofessionalism. it did occur to him there would be some scrutiny involved, which is why you and him have mostly been sneaking around thus far. still, itâs intimidating to have it laid out like this in front of him⌠and oddly thrilling. his fingers begin to fiddle with the pen in his lap. big, brown eyes glance from person to person as they lead the conversation, soaking in all the information like a sponge.
âheâs a guy.â derek once again imposes his theory, and says the statement like itâs definitive. even jj rolls her eyes. spencer clenches his jaw, tilting his head to himself as if it say, yes, thatâs true. i fell for it, too.
âjust because you havenât been getting any doesnât mean you get to go and make it everyoneâs problem.â the blonde teases, straightening to her full height, heels clacking as she passes behind derek, giving him a healthy pat on his shoulder while he laughs sarcastically.
âha. ha.â itâs a dry reply, one that leaves the group quiet for a second while penelope takes the recently departedâs place. âhey, garcia.â
âhey, whatâre we talkinâ about?â she asks in that perky voice of hers, itâs only the throngâs hushed tones that bring her down to their level. she ducks her head symbolically. âsorry. didnât know we were swapping secrets.â
elle may not act amused, yet sheâs still participating. âtheyâre talking about hotch and the new girl.â
âtattletale.â derek taunts.
âgrow up.â
âthe new girl?â penelope confirms quizzically, twisting her face to match her dialogue as she scans her surroundings. itâs clear when sheâs spotted you because her jaw drops, âoh, sheâs hot.â once again sheâs scolded by her colleagues shushing her, ducking down a second time with some exclamation about how weird theyâre being. semi-hidden behind a deskâs partition, she goes for a second look. she doesnât announce to everyone that you made hotch laugh. itâs a small kind of chuckle, a clear smile on his lips. itâs something spencer notices though, and he bows his head to avert his prying eyes. he doesnât know hotch to joke around like that, and he doesnât like the way it feels. instead, penelope points something else out, âshe kindâa looks like spencerâs type, donât you think?â her thumbs gestures to you lazily, and everyone looks at you through a new lens.
derek sets his sights on something to antagonize, âhuh. awfully quiet there, reid.â he muses as he leans over, the flat of his hand batting spencerâs shoulder to get his attention. âwhat dâyou think of her?â he asks coolly, sinking back into the chair while he sets his ankle up on his knee.
âhm?â spencer responds as if he hasnât been listening, pulling the pen from between his lips. he meets derekâs gaze over the coffee cup, and all derek does is point and nod towards you discretely. spencer obliges now that heâs been asked directly. âoh, umâŚâ he takes his time. âi dunno, sheâs⌠i dunno.â brown eyes drool down like molasses, from your hair, to your smart outfit, to the seams from your pantyhose at the backs of your calves, to your black heels. you know he loves that. heâs broken through a couple pairs of those tights because he just couldnât wait. âsheâs⌠you knowâŚâ
the speechlessness causes a small eruption behind him, the group swapping expressions and silent conversations about his reaction. the spencer they know would start talking about the quality of fabric youâre wearing, the history of it and howâfun factâit started some war in some country that doesnât exist anymore. any useless knowledge he could spit out because his brain is a computer. they donât get a chance to break the silence, you and hotch split. hotch begins his ascent to their desk clump and you pass by. everyone averts their eyes, everyone but spencer. youâre not shy either. you hold his eye contact, you even give him a small knowing smile, and a deliberate nod. derekâs jaw seems to unhinge witnessing such an obvious bid. spencer glances back at everyone, ânow, guysânow, nowââ he stutters out, trying to fit words in with innocent gestures and a nervous grin. derekâs hand clamps on his shoulder and jostles him in some kind of show of manly camaraderie.
âdr. reid, you dog!â
âshe was totally looking at you, spencer!â
âoh, my god.â derek, penelope, and elle respectively all give their input just as hotch approaches.
âwhatâs this about?â he asks, brows knit together at such an unusual display. spencer canât seem to answer that either, shoulders stuck in a shrug and mouth open to make some case that never gets made.
@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.
#2k#indy: drabbles#ch: spencer r.#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#reader insert
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mark grayson | boyfriend material
summary:
âboxers? as boyfriend material?â
you shrug, your movements stifled from your position between his legs, your cheek pressing up against his thigh. you shift a little, the pleats of the oversized tee youâve stolen from him somehow having gotten stuck under his leg.
âwhat? you canât tell me these-â a gesture towards his boxers, the ones youâre currently wearing â- arenât the type of stuff a hypothetical girlfriend would steal.â
tags: mlw, aged up a little (early 20's), idiots to lovers, pwp, mark is adorable, pining, sexual tension, making out, fingering, edging, marking, biting, loss of virginity, use of the pull out method (wrap it before you tap it), mark is down bad and so is reader, no y/n, lowercase intended.
thereâs a ringing in your ear. nagging, persistent, strident little thing. everything is too loud, too much. youâre overwhelmed, maybe. thereâs a metallic taste on your tongue, and your shoulders ache, skin too warm under the tight leather of your catsuit.Â
movement to your right. invincible, landing next to you, his hand steady on your shoulder. you lean back against him, panting, just the time for the taste of blood in your mouth to recede, for you to breathe-
a commotion.
your head tilts in its direction, your weary gaze hidden by your domino mask. journalists. itâs almost funny, how they swarm scenes of wreckage, flies drawn to a burning carcass. ruins stretch around you. the wounded are under the GDAâs care. you wonder what the fuck cecil was thinking, sending a team as uncoordinated as the new guardians of the globe on the field. you barely work for him, and neither does invincible, yet-Â
here you are, stumbling down a pile of rubble, invincibleâs grip steadying you.
âyou okay?â he breathes.Â
you know he can hear the erratic drum of your heartbeat. smell the blood dripping down your split lip.
âiâm fine. really.â
a flash. a journalist. tall, sharply dressed in a black tailored suit, with a cute pencil skirt, long red hair falling graciously on the long slope of her neck. striking green eyes. the embodiment of the office siren, coming straight at you to sing her pretty song and coax the filthiest gossip out of you.
you share a look with invincible and watch as his lips curl into an exasperated smile.
and so it begins. lights, camera, action!
âmy age?â
you frown a little, titling your head to the side. besides you, mark - invincible - snickers. you can almost hear the words. like a cute little puppy. insulting. youâre more of a cat person.
you grin, two fingers tapping your chin.Â
âthatâs classified.â
the journalist in front of you - twenty something, almost made your jaw drop and did cause you to get slammed into a nearby wall by the lizard league, because wow - groans, green eyes rolling playfully.
âcome on, shadow,â she grins, extending her mic a little more. sheâs close enough for you to grip her arm and disarm- relax. civilian. âyou canât leave us hanging! we barely know you!â
thatâs the point. the voice in your head sounds oddly like cecil. done with this shit, done with life, done with this conversation. but the GDA can and will be up your ass if you unleash a PR disaster, so you humour her.
âand i donât even have your name, hunâ.â
a little blush creeps up her cheeks. your smile widens a little, sharp in all ways it shouldnât. besides you, invincible rolls his eyes, exasperatedly fond.
âmeg.â
âooh, pretty name. right, ask me anything.â
she seizes you up. you, clad in a catsuit so dark it looks like itâs absorbing the very daylight. you, hip cocked to the side, gloved fingers tapping at your hip bone. the way the lapels of your coat brush the bloodied ground, dripping red. invincible at your side, lazily leaning on your shoulder. you, swatting at him with a tired grin because blood on leather is a pain to clean up.Â
meg pulls out her phone. you lean forward a little, intrigued, and catch a glimpse of what appears to be a list of questions.
âare you aware you have a fanbase?â
you exchange a glance with invincible. you may not see the soft melted brown of his eyes, but you know thereâs a little spark of mischief beneath his mask.Â
âoh?â
âyeah, you guys are as popular as teen team, if not more. how do you feel about them? any gossip you want to share?â
a pointed look. between rexâs⌠explosive relationship with eve and⌠well, his other relationship⌠relationships? with dupli-kate, youâd be stuck here for a while. you settle for a lesser evil. gotta throw a bone or two to the press. makes for nice trivia for fan books.Â
ârobot recently discovered that he has a fondness for junk food.â
âyep, heâs been pretty unsettled by it.â
meg stares at you with a pointed look. no juicy drama. both of you refuse to play the game. infuriating but understandable. she checks her watch, grimaces.
