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sunderwight · 4 months

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AU where there's no system (or a decidedly less restrictive one) and Shen Yuan transmigrates into an OC rogue cultivator before the start of the novel, and decides he's gonna steal the protagonist before Luo Binghe even gets to Cang Qiong.

The logic is sound -- he'll keep Luo Binghe from experiencing neglect and abuse at Shen Qingqiu's hands, raise him away from the pressure of the sects and the likelihood that anyone else might find out about his heritage and try to harm him over it, keep him fully away from the Immortal Alliance Conference, and then Luo Binghe's course will change trajectory because he'll have no reason to want revenge against the world and no access to Xin Mo. Shen Yuan will be able to spare Luo Binghe some suffering and possibly survive in a world less subject to the harrowing whims of a half-mad tyrannical overlord. Win-win!

However, the tricky bit is that he's not sure exactly how far ahead of the novel he is, and also Airplane didn't specify where Luo Binghe grew up. This means that Luo Binghe could be any age younger than twelve and in any number of places along or near to the Luo river.

Shen Yuan decides he's going to approach this by pretending he is looking for the long-lost son of his sister, traveling through the likeliest areas, asking after abandoned children who might fit the protagonist's description. It's a long shot, he knows, and he's mostly relying on the existence of Narrative Destiny. But eventually he is directed by several people towards a particular city, which is not as close to the river as he'd have expected Luo Binghe to grow up, but then again he only knows that was where baby Binghe was found, not where the washerwoman who took him in ultimately lived.

It becomes clear to him, though, that he's been sent to the wrong target. But also why he's been sent astray is apparent in nearly the same breath, because among the slave children living in this area is a little boy who could be his much younger clone.

Seriously, this kid looks just like him! Or, well, close enough. He looks a lot like Shen Yuan's actual nieces and nephews from his past life. It's uncanny.

Also, because of his search, the slave kids get wind of what he's looking for (his long-lost nephew) pretty quick. The boy with the obvious resemblance to him greets Shen Yuan's own assessment with wary cynicism, but he's just a little boy. So it's not difficult to notice the way he's also practically vibrating with hopefulness, half-hiding behind a protective older kid and looking at Shen Yuan with big dark eyes like he expects to be rescued or destroyed with whatever he has to say next.

Shen Yuan has a big problem now. He just knows that if he says something like "actually no this boy is too old to be my nephew" or whatever other excuse, no one will believe him, and also this poor kid is going to be permanently scarred by it. He's going to think Shen Yuan is lying just so that he can reject him. On top of that, he's not in a good situation here. None of these children are even remotely well cared-for.

Shen Yuan's rogue cultivator self isn't rich on the level of being like a wealthy sect leader or anything, but he's made some money since transmigrating by doing random cultivator jobs and quests along the way here. He uses it all to purchase two little slave boys (Do Not Separate), then takes another job and uses that coin to acquire a somewhat rundown manor which used to belong to the local gentry. The Qiu family (rings some bells but that's not exactly an uncommon name) kept it up for a while in case a branch family sprung up in need of a residence, but they've been in decline and the place is downright decrepit, so they had been looking to sell it instead. It's too big for a wandering bachelor like SY to ever need on his own account, but that's sort of the idea. He makes more money taking on cultivator work, at first taking his boys along with him for lack of any alternative. Nerve-wrackingly dangerous! Eventually he hires workers to start restoring the manor, particularly setting up a yard to be a school area, and then starts taking on any freelance jobs he can get in order to steadily buy out the contracts on all the other kids. He gets it nice enough to house and care for as many orphans as he can acquire.

Not because he's a big old softie though!

His story of looking for his nephew is a bust now, since he's apparently "found" the kid. So he's got to change tactics! If he can't find baby Binghe and the washerwoman, the next best approach is to create an opportunity for them to come to him. So once he's got his new household established, he starts offering free lessons to all the local kids. Not just the ones he's taken in, but also any who come by and want to learn some things. It's a tempting setup for anyone who wants their child to get education but can't afford a tutor, and Luo Binghe's mother had been entirely the sort of person who would have packed up and left her situation if there had been an opportunity for it.

On that note, SY also starts hiring single mothers to help look after his new gaggle of children and do the work he doesn't know how to do in these times, like keeping house, laundry, cooking, actually raising kids, etc.

His "little school" is not universally popular. A few groups try and ruin him, because the poverty in the region provides a basis of business for them. The ringleaders of the human traffickers in the area don't want their trade to dry up, even if it means selling all of their merchandise for this round, so when they find out that their underlings let Shen Yuan buy off all the kids they try and intimidate him into returning them (it doesn't go well for them). The Qiu family also isn't thrilled after it becomes clear what he's doing, and get him investigated by the local authorities (read: use their bribed officials and local goons to try and interfere.)

When that doesn't work either the sects get involved, because the Qiu go crying to Huan Hua Palace that Shen Yuan is sketchy and is trying to establish his own sect. So Shen Yuan talks his way around the matter, and frankly the Qiu are small fish even if they're the biggest ones in the local pond, so HHP doesn't care to pursue things much further. (Read: SY could mop the floor with the disciples they sent to investigate him, and it's not worth it to piss off someone this mysterious and powerful just to bully some impoverished children.)

Shen Yuan is appalled by all this bullshit though. Trust the world of PIDW to make it so hard just for a guy to teach some poor kids how to read and do math!

It makes him dig in his heels about it, because he is at heart a stubborn bastard. The fires that once fueled a thousand angry screeds on zhongdian literature site is now aimed at the local magistrate. One of the women he's hired on has some dirt on the Qiu family, which leads SY to dig up some more until he eventually has enough to turn the tables on them. Local officials won't investigate because they've all been bought, but that in and of itself is of some interest to their superiors closer to the palace, and so SY arranges an investigation of his own that goes way further than he thought? Turns out there are some ugly skeletons in the Qiu closets, and the imperial investigator comes down on them hard.

Well, he can't say they didn't have it coming? Though he does feel bad for the children in the family, especially the oldest son, who gets hauled off to jail along with his father. At least the girl is sent to live with relatives. Maybe he should have done more to shield the minors in the situation...?

His kids tell him not to worry about it, though, that apparently young master Qiu was known to run people down in the streets and beat his servants and do other cartoonishly awful things. SY's not sure how much of it is true and how much of it is his little flock of fluffy sheep trying to ease his conscience, though they do all seem to take a lot of vindictive delight in the whole affair. Especially Nephew, who clings to his sleeves and loudly declares that the investigator should have publicly flogged the discredited nobles so that everyone could go watch, and then begs him for sweets as if that wasn't a creepy thing to hear come out of an eight-year-old's mouth. SY just sighs and tells him he can have something good when he finishes his calligraphy practice.

Of course, it's not exactly easy running what is basically an orphanage-slash-school (and maybe a budding sect...?), especially when pretty much all of the kids have been traumatized and faced stuff like rampant dehumanization, food insecurity, abuse, and neglect. Hiring single mothers soon becomes not only a plan to try and lure in Luo Binghe's mom, but an absolute godsend of an idea because SY has no clue WHAT he would do on his own about the discipline issues or emotional breakdowns or acting out that some of the kids get up to once it registers that they're in a safe enough place to unpack their baggage.

Apart from Nephew, SY's favorite kid is the one who came with him, the oldest of the flock of former slave children. He's the big brother of the group, the one who tries his best to look after the others and to not make any trouble himself. But even poor Little Yue is still just a kid who has been through too much, and he also eventually starts having some meltdowns and struggles with processing everything that has happened to him as a vulnerable child in an unkind world.

SY really didn't mean to start a trauma center for mistreated children!

Though, that's still not necessarily a bad thing for Luo Binghe to one day come across, provided he ever actually shows up...

Eventually, Shen Yuan does figure out that he must be ahead even of Luo Binghe's birth, though he still doesn't put together that he's interfered in the scum villain's backstory. Probably something even more amusingly obscure, like the creation year of some random artifact Luo Binghe used in some wife plot or other, tips him off and he mentally throws his hands up in the air. He's got to wait DECADES? Maybe he ought to try and find Luo Binghe's biological parents and just follow them around at this point!

Not that he can, now, though, because he has to make sure no negative IQ villains (who will probably just be cannon fodder for a subplot one day) decide to send goons to literally burn down his orphanage. Also if he's gone for too long his kids get upset. Probably because no one else is as weak to their puppy dog eyes and pleas for treats and toys as he is.

At least it gives him time to shore up his position, and train Nephew and Little Yue more extensively in cultivation. Despite his initial assurances to HHP that he was but a humble orphan wrangler who was only incidentally a cultivator, Shen Yuan does also teach the other kids some basic cultivation exercises. There are a few reasons for that.

One is just the principle of the thing. No, these kids don't all have the potential to become great immortals or anything, but they can still learn some of it and it's good for their health if they do. The only trouble is if they try and push too hard or attempt things beyond their range, and that's a risk with everyone who cultivates. Or even just exercises!

