#sigh i just hate tech today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidmarieprentiss · 1 month

Text

Moving Forward

Summary: Spencer's insecurities manifest themselves in a nasty way, leading to the demise of your relationship. Can he fix it?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, flashbacks, fighting, crying, arguing, mistrust in partner, gaslighting, break up, happy ending, use of Y/N

Word count: 7.5k

a/n: spencer reid is not a bad man !! but he is still just a man

main masterlist

Present

Derek's brow furrowed as he nudged Spencer with his elbow, his eyes fixated on the scene unfolding before them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, pretty boy," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and disbelief. "Isn't that your girlfriend?"

Spencer's gaze followed Derek's, landing on you. There you were, seated at a cozy table in the dimly lit restaurant, your laughter ringing out as you leaned closer to the person across from you. The person who was most definitely not Spencer. His heart tightened in his chest as he watched you, the familiarity of your smile now directed at someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

"Not anymore," Spencer replied, his voice flat, though a subtle tremor betrayed the emotions he was fighting to keep under wraps. He forced himself to look away, focusing on a random spot on the wall instead of the painful image of you with someone new.

Derek shot him a sideways glance, his brow still creased with confusion. "What? I thought you two were solid?" His tone was cautious, as if he was treading on fragile ground.

Emily, who had been silent up until now, leaned in, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and sympathy. "The operative word there being ‘were’?" she asked gently, seeking confirmation.

Spencer gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Things changed."

For a moment, there was a heavy silence between them, the weight of the situation sinking in. Derek and Emily exchanged a look, both of them unsure of how to respond. They had seen Spencer go through so much, and this seemed like another cruel twist of fate.

Finally, Derek let out a sigh, clapping a reassuring hand on Spencer's shoulder. "You know we're here for you, right? Whatever you need, man."

Emily nodded in agreement, her eyes soft with understanding. "You don’t have to go through this alone, Spencer. We’re your family."

Spencer offered them a small, appreciative smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Thanks," he said quietly, his gaze once again drifting to where you sat, laughing and unaware of the turmoil just a few tables away.

The sight was like a dagger to his heart, but he forced himself to look away again, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. He had to be strong, even if it felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling away.

Spencer didn't feel like he deserved the comfort his friends were providing him currently, he was the one who ruined things between the two of you.

—

Six months ago...

You stood in your small kitchen, the phone pressed to your ear as you listened to the familiar, upbeat tone of Penelope Garcia. "Beautiful tech genius speaking, how may I help you, gorgeous?" she answered, her voice as bright as ever. It was her way of bringing a bit of lightness into every conversation, and usually, it worked. But today, despite the warmth in her greeting, you couldn't shake the tightness in your chest.

"Hey, Pen," you responded, forcing a laugh even though your heart felt like it was being squeezed. The words tasted bitter as you prepared to ask the question you had grown to hate. "Is Spencer busy right now?"

You loathed asking that question. It had become a routine, a ritual almost, to call Penelope and ask about Spencer’s whereabouts because he hadn’t bothered to tell you himself. It was embarrassing, really, that you had to rely on his colleague to know what your own boyfriend was up to. The person he should have been sharing his life with.

There was a slight pause on the other end, and then you heard it—the pity in Penelope's voice that you dreaded so much. "Oh, honey," she said softly, her tone drenched in sympathy. "The team left a few hours ago on a case."

"Oh," you managed to say, but your voice cracked, betraying the tears that were already threatening to spill over. You sniffled, trying to keep it together, but the ache in your chest only grew sharper. "Can you tell me where they went?"

"Yeah, sweetie, they’re in Kansas," Penelope replied gently, and you could almost feel her reaching out to hug you through the phone.

"Thanks, Pen," you whispered, your throat tight as you fought to keep the tears at bay.

"Of course, take care, okay?" Penelope's concern was evident, but there was nothing she could do from where she was. She had seen too much to offer false hope, but she still cared enough to try to comfort you in any way she could.