âshit, gotta wrap this up. ugh, if i had it my way, the two of you would answer the webâs most searched questions.â her gaze snaps back to you, green eyes rooting you in place. âthe two of you work incredibly well together. whatâs a usual mission like?â
itâs a relatively innocent question. you describe it, invincible occasionally chiming in, still leaning on your shoulder, hovering a little above the ground for comfort. (a flash. you staring up at mark after a mission as he pulls off his mask, feet a few inches off the ground. flying just⌠feels natural, yâknow?)
usually, you get to the scene, assess the situation, neutralise the villain of the day and rescue those caught in the crossfire. get in, punch some people, get out. try not to have a heart attack when you watch invincible getting the shit beaten out of him by aliens/wizards/mafiosi/clones/dragons. cradle his face after a mission while scolding him because that was reckless, you idiot.
meg hums, perfectly manicured finger scrolling down on her screen, on the lookout for the next juicy question. her lips split in a slow grin.
âno⌠longer missions? undercover missions?â
oh, you shouldâve seen this coming from a mile away. thereâs a little curl to her lips, the sweet professional smile bordering on something more cutting. invincible laughs. you feel the vibration of it seep under your skin, percolating straight to your heart. you think youâre getting a little warmer, the summer sun high above you.
you think invincibleâs blinding you with how wide heâs smiling.
âweâre superheroes. not spies.â
she hums, steps closer, fingers lightly trailing over the fabric of your coat.
âpeople have noticed this little number.â
âoh, yeah, itâs fairly new.â
meg looks up from her phone and smirks.
âwe have a question from inviciboyfan25: is it boyfriend material?â
undeterred, you lean a little closer, until all the camera can see is the sharp edge of your smile.
âtoo heavy for that. the real deal? boxers and oversized tee. unparalleled.â
**
a smack at the back of your head. you let out a little yelp, your phone landing flat on your chin, cradling the sore spot with a pout.
âwhat was that for?â
mark glares at you, holding up his phone. on it, images of your encounter with that cute journalist three hours ago. heâs got a bandaid on his cheek, another one on his nose, both of them pink with hello kitty patterns.
heâs frowning. you gaze up to the small crease between his eyebrows and wonder how to smooth it away. you boop his nose instead, giggling when his frown deepens. he swats your hand.Â
âboxers? as boyfriend material?â
you shrug, your movements stifled from your position between his legs, your cheek pressing up against his thigh. you shift a little, the pleats of the oversized tee youâve stolen from him somehow having gotten stuck under his leg.
âwhat? you canât tell me these-â a gesture towards his boxers, the ones youâre currently wearing â- arenât the type of stuff a hypothetical girlfriend would steal.â
he groans, leaning back on his pillow. his fingers close on the sleeve of your (his) shirt, the one with seance dog proudly taking off, all heroic blues and reds.Â
âbut why?â
you grin up at him, scooting a little closer.
âbecause itâs comfy. and smells like you.â
youâre delighted when you watch the blush blossom on his cheeks, all soft pink awkwardness. he averts his gaze, turning his attention back to the video on his phone. you shrug and grab a nearby comic - seance dog, again, because markus sebastian grayson totally isnât seance dogâs biggest fan. nope. doesnât have every collectible on earth.Â
youâve juuust started to get invested in the plot, something about a meteor shower the loyal hero must stop to protect billions from dying, when mark groans again, his hand leaving the sleeve of your t-shirt to cover his eyes.
âdramatic much?â
a muffled groan. you cup your ear, the back of your hand brushing his thigh, the corded muscle of it tensing by a fraction under your skin.Â
âsorry, what was that?â
âpeople are dogs. just⌠look at the comments!â
you lean back further into him, craning your neck.
âif youâre not planning on reading some out loud, at least lower your damn phone before i break my neck.â
he complies with a grumble, arms framing your head as he holds up his phone for you to see the comments. your eyes widen upon seeing the amount of views under the video.
âone million? youâve got to be kidding me.â
you scroll down the comment section, the heat of mark seeping into you, your index near his thumb. progressively, your eyebrows raise. something like giddiness takes hold of your heart. people are dogs. you see it all, from people commenting on how sick that coat is, to complaints about property damage, to-
âno way. âi just know they be fucking nasty?!â â
âthatâs one of the tamest ones. someone wrote a literal fanfiction in there.â
you look up at him, neck craned back. mark swears heâs never seen a sight as endearing as this one. you, snuggled up against him, drowning in his favourite shirt, so close heâs freely running his fingers over your shoulder, thumb occasionally creeping up your trapezius.
âyou are not shaming fanfiction on my watch, grayson.â
âitâs about us!â
you poke his thigh. he twitches uncomfortably.
âlike you havenât read at least one.â
he flicks your forehead. you squeal, grinning wide.
âyou canât prove anything.â
a pointed look.
âfine. yes, i have. itâs⌠i donât know. weird.â
you turn around, flipping on your belly, palms cradling your cheek as you look up at him. his breath hitches in his throat. youâre playing with the hem of his shirt absently, nails lightly scratching the navy fabric, the back of your fingers a light pressure on his adonis belt. you narrow your eyes, and heâs able to make out each individual lashes fanning your cheeks.Â
there, in the quiet light of melting sunset, molten golds and pinks frame the edges of your face. he wants to cradle your cheek. he wants to trace the slope of your nose like you do his, down to your split lip, still swollen from that bastard king lizard punching you in the face. he wants-
âyou do know invincible shadow is a thing, right?â
he blinks back to reality.
âuh? like a ship name?â
you nod, still fiddling with the hem of his shirt. despite the cool air breezing in past his open window, heat creeps up his neck. his fingers flex in the sheets, nails digging in the cotton threads - egyptian cotton, because dad knows a guy who owes him a favour or two and you donât say no to omni-man anyway.Â
âyeah. a ship name. super popular too. crazy, right?â
right. right. like youâre totally not molding your body to his. he can feel you, down to the bone, pressing against him, skin impossibly soft, lightly smelling of his own laundry detergent, something barely there because viltrumite senses are sharp. he feels the pounding of your heart in his throat, the way your lips part, tongue darting out to wet them.Â
âyeah,â he mumbles, voice a little choked. âcrazy.â
and fuck, whereâs his bravado? fighting alongside you as invincible, when all you can see of each other are smiling, grinning, bloodied mouths, blood drip dripping down chins, is easy.
he thinks you might as well be a part of him, with how the two of you move around each other like you know what the other thinks. he has your six, you have his. his fists back you up at the slightest inconvenience, your shadows ripple whenever someone gets so much as an inch closer to him.Â
itâs easy. when he snatches you by the waist after a mission, pressing you close enough to inhale the marrow of you without burying his nose in your hair - doesnât need to. viltrumite senses are sharp, yâknow.
when he zooms insides the drive thru and orders your favourite - that one greasy cheeseburger with french fries. when you remind him for the nth time that, first of all, thereâs no way these qualify as fries. this is mcdonald's, for christâs sake. second, fries are belgian, and- and thatâs no reason to steal your fries, dammit!
itâs easy, being with you. when youâre sitting together, shoulder to shoulder on the edge of a skyscraper, your head lolling on his shoulder because you get sleepy once the adrenaline dies down.Â
itâs easy. he thinks heâs going to die of a heart attack, with how fast itâs beating. here lies markus sebastian grayson, killed because his best friend is too beautiful for this world and sent him into damn cardiac arrest.
the day melts away. you donât talk anymore, just bask in each otherâs presence, his hand in your hair, your cheek a little beside his knee. his thumb brushes a fading bruise on your cheek bone and he winces in sympathy.
your fingertips run over his knuckles, finding them bruised and torn. you want to press your lips to them. you want to cradle him against you and never let go, because hero work may suck, and his civilian friends may not understand what he goes through every day, getting bloody and beaten and worn down down down, but youâre here.
âso they ship us, huh?â mark mumbles.
âmm.â
âcrazy.â
you snort.
âi already said that, dummy.â
he flicks your forehead.
âmânot dumb.â
âare too!â
âthat is not true.â
âplease, youâre like. the embodiment of the jock stereotype. the kind jock, of course.â
he rolls his eyes, ruffling your hair, ignoring your soft cry of protest because itâs hair day, nooo donât mess it up!
âiâll have you know, i have more than decent grades.â
âtheyâve been slipping ever since you started out as invincible, though.â
âouch.â
you chuckle.
âyou do have the physique though.â
âyeah, whateve- ow!â
he looks down at you incredulously. did you just⌠bite his thigh?
your teeth press against the corded muscle, bone over tender skin, a hint of warmth from your breath, and he thinks heâs dying. everything is too hot. too fucking hot, nevermind that itâs the middle of autumn and the air is getting colder and colder.Â
shit. he sees the imprint of you in his skin. his hips shift uncomfortably. your tongue laps at the bitemark, soothingly. itâs almost tender, the softness of your tongue against him, scorchingly intimate.
your eyes meet his. time stops. heâs only aware of the metronome beat of his heart and your own - fuck, he can hear your heart, the way the blood rushes south. he lets out a shuddering sigh, and almost moans when he smells it. your arousal.Â
something snaps.Â
youâre kissing up his thigh, lips a loverâs breeze over his skin, the dips and curves of his muscles. you feel him gasp more than you hear it, when you put your mouth to him through his briefs, pressing soft little kisses to his bulge.
his fingers cup the back of your neck, weave through your hair, a gentle pressure, desperately trying to keep his strength under control. he could crush you like he did with komodo dragon, brain matter staining his fingers, drip drip dripping down to the ground. he doesnât.
he doesnât, yet you can feel him strain against the weight of his desire, tensing beneath you, breath shallow and wanting. you nip at his thigh again, a gentle press of tender teeth. he shivers, legs parting for you.
you nuzzle against him, feel the sheer heat of him against your cheek, like the warmth of a blazing sun. you want to melt into him until you donât know where you start and where he ends.