Another reason is that it helps stave off the jealousy that some of the kids have towards those with more cultivation potential. Teaching a lot of the basics all around makes it into just another topic at school. Some kids might not be as good at it as others, but those kids might also be better at math, or memorization, or board games, and while cultivation can open more doors to people as adults, for the children this is generally enough to satisfy their sense of fairness. Or at least reduce outbursts and fights.

Finally, the impression that any of SY's kids might be a cultivator also makes wicked people more reluctant to try and abduct or interfere with them. Cultivators are revered and nearly mythological figures in the public consciousness. It isn't difficult to see why, if even a rogue cultivator NPC like SY* can mop the floor with most random muggers (*Shen Yuan is not a normal rogue cultivator). Not many people want to risk bringing SY's ire down on them, but of those who might chance it if he wasn't around to immediately react, even fewer want to risk that the kids themselves could kick their asses.

Not knowing that only two of the orphans probably could in fact mop the floor with them helps keep all the rest safer, and is more believable when all of them can conduct themselves enough like disciples to fool anyone who doesn't know what to really look for.

Developments that surprise Shen Yuan but wouldn't surprise anyone else who is paying attention:

People start leaving unwanted babies and younger children on his doorstep. Not all the time, but more than once has he had to frantically find wet nurses and worry that he's changed things enough that some fishermen might just randomly drop the protagonist outside his gate, and he wouldn't even know because Binghe would be a literal infant??

Nephew (SJ) and Little Yue (Yue Qi -- only Shen Yuan calls him "Little", especially when he gets taller than SY by the time he's sixteen) are prodigies who get really good at cultivation, really fast, and between that and Shen Yuan's OP skills they completely warp Shen Yuan's ideas for what normal cultivation potential looks like. This would probably cause more problems if he wasn't teaching all the kids how to cultivate anyway, but means his students actually do kinda run the usual range of skills for a small sect.

SJ and YQ swiftly reach the point where they need more advanced equipment than just SY's teaching can provide, if they're going to keep building their skills. Gaining access to certain tools, aids, and materials (like spiritual swords) is a real hurdle though, and usually is for rogue cultivators (one of the major disadvantages of no sect affiliation.) Shen Yuan is hesitant to use stuff from the plot, since it's For Binghe, but he eventually caves and starts going after some things that he doesn't think the future protagonist will miss much. He also ends up buying stuff from HHP, since they're willing to sell things like spiritual tools and weapons if the price is right, whereas most other sects like Cang Qiong reserve them for members only.

They get an invitation to the Immortal Alliance Conference. Not the one where the Abyss opens up, obviously, the one where (originally) Shen Jiu reunited with Yue Qi and killed Wu Yanzi. Shen Yuan debates on going but the boys really want to, and things have calmed down enough that no one's trying to burn down the school whenever he leaves these days, so eventually he figures it'll be interesting to see some of the Cang Qiong characters and should be safe enough if he keeps his disciples close.

They don't run into young Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu on the trip, but Wu Yanzi does show up and get killed, and SY only hears about it and assumes they just missed all that action. (WYZ just got caught by some senior cultivators who recognized him and killed him to avenge some disciples he murdered.) Nephew and Little Yue do meet young Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua, Mu Qingfang, and Su Xiyan though! Which gives Shen Yuan the opportunity to tell them all (mostly Su Xiyan) that if they're ever in trouble near his school, they can come to him for help. Hint hint.

This open invitation ends up being accepted broadly by a lot of traveling cultivators after the conference, who from then on treat Shen Yuan's school like a free motel whenever they're passing through. Plenty aren't even people SY met, but it seems his statement was taken as a general one to fellow righteous cultivators all around! Luckily, this has some advantages. Shen Yuan has no qualms running off anyone who tries to take unfair advantage of him or especially his kids or staff, and no shame in conscripting anyone who is decent enough to help teach his students, even if it's nothing to do with cultivating, and somehow word gets around and people start bringing school supplies, medicine, food, or other useful things along with them as gifts to help repay the hospitality. Young Liu Qingge comes by a lot on his way to and from various quests, or even seems to just turn up randomly sometimes (he comes to challenge YQ and SJ to fights), and SY's just like "I guess this is happening now" and teaches him to recognize the early signs of qi deviation and advises strongly against meditating in caves.

At one point a young Shang Qinghua turns up in one of the spare rooms, very obviously hiding an ice demon. Shen Yuan again is just like "I guess this is happening now" and shelters them until Mobei Jun has recovered, and sends a message to Cang Qiong that one of their An Ding caravans was attacked and their disciple is recovering under his roof but isn't well enough to travel yet. Much less stressful situation for Airplane (who is desperately trying to figure out what he did to manifest SJ's benevolent uncle from somewhere???)

Su Xiyan seems like the only person they met at the Immortal Alliance Conference who doesn't turn up at their door in a state of emergency at some point.

A few years later, there is a big scandal involving her and the demon emperor. Su Xiyan disappears, Huan Hua Palace accuses Tianlang Jun of plotting against the righteous sects, and Shen Yuan is even invited to the meeting where they try and rally everyone to go kill Binghe's dad. Naturally, he declines to participate in the witch hunt, but the major sects agree to it. By luck (or narrative fortune) Shen Yuan comes across Zhuzhi Lang on his trip back home, and mentions the ambush and his distaste for it (not knowing who ZZL is). ZZL warns Tianlang Jun and the confrontation goes very differently, especially since there's no Yue Qingyuan wielding Xuan Su.

It doesn't go well for the sects involved. Huan Hua Palace gets decimated. The Old Palace Master gets killed. Shen Yuan is like uhhhh that's... whoops? Didn't Luo Binghe need that in the future?? Fuck.

But the sect isn't wiped out completely, they just take a massive beating. Some of their younger disciples end up leaving and turning up on Shen Yuan's doorstep, for some reason. The manor house is becoming too small to account for all of these foundlings! They have to expand. Though the expansions would be a stretch to term a "palace" they end up occupying a much larger chunk of territory, and even investing in farmland and some storehouses to help support the sect. That's still not really a sect, of course. Even if a lot of the business that would have normally gone to Huan Hua Palace starts coming to them instead. Once HHP is back on its feet the stream will probably dry out. Probably?

Zhuzhi Lang starts hanging around. He's actually looking for Su Xiyan or their baby, dead or alive and per Tianlang Jun's instructions, but he uses Shen Yuan's school as base camp for his kind of hopeless efforts to find any traces of them, while also looking for ways to try and repay Shen Yuan. All the kids are just like "oh great, another weird man has fallen in love with Shizun -- someone go run interference" about it.

Some years later, an older woman and her young son turn up. Shen Yuan's off on a quest at the time, so SJ receives them. As is standard procedure he gives the woman a job and places the boy in classes, after giving him the aptitude tests. The kid is cute and precocious, so SJ uses him to distract YQ while he himself sneaks out to go join LQG on a monster hunt (and claim the valuable parts of the beast's remains for himself), and neither SY nor ZZL notice anything until SY's going over the paperwork for stuff he missed while he was gone. Since he procrastinated, it takes him like a week to find out that Luo Binghe is finally under his roof. He's going over the admission form right when SJ arrives with The New Adorable Child to try and distract SY enough that SY will let him go on a solo hunt -- as far as being distracted goes, it is way more effective than even SJ anticipated.

Then he has to figure out how to let ZZL know, so that ZZL can let Tianlang Jun know, so that Luo Binghe will have more family than just his mom and more resources than just a shabby little not-sect! But even once he figures it out and sets up the dramatic reveal, TLJ is just like "great! so can he just stay with you? he's probably fine there" which... irritates SY.

SJ fully conscripts Luo Binghe as a minion in his many cons. He never lost his street kid conman tactics, although he now uses them less as a ruthless survival tool or weapon and more to just get things to go his own way. LBH has the face and disposition of a little angel, which SJ no longer can pull off as a full grown adult, so he fills a gap. LBH also knows full well what's going, especially since a lot of SJ's tactics involve throwing LBH at SY like a smoke bomb.

Luo Binghe inevitably still develops a big fat crush on SY, so this is fine by him. Especially when he gets older, he starts bringing SY tea and making him breakfast and running his errands until even SJ is like "wait a minute, this little brat's stealing my job!" and by then it's too late. Luo Binghe is SY's personal assistant, the disciple at conman puppydog eyes has surpassed the master! While SJ was busy being like "I'm going to trick this idiot into doing my chores" LBH was going "I'm going to trick this idiot into giving me his job".

SY takes too long to officially name his school so everyone calls it the Shen Sect, much to his embarrassment.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #scum villain #long post #bingqiu

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nanaslutt · 5 months

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The JJK men’s fav cuddling postitions <3

incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Megumi, Yuuji, Yuta

cont: fluff :3, suggestive on Toji’s

note: i think this is my first full fluff fic…lol

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

I know Gojo absolutely loves every position he can get you both into where you are physically as close as possible. Gojo's infinity is on automatically most of the time, the only touch he receives being from his students occasionally or from you. So when the time comes around for Gojo to be cuddled up with you, he needs to make sure every part of his body is touching some part of you.