You hung up, standing there in the silence of your kitchen, the reality of the situation washing over you like a cold wave. It had been like this for a couple of months now—Spencer leaving without a word, not feeling the need to let you know when he and the team were swept away on a case. The man who once called you just to say goodnight was now a distant figure, more involved in his work than in your relationship.

The last time you had confronted him about it, his response had cut deeper than you ever expected. “We’ve been together for over a year, Y/N. Do you not trust me? Why do you have to be on top of me constantly?” His words echoed in your mind, the memory still fresh and painful.

“Spencer… I just like to know where you are and that you’re safe," you had explained, your voice tinged with desperation as you tried to make him understand. "What if something happens to me or you, or someone we love, and I don’t know where you are or how to get a hold of you?”

But instead of understanding, Spencer had just looked at you with frustration in his eyes, as if your concerns were an inconvenience to him. “I don’t understand why you need to know where I am 24/7,” he had said, his tone dismissive.

And so it had continued—this growing distance between you, each day a little more painful than the last. Now, as you stood there with tears slipping down your cheeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. If the man you loved was slipping away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

—

Present

To anyone watching, you and your date looked like the picture of a perfect evening. The two of you sat across from each other at a small, candlelit table in the charming bistro, the flickering glow casting warm, soft shadows over your faces. You smiled at all the right moments, nodded thoughtfully as they spoke, and even laughed at their jokes. The waiter who passed by with a tray of desserts might have thought you were a couple deeply engrossed in each other, enjoying the bliss of a night out.

But inside, you felt nothing. It was as if a thick, impenetrable wall had gone up around your heart, leaving you detached from everything that was happening. You went through the motions—smiling, nodding, making polite conversation—but it was all a performance, a carefully crafted facade that hid the emptiness gnawing at you from within.

Your date was saying something funny, and you forced another laugh, just loud enough to seem genuine. They smiled back, clearly pleased with themselves, and you returned the gesture with a bright, practiced smile. You knew how to do this—how to pretend everything was fine, how to play the role of someone who was fully engaged in the moment. But underneath that polished exterior, you were numb, a hollow shell left behind after months of emotional exhaustion.

The memory of Spencer loomed large in your mind, a constant, oppressive presence that wouldn’t leave you alone. His cold words, his dismissal, the way he had slowly pushed you out of his life until you were left with nothing but your own loneliness—it all haunted you, a shadow you couldn’t escape. And now, sitting here with someone who was kind and attentive, you realized how far away you still were from truly moving on.

Your date reached across the table, lightly touching your hand, and you didn’t flinch. Instead, you smiled softly and let your fingers curl around theirs, mimicking the gesture of affection as if it were second nature. They seemed to take comfort in it, their face lighting up with hope, and you felt a pang of guilt for leading them on, even though it wasn’t intentional.

You could feel their eyes on you, searching for that connection, that spark that should have been there. But there was nothing—no flutter of excitement, no warmth in your chest, just the cold, empty numbness that had taken up residence in your soul.

The conversation continued, your responses automatic and well-practiced, but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in the past, replaying moments you wished you could forget. You knew you should be present, that you should give this person the chance they deserved, but the weight of your own numbness was too much to overcome.

And so the evening went on, the two of you laughing, smiling, and talking, while the truth remained hidden beneath the surface. To anyone watching, it looked like you were having a wonderful time. But only you knew the reality—that you were just faking it, lost in a world of your own, desperately trying to feel something, anything, but unable to break free from the numb shell Spencer had left behind.

—

Four months ago...

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if that would somehow shield you from the pain you knew was coming. Spencer was on the opposite side, his posture rigid, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. This wasn’t the first argument you’d had recently, but it was certainly the worst.

“Spencer, I’m not trying to control you!” you pleaded, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “I just want to know what’s going on in your life! I want to be a part of it, like I used to be.”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that screamed exasperation. “You say that, but it feels like you’re suffocating me, Y/N. Every time I turn around, it’s another question about where I am, who I’m with, what I’m doing. It’s too much.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sting of them cutting deeper than you’d expected. “I just want to feel like I matter to you,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “Like this relationship still matters to you.”