âw-wait,â he groans.Â
heat pools between your legs, and itâs hot, and - and his hand cups your face and he pulls you in until finally, heâs kissing you. itâs soft. a brush of his lips against yours, until youâre melting against him, arching into him because his hand - broad and calloused and heavy - is cupping your breast.
he pulls you close before you can react, lips brushing yours again and again until youâre not sure you can breathe without him. your nose brushes his. your eyes open and you meet his, dark pools of molten desire.Â
âhey, you.â
âhey.â
he grins, something a little soft, a little shy. you inch closer and bite back a soft whimper when the motion has your core grinding down against his hardening cock. it strikes you, then. the thin edge youâre walking. heâs your friend. you can still back away. pull away, mumble something about your mama calling you - and itâs quite the walk, so you should go home-
fuck it.
you trace the shape of his abs, nails digging in his skin, and he arches into you, hips bucking up, desperate for friction. youâre dizzy. dizzy with him, with the way his hands encircle your hips, with the way his fingers dig into you, grinding you down on him with barely controlled strength.
âmark-â you gasp.
itâs not enough. doesnât matter, thereâs too much fabric between you, youâre not close enough, you need him in you, you need him to make himself at home between your ribs and burrow himself there, bloody and viscous and yours.Â
he cups your cheek, thumb brushing against the plush of your lower lip, gaze impossibly soft.
âhave you ever⌠?â
you flush a little.
ân-no.â
he pecks your nose, your forehead, your eyelids.
âsâokay. lemme make you feel goodâŚâ
he pins you down, fingers slipping under your shirt until he pulls it off you, discards it in the corner of his room. he runs his fingers up your side, brushing against your bruised ribs, lips ghosting the contusion, knees bracketing your hips. you shiver, lips parting in a soft sigh of his name. he grins down at you, a little soft, a little feral, a white flash of too-sharp teeth.
âso, so prettyâŚâ he mumbles, mouthing at your neck, teeth dragging up, up, up, until-
until you let out the softest whimper. he grins against your skin, nipping at your neck, his breath burning brands on that soft spot under your ear. his hands roam your body, trailing lower and lower, dipping past the waistband of your boxers.
âso wet,â he moans, and he sounds as wrecked as heâs making you feel.
his touch is tentative, you can feel the trembling of his fingers as they brush against you, lightly dipping between your folds, almost.. almost petting you. your hips grind against his hand, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist to get him to please, please more-
he tuts, pinning your arm to the side.
âno, no, no, lemme- just relax, i need- please, i want to make you feel good-â
you bring up your other arm willingly for him to keep pressed against his pillow, fingers flexing against your wrist in an unbreakable grip. your thighs part for him and you desperately try not to moan, because- fuck, because his dad may be home, you think, and what if youâre too loud, what if-
he curls his fingers - so pretty and slender and long - and you keen, back arching off the bed. he laughs at that, something breathless and teasing, claiming your lips for himself again and again and again, swallowing your moans. his tongue coaxes your lips open and he lets out a low growl as he finally gets to taste you.Â
you think he made you come. youâre not sure. youâre panting. thereâs a ringing in your ear. everything is too loud, too much. youâre overwhelmed, maybe. thereâs a metallic taste on your tongue - he bit you - thereâs a ringing in your ear, and everything is too much-Â
mark worries his lip between his teeth, tugging down your boxers, fumbling a little, eager, so very eager to taste you, to make you feel as good as you do him.
youâre squirming in his grip, you realise, distantly, as you try to press closer to him, breasts brushing tantalizingly against the fabric of his shirt and-
âwhatâs wrong?Â
âi need- please let me touch you, mark.â
he blinks, a little owlishly.Â
âyou- yeah, yeah okay-â
he lets go of your wrists and your hands slip under his shirt, nails raking down his chest, a thumb teasing his nipple and he groans, panting hot against your neck. his hips rut against yours, mindlessly, each thrusts having you biting your lips because the friction is just too much and- and heâs cupping your breasts, mouthing at them.
âah!â
âtoo much?â
your breath catches in your throat. heâs looking up at you, chin resting on your chest, a lazy smirk on his lips, one long finger lazily trailing around your nipple, thumb flicking at it. and fuck, the way he looks at you, eyes dark and wanting, like youâre the most precious thing in the universeâŚ
âfuck me.â
he raises an eyebrow.
âare you su- mn...â
you pull him to you, hands cupping his cheeks, kissing him like heâs the very air you breathe. the earth rotates around the sun. the sky appears blue to the human eye. youâre in love with mark grayson.
he knows, you think. with the way you whisper soft praises against his ear, with the way your fingers thread through the baby hairs on his nape. he knows.
he takes it slow. leans back on his heels, taking off his shirt. the moon is kind to him, silver light hiding in the dips of his collarbones, draping the sharpness of his chest, his abs, rippling down his arms, to the edge of the veins curling around his inner wrist.
you trace the shape of him, your touch reverent. he guides you, leading your hand from his chest, from the strong beat of his heart, to his adonis belt. you think youâre dying with how dizzy you feel, your thighs desperately pressed together for some friction.
your fingers wrap around the base of him and you let out a strangled sound. heâs big. he-
âfuck, youâre never gonna fit-â
he laughs at that.
âwanna bet?â
you groan.
âyouâre horrible. youâre not the one getting nine inches of your crush-â
his eyes widen. you flush, mortified, eyes darting away, your grip on him faltering. gently, he tilts your head back towards him.
âyeah?â
you nod.
âyeah.â
he pecks your lips, gentle.
âme too.â
he eases you into it. takes you apart, bit by bit, until youâre dripping for him, babbling an incoherent mess of his name as his fingers spread you open, knuckle deep in you. when he lines himself up with you, leaking tip dragging against your entrance, he groans, low and deep and primal in a way that makes your core throb with need.Â
a damn tease is what he is, with the way he barely slides in you, tip sliding against your cunt with wet, sloppy little sounds, lightly brushing against your clit in a way that has you biting back a desperate little whine. he pants.
âneed- fuck, baby i need you, please lemme-â
âyeah, yeah mark, just-â
your words die on your tongue when he slowly pushes himself into you, holding your thighs apart. he bites his lip at the sight. you, spread wide under him, chest littered with love bites, lips parted as you whisper his name. you, nails digging in his shoulder blades until you draw blood, begging him to please, please get closer. he spreads you open, thumbs holding your folds apart, watching as your walls flutter against him, as you drip down his length, slick and filthy.Â
âplease, move,â you whisper. âi can take it, i need-â
âyeah? you need me?â
âmn.â
he smiles at that, a happy little lopsided smile, as he slowly starts thrusting into you, biting back a groan at how tight you are.Â
âshit, baby-â
he pulls you up, hand cupping the back of your neck as he plunders your mouth, lightly suckling on your tongue. heâs everywhere, hands reaching for you, pulling you closer, and closer, until your chest is flush to him and heâs fucking himself into you with reckless abandon, hips snapping against yours.Â
and what else can you do but take it? but wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer, nipping at his earlobe, the vein jutting out of his neck. but let your nails dig in his back and feel his muscles ripple with contained strength - and fuck, if the thought of him holding back for your sake doesnât make you wetter.Â
âmâgonna cum, mark-â
he grins at that, something like a broken chuckle escaping his kiss swollen lips. he tilts your head back, one hand on your hip as he drills himself in you, the other under your chin.Â
âyeah? gonna cum for me, baby?â
you nod, heat burning across your cheeks, your chest, your core. he hums, hand pressing against your abdomen, where he can feel himself move in you. satisfaction flashes in his gaze, at having you this full of him. (at having you.)
âgood girl.â
that does it for you. you come apart, face buried in the crook of his neck, choking on his name. thereâs that ringing in your ear. you think you hear him chuckle. you do know that he slides out of you, leaving you empty, hollow, and you reach for him with a soft whine of protest. he leads your hand to his leaking cock, guiding you, hips stuttering towards you as you pump his length, until he cums, thick ropes of it landing on his stomach, on your hand.
everything is still. he reaches for the tissues on the nightstand and cleans the slick mess between your thigh, something like longing on his face. his eyes meet yours, and you feel heat creep up your neck, gaze darting away from his, stuck on the way he wipes away his cum, abs rippling under the crumpled tissues.