I can see him being a fan of face-to-face cuddling, your limbs intertwined with one another, either his or your face pressed into the other's chest, your soft breathing tickling the skin of the other. Maybe something like the 'attack of the sloth' sleeping position. You on your back, Gojo's arms and legs wrapped around yours, leaving you completely enabled, his weight crushing you when you sleep; but you never complain.. well.. sometimes you do, Gojo's body is like a furnace.

Sometimes though, Gojo wants you to spoon him from behind. Of course, he loves it the other way around but theres just something so comforting about your small frame wrapped around his back. He feels so safe in your arms like this. He gets the same feeling one would when they were a kid, afraid of what was lurking in the dark, but the moment they pulled the blanket over their head, they were safe. Gojo felt untouchable, even more so than when he had his infinity on.

Geto:

A classic man, a simple man, a man of taste. I can see Geto loving the pretzel position. Him lying on his back, his toned arm above his head while his other wraps around your frame resting against him. His leg closest to you is bent, enabling you to interlace your leg with his, the appendage thrown over his thigh. He relishes in the feeling of your arm wrapped around his midsection, feeling safe and secure when you tuck you curl your fingers into his t-shirt on the side of his body.

He loves this position because he loves how close to you he feels, he also likes to see the size difference between the two of you when you're scooted down, your head on his chest. Another plus is he can scratch your back gently this way. His hands always find their way under your shirt, gently tickling and scratching the skin of your back, shoulders, and waist. He adores hearing you hum softly into his chest in approval at the relaxing caress.

You love this position for a variety of reasons as well. With your head on his chest, directly placed over his heart, you have free, unlimited access to the soothing rhythm of his softly beating heart, never failing to lull you into a peaceful sleep. You yourself were also guilty of slipping your hand under his shirt to feel up his abs. Running your fingers over the strong indents, counting them carefully in your head over and over, was the same to you as counting sheep. His skin was always so soft and warm, how could you resist?

Nanami:

Nanami's go-to is having you lay fully atop him, your head on the center of his chest, your bodies resting against one another while he strokes your hair. softly running his hands along your head, raking his fingers on the back of your neck, massaging your head, the whole nine yards. Nanami doesn't stop until he hears you lightly snoring on top of him.

Another thing about Nanami--if you drool or snore in your sleep, Nanami thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. You're always so embarrassed when you wake up and see the wet patch on his shirt after you had a particularly deep sleep, but Nanami finds it endearing; it means you felt safe with him, your body fully relaxing and letting go in his presence.

Another favorite is good ol' spooning. Nanami loves to be the big spoon. With both of your jobs as Jujutsu sourcerers, comes harrowing losses and injuries one cannot prevent, no matter how hard they try. So when Nanami gets the opportunity to completely encase your body in his strong, protective arms, it eases his nerves. He is constantly worrying about you, but in this moment he knows, nothing will touch you, nothing will get past his loving embrace.

This position gives Nanami unlimited access to the back of your neck. His lips instantly connecting with the soft skin, pressing soft kisses to the skin there, peppering down your shoulders, his fingers moving your nightshirt out of the way to touch your skin directly--god he loved kissing you. Your skin was so sweet and warm, how was he not supposed to kiss it? It was right in front of him after all.

Choso:

I have said this about Choso countless times, but he is a titty man.. so of course he's going to lay his head on top of your chest. He loves to feel the softness of your breasts agaisnt his cheek--if you have bigger breasts, you better bet he will lay face down and squish your tits around his face, holding his breath while he presses the fat against him, relishing in the feeling of your soft tits on his face.

His hands are without a doubt, on your chest as well. His large, warm hands engulf your tits in his grip, unconsciously feeling you up in his slumber, making you smile and laugh to yourself. He also loves wrapping his arms fully around your body too. The curse nuzzles his head against your chest while he slides his hands under the small of your back, his hands tickling the sides of your waist and back softly with the little mobility he has like this.

He has never felt love like this before, so when he feels your hands wrap around his back like it's the most natural thing in the world, it has his face heating up, a deep crimson blush spreading across his face while you rub his back, your nails raking over his back, over or under the thin material of his shirt. No matter how often the two of you cuddle together like this, he never fails to mumble how much he loves you into your chest, occasionally raising his head to look at you with a pout, still embarrassed even after all the time you spend together.

When you lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead, your fingers caressing his cheek before he drops his head back down to your chest to welcome the embrace of your arms around his body, he swears he's the luckiest man in the world.

Sukuna:

Your wrists and ankles are bound in chains while you sleep at the feet of his throne completely naked. <3

Toji:

I can see Toji being a fan of the 'pretzel' as well, same as Suguru. He gets a little more handsy most times, the hand he has wrapped around your back will creep down to the waistline of your night shorts. His thick fingers slip underneath the waistband, sliding under the band of your underwear as well as he grips as handful of your ass, massaging the fat in his hand, squeezing and rubbing it with his fingers.

At first, he did it as a way to tease you, and it worked, you always lifted your head to give him a stern look while he continued to massage the skin. Over time though, It became a comfort thing for the both of you. Whenever you're tired but Toji isn't, he'll turn down the volume of the TV in your shared bedroom and let you get comfortable on his chest, your ear resting where his arm and torso meet. He slides his arm around your frame, smiling to himself when you nuzzle and cozy up to him, his hand sliding down your back, rubbing up and down a couple times while you get situated.

When you get yourself to your desired position, throwing your leg over his hip; which meets his hand as he grabs it and pulls you over his pelvis more, caressing the side of your thigh soothingly; he slides his fingers into your underwear and stares groping you, his warm hands bringing you instant comfort, and familiarity. He'll continue to absentmindedly feel you up while he watches his show, his eyes occasionally darting down to look at you with softness in his eyes before he leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, drifting off soon after, leaving the TV running all night, as usual.

Megumi:

I imagine Megumi being super touchy with his significant other in private once he gets comfortable with you, but I still see him being a little awkward and shy about cuddling with you. It's so intimate after all. The two of you probably started with you lying on his chest with your hand resting on his tummy, you would have to make the first move because Megumi would rather die than initiate something like that at first, no matter how badly his body was itching to feel your warmth against him.

His body would go completely rigid when you laid on him out of nowhere. Megumi would hold his breath, not daring to move even in inches in fear you would move off of him. The weight of your head and your hand that was softly rubbing his tummy felt so comforting, although it did make goosebumps rise all over his body in shock. You would have to tip your head down to avoid him seeing your smile from hearing his heartbeat race out of his chest, the organ taking a significant amount of time before he gets used to your embrace, the rhythm slowing.

After a while of being together and countless cuddling sessions, I can see Megumi being more confident in initiating cuddle sessions when the two of you are watching TV or getting ready to go to sleep. His favorite positions are all of you cuddling him. You spooning him, him lying on your chest while his legs intertwine with yours--any position where your hands are wrapped around him and constantly caressing him in some way he is a huge fan of.

He also loves listening to your heartbeat. He didnt understand how you were always so calm, the soft lulling rhythm never failing to take him away to dreamland. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack every time you even smiled at him, but that was one of the things he loved about you--someone had to initiate the intimacy in the relationship and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him. If you weren't so forward, it probably would've taken him a year to even hold your hand on his own, so he was grateful you were more forward and verbal with what you wanted, because internally, he wanted the same as you, it just took a little coaxing to get him there.

Yuuij:

Yuuji has no preference! He loves each and every position, he just loves to cuddle with you. If he could always be touching you in some way, he would, and he sure as hell tries. You want to lay on his chest while he rubs your back? done. You want to spoon his large frame and wrap your leg over his waist while his fingers tickle your calf? done. Yuuji is ready for each and every cuddle position you propose to him, and he is not afraid in the slightest to initiate the cuddle sessions either.

I think Yuuji would find great joy in lifting your shirt up and crawling inside as much as his body could fit. His head resting on the soft skin of your tummy while your shirt blocks out most of the light emanating from the TV. "It feels like I'm a baby again." He would say, holding your hips in his hands on the outside of your shirt, his fingers tickling unconsciously along your sides, making you giggle.

I think Yuuji would really like coming home exhausted from training to sit in your lap and lay his head on your shoulder, his back arching slightly from the height difference between the two of you. He would hum into the crook of your neck while you stroked his back, raking your nails along him. He would smile to himself and close his eyes when you lift his shirt, scratching his warm skin directly while he falls asleep on your lap for a midday nap.

He was quite heavy and you're unable to breathe very well while he sleeps, but luckily he never naps long, and you do admit his weight crushing you felt weirdly nice, along with the ticklish puffs of his breath against your neck--it makes you feel close to him.

Yuta:

Yuta is a big baby. He handles enough in the Jujutsu world, trying to keep up his tough, strong persona while fighting, all he really wants when he comes to you is to relax completely in your embrace. Another man who loves it when you cuddle him from behind. He loves feeling your leg wrap over his waist, he knows he's not small, but he loves to feel like it sometimes, it's comforting.