Spencer’s face softened for a moment, but the frustration was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “Of course, you matter to me,” he said, though the words lacked the warmth and sincerity you so desperately needed to hear. “But you’re making this so hard, Y/N. Every time we talk, it turns into an argument.”

“Because you keep shutting me out!” you shot back, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “You don’t tell me anything anymore! I’m the last person to know when you’re leaving, when you’re coming back. It’s like I don’t even exist to you when you’re at work!”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer replied, his tone growing defensive. “You know how demanding my job is. I don’t have time to check in constantly.”

“I’m not asking for constant check-ins,” you retorted, the frustration bubbling over now. “I’m asking for you to care enough to let me in! To let me know when something’s wrong, or when you’re going to be gone for days on end. I’m your partner, Spencer, or at least I thought I was.”

The silence that followed your words was deafening. Spencer looked away, his jaw clenched, as if he was trying to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between wanting to comfort you and wanting to pull away.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “Maybe… maybe we need some space,” he suggested, each word like a dagger to your heart.

“Space?” you echoed, the word foreign and terrifying. “You think that’s going to fix this?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “But I do know that what we’re doing right now isn’t working.”

You stared at him, the man you loved more than anything, and felt the ground shift beneath you. This wasn’t just an argument; this was the beginning of something you had feared for months. The beginning of the end.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over, “please don’t do this. We can figure it out, we can—”

“I’m not saying we’re breaking up,” Spencer interrupted, though his tone did little to reassure you. “I just… I need to think. I need to figure out what’s going on with me, with us.”

You nodded, though the movement felt hollow. “Okay,” you whispered, even though every fiber of your being was screaming that it wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.

Without another word, Spencer turned and left the room, leaving you standing there, alone, the silence of the apartment pressing in on you like a suffocating weight. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to breathe again.

—

Present

Spencer sat at a table near the back of the bistro, his eyes locked onto you from across the room. The soft hum of conversation and clinking of silverware faded into the background as he watched you laugh, your head tilting slightly as you shared a light moment with your date. Your hand was resting on the table, fingers intertwined with theirs, and the sight sent a sharp, searing pain through his chest, like a hot knife twisting deeper with every second that passed.

Derek and Emily sat on either side of him, their expressions filled with concern as they noticed his focus on you. It hadn’t taken long for them to spot you when they walked in, and they had exchanged uneasy glances, silently debating whether or not they should suggest leaving. But Spencer had insisted it was fine, forcing a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He’d said it didn’t bother him, that it was no big deal, but the truth was a far cry from that casual dismissal.

“Spencer,” Emily had whispered, leaning in close so only he could hear, “we can go somewhere else. It’s not a problem.”

But Spencer had shaken his head, his gaze never leaving you. “No, really, it’s fine,” he had replied, his voice steady, though the turmoil inside him was anything but. He needed to see this, to witness how your date went, as if punishing himself by watching you with someone else would somehow make up for the mistakes he had made. Not that he’d admitted that to Derek and Emily. They would never understand the twisted logic he was following, the way he felt like he deserved every ounce of the pain that was currently eating him alive.

It was ironic, really. He had once hated the thought of you tracking his every move, of you wanting to know where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. It had suffocated him, made him feel like he was being controlled, watched over like a child. But now, here he was, insisting on staying in this very restaurant just to watch you on a date with someone else—because he had pushed you away, because he had been the one to break up with you.

And now, as he watched you smile at someone else, someone who was clearly making you happy, Spencer felt the full weight of his regret crash down on him. He had thought he needed space, thought that pushing you away would give him the clarity he so desperately sought. But instead, all he had done was lose you, and now he was faced with the brutal reality of what that meant.

You looked so radiant as you sat there, the candlelight reflecting off your eyes, your laughter light and genuine as you leaned closer to your date. It was a sound that used to fill his own life with warmth, a sound he had taken for granted. Now, it felt like a distant memory, something he could only watch from afar as someone else got to experience it.

He didn’t realize he was gripping his fork so tightly until Derek nudged him, snapping him out of his trance. “You sure you’re okay, man?” Derek asked, his voice low and cautious, as if he were afraid to push too hard.