âwhat?â you mumble.
ânext time, iâll eat you out.â
you let out something like an undignified squeal, burying your face in your hands. he laughs. strokes your cheek, lowering you down on the mattress, cradling you against him. he pulls the covers over you, a hand on your hip, the other lacing with yours.
âfeel okay?â
you smile, a little sleepy, nuzzling against him, pressing a soft kiss to the hello kitty bandaid on his nose.
âmn.â you let your finger trail down the slope of his nose. âlove you.â
he gives you a closed-eye smile, and you think youâve met your sun.
âlove you too.â
#obticeo writes#invincible show#invincible smut#invincible x reader#invincible x y/n#invincible x you#mark grayson#mark grayson x reader#mark grayson x you#mark grayson x y/n#mark grayson smut#invincible series#invincible season 3
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lessons in lovemaking [part two]
marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pantsâleaving you both stunned.
Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, blindfolding, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, clothed ejaculation, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, very consensual, safe words, kissing, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, bickering, reader is lowkey depressed, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything
Word Count: 8.6k
A/N: hey guys, i'm literally so nervous posting this... it's been sitting in my drafts for like a month now and i finally worked up the courage to post after spending a couple hours editing :( i'm literally scheduling this to post at like 3am my time so i'm not awake when it goes live i'm so anxious bahaha. the start of this part is a bit slow, pls hold on because theres some light smut and angst at the end. i have plans for further parts that'll look more into the other avengers finding out and the development between bucky and readers relationship and their shared healing. sorry for any typos - not proof read.
main masterlist | series masterlist
It was only on rare occasions that the full team of Avengers (and co.) were in the same room. A momentous historical moment, in fact, normally reserved for two particular occasions:
The world was ending (in some gloriously diabolical way that usually involved aliens, interdimensional warlords, or some ancient, forgotten god with a vendetta) or
Tony Stark was throwing another one of his famously exclusive penthouse parties (which, despite being âexclusive,â still managed to include half of New Yorkâmost of whom showed up just to gawk at the Avengers like a travelling circus act sent to entertain them personally.)
Today, it seemed, was neither of those occasions. Thor and the rest of the AsgardiansâBruce Banner included, oddly enoughâwere busy rebuilding after the destruction of Asgard. Wanda and Vision were off playing happy family elsewhere, and Clint was busy with his own quickly expanding family. The others, agents, specialists, the people whose names you never bothered to remember, were preoccupied with their own missions. Which left you here, filed neatly into the elusive extra category. Not quite an Avenger. Too valuable to be let loose, too unpredictable to be fully trusted.
You leant back in your chair, only half-listening to the conversation beside you. The skin around your thumbnail was raw. You picked at it absentmindedly, peeling back the edge where it had already started to flake, a sting flaring along the nail. You were thinkingâtoo much, maybeâso you let them talk, let yourself disappear as they debated which bar had the strongest drinks and the least pathetic men.
The three of you were early. By some miracle, morning training had ended ahead of schedule. Natasha had wiped the floor with you, to the point where it probably wouldâve been more productive to stay on the mat rather than waste your energy hauling yourself back up.
âWhat do you think?â It took you a second to realise Yelena was talking to you, elbows propped on the table, chin resting in her hand. She was watching you expectantly, sharp eyes narrowed.
You didnât look up. âIâm not coming.â
She sighed dramatically. âYou never hang out with us.â She leant back in her chair with an exaggerated huff, muttering under her breath, âSo mysterious and cool. You think youâre better than us?âÂ
Natasha watched on amused, the redhead poised as always. âShe doesnât want to drink in front of us in case she spills her secrets.â
You scoffed. âWhat secrets?â
âI donât know.â Natasha leant forward, watching you a little too closely now, like she was gauging your reaction. âHow about how that mission went with Barnes?â
Ever since the gala mission, the two had been trying to get you alone, a few drinks in, hoping for somethingâa slip, an offhanded remark, anything that would confirm whatever hunches they had. You knew what they were fishing for. They werenât subtle.
You just werenât playing.
Neither you nor Bucky had said a word about it.
That, apparently, was suspicious.
âShe is right, you know. Neither of you will say a word about it. Iâm beginning to think something happenedââ Yelena cut over her sister with a grin.
âNothing happened,â you interrupted smoothly, finally lifting your eyes from the wreckage of your thumbnail. âYou keep asking, but youâre not going to uncover some dirty secret. Sorry to disappoint."
âThen why the silence? No one would care if you fucked him, you could just plead innocence, overcome by playing the perfect, doting wifeââ
You shot her a look, one withering enough to turn bone to dust and ego to rubble.Â
âI mean⌠maybe people would care, but I wouldnât judge you! Super soldier, metal arm⌠so hot, or whatever.â Yelena prattled on, and you ignored her, exhaling through your nose.
"I think heâs just mortified that people assume something did happen. Heâs got enough brooding energy as it is." You muttered.Â
âI just donât believe nothing happened, trapped in that hotel room together for a week. Apparently, you were convincing enough to keep the targets off your scent, and we all know Barnesâ acting is as stiff as a cadaver on iceââ
Your face twisted into a look of exasperation before you could control yourself, straightening in your seat. âGod, you two really are like vultures, picking around for the slightest bit of gossipââ
âWow, defensiveââÂ
âIsnât that the joy in life? Digging for gossip?â Natasha cut back in with a sharp smirk.
âYou two are insufferable!â You interrupted, slapping your palms onto your thighs. "I think Iâll keep my secrets. Iâll leave the both of you to continue plotting this fantastical mystery youâve created in your mindsââ
âItâs only fun because you get so worked up about it,â Natasha cut back with a grin you could only describe as predatory. âPlus, I do love watching Rogers squirm listening to all the theories."
âYou know,â Yelena mused, swirling the thought around before letting it slip, âI donât think Steve is as innocent as we think he is. Iâm pretty sure I heard him and Sharonââ
She cut herself off just as the door swung open, and the rest of the team filtered in.
You schooled your reaction, easily slipping back into the picture of nonchalance. Buckyâs blue eyes flickered towards yours for a split second before darting away. It had been two weeks since your first âlessonâ. Two weeks of carefully measured distance, of subtle glances that never lasted too long, of conversations that stayed just professional enough to not raise questions.
Bucky had been doing wellâshockingly well, actually. He was receptive to your touch, followed your guidance with careful precision, and was beginning to trust you, bit by bit. You hadnât gone much further than heated make-out sessions that usually ended with him finishing in his pants, but you werenât in a rush. You were still feeling out his comfort zones, making sure he never felt cornered or overwhelmed. There wasnât exactly a handbook for this kind of arrangement.
You slumped in your seat even further, shaking off the feeling. It was fine. No one knew.
Still, the way Bucky avoided looking in your direction made something prickle under your skin.
You were certain the super soldier would combust on the spot if any of his coworkers caught wind of what the two of you had been up to. Hell, he turned red enough just having you perched in his lap during lessons, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. And yet, during meetings, training, or any moment the two of you were forced into the same orbit, you couldnât help but wonderâdid he think about those moments? Did his mind drift back to the ghost of your touch the same way yours did?
You werenât usually the sentimental type. Nostalgia was a luxury, a foolish indulgence you had long since trained yourself out of. But there was something about himâhis quiet hesitance, his wary but willing surrenderâthat stuck with you. It was a service, nothing more. A transaction in which you gained no tangible benefit, so why did you linger on it? Why did the thought of his gaze meeting yours send a sharp thrill through your chest? Was it because he treated you like a person instead of a tool? Because he understood pieces of you no one else even tried to?
He wasnât like the others. Never cruel, never greedy. He never reached for more than you offered, never treated you like something to be taken. Maybe that was why you kept coming back. Maybe, for once, you liked the control. Liked the feeling of choosing, of being wanted on your own terms. Of knowing that, for once, you werenât a marionette dancing on someone elseâs strings.
You swallowed the thought down and let your gaze flicker to him. Bucky sat curled in on himself, as if trying to shrink into nothing despite the broadness of his frame. He looked like a wounded animalâno, worse. He looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath his eyes had deepened, his hair unwashed and slightly greasy at the roots. He wasnât sleeping. He wasnât taking care of himself. You didnât need to be a genius to figure that out.
He stared blankly at the grain of the wooden table, shoulders hunched between Steve and Sam, who were deep in conversation about something you didnât care enough to eavesdrop on. And for reasons you werenât ready to name, that quiet, hollow stillness of his sat uneasily in your chest.
You had⌠concerns for Bucky after what he had confessed to you. But you werenât sure what to do with those concerns. Or those confessions. You held them close to your chest, unwilling to betray his trust, but understanding instead. You knew it was probably irresponsible of you to sit on them, but you didnât want to overstep. Besides, Steve and Sam didnât know you. Youâd had maybe three conversations with each of them, most of them mission-related. To them, you were just Natasha and Yelenaâs friendâRed Room collateral. You werenât social, you werenât a part of their circle, and you sure as hell werenât someone they trusted.