One of his favorite positions to cuddle with you during the day is his head on your tummy/pelvis, his hands stroking along the length of your waist while you tangle your hands in his hair, running your nails over his sensitive scalp, down the back of his neck, reaching as much of his back as you can. It lulls him right to sleep, and he loves it. I think Yuta would struggle with falling asleep/sleeping through the night from insomnia, but when you're touching him, your warm embrace engulfing his body, he almost forgets about all the sleepless nights he spent without you by his side.

I can also see him loving to cuddle while facing you. Your head in his chest while he wraps his arms around you, and you likewise. Your legs tangled together, your bodies pressed as close as possible. During the summertime, this position is not the most comfortable because of the heat and the somehow awful AC Jujutsu high has. So during the colder months, the two of you constantly find yourselves in this position. He keeps his hand pressed snugly to the back of your neck, making sure your forehead stays pressed to his neck at all times.

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reiderwriter · 8 months

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Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing.

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty.

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror.

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much.

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct.

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report.

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new.

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier.

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt.

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch.

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest.

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer.

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off.

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged.

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time."

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes."

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room.

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate.

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph.

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks.

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side.

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?"

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow.

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him.

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table.

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm.

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer.

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question."

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?"

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know."

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you.

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person.

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out.

"Nowhere."

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question.

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?"

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite.

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying.

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach.

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you.

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away.

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason.

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number.

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone."

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-"

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?"

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge.

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him.

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own.

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do."

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that.

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him.

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you.

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions.

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch.

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from.

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done.

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him.

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something.

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face.

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally.

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been.

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second.

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work, but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans.

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open.

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead.

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic.

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher.

"I'm okay."

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?"

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted.

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you."

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another.

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question.

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend.

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on.

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?"

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you.

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now.

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did.

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?"

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness.

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?"

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer.

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head.

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again.

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes.

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath.

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?"

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this.

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole.

You'd never felt like this before.

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop.

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm.

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom.

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously.

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands.

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands.

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket.

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else.

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build.

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there.

"Spencer, please, please, fuck."

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -"

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation.

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige.

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth.

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in.

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him.

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again.

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth.

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him.

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned.

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap."

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further.

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg.

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions.

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him.

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-"

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh.

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued.

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you.

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow.

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest.

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time.

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it.

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you.

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair.

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded.

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…"

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be.

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance.

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in.

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further.

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were.

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you.

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast.

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head.

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth.

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you.

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it.

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His.

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger.

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep.

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't.

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one.

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down.

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before.

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that.

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him.

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world.

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face.

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way.

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart.

"No, not until you tell me why you left."

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl.

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again.

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine."

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble.

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face.

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room.

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed.

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #dom spencer reid #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #kinktober 23

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lastflowerofyourhouse · 6 months

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let me paint you a picture.

harrowhark nonagesimus is seventeen years old. a young seventeen. a horribly old seventeen. she has known one home in her entire life. she exists wholly and completely to protect it, and she has never treated it with anything but complete and ardent love. these people are not good, they have not been good to her or for her, but they are her family and she is their gaurdian, and it is home. she is a creature of habits and routines, and drearburh is everything she's ever known. she is seventeen.

and she recieves a letter. it offers her everything she needs. a way to protect her family, to save her home, to ensure that everything she knows and loves is safe and prosperous, and that they will never again need as desperately as they needed her. but she has to leave them. she has to leave them for the first time in her entire life, and she may never come back.

she is permitted to bring one person from home. only one. she may not bring the man who raised her, or the woman who advised her, or the vulnerable elderly whose lives she has been carefully extending since she was a child.

she has a cavalier, though. he is the very model of a drearburh cavalier. he is precisely what her competition will be expecting, and he will do whatever she asks of him. she knows he will try to escape, of course, because she knows they've got a shuttle coming. he and his mother will try to steal the shuttle, inevitably, if it arrives.

the solution is simple. cancel the shuttle. bar ortus's mother from the room when the announcement is made. there's nothing the mother can do.

but harrow doesn't do that. she doesn't cancel the shuttle. she wants them to take it. she doesn't want ortus. instead, she spends an entire night wrecking her hands in hard dirt, doesn't even use a shovel in her desperation. she doesn't want ortus.

harrowhark nonagesimus is going to be alone, in an unfamiliar environment, for the first time in her entire life. she is going to be barred from her only home, perhaps forever. she is seventeen years old.

and she wants gideon nav.

#thinking about how the last thing she said to gideon was “don't leave me” in this chilis tonight #“i am undone without you”#“i cannont concieve of a universe without you in it”#she was never going to leave home if she couldn't take gideon with her #harrow nonagesimus #griddlehark #the locked tomb #tlt #my post

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bucksangel · 2 months

Text

Honeysuckle

pairing: alpha!steve x alpha!bucky, alpha!steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly) - omegaverse!au pt. 3

word count: 4k

summary: “Honey,” Bucky sighs wistfully, falling into your embrace while Steve stands behind you with his arms around your waist and helping you not fall over under Bucky’s hulking frame. You don’t mind though, you’d happily die by being crushed under their weight if it meant you could touch them, and have them touch you. Caressing you, kissing you, adoring you the way only they can. And despite your earlier hesitation, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to brighten up your Alphas day for anything. And their grateful kisses and pleased rumbles let you know that you did just that.

or - your Alphas take such good care of you. their mere presence brightens up your day, so when your Alphas have a rough day you take it upon yourself to show them how good of an Omega you can be, that you can provide for them too.

warnings: 18+, mild suggestive thoughts, i apologize to ur dentists bc there’s so much fluff it might give you a toothache, omega is very shy and awkward but steve and bucky are fond and patient, fluff, kissing, tw for steve using 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, bucky needs some lovin’

a/n: this is dedicated to the loml @buckysbarne and @buckysprettybaby who also helped beta <3

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar

“Babe -“ Bucky sighs, his head hanging low and hands clenched into tight fists. “I’ll be okay.”

Steve huffs, walking up to his boyfriend and wrapping one arm around his Alphas waist, cupping his cheek with his other hand.

“It’s okay, she’ll understand,” Steve whispers softly, leaning forward and placing a delicate kiss on his mate’s forehead before pulling back and guiding Bucky to look up at him. He quickly dips his head to kiss Bucky’s lips.

“What if she doesn’t?” Bucky mumbles, shame and embarrassment flooding his body.

Why can’t he just be normal?

The day started horribly; Bucky woke up at around seven in the morning from a particularly harrowing nightmare. He hasn’t had one of those in a while, so it was very unwelcoming. This one, unlike other nightmares he’s had, was terrifying in a way he’d never felt.

He knows they’re gone, that Hydra and its agents have been obliterated, but that doesn’t mean Bucky doesn’t occasionally get anxious over the ‘what ifs’ of any potential harm Steve could go through should Hydra get him.

This ‘what if’ manifested in the form of you getting captured too. Even if he and Steve haven’t mated with you yet, they both know in their bones that you were crafted by any gods that exist to complete them. And the thought of you and Steve getting taken from him is far worse than anything Hydra could ever do to him.

Steve had to shake him awake, and he hadn’t been able to stop crying long enough to explain what had happened. After ten minutes of shaking and sobbing into his mate’s chest, he was finally able to articulate the horrifying images that now plague his mind, Steve had held him close, and he had kissed his cheeks and forehead and hairline, all while cooing words of affirmation and love.

The day only got worse from there. After the dream, it started with small things; he burned his hand while trying to make coffee - then spilled the coffee all over his favorite shirt. He ran out of his shampoo and had to use Steve’s - and, listen, Bucky is fully convinced that he survived Hydra because the universe wanted them together again, but Steve could definitely use some better shower products. The whole ‘two-in-one’ thing just doesn’t cut it for Bucky.

But then they had to meet up with their teammates for a briefing over a mission that Bucky is really not excited about, and found out the original one-day mission was going to be three days. Three whole days without you? Luckily Steve is coming with him, but then he thought about you being without both of them and started getting anxious. Now, even though you all haven’t been together for long, and they both know you can handle yourself, they detest the idea of leaving you for an extended period.

They’d managed to sneak in a few texts to you. Wishing you a good day at work, sending heart emojis when you send them a picture of a cute dog you saw while walking to the studio - Sam and Natasha spent a long time trying to get the men to understand modern language - and sending you pictures of them while they were too bored to listen to Tony talk.

But then they went to a coffee shop intending to grab their coffee and rush back to their apartment to get a few things so they could pick you up from work and take you to the new ice cream shop that opened up a few blocks from your studio. Dark clouds came rushing overhead while they were waiting for their drinks, and they decided to wait out the storm in a corner booth.

But people were staring, giving them - mainly Bucky - nervous glances, and a few people at the table next to them ate quicker than someone usually would and then placed a wad of cash on the table before rushing out.

Suddenly the idea of getting ice cream doesn’t sound so appealing.

Steve noticed because he’s so attuned to his mate that he knows Bucky is dejected, Bucky is hurt, he’s tired. Tired of people still judging him. Tired of being accused of things that he had no control over. They didn’t stay long, deciding that getting soaked while racing home was better than being in a place that’s now making Bucky feel unsafe.