Spencer forced himself to nod, though the tightness in his throat made it difficult to speak. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he managed, though the words were hollow. He wasn’t fine, not even close, but admitting that would mean facing the depth of his mistake, and he wasn’t ready for that—not yet.

Emily exchanged another worried glance with Derek, but they both respected Spencer’s decision to stay, even if they didn’t understand it. They made small talk, trying to distract him, but Spencer’s attention kept drifting back to you. Every time he saw your fingers intertwined with your date’s, a fresh wave of jealousy and regret washed over him, threatening to drown him in its intensity.

He had never imagined it would feel like this, watching you move on with someone else. The emptiness, the burning jealousy, the sharp pang of regret—it was all more than he had anticipated. And the worst part was that he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

As your date reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture so intimate and tender, Spencer felt something inside him crack. He had once been the one to do that, to touch you like that, to make you laugh like that. And now, he had thrown it all away.

The irony was unbearable. He had been so desperate to keep his freedom, to avoid feeling trapped, and now he was the one imprisoned—imprisoned by the sight of you with someone else, knowing he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

—

Three months ago…

You lay in bed, the phone pressed to your ear as you listened to the familiar, comforting voice on the other end. "Supreme goddess of gadgets, how may I help you?" Penelope answered, her usual cheerfulness evident, though there was a faint hesitation in her tone, as if she already knew what was coming.

"Hey, Pen…" Your voice was weak, almost defeated. You could barely muster the energy to speak, the weight of everything crushing you from the inside out.

There was a brief pause before Penelope responded, her voice softer now. "Y/N… hi, how are you?" Her question was gentle, cautious, as if she were afraid of what your answer might be.

"Surviving," you replied, the word feeling like a lie even as it left your lips. "Um, you know what I’m going to ask."

A heavy silence followed your words, the kind that made your heart sink deeper into the pit of despair you had been living in for months. Finally, Penelope spoke, her voice filled with regret. "I do, sweetie… He asked me not to tell you anything. I’m so sorry."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. You managed to choke out a quick "Thanks, Pen," before you hung up, not wanting her to hear the sob that was already clawing its way up your throat.

As soon as the line went dead, you let it out—a heart-wrenching cry that seemed to come from the very depths of your soul. You curled up on your bed, clutching the pillow as if it could somehow hold you together while everything else in your life was falling apart. The tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, as the reality of your situation washed over you in waves of pain.

Hours later, Spencer came home, his presence filling the room with an unbearable tension. "Space" had ended just last week, but things had not returned to normal—far from it. He walked in, glanced at you briefly, and his expression was cold, detached, as if he didn’t even recognize the woman lying in bed, broken and defeated.

“This can’t continue,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth or affection. It was a statement, not a question, and you knew he had already made up his mind.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The numbness had taken over, a merciful shield against the pain that had consumed you for so long. You stared at the ceiling, your eyes glassy and vacant, as if you were no longer truly present in your own life.

Spencer’s next words were like nails in the coffin of your relationship. “You and me? Done. You calling and checking in on me like I’m a fucking child? Done. I want you out. This is still my apartment.”

His words hung in the air, each one driving the knife deeper into your heart. But you just nodded, your body moving on autopilot because your mind was too shattered to do anything else. You had known this was coming, had felt it creeping up on you like a dark cloud ready to unleash a storm. But knowing hadn’t made it any easier.

Without another word, Spencer turned and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence that followed. You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. You just lay there, feeling as though a part of you had died, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

And in that moment, you realized that the person you had once loved more than anything was truly gone, and there was no getting him back.

—

Present

You stand from the table, your heart heavy and your mind made up. This evening was never going to be what either of you hoped for, and you knew it was time to go home, to retreat into the solitude that had become your only solace. You had no illusions about what the rest of the night would hold—probably a bottle of wine, more than you should drink alone, and a sad movie to keep you company as you cried over the pieces of your broken heart.