And if they knew about your arrangement with Bucky⌠well, you didnât want to think about what conclusions theyâd drawâ
âHi!â
The sudden, chirpy voice nearly startled you out of your seat.
Kate Bishop had arrivedâloud, bright, and effortlessly excitable, like a golden retriever in human form. She had that kind of energy that made you suspicious. No one was that happy all the time. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, messy strands framing her face. She was dressed in casual, slightly dishevelled layers, looking like she had just come from sparring but didnât have the same dead-in-the-eyes exhaustion you did after a training session.
âIâm Kate!â she announced, beaming at you like you were about to be best friends. She pushed her hand out. âKate Bishop.â
You blinked at her, ignoring her outstretched offer. âI know.â
Her grin didnât waver, and she coolly withdrew her hand.
âYouâre Clint and Yelenaâs pet project.â You spoke again, your tone perhaps a little more hostile than necessary.Â
âItâs apprentice, actually.â Yelena cut in before Kate could argue. âYou know, youâre starting to hurt my feelings. Stark has an apprentice, so why are you always giving me shitââ
âOh yes, Starkâs pet project.â You gave an exaggerated sigh. âWhat was his name? Paxton, Peyton, or was it Parker?â
âDid I ask for your opinion, K.G.B. Barbie?â Tony Starkâs voice cut in lazily as he walked past, sitting at the head of the table like he owned the placeâwhich, unfortunately for you, he did. As usual, he didnât look pleased to see you, and the scent of entitlement wafted off of him in waves.
You met his gaze evenly. "No, but I was under the impression that unsolicited opinions were your love language, considering the amount your hand out.â
He scoffed, shaking his head. âRemind me why we let you sit at the big kidsâ table again?â
"You donât." You glanced at Stark, unimpressed. "But I was invited, shockingly enough. Or are you reckless enough to ignore Furyâs instructions now?"
There it was. That smirk. He smirked at you, and you knew in your heart he had the foulest, most cutting rebuke to lay upon you. He hadnât even opened his mouth, and you were already grinding your teeth in frustration as you stared back at him, eyes locked onto his smug faceâ
Kate cleared her throat, stepping in before you and Stark could escalate any further. âSo, what do you do?â
Stark held his tongue, so in return, you slid your gaze back over to a nervous Kate. And in that moment, you knew you couldnât help yourself. Natasha had already shot you a warning look, but the redhead's trained patience for the playboy Stark had unfortunately never extended to you.Â
"Infiltration, espionage, recon." You shrugged, expression carefully neutral. "I gather information, and then the big boys get to swoop in, throw a few punches, and take all the credit. Isnât that right, Stark?"
Maybe you had woken up grouchier than usualânot that you could even call the few hours of restless tossing and turning sleep. Or perhaps it was the fact that youâd spent the morning eating the training mat, then had to suffer through Natasha and Yelenaâs constant interrogations that had soured your mood. Either way, you werenât exactly in the best headspace to deal with him.
Truthfully, you thought Stark was a prick, and unfortunately, you had never been exactly shy about that opinion. You and Stark had just never really clicked. Not in the way he had with the others, not in the way Natasha had seamlessly folded herself into the team, or the way Yelena had bulldozed her way in, loud and brash. You existed somewhere in between, tolerated but always lingering on the outside. It wasnât that you didnât get along with them. You could banter with Sam, hold an easy conversation with Steve when necessary and trade dry humour with Clint in a way that made you feel almost at home. Even Stark, for all his grating personality, wasnât always intolerable. But there was always something between you and themâan unspoken distance, a careful line you never crossed. They didnât entirely trust you yet, and you never gave them a reason to try.
Not because you didnât want to.
But because trust had never been a luxury you could afford.
Your job was reading peopleâanalysing, dissecting, and manipulating. You understood them better than they understood themselves, saw the cracks in their foundations and knew precisely where to apply pressure. It made you valuable. Indispensable even, but it also made people wary. The team knew what you were, even if they didnât know the full extent of what you had been. But deep down, you knew they were smart enough to assemble the pieces.
So you kept yourself at armâs length. You wanted to believe you could have that feelingâbelonging. But wanting and trusting were two very different things that you did not dare confuse.
Kateâs eyes lit up. âThatâs so cool.â
âThatâs a polite way of putting it,â Stark interjected, leaning against the desk. âSheâs just a pretty face we send in to distract while the rest of us do the actual work.â
There it was.
Your jaw clenched, but you didnât rise to the bait. This was your hubris. You could already hear Natashaâs scoldingâYou really shouldnât egg him on like that. The two of you are as bad as each other, always trying to get under each other's skin. A bunch of alleycats fighting itâs ridiculousâ
Somewhere across the table, Buckyâs eyes had shot up. The movement startled you, and your eyes met briefly. It was milliseconds, maybe not even that, but as soon as you registered your brief exchange, Bucky shied away like a spooked animal.
And when you looked back at Kate, Natasha and Yelena, you found that Natasha had been watching the whole thing. She didnât speak, didnât even react. There wasnât the slightest twitch in her brow or twinge in her lips. She stared like some kind of omnipotent god, and deep down, you knew. You knew she knew.Â
Maybe she didnât know the full extent, but the way she stared⌠it made you shudder.
Fuck.
Kate, however, frowned, turning back to you. âThatâs not true, right?â
âOf course not,â you deadpanned, not letting the dread pooling in your stomach let you miss a beat. âI do much more than look pretty. Sometimes I get to torture peopleââ
Kateâs face pale, then through several stages of grief, trying to figure out if you were joking.Â
You werenât about to help her.
âRelax, Kate Bishop, she is messing with you,â Yelena said with an amused grin, though it was tight. A silent warning behind her eyes told you to keep your mouth shut.
Kate still looked mildly concerned, but she shook it off quickly. âOkay, butâso you can fight?â
âOf course.â
âNot as well as me,â Yelena cut in before you could elaborate, grinning smugly. âDonât worry, Kate. Youâre being trained by the best of the best. Me? I am the best. You know this.â
You rolled your eyes, and Kate beamed. That girl was too fucking cute for her own good.
The door swung open before anyone could respond to Yelena. Fury stepped inside, long coat sweeping behind him, his boots heavy against the floor. His usual expressionâsomewhere between perpetually pissed off and quietly judgmentalâwas firmly in place beneath the shadow of his eyepatch.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Fury said, his voice edged with dry amusement, though his gaze flicked between you all with razor-sharp scrutiny.
"No, sir," Steve said, back straightening. Natasha, ever composed, merely leaned back in her chair. Stark didnât even spare a glance.
âFirst off, Iâd like to extend my deepest, most heartfelt gratitude for your attendance,â Fury began, spreading his arms in a broad, insincere gesture, his tone so dry it could have turned the room to dust. âI know how much of a hardship it is, taking an hour out of your busy lives to sit in a comfortable chair and listen to me talk.â
Sam snorted. Yelena smirked. Bucky, as usual, remained unreadable.
Furyâs eye landed on you and Bucky before he tossed a slim tablet onto the table, the display already flashing with the text of a mission report you hardly cared to examine in detail.
âCongratulations are in order. The gala infiltration went exceptionally well despite the odds stacked against you.â
You dipped your head in acknowledgement, catching movement out of the corner of your eyeâSam begrudgingly sliding Fury what seemed to be a twenty-dollar bill. Asshole.
Fury tapped the screen embedded in the table, replacing the mission debrief with a new set of images. An aerial view of a club, snippets of surveillance footage, a grainy close-up of a man slipping out of a side entrance, bodyguards in tow.
âAnd thanks to that intel recovered,â Fury continued, âwe now have a location on our next target. Dmitry Karpin. Friend to H.Y.D.R.A. Dealt in smuggling high-profile weapons in and out of Soviet countries for a time, but now heâs taken to smuggling drugs. Serums, to be specific.â
Across the table, Bucky had gone still. Tension coiled in his shoulders, his hands resting stiffly on the surface, knuckles taut. H.Y.D.R.A. Serum. The words alone were enough to suffocate the room when Bucky or Steve were around. You didnât let your eyes linger on him long nor allow your frown to deepen.Â
Fury didnât acknowledge the shiftâmaybe he was used to it by now, or perhaps he just didnât care. His voice remained steady, rolling over the tension in the room as if he were reciting lines from a well-rehearsed script. Karpinâs security detail. The clubâs weak points. Entry and exit strategies. The words blurred together, dissolving into background noise beneath the low hum of static in your head. It was hard to focus when you could feel Bucky sitting across from you, motionless, barely even breathing, his whole body locked up like a loaded fucking gun. And the worst part? He probably thought he was doing a good job hiding it.