Bucky’s been fighting with himself ever since they got home and changed out of their wet clothes. He wants to spend time with you more than anything, and you’ve been excited about this date ever since they told you, and Bucky will be damned if he doesn’t give you anything you want. But he really doesn’t think he can handle being in public right now.

His body is hurting with how bad he’s trying to force the negativity out of his mind enough so he can enjoy being with you, but it’s hard. And Steve telling him that you’ll understand that he can’t go out breaks him. His fists clench tighter.

Bucky wants to be normal for you. He wants to go out with his mates and not get worried about getting less-than-friendly looks at the three of you.

“I’m going to call her,” Steve says calmly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulling him in tight while Bucky’s body starts to shake with how badly he wants to cry. “I’ll call her and I’ll tell her that you’re not feeling well, but we’ll go to her studio tomorrow for lunch. Okay?”

Bucky takes a deep, shaky breath before nodding, trying his hardest to not blame himself when he imagines the look on your face as Steve tells you they have to cancel. Steve kisses his mate's forehead and then untangles himself so he can get his phone.

It doesn’t take long for you to answer, and Bucky can hear your chipper “Hi Stevie!” and suddenly he wants to cry harder. He also hears Steve telling you that Bucky isn’t feeling well and that they’ll come visit you tomorrow. You go quiet for a moment before asking Steve to pass the phone to your other Alpha. And when Bucky mumbles, “Hey, honey,” he knows you can hear that he’s holding back tears.

“Hi, Alpha,” Your sweet voice immediately fills him with warmth, images of your smile filling his head. “You’re not feeling well?”

“No,” Bucky clears his throat, trying to force himself to not feel bad about it. “I’m really sorry, honey. I promise we’ll make it up to you.”

You pause, and suddenly Bucky is worried that you’re mad. But before his mind can spiral into more negative thoughts, your voice - soft and shy - asks if he’s home. And when he tells you that he is, you simply say “good,” and then hang up.

Well, fuck. Bucky tries to convince himself that you’re not upset, but Steve can see that it’s not working well. And at his boyfriend's suggestion of a nap, he trudges upstairs, lying down in bed and wishing upon every star in the universe that you’ll forgive him.

____________

When you heard that Bucky wasn’t feeling well you immediately thought of the worst. Is he sick? Well, that doesn’t make sense, he’s a super soldier after all. Is he hurt? That’s a possibility, their jobs are tough.

Does he… not want to see you? As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you dismiss it. Bucky and Steve have shown over and over that they like you and want to be with you. The word ‘love’ flashes through your mind but you dismiss that as well. It’s too soon, right?

No matter what’s actually going on, you know you need to make him feel better. As soon as you hung up the phone you gathered everything you needed to make apple pies. But then you faltered, what if he doesn’t like apple pie? Well, you have things to make brownies, and you know both Alphas love them. So you took out everything needed to make brownies with the intention of bringing them over when they were done.

But then a thought popped up. Would they even want you in their house? There were a few times when you told them they could come inside your apartment while you finished getting ready for a date night, but they politely declined. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now you’re worried you might be crossing a line.

You’ve just put the mixture in the oven when you decide that you’ll just drop them off and then leave. You don’t want to make them uncomfortable, especially since Bucky isn’t feeling well. While the brownies cook, you run to your bedroom to change into somewhat presentable clothes. You don’t bother getting all dressed up since you’re not going anywhere but your Alphas’ place, and even then you won’t be staying long.

By the time the dessert is done and put into a container, you’ve talked yourself in and out of going several times. Finally, after several minutes of having a mild freak-out, you gather the courage to gather your things and get in your car.

The entire drive has you a little on edge, though you know you have to do it. Not necessarily out of obligation, but because you want to make your Alpha’s happy. They’re always doing little things for you; buying you new plush blankets, getting you food on their way to visit your studio, Steve had even given you a sweater that both he and Bucky regularly wear - fully knowing and hoping you’ll use it for your nest.

Those men make you happier than anyone else ever could, you relish in their praise, your whole body lit up in flames whenever they get all sweet on you - which is all the time, neither man can resist kissing you, hugging you, telling you how you’re the sweetest Omega to ever exist.

They make you happy, and you will do everything you can to make them happy too. You want to be the perfect Omega for them, to show them that you can provide for them too, and that thought is what fuels you to park outside of their house and gather everything.

Your confidence wanes when you get to the front door, anxious again that the Alphas would be upset that you came over. You don’t even get a chance to think about leaving because the door opens wide, and Steve stands there with a smile.

“Honey,” He says, giving you that same longing gaze he always gives you. His eyes travel down to the container you’re holding, his smile growing wider while you cast your eyes down to the floor nervously. “What is that?”

A part of you wants to laugh, you know his heightened sense of smell can already figure it out. You don’t though, you merely shuffle on the porch nervously.

“W-Well I - um… I know Bucky isn’t feeling well, and I wanted to drop off some brownies for you guys.” Your eyes suddenly go wide, a small panicked noise leaving your lips. “Which I just now realized is probably not a good thing for Bucky to eat right now.”

You kind of want to smack your forehead. You were so focused on trying to be helpful that you didn’t even think of what would actually help Bucky feel better. Sensing your growing panic, Steve hums softly, reaching out and taking the dessert from your hands.

“That’s really sweet, honey,” Steve purrs, transferring the container to one hand so he can take your hand in his free one. “Thank you.”

An unexpected squeak leaves your lips, warmth filling your body as you squeeze Steve’s hand and smile up at him shyly.

“Y-You’re welcome, Stevie.” Your voice is soft, nearly indiscernible except for your Alpha with his advanced hearing. “Um, just… I guess you can text me later and tell me how they taste?” It’s phrased as an uncertain question because you don’t want to make him feel like he has to, but you desperately hope he does. You need their praise more than air.

“You’re not staying?”

That question has your head snapping up so you can look at him directly, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you take in his equally confused gaze.

“I - um. I guess I just thought you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you never want to come in my house, so I just figured you wouldn’t want me in yours.” Your voice comes out shakier than you’d like, and the hope that he’d invite you in is creeping up. “Which is fine! You - you don’t have to, and I don’t want to make you guys uncomfortable, especially since Bucky isn’t feeling well.”

Steve sighs, his scent souring a little as though he’s disappointed, and now you’re anxious over possibly saying something wrong. But when he senses your growing panic, he tugs on your hand until you follow him inside. And immediately, the aroma of both Bucky and Steve’s scent calms you down.

“Of course we want you here, sweet Omega.” Steve smiles at you again, pulling you further into the house until you get to the kitchen not far from the entryway. He drops your hand so he can place the food on the counter. The Alpha quickly moves toward you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you into his chest. Plush, soft lips land on the top of your head, and they linger there for a few moments.

As though he sensed your arrival, Bucky comes rushing into the kitchen with a wide smile.

“Omega,” He says, walking toward you and Steve with purpose so he can wrap around you too.

“Our sweet girl brought us some brownies since you aren’t feeling well.” You can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, and they both release their hold on you so you can turn around and face Bucky.

Bucky goes silent, and when you place your hands on his chest you can feel how his heart rate picks up. And after a few moments of simply staring into your eyes, his smile softens, his body relaxing.

“Oh, honey,” Bucky sighs wistfully, falling into your embrace while Steve stands behind you with his arms around your waist and helping you not fall over under Bucky’s hulking frame. You don’t mind though, you’d happily die by being crushed under their weight if it meant you could touch them, and have them touch you. Caressing you, kissing you, adoring you the way only they can. And despite your earlier hesitation, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to brighten up your Alphas’ day for anything. And their grateful kisses and pleased rumbles let you know that you did just that.

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbles into your neck as he presses soft and chaste kisses to the area. “You’re perfect.”

You can’t help the nervous chuckle that passes through your lips, nor can you stop yourself from shaking your head, immediately trying to deny it. While you love praise, specifically theirs, you don’t really feel like you deserve it sometimes. How can these two perfect Alpha’s possibly be interested in you? You’re not too sure why they like you, but you try not to think too hard about it. You don’t want to overthink everything and spiral into self-doubt, which would then lead you to sabotage the relationship, and you absolutely don’t want that.

“I-It’s nothing, really. I just want to make you feel better.” Your voice is small and shy, and you cast your eyes downward when Bucky pulls away from you to look at you with such intensity that it makes your entire body go warm. Your heartbeat speeds up when Steve steps back too and moves so he can stand beside Bucky and look at you directly.

“It’s not nothing, baby,” Steve sighs, reaching out and placing a large hand on the back of your neck and turning your head upwards so he can hold your gaze, and it’s absolutely impossible to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine. Oh, how you want to feel his hands on… other parts of your body.

“It’s thoughtful,” Bucky adds, lightly squeezing your hips. “We mean it; thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” You say softly, smiling at both of them and reaching out to place your hands on each Alpha’s chests. In a quick and bold move, you lean up on your toes to place a gentle kiss on Steve’s lips, then move over to Bucky.