As you turned to push in your chair, your eyes caught sight of something—or rather, someone—that stopped you cold. There, across the room, was Spencer. His familiar form sat rigid at a table, flanked by Derek and Emily, but it was his eyes that rooted you to the spot. Those eyes that had once brought you warmth and comfort, that had been the anchor in your life, now held an emotion you’d never seen in them before. It was raw, intense, and so deeply conflicted that it sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, the world around you faded, and all you could see were those eyes—eyes that had once looked at you with such love, now filled with something else entirely. Regret? Jealousy? Pain? You couldn’t quite place it, but it was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat, your heart lurching painfully in your chest.

Before you could think too long about what you were seeing, your date's hand gently rested on your lower back, pulling you back into the present. The warmth of their touch contrasted sharply with the cold, hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. They guided you out of the bistro, their hand steady as they led you toward the door, completely unaware of the storm that had just passed through your mind.

You didn’t look back, though every part of you wanted to. The urge to turn around, to meet Spencer’s eyes one more time and maybe, just maybe, understand what was swirling in them, was overwhelming. But you kept moving forward, your body on autopilot as you stepped out into the cool night air, leaving behind the painful memories and the man who had once meant everything to you.

As you walked away, the noise of the city filled the void where your thoughts should have been, but you couldn’t shake the image of Spencer’s eyes from your mind. Even as your date tried to engage you in conversation, their words fell on deaf ears. All you could think about was the look in Spencer’s eyes and how, for the first time, you had seen something in them that you hadn’t before—something that made you wonder if he, too, was feeling the sting of the choices he had made.

—

“I’ll be back,” Spencer said abruptly, his voice tinged with urgency as he stood up from the table. He didn’t wait for a response from Derek or Emily, who exchanged worried glances, their faces mirroring a mix of empathy and concern. They both knew how deeply Spencer had been affected by the breakup, and while they wanted to support him, they weren’t sure if following you was the healthiest choice. But Spencer was already moving, weaving through the tables with a determined stride, leaving his friends to watch helplessly as he made his way toward the exit.

Outside, the cool night air hit Spencer like a splash of cold water, sharpening his senses as he scanned the street for you. His heart pounded in his chest, the knot of anxiety tightening with every passing second. Then, he spotted you a short distance away, saying goodbye to your date. The two of you stood under the soft glow of a streetlamp, exchanging polite farewells, and Spencer watched as your date smiled kindly before turning to walk away. The knot in his chest loosened just a fraction, relief mingling with the anxiety that still churned within him.

He knew this was his moment. If he didn’t speak to you now, he might never get the chance again. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Spencer took a deep breath and walked toward you, his heart racing as he rehearsed what he would say in his mind. But when he reached you, all those carefully planned words evaporated, leaving him standing there, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice softer than he intended, but it carried enough weight to make you stop in your tracks. You looked up so quickly, your eyes wide with surprise and something else—something that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat. The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded with everything unsaid.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, stunned, as if you couldn’t quite believe he was really there in front of you. The last time you had seen him, it had been under such different circumstances, and now here he was, the same man yet somehow different. The memories of your last encounter flashed through your mind, bringing with them a flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Hi,” Spencer tried again, his voice trembling slightly as he searched your face for any sign of how you were feeling. He could see the confusion, the hurt, the questions all swirling in your eyes, but you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, as if you were trying to make sense of why he was standing in front of you now, after all this time.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone pleading, as if he were afraid you might turn and walk away before he had the chance to explain himself.

—

A year ago…

“Spencer, stop moving!” you laughed, your voice bubbling with amusement as you tried to steady his hand. He squirmed slightly in his seat, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“It tickles!” he protested, his voice filled with mock indignation as he wiggled his fingers in your grasp.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I don’t think you can be tickled on your nails, Spencer. You’re being dramatic.”

He huffed teasingly, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “I don’t see why you needed to paint my nails,” he said, though there was no real annoyance in his tone—just the warm affection that always colored your playful moments together.

“Because,” you replied, focusing on applying the nail polish with care, “I got a new color, and my nails look too pretty to take it off right now. So you’re the lucky volunteer.”

Spencer watched you