You didnât stare, didnât let your concern show. Instead, you leant back in your chair, tilting your head just enough to feign disinterest. âSo, just another fun-filled evening of chatting up sweaty old men for me? Sounds like a dream.â Your voice came out dry, with just enough sarcasm to mask any wobbles.Â
Fury didnât spare you a glance. âIf thatâs what you need to tell yourself,â he said, tapping the screen again. More grainy footage. More blueprints. The details kept coming, but you barely registered them.
You picked at your thumbnail hard enough that the cuticle began to bleed.
Eventually, the meeting drew to a close. Chairs scraped against the floor as the team rose, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out. You stood, ready to follow, butâ
âYou two, stick around,â Fury instructed.
You hesitated, glancing at him, then at Bucky, who had also stalled mid-step. Natasha and Yelena exchanged a knowing look, their amusement not at all subtle. You ignored their barely concealed grins as they disappeared through the door.
Fury exhaled, hands bracing against the table as he surveyed the two of you.Â
âIâll be honest,â he said finally. âI wasnât convinced it would work when I paired you two. Thought maybe youâd kill each other before you got anything done.â
Bucky scoffed quietly, gaze flicking away.
âBut you proved me wrong.â His good eye narrowed as he continued. âThe mission was a success. You handled yourselves well.â
A beat of silence. Then, just as flatly, âI want to know if youâd be open to working together again. Similar style of operation.â
Your eyes slid over to Bucky, gauging his reaction. You didnât want to appear too eager or give any more credence to the stories Yelena and Natasha were spinning, but most of all, you didnât want to put words into Buckyâs mouth. You werenât in the business of pressuring him in or out of the bedroom.Â
Bucky was quiet as if silently working through some thoughts before deciding. Finally, he offered a dismissive âSure.â
You nodded slowly, offering Fury a nonchalant shrug. âIâm fine with that.â
Furyâs lips twitched. Not quite a smirk.
âWell, thatâs the most enthusiasm Iâve heard all day,â he deadpanned before shaking his head. âDamn, you two are depressing. Sitting there all broody, staring at me like I shot your goddamn dog.âÂ
Neither you nor Bucky reacted, which was met by a low chuckle from Fury. âRegardless, I appreciate the hard work. You made me a nice chunk of money winning some bets.â
Your brow furrowed. âYou bet on us?â
Fury raised an eyebrow, unbothered. âCourse I did. Had to make it interesting. Half the team thought youâd get caught or kill each other before the first day was up.â
You blinked. â...Who bet against us?â
âStark.â Furyâs lips twitched again. âHe didnât think youâd make it past security.â
Of course he did. Prick.Â
â
"Alright, Iâm in position."
You blinked. Bucky sat there like he was awaiting orders, his posture rigid as if he were about to breach enemy lines. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, fingers twitching like he wasnât sure where to put them like touching you required the same level of strategic planning as a high-stakes extraction mission.
You stared, straddling his hips, your fingers ghosting over his collarbone, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. He didnât quite meet your eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere just past your shoulder as if making direct contact might detonate something neither of you were ready for. For a split second, you half expected him to press a finger to an earpiece and murmur something about securing the perimeter.
In the dim glow of his bedroom, he looked every bit like a man being held hostage rather than one about to receive a very generous favour.
Lately⌠something felt off. The signs had been subtle at first, the way he always seemed a beat too calculated, his hands found the same places every time, and he would grow still like he was waiting for a command.Â
And now, looking at him, so wound-up he might actually vibrate, it finally clicked.
Every touch and kiss was executed with the precision of a soldier running a drill rather than a man lost in the moment. It was methodical. He was analysing a strategy rather than experiencing pleasure. You half expected to glance down and see him taking notesâtouch here, kiss there, donât forget to do this. The thought horrified you, but if you were honest⌠it also amused you.Â
You pinched the bridge of your nose.
ââŚBucky, are you seriously treating this like a mission?â
He stiffened beneath you, his reaction just a fraction too quick, too defensive.
âWhatâd you mean?â His voice was steady, but there was an edge. He was already on guard, bracing for imaginary discipline.Â
âThe way youâreâŚâ You trailed off, head inclining as you studied him. His jaw was clenched, brows drawn tight, the creased skin between them betraying him entirely. One could mistake him for a soldier behind enemy lines, waiting for the crack of a rifle. There were dark smudges under his eyes, no worse than usual. You knew he didnât sleep well. Nightmares haunted him and left him running on fumes more often than not. You recognised the signs, and it was like you were looking into a mirror.Â
âItâs like you have a mental checklist,â you murmured, watching for his reaction. âLike every move you make is planned like youâre running through a strategy in your head instead of just⌠feeling it.â
Bucky remained silent, his lips pressing into a firm line.
Gently, you squeezed his shoulder, fingertips pressing into hard muscle. He was tenseâtoo tense. âYouâre not clearing a building, Bucky. Youâre not scanning for threats. Youâre here with me. Just relax a little, wonât you?â
âI am relaxed.â He bit the words out, though neither his voice nor expression were even remotely convincing.
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. âI appreciate the attempt to lie, but when I can feel the fucking tension in your body, itâs a little, well, very obvious.â Your hands traced along his shoulders, fingers kneading into the tight knots beneath the fabric of his shirt. His muscles were rock-solid, never fully uncoiled. His body had forgotten how to rest.
âSee?â You gave a pointed squeeze. âThis is not ârelaxed,â Bucky. This is as solid as a goddamn steel beam.â
Bucky scoffed a tiny huff of air through his nose. âThose are my muscles. I work out. Donât you?â
You gasped in mock delight, lips parting in exaggerated shock. âOh my God. Did you just make a joke? Bucky, was that a joke?â
Something flickered in his expression for the first time, a sliver of amusement breaking through the ever-present brooding. He finally met your gaze, eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners, and the sight sent a flicker of warmth through your chest.
You grinned. âWell, isnât that a first? Guess I should mark the calendar.â
His smirk was brief, fleetingâbut it was there.
You softened, your voice dropping just a little. âBut seriously, you need to loosen up.â Your hands smoothed over his shoulders, slow and deliberate.âAttraction, desire⌠sex. Itâs messy, itâs unplanned. Itâs not a mission. This isnât the army.âÂ
You didnât dare say the following words in your mind aloud.Â
This isnât H.Y.D.R.A.Â
But you knew that was where his thoughts drifted, that unspoken trouble that plagued you both. Your fingers ghosted along the silver chain at his throat, the faint jingle of his dog tags barely audible under the fabric of his shirt. âYou donât have to follow orders. You can just be.â
âI know.â The words came low, rough, frayed at the edges. You could feel yourself losing him, his eyes growing foggy as if pulled away to a place you couldnât quite reach to drag him out from.
âI justâŚâ Another breath, deeper this time, as though steadying himself. âThey used me. For so long, they used me as a weapon. I donât know if I can ever be anything different than that. I donât want to lose controlâwhat happens if I loseââ
âHey.â Your hands framed his face now, thumbs brushing against the sharp angles of his cheekbones, anchoring him. âHey, look at me.â
His eyes lifted, hesitant, guarded.
âYou are more than that.â The words were gentle but unwavering, as steady as your hands on him. âWe are more than that, okay? Youâre Bucky. Just Bucky. And you are in control. Say it.â
His fingers curled against your thighs, knuckles pressing into the cotton fabric of your shorts. He was quiet momentarily as though testing the words in his mind before speaking them aloud. Then, slowly, he nodded.
âIâm in control.â
âYouâre in control.â You echoed, smoothing your thumb over the faint stubble on his cheek. âAnd you still want to do this?â
His breath was slow, deliberate. âYes.â
Your fingers had drifted higher, threading into his hair, the strands silky and cool beneath your touch. You swept a loose lock from his forehead, letting your fingertips linger against his temple. âAnd if you donât want this at any point, what do you say?â
âStop.â
âAnd what will happen if you say that?â
âYouâll stop. Weâll stop.â
âGood.â You praised him, your smile widening as you felt him squirm beneath you. There was a subtle hitch in his breath as your hands began to trail lower, palms smoothing down to his chest. The pulse at his throat fluttered beneath your fingertips, quick and uneven, betraying the calm he was trying to hold onto. You leant closer, your breath warm against his skin as you pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his temple. Then lowerâto the sharp line of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw, and finally to the hollow of his throat. A shudder ran through him, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. âIs this okay?â
âYes.â He uttered after a thick, audible swallow.
You pulled back just enough to study him, to see how his lips parted slightly as though chasing the warmth of your touch. A quiet, almost reluctant noise rumbled in his chest, just shy of a whine. You traced your fingers along his jaw before tilting your head, considering him. âI want to try something.â You hummed to him. âYou can say no if itâs too much, but I think it might help you.â
His brows furrowed. âYeah?â
âI want to blindfold youââ
âYou want to what?â He went rigid beneath you, every muscle tightening again as if youâd flipped a switch and snapped him back into defence mode.