Bucky, however, decides a single peck isn’t enough. Steve keeps his hand on the back of your neck and angles your head so it’s easier for Bucky to slide his tongue along your bottom lip and take advantage of your surprised squeak by slipping his tongue into your mouth. He swallows your little gasps and sighs, snaking his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his.

The intensity of the kiss comes to a halt when Steve’s stomach rumbles. You and Bucky break apart with breathless chuckles, turning to look at Steve’s sheepish expression.

“Sorry,” He laughs, sliding his hand from your neck to the side of your face, and he smiles wider when you nuzzle and kiss his palm. “We haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“I can cook for you!” You say quickly, surprised with yourself by how fast you were to offer. You’re not the best cook, but depending on what food they have you’re pretty sure you whip up something presentable. Plus, your inner Omega is just aching to please them.

“You don’t need to do that, honey,” Bucky says, stepping back but keeping one hand on your back. “We can just order something.”

“Please?” You ask softly, smiling up at him and using the fact that he can never say no to your pout to your advantage. “I want to.”

Both men sigh, fully knowing that they could never deny you anything you want. So, they both nod, stepping aside so you can go to their fridge.

“You can just make something easy, it doesn’t matter to us.” Steve kisses your forehead, then smiles as he turns to look at Bucky while you go about finding something to cook. Pulling him in close, Steve quickly kisses Bucky’s lips and murmurs, “Told ya she’d understand.”

____________

“Told ya she’d understand.”

Steve chuckles when Bucky playfully shoves his elbow into his Alpha’s stomach. And Steve absolutely cannot stop himself from kissing Bucky again. And one more time. He can’t help it though, Bucky was feeling so awful earlier, and seeing his genuine smile and sparkling eyes fills him with happiness.

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky mumbles with a playful roll of his eyes, wiggling out of Steve’s hold so he can go sit at the kitchen island. Steve follows him, muttering “jerk” low under his breath as he sits next to Bucky.

The two men sit side by side, both with love-stricken gazes and twinkling eyes as they watch you flit around the kitchen happily, grabbing things here and there. They aren’t too sure what exactly you’re making, but it starts smelling good in no time. But the underlying scent of happiness coming from all three of you is what really strikes Bucky’s heart.

And in no time at all the food has been finished, and you make sure to pile their plates full of the food.

“I know spaghetti is boring, but I added a few spices so I hope you like it.” Your voice is soft and shy as you present them with their plates, and your rapidly beating heart showcases your nerves. You’re desperately hoping they like it - maybe praise you a bit for taking care of them.

“We’ll love it,” Steve says quickly, getting off the chair and walking up to you with a wide smile. “We’ll love anything you make us, honey.”

The squeak you let out makes both Alphas chuckle, giving you such soft gazes that makes you want to bare your neck to them in submission. With that, Steve and Bucky take their food and guide you to the couch in the living room, being careful as they sit down while Bucky pulls you into his lap.

They take time eating, occasionally feeding you despite your assurances that you already ate before you came over. They don’t care though, because they’ll be damned if they don’t dote on you for making them feel better.

And when the food has been eaten, Bucky gives you a glare when you offer to do dishes. “You’ve worked hard enough, honey,” Bucky tells you, wrapping his arms tighter around you to keep you in place.

It’s at that moment that Bucky realizes that this, the three of you under one roof, on one couch, is what home is for him. With you in his lap and Steve cuddled into his side, he knows that he’s the luckiest guy in the world, how can’t he be? He has his Alpha; the greatest love of his life, and you; the sweetest Omega to ever exist who’s teaching Bucky how to be happy in ways he never thought possible.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until you make a slightly distressed sound, your hands coming up to cup his cheek.

“Buck?” Steve coos, bringing up a hand so he can run his finger through his mate’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky sniffles, shaking his head as he wipes his eyes, then takes hold of one of your hands so he can kiss your knuckles. He smiles, so soft and sweet and innocent, smiling wider when Steve presses a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s stupid,” Bucky says with a quiet huff and shrugs. “I just… Today was shit, like, awful. And I’ve been happy all these years with Steve by my side, but other than right now, the only time I can remember feeling this happy was when I was finally reunited with him.”

Bucky briefly glances over at Steve, giving him that soft and adoring look he always gives him, then looks back at you and holds your gaze.

“You make me happy, Omega.”

Your eyes go wide, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Because, while you don’t know everything about what’s transpired in their lives and relationship, you know that it must be a pretty big deal for him to say this. And it fills you with a feeling dangerously close to love, but you can’t help it. Bucky’s been through the depths of hell and back, and he deserves everything good in the world. And you being able to give him some of that goodness just makes you want to cry.

“You-“ You cut yourself off, clearing your throat to suppress the waver in your voice. “You make me happy too. Both of you.”

“Good, Omega,” Steve purrs, reaching across Bucky to give you a tender kiss.

And when you break away from Steve, you turn to give Bucky a kiss as well, and Bucky? Well, Bucky is pretty sure (re: totally confident) that he loves you. He knows Steve does too, which makes everything easier. Knowing that they’re on the same page about their feelings for you gives him reassurance that maybe this could work out.

He wants to mate with you, he wants to be with you in every way possible. And when you pull away and smile at your Alphas with that sweet and tender way you always do, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, you want that too.

So who can really blame him when Bucky asks, “Will you mate with us?”

From next to him, Steve doesn’t visibly react, though his heartbeat speeding up and the flush creeping up on his face tells Bucky that he wants that too - they’ve also spoken about it in length, so he knows he’s not just speaking for himself.

All the two men can do now is wait for your answer with bated breaths. It comes only a half of a second later.

“Of course.”

m&h masterlist: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @perdidosbucky-yyo / @wckedheart / @kandis-mom / @wandaneedstherapy / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @venusfly11 / @buckybarnesmetalarmswife775 / @the-photo-hoe / @matsumama / @fandoms-writings / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @stuckysbike / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @monicachic13 / @akmenia / @shawnftjacob / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @matchat3a / @mollygetssherlockcoffee / @normalgirlnextdoor / @lolitsbuckybarnes / @rippedpiece / @biteofcherry

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart

#let me know what you think!!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader #stucky x reader imagine #alpha!stucky #alpha!bucky #alpha!steve rogers #alpha!steve #my writing #my stuff

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locked-tomb-shenanigans · 1 year

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Listen I’m sure someone has already talked about this scene, and way better than I ever could, but it makes me so feral and I need to talk about it too

This is hands down the most depressing scene in the entirety of NtN in my opinion.

Surface level it’s Gideon yelling at Crux, but the significance here comes from the exact word choice. “You could have lived for her. But you didn’t know how.”

She uses past tense.

It’s not about Crux (who arguably did live for Harrow, considering his purpose was raising and protecting her, and could by all means still do this if he changed his mind about dying for Harrow.) It’s not about the congregation who worshipped her.

It’s about Gideon, who can’t live for Harrow anymore, because she’s dead. It’s about the promise she broke at the end of the first book. She’s talking about herself.

Harrow made her promise that when it comes down to it, Gideon needs to save herself. If only one of them can survive, it has to be Gideon.

At the end of the first book, Harrow is actively planning to sacrifice herself so Gideon can live, bringing up the promise and then diving into what this is actually about. Namely, how she owes Gideon her life back.

And Gideon breaks that promise, instead deciding to sacrifice herself for Harrow.

“I can’t keep my promise because the entire point of me is you. There is no me without you.”

Gideon doesn’t know how to live for Harrow, how to exist without her, even though it’s the most important thing Harrow ever asked of her—and so she dies for her instead.

“You could have lived for her. But you didn’t know how.”

And the sacrifice ended up being rejected by Harrow, because it’s not what Harrow wanted. It never was. So Gideon ended up feeling rejected and like her life and giving it up wasn’t worth anything. And she still immediately offers herself up again without hesitation. She’s ready to die for Harrow all over again, even now that she’s already dead.

“Die. Die for her. It’s the only goddamn good you’ll ever do her.”

Gideon is fucking furious—so much that Nona can’t even place her voice anymore—but not at any of the people who would rightfully deserve her fury. Not at Crux. She’s furious at herself. This whole scene is so damn heartbreaking to me.

And out of all the cruel things Crux has done to Gideon throughout her life, this might be the worst one: telling the girl who died for the Reverend Daughter once and was ready to die for her a second time that she couldn’t even get that right. That she managed to screw up the one purpose she was actually supposed to serve, the only good she’s ever done for Harrow.

Gideon is dead. She can’t do what Harrow asked and live for her anymore. What the hell is she supposed to do if she can’t die for her, either?

#I have so many feelings about this scene in particular #someone please give my poor girl a hug #and therapy #so much therapy #Griddlehark #the locked tomb #tlt #Gideon nav #Harrowhark Nonagesimus #Kiriona Gaia #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth #ntn spoilers #Gideon x Harrow #harrow x gideon #crux tlt

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katakaluptastrophy · 2 months

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Alecto was the first body John ever made. And G1deon was the second, regrown from just an arm.