âHold on, just let me finish.â You held up your hand, hoping to counteract his immediate, instinctive reaction.
He huffed, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off the response, but said nothing.Â
âI want to blindfold you,â you repeated, slower this time, words deliberate. âAnd I want to kiss you. And touch you. I want you to focus on feeling good rather than anticipating something bad. I want you to just⌠be here with me. Not thinking about what comes next, not waiting for an attack. Just focusing on feeling. Thatâs all.â
His expression was cautious before turning to contemplationâas though weighing the idea against everything instinct told him.
âYou can say no,â you reminded him gently.
âNo, Iââ He hesitated, his fingers twitching against your hips.
You shifted back just a little, offering him the space to decide. âItâs okay. We donât have to do it.â
âNo, Iâshitââ He exhaled, shaking his head. âI meanâno, I want to. Yes. I want to try that.â
Your gaze searched his. âYouâre sure?â
His lips pressed together, and then he nodded once, firmly. âYes.â
You grinned, pressing a sloppy, lingering kiss to his temple before slipping off his lap with ease and rolling onto the bed beside him. âDo you have something we could use?â
âUh, I donâtââ
âLike a tie, maybe? You wear suits, right? Or does Stark demand them back the second you step foot in the compound?â
Bucky let out a huff, eyes narrowing. âI donât want to talk about Stark right now.â
You shot him a knowing look, but before you could tease him further, your gaze flickered downwardâand you smirked. Even through the soft material of his sweatpants, you could see he was already half-hard. âSure.â
A faint flush crept up his neck, staining his ears and cheeks pink. He cleared his throat, voice rough. âTop drawer. In the wardrobe.â
You were on your feet before he could finish, slipping into his walk-in wardrobe. Every apartment in the compound had one, though Buckyâs was noticeably bare. His clothes were monochrome, muted shades of grey, navy, and black. No bursts of colour. No sign of impulse. It was not a lack of wealth. You knew that for sure. No, this was intentionalâa desire to blend in, to disappear.
Youâd always known he was the type who preferred the shadows, slipping between crowds unnoticed. No wonder he hated the tailored suits Stark and Fury forced him intoâarm issues aside. For some reason, S.H.I.E.L.D. were determined to parade him around. Look, the Winter Soldier. Heâs a good boy now. He plays nice. Nothing to fear anymore. You were unsure how he felt about such displays, but you were sure it wasnât too far off from how you felt about it. You had once been in his shoes, though more in the eye candy territory. A doll to dress up and play with, to smile and play the part.
Powerful men enjoyed degrading that which they knew to be dangerous, enjoyed playing with fire, and enjoyed the illusion of control.Â
Shaking off the thought, you pulled open the top drawer, sifting through a few neatly folded ties. You selected a smooth black silk, running the cool fabric over your palm before returning to the bedroom.
Bucky was still seated at the edge of the bed, stiff as a board. His hands curled into fists atop his thighs, knuckles taut. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
You slowed, holding the tie between your fingers like approaching a spooked animal. Visible to inspect and assess. No threat.
âYes?â you asked, giving him another chance to change his mind.
His jaw tightened, but he gave a short nod. âYes.â
You smiled softly. âJust breathe, yeah? Like we always do.â You inhaled deeply through your nose, then exhaled slowly and steadily through your mouth.
After a beat, Bucky mirrored you, chest rising and falling with measured breaths.
You moved behind him, settling onto the bed. He sat still, poised for an attack. Carefully, you draped the silk tie over his eyes, looping it around his head and securing it with a loose knot. It wasnât tightâone purposeful tug and it would slip free.
You could feel the tension radiating from him. Even blindfolded, he was hyper-aware, attuned to every rustle of the sheets, every shift of your weight. His breathing had turned shallower, the serum sharpening every sound, every sensation.
âIf you need to stop for any reason, just say so.â
He jolted slightly at your voice, caught off guard in the quiet. âO-okay.â His voice wavered, and then he cursed low under his breath in Russian.
You grinned. Some habits died hard.
âIâm going to touch you now.â You crept closer, lifting onto your knees behind him. âJust focus on me and how it feels. Nothing else. Can you do that?â
He gave a slow, hesitant nod.
You started at his shoulders, palms skimming over firm muscle, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Every dip and ridge, every knot of tension. Your hands slid to his collarbone, then across the joint where flesh met metal, mapping out the contrast between warm skin and the smooth, cold vibranium.
He was solid beneath your touch, every muscle taut and solid as it stretched across the bone.
You had noticed the way his shoulders gave him grief. The slight tilt of his frame and the way his left arm always sat heavier. It was incorrect weight distribution; the metal limb was too heavy compared to its flesh counterpart. S.H.I.E.L.D had surely offered him physical therapyâmassages, treatment plansâbut you doubted he had ever taken them up on it. He didnât like to be touched by strangers. Too wary. Too untrusting.Â
âCan I take off your shirt?â you asked softly.
He stilled.
âI donâtââ His voice was lower now, rougher. âMy scars. Theyâre notââ
âI donât care about that.â
He swallowed hard. âYou donât?â
âNo,â you said firmly. âWhy would I?âÂ
Without a word, his hand reached behind his head, gripping the collar of his shirt. He yanked it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing the fabric to the floor. You adjusted the blindfold where it had shifted, then let your gaze drift over the broad expanse of his back.
His shoulders were massive, sculpted with muscle. The scars on his left shoulder were brutalâjagged lines of gnarled tissue where the vibranium met flesh. It might have been seamless after the amputation. Painless even. But it had been H.Y.D.R.A who had ruined him, left scars so deep even the Wakandans couldnât erase.
And H.Y.D.R.A didnât care for comfort. They cared for necessity. Likely, you suspected, they had wanted him to suffer.
An endless reminder of their ownership.
You swallowed, then placed your hands on his shoulders again, thumbs pressing gently into the base of his neck. You started slow, careful, massaging along the muscle, working your way down. His skin was warm beneath your palms, the mass taut and unyielding at first, like stone beneath your fingers. But you took your time, applying gradual pressure, thumbs circling into the knots built over time.
Beneath your hands, Bucky let out a low, guttural soundâa half-growl, half-sigh of approval. His head dipped forward slightly, chin brushing his chest, an unspoken invitation to continue.
You kept going, kneading deep into the knots in his shoulders, feeling the tension resist before you coaxed it loose. With each press and roll of your fingers, the stiffness unravelled like a cord being undone, thread by thread. You worked methodically, digging your thumbs along the curve where his neck met his shoulders, pressing firmly enough to elicit another low, unconscious groan from him.
You bit back a smile as you felt him lean into you just a little.
Trailing downward, you traced the slope of his shoulder blades, following the ridges of tendons and old wounds. The scars on his left side were tougher, the tissue uneven where flesh met metal, but you didnât hesitate. Your fingers brushed the seam between the vibranium and skin, then continued downward, thumbs pressing slow, firm circles along the fuse.
Bucky shuddered.
His breath hitched as you dug into the deep-seated strain along his spine. A sharp inhale, a low exhaleâhe was losing himself to the sensation, surrendering to your touch. You didnât rush. You worked him slowly, thoroughly, feeling him yield with each measured stroke. When you reached the dip of his lower back, you flattened your hands, smoothing over the tightness that lingered. He was warm now, his skin melting like wax beneath your fingers.
Satisfied, you finally pulled back, smoothing your hands along his spine one last time before shifting your position.
Rising onto your knees, you moved around him, hands trailing over his shoulders as you slid into his lap. His breath stuttered, but he didnât pull away. You settled against him, straddling his lap, your arms draping lazily over his shoulders. The blindfold was still secure, and he looked⌠calmer now. Less wound up, his jaw no longer locked so tightly.
âYou okay?â You murmured.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. âYeah.â
âGood,â you hummed, tilting your head, lips just inches from his ear. âI think you needed that.â
Bucky exhaled a breathy, almost disbelieving laugh, but he didnât deny it.
Your fingers trailed up the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly against the short hairs, and you felt him shiver beneath you. You leaned in, lips brushing over his cheekbone, just at the edge of the blindfold, before trailing downward. You kissed along his jaw, soft and teasing, pressing your lips into the warm skin beneath his ear, down the column of his throat.
His hands fidgeted at his sides, tightening around the sheets. Then, as if giving in to some internal battle, they roseâhesitant but desperate. His fingers found your waist, sliding over the curve of your hips before gripping tight.
You grinned against his skin.
âThere you go,â you murmured, voice a breath of silk against his throat.
A sharp exhale left him, his fingers tightening, pressing you closer, holding you in place. You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up before pressing your lips to his.
Bucky groaned into the kiss.
It was soft at first, your mouth moving against his, teasing, coaxing him deeper. But it wasnât long before he cracked. The tension he had held onto for so longâhis control, his restraintâit frayed at the edges with every pass of your lips against his. You pressed closer, shifting in his lap, and the moment your hips rolled against him, his breath stuttered.