And if G1deon is anything to go by, John isn't very good at making bodies:

Unlike the other Lyctors, all of whom skewed hungry, soft men and women of the necromancer build, his frame carried nothing but muscle. He was sinew over bone. He was a walking tendon. He had a raw, stretched look to him like an idiot’s construct, bones that had been slippered in meaty fibrils to keep them moving. A metabolized, contracted striation, without fat, the only curve a hollow tautness from rib to stomach.

John had grown up with G1deon and knew what he looked like. He might even have been able to scrounge up a picture from somewhere. He presumably had time to think about reconstructing his body and was able to take time to do it. And yet, G1deon looks like this:

It was a man who looked like he had been stripped bloody by a wind machine and hadn’t healed up all the way; a wiry, knuckled-up tendon of a man, with the face of someone who had been starved once and burned recently.

If that's what a body he constructed with premeditation and planning and concentration looks like, how does one he made under more pressure look?

I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of. He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left … a handful of things that made me me … a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking … I didn’t do it like art.

John seems to think there's something to apologise for in Alecto's body.

We do get a description of Alecto, from Harrow's memories of her attempted divine murder/suicide at the age of 10:

God’s victory and death was a girl. Maybe a woman. At the time Harrowhark had not known how to tell, and the gender was only a self-interested guess. The corpse lay packed in ice, wearing a white shift, her hands clasping a frost-rimed sword, and she was beautiful. The formation of her muscles was perfect. Each limb was a carved representation of a perfect limb, each bloodless foot the lifeless and high-arched simulacrum of the perfect foot. Each black and frosted lash lay against the cheeks with perfect still blackness, and her nose—it was the pinnacle of what a nose should be. None of this would have broken Harrow’s spirit except that the mouth alone was perfectly imperfect: a little crooked, with a divot in the lower lip as though someone had softly pressed a dent into the bow with the tip of their finger.

Maybe Alecto is the perfect specimen of womanhood. Maybe Harrow was ten and had never seen anyone young and not swathed in vestments before and the bar was very low. Maybe Harrow just has very particular taste in women.

But between G1deon, John's apologies, that "high-arched simulacrum" of a foot, and Kiriona - Gideon, now with Extra Teeth - I have a feeling she doesn't just look like a regular blond lady.

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #alecto tlt

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foxstens · 2 years

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finished saya no uta

#my posts #animanga #liveblogging #vnblogging #got all endings in two sittings and less than 4 hours #which is less than the vndb average #but guess it just goes to show how immersed i was #like i've tried a few shorter vns but this is the first one that i didn't just skim through #to me the beginning was definitely the strongest part #and the rest just never comes close with the atmosphere and the harrowing feeling it gives you #but the story stays extremely interesting until the end #the production values are also very good despite how old it is #(i know the steam version was touched up somewhat but still)#don't have much to complain about in regards to the translation #and the length is just perfect #doesn't overstay its welcome and it isnt rushed either #i also like all of the endings and i really appreciate the message #though you could interpret it in quite a few ways #suddenly im very interested in shorter vns with the denpa tag...

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yokohamapound · 5 months

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How about some angsty HCs?? 😏

How would Kunikida, Dazai, Fukuzawa, Chuuya and Fyodor (or anyone else you’d like too) react to their s/o taking a hit for them that would have otherwise been fatal if they didn’t?? S/o ends up being okay but the gentlemen are all angsty in the meantime >:)

Thanks so much lovely! 🥰💕

Hello, my lovely! It's been a while since I wrote some good old angst, so this scratched an itch. I hope these are what you are looking for!

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: death mentions, suicide mentions, controlling behaviour, anger issues

Nakahara Chuuya

Ooh, it’s kinda difficult for him to deal with? He’s in two minds about it, really.

On one hand, he’s strong enough that whatever blow was being dealt to him really wouldn’t have hurt him that much, or so he tells himself. All he can think about is that moment where the bullet/bomb/fireball, whatever it is, was coming toward you. Yes, you survived it, but he had to live through the nanoseconds of absolute hell when he thought he was just about to see another person he cares about die right before his eyes.

His temper erupts afterward. He’s furious, yelling at you that you “didn’t fuckin’ need to do that!” You’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s his pride you’ve hurt, but it’s anger born of worry. Those few moments he thought you were going to die were harrowing for him.

Imagine if he carelessly lost the person he loves the most, just because he was too slow or too stupid to see it coming? Shit, he could never live with himself if that happened.

However, there’s the other side of the coin. Which is that you cared about him enough to intercept a blow aimed at him. Chuuya can’t remember the last time someone did that for him. He’s used to being the tank, to soaking up all the violence so the geniuses can get on with their schemes. He doesn’t really know how to handle someone trying to protect him, like he’s something vulnerable.

He likes it and he doesn’t. He’s grateful and he’s pissed. Chuuya’s a complicated creature.

Once he’s done yelling and has calmed down a little, he’ll mutter something that sounds like a ‘thank you’, though he says it with his eyes mulishly averted and one arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He won’t be letting you out of his sight for a while, even while he’s being a grouch.

Dazai Osamu

While he might not show it on the surface, this has a rather profound effect on Dazai. Remember the last time someone he loved died in front of him?

While he pretends to be calm on the surface, inside he’s in turmoil. He should have seen it coming; you’re the self-sacrificing sort, always trying to save him in one or another. But before now, it hasn’t been literal.

I feel like time moves very slowly for someone as fast as Dazai. He was able to process far too much information in those few seconds you were in danger. All of his mistakes, laid out for him as plain as day.

He tends to convince himself that he can plan around every kind of incident but this is a start reminded that this isn’t always the case.

“Hey, bella?” His tone is unusually serious. His hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to need you not to do that again. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you die in front of me.”

If you pay close attention, you’ll notice Dazai doesn’t make any more double suicide jokes after that. They don’t have the same appeal. Dazai doesn’t think he could stand to watch you die, even if you did want to join him.

He keeps a close watch on you after that, turning up unexpectedly throughout your day without any explanation, his lanky form popping up like a weed.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

While he will never, ever reveal it, this will shake Fyodor’s iron-clad ego a little bit. He likes to think he is in control of everything, and he can predict every single action of yours down to the blink. For whatever reason, he didn’t foresee you getting in his way and taking a hit meant for him.

You gain an element of unpredictability, which is both intriguing and alarming for him.

There is also the fact that you stepped in to take a hit for him. While he’s used to having underlings who look up to him like a god (Ivan), he doesn’t count you amongst the peons. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, but in a way that promotes adoration and obedience, not self-sacrificing recklessness. He’ll have to step back and examine your relationship somewhat.

“My darling, what was the meaning of that?” he asks of you, his tone soft and a little dangerous. “I do not need you flinging yourself in the path of danger for me. I have everything in hand.”

He likes your devotion, but he doesn’t want you getting in the way of his plans. And he does care about you, love you in his own way—he doesn’t want to lose something he sees as his.

If you were injured at all, he will have the best private doctors on hand to treat you. Be prepared for his love and attention to be a little stifling for a while. He won’t want to let you out of his sight.

As for the person whose attack you foiled? Fyodor will turn the full weight of his enormous intellect to destroying them. They were dead the moment their attack came near something he cares about.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Fukuzawa is very much the self-sacrificing sort. He’s said more than once that he doesn’t mind giving up his life in order to ensure peace in Yokohama, or to protect the lives of the younger members of the agency. He’s heavily bound by duty.

While he holds these values to himself, he doesn’t expect you to abide by the same code. In fact, he doesn’t want you to. You’re not a grizzled old samurai like him. (His words, not yours.)

He also heavily dislikes the idea that you were in danger because of him. Your relationship with him shouldn’t be a source of danger for you. As soon as he’s sure you’re safe and well, he will sit back and mull things over in his silent, intense way. He considers all options, from simply killing the person who tried to attack him, to ending your relationship with him to ensure your safety.

Thankfully, he comes to the conclusion that you are an adult who knows what is good for you. He’s never hidden the truth from you, and if you’re willing to face that to stand at his side, then Fukuzawa needs to respect that. He can’t make your decisions for you.

“However,” he says. “I must ask that you do not do that again. I can accept my own death, but not yours.”

“Don’t you trust me to watch your back?”

“Obviously, you can be trusted,” he says. “Today is evidence enough, but know that I could not live with myself if you were injured or killed looking out for me. If death is coming for me, I have earned it.”

He can’t really be talked out of this mindset, but that’s part of why you fell for him in the first place. Just make him a promise that you won’t put yourself at risk on his behalf.

Kunikida Doppo

Poor Kunikida.

One of his ideals is that he will never watch anyone die right in front of him if he can help it. The last time he had to watch an innocent person die, it almost shattered his psyche.

If you were to die in front of him, it would break him utterly. Even though you’re fine, the close shave rattles him down to his core. Instead of blowing his top and then settling down, the way you’re used to him doing, Kunikida becomes grim and quiet.

He refuses to step away from your bedside while you’re in the hospital for a check-up after the incident. His notebook of ideals is folded in his pocket, ignored. The fact he isn’t scribbling anything down is a little alarming. He’s not Kunikida if he’s not adding little notes to it every five minutes. He has his hands steepled together, his face grim behind his glasses.

“Are you going to yell at me?” you ask him.