A broken sound escaped him, part groan, part whimper.
You did it again just to hear it.
His hands flexed against your sides, his hold firm, frantic, but he didnât stop you. He only breathed harder, his forehead falling against yours as you peppered kisses along his lips, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
Then you moved again, grinding against him slowly, carefully, and Bucky outright whimpered.
He made no effort to stop youâno attempt to control the rhythm, no resistance left in him. His mind was no longer caught in the tangle of right and wrong, of what he should or shouldnât do.
He only felt.
Only responded.
You kissed him again, deeper, fiercer this time, and he met you with equal hunger.
Buckyâs hands roamed, sliding up your back. Then, his vibranium hand found your face, cradling it between cool, unyielding metal, and you shivered at the contrastâthe bite of cold against your flushed skin, the sheer strength in his hold, barely restrained.
He kissed you like he was starving.
You sighed into his mouth, rolling your hips down to meet his, and he groanedâdeep and guttural as his body jerked beneath you. He was fully hard now, the evidence pressing against you through his sweatpants, and you couldn't help the soft, breathy giggle that escaped between kisses.
Bucky growled, his grip tightening, his body chasing yours as you rocked against him.
Your hand trailed down, slipping between your bodies, fingers teasing along the waistband of his sweatpants. You could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched as your fingertips ghosted lowerâ
Then he flinched, catching your wrist in a shaky grip.
âToo much,â he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but the strain was evident.
Immediately, you withdrew, pulling your hand away without hesitation. âIâm sorry. Do you want to stopââ
âNo.â he replied quickly, breathlessly.
You cupped his jaw, kissing him slowly, tenderly, as he shuddered beneath you. His hands flexed where they held you, his body still trembling with need, but he didnât pull away. You kept your movements soft and gentle, pressing your forehead against his, letting him breathe as you kissed him repeatedly.Â
âIs this better?â you checked in between kisses, voice warm, reassuring.
âYes.â He muttered against your lips.
You kissed him deeper, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip and into his mouth.
His body convulsed beneath you, hips twitching up to meet yours, his breath turning shallow and erratic. You could feel the tremors coursing through him, his muscles tensed, his restraint crumbling with every slow, dragging roll of your hips.
Then, with a choked groan, he stiffened.
A broken moan tore from his throat as he came, his body shuddering beneath you. His breath hitched, then stilled, his head falling back onto the bed as he panted heavily, completely spent.
You smiled, watching his chest rise and fall, his body finally wholly relaxed.
You let him catch his breath, your hands smoothing over his chest in slow, soothing strokes. His eyes were still covered, the black silk of the tie snug against his skin, and for a moment, you just watched himâhis expression relaxed in a way it so rarely was, his lips parted as he inhaled deep, steadying himself.
Reaching up, you brushed your fingers over his jaw before carefully undoing the knot at the back of his head. The tie slipped away with ease, and his eyes fluttered open, blinking as he adjusted to the room's dim light. His pupils were blown, irises hazy, but there was something else. Softness. An openness you didnât often see.
âHey,â you whispered.
His lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. âHey.â
You leant down, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple before shifting off of him, allowing him to breathe. He hesitated momentarily before sitting up, his movements slow, almost reluctant. His sweatpants were clinging damply to his skin, and he grimaced slightly before rubbing a hand over his face.
âI should, uhââ He cleared his throat. âIâll be right back.â
You nodded, watching as he climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. The soft sound of running water followed soon after. You stayed where you were, fingers idly playing with the silk tie as you listened, giving him the space to clean up and gather himself.
When he returned, his sweatpants had been swapped for a fresh pair, the fabric hanging loose around his hips. His hair was damp in uneven patches where heâd raked wet fingers through it, a lazy attempt at tidying up. He lingered in the doorway, weight shifting from one foot to the other, eyes flickering over you like he wasnât sure what to do next.
You patted the empty space beside you. âCome here.â
His shoulders loosened just a fraction before he climbed back onto the bed, settling beside you with a quiet sigh. He was warmâsolid and steady. Without thinking, you nestled closer, resting your head against his chest. His arm came around you automatically, like muscle memory, pulling you in and holding you there.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
Then, barely above a whisper, you asked, âDid you like it?â
Bucky exhaled a deep, slow breath. âYeah,â he admitted, his voice lower than usual, like he wasnât used to saying it. âI did.â
You smiled, tracing absentminded circles against his chest. âWhat did you like about it?â
He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful.
âIt made it easier,â he murmured. âNot seeing. I could just⌠feel. Focus on what was happening instead of everything else.â His thumb brushed lightly against your side. âDidnât have to worry about if I was doing something wrong.â
You frowned slightly, tilting your head up to look at him. âBucky, youâve never done anything wrong.â
âI know,â he said, but his voice was tight, a shadow crossing his expression. âItâs justââ He stopped, mouth pressing into a thin line.
You reached up, smoothing a hand over his cheek. âTalk to me.â
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said, âIâm scared of it sometimes.â
Your brows furrowed. âScared of what?â
âPleasure.â
His fingers tightened slightly against your side like he was bracing himself, but he didnât look away from you.
âI was taughtâŚâ He inhaled sharply. âThat it could only be taken. Taken from me. That it was never given freely.â His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. âThat it wasnât mine to have.â
Slowly, carefully, you sat up, shifting so you were fully facing him. He looked at you, expression guarded, but there was something vulnerable beneath it, something fragile in the way he held himself.
You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. âThose people, the ones who taught you that, they were trying to hurt you, degrade you,â you told him firmly. âPleasure is to be shared equally. Itâs something you deserve.â You squeezed his hand, your voice softening.
His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came.
âI want you to know that you donât have to do anything to earn it,â you whispered.
He swallowed hard, his grip on your hand tightening. His voice was barely above a breath when he said, âI donât know if I know how.â
You smiled softly. âThatâs okay. We have time.â
You lifted his hand again, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles before settling back down beside him. His warmth seeped into you, but the ache in your chest remainedâpersistent, lingering. It had nothing to do with exhaustion, the tension in your muscles, or even the way your body still hummed with remnants of touch. No, this ache came from somewhere deeper, from the thoughts unravelling in your mind like a loose thread tugged too far, too fast as you contemplated his confession.Â
You had always been a giver. That was your role, your purpose. You gave and gave until there was nothing left. Until you were hollow inside. And yet, the world kept asking for more. You wondered if, over time, it had chipped away at your soul, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.
The words left your lips before you could stop them, before you had the chance to weigh whether you truly wanted to say them aloud.
âDo you ever feel like youâre not⌠whole?â
Bucky turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing in the low light, lids heavy as he blinked his dark lashes. He didnât press or demand, didnât look at you as if he needed clarification. He just waited, silently, like he knew you werenât finished.
So you kept going.
âLike with every mission, every fight, every demand, you lose something? A tiny piece of yourself, given away without even realising it?â Your voice dropped lower. Bucky was still beside you, completely still, only his breath tickling your cheek with each slow rise and fall of his chest.
âI donât even know if Iâm still the person I was when I was born or if Iâve just been rebuilt from borrowed parts. Pieces given to me, made for me, shaped to fit what I was supposed to become.â You exhaled a sharp breath. âOr maybe⌠what they wanted me to become.â
The words were bitter on your tongue, and yet they kept coming.
âAnd I think⌠maybe Iâm afraid that if I ever showed the real me, the world would reject me. That theyâd be disgusted by my soul. By everything I have done.â
A shaky breath left your lips, your voice barely more than a whisper now.
âBecause sometimes⌠sometimes I think the only way people will keep me around is if I give them something in return.â
Silence.
You turned your head toward him, searching his face, waiting for somethingâanythingâthat would tell you what he was thinking. You hoped for a look, a breath, a word to ground you. But as your gaze swept over him, you realised his breathing had evened out, his lashes fluttering softly against his cheeks. The sharp furrow of his brow had smoothed, his lips slightly parted in a way that spoke of exhaustion finally pulling him under.
Asleep.
Your words had been lost to him.
You werenât sure if that was a relief or a disappointment.
Maybe it was for the best. He needed the rest, the peace of slumber more than you did. Even now, in the soft glow of the room, dark circles remained etched beneath his eyes.
You let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling momentarily before carefully slipping out of bed. You moved with quiet precision, gathering your things without making a sound. When you reached the door, you hesitated, glancing back.
For a second, a small, selfish part of you wished he hadâwished he had heard you, had held you, had given you something, anything, to quiet the storm inside your chest. But he hadnât.
And maybe that meant you could take the words back.
Tuck them away for another time.
Or hold onto them forever, maybe all you had needed was to say them aloud, even if only silence itself was listening.
Bucky didnât stir from his slumber, not even when the door clicked shut behind you.
PART THREE
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