Kunikida lifts his gaze to you, almost as if he’s surprised to hear you speak. He breaks out of his reverie a little bit, sitting up and pushing his glasses further up his nose. The light hits the lenses, hiding his expression from you a little. His voice is sombre.

“I must thank you for saving my life,” he tells you, almost formal.

“That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?” You know him well enough by now. You reach out and take one of his hands.

Kunikida fingers tighten around yours, trembling slightly. It’s the only way that you can see how completely off centre he is.

“Kunikida?”

“Don’t…don’t make me worry like that again. Please.”

#yokohama pound #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #Nakahara Chuuya #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Dazai Osamu #Fukuzawa Yukichi #Kunikida Doppo #Chuuya x Reader #Dazai x Reader #Kunikida x Reader #Fukuzawa x Reader #Fyodor x Reader #angst

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iaure · 1 year

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𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 CW: self-awareness, stalking, obsession, delusion, ptsd, mention of a brother's death, thoughts of kidnapping. Written in the third person. Use of Y/N. Spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ heaven have mercy on my simple soul. we might have another dearest series on our hands, but for miguel. god. jesus. i made this in one (1) day. it's two am.

wc: 1.7k

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻❜𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀.

Miguel knew that feeling all too well. Gabriella faded away in his arms, a flash of technicolour and geometric shapes. An entire world, falling away and escaping from him, like grains of glass as fine as sand but still so colourful. That's what kept him moving. He never wanted someone to make the same mistake. But he was only a man. he couldn't be alone in the isolation of his own making forever. He built up those walls, praying he'd have the sense to never knock them down. But brick by brick, other people did. First was Jess. She was his friend, his sister in arms. Then Peter, then a thousand other faces and names and hearts and morals and everything that made Spider-Man, Spider-Man. They each took a brick, as though it was nothing. It was just by pure chance that she was the one to take that last brick. She was a new addition. Friendly, witty, quick on her feet. Just like everyone else. Another Spider in another place and another time. Another in a million, another clone, another warm body as fodder. But when Jess brought her to him, Miguel knew; she was one in a trillion.

She had stood next to Jess, firm, with a thousand yard stare like she'd been digging around Miguel's soul and yanking out her favourite bruises. Harrowing was a good word for it. Her estranged brother, a captain in the police, had died. She looked like she'd seen Hell. Fresh bruises, scarring, her suit torn in some places...and she stood tall.

"Spider-Woman, from Earth 7290. Also known as Y/N."

Jess spoke softly, a hand on Y/N's shoulder. Her breathing was steady but her eyes had glazed over, completely tapped out to the situation. Miguel felt his heart tug. He knew what it was like. Everyone did. Most Spiders were sad, upset, but she simply seemed...angry. Furious, even. Like if Miguel made a move towards her, she'd chew him up and spit him out. He'd seen people try to tame horses before, ones that would buck and kick and neigh until someone's leg was broken. It was like Jess was doing that. The one hand on Y/N's shoulder, keeping her in place.

"Miguel?" Jess spoke up, and he came out of his haze. "Are you listening?" "Yeah." He nodded, quietly clearing his throat. "Sure. Get her a watch." Jess shared a look with Y/N, one that he couldn't quite tell the reasoning behind, but the glance of her eyes was enough.

Spider-Woman of Earth 7290 took the last brick.

He'd see Y/N around, walking around the Spider Society and speaking with other Spiders. She seemed to hold that anger close to her heart, despite the other Spiders telling her that it'd get better over time. They'd healed, or got over it, or pushed it out of their mind. But not Y/N. She stayed mad. She stayed angry. Miguel understood that more than most. Mourning took time. So many had gotten over it after years. It wasn't fair to expect Y/N get it over it so fast. He didn't think so, anyway. After all, it was an anomaly that took her brother's life. A mistake. It had fallen off the proverbial map, but according to Jess, Y/N had 'handled it her own way'. Whatever that meant. Miguel didn't really care. All he worried about was her. Rather than just taking the brick off his walls, she smashed it in with a hammer and ran it over with a bulldozer. She had a wrecking ball to smash a single blue and red brick. And he hated it. Because what about Gabriella? What about his wife? Did their deaths mean nothing now? And how was this healthy? Granted, Miguel wasn't a healthy person. Not like that. But the sudden way his mind dedicated himself to her was absurd. Did it have to do with his DNA? With the spider mutation? Rapture? Mating season? There had to be an explanation. A cure.

But there was none.

Now, Miguel's mind was rotting away. He wished he could pry it open and take to it with tweezers, to prod out the parts that he hated. But his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, and he knew he didn't stand much of a chance anymore. It was all Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Even just the faint, passing scent of her was enough to drive him up a wall that very much shouldn't exist. Passing word of her wellbeing made him tune into conversations he was never part of. He began to develop a seventh sense: touch, hearing. sight, smell, taste, spidersense, and Y/Nsense.-the uncanny ability to know when she needed help. Trademarked, owned by Miguel O'Hara exclusively. Peter once teased him about how Miguel would suddenly jump up and scoot over to the cameras, checking in on Spider-Woman 7290.

The teasing didn't last long when given way to the severity of the situation.

Gradually, Miguel leaned into it. If he couldn't fight it, then join it. Revel in it. Let his eyes linger on her frame. Let his waking hours resort to thinking of her. Let him suffer. He deserved it. He began to follow Y/N around. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And sometimes, Miguel would see enemies-a Vulture here, a Doc Ock there-and he'd help when she wasn't looking. Little favours here and there began cropping up. Getting her groceries. Taking care of her cat. Fiddling with the gas for the car of the one creep that kept following her around that was so sure she was Spider-Woman. Granted, the creep was right. But he didn't know that.

(He did. Love comes in many shapes and forms.)

Y/N never seemed to notice. She was off, battling her own demons and fighting the good fight in her own world. She was good and kind and still angry but she used that anger so well, and Miguel loved her for it. She burned with the anger of a thousand dying stars. She was everything. When Y/N would stop by the Spider Society, Miguel made sure to look good. Brush his hair, brush his fangs, make sure his eye bags weren't too obvious, or if they were, then they looked good. He was trying to get her to like him, after all. Check to make sure his suit didn't have any tears or holes. Because Y/N was gorgeous. She could drag herself in with her guts spilling out like roadkill and he'd still think she's the most beautiful thing to grace the multiverse.

The beauty of delusion, he supposed.

He was aware how delusional this was. He knew how absurd it was that he saw her and fell immediately. Was this what happened in fairy tales? Is this what Prince Charming felt when he saw Cinderella? The world completely spinning the moment there's even a hint of her? The complete dedication of his heart to this woman that barely acknowledged him...someone who would only glance his way if it was a requirement. Y/N was cordial to him, but little more. And it made his heart ache. She spoke to Jess more than she spoke to him. It felt wrong. It felt cruel, like a tease, trailing up and down his spine but never providing relief. One word to him was ten to Jess.

Miguel refuses to admit it, to accept that he was willing to stoop so low. But there was a brief moment where he thought about hurting Jess. Or getting her on some mission that would take forever. Breaking her bracelet when she least expected it so Y/N would have to come to him.

He'd never act on it. He was sure of that.

If there was one thing Miguel was proud of for himself, it was his restraint. He had the unparalleled ability to simply...hold off. Another day, he'd tell himself. Next time, he'd self-assure. Then another next time. Then another. Until heaven knows how many next times it's been, and he's aching for her to even look at him, but why won't she glance his way? Why was she so cold? He's done everything he could. Just look at him! For god's sake, just fucking look at him! That's all he wanted! Five minutes with your eyes on him, your undivided attention.

But no. Another day, he said. Next time.

But maybe he could simply...take Y/N away. Her world was inconsequential. It'd be easy to take care of any villains. He'd do it for her, single-handedly. She were everything. He could just keep her there, in his office, never allowed to leave. He could come back after a long mission to her loving arms, her warm embrace, flush to flush to flush to flush. He'd do unspeakable things just for her to trace the vague outline of his body with her eyes. If Y/N told him to kill, he'd do so without question anymore. Miguel barely had any control over himself.

The next time he saw her, it was while dealing with Miles. It was so much, all at once and never at all and undying and swarming his senses. It was so much that he didn't realise how much she'd been smiling at the two teenagers, how sweet her gaze got, the gentle touches and warm laughter and how Gwen and Miles looked up to her.

He didn't know Y/N had a soft spot for kids. And he found out most vividly when she was the first one to help Miles escape, blocking off what must've felt like half of the Spider Society with the same undying rage, now spent on protecting her new friend, the child she called such sweet things. That she saw as her own.

Miguel felt his heart shatter when he had to take her down. The way she fell into the floor, limp and dangling like she was nothing more than occupied space. His heart was wounded, wailing like a dying dog. She picked the newcomer, the anomaly, over him. Him, her one true love. Did it matter that she'd known it yet? No. It only mattered that she helped Miles escape.

Lord, he thought. I worry that love is violence.

#divagaciones (per)#yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #i am a girlboss i am a war criminal i am a lunatic and i am clinically insane and the next virgin mary and i am never going to die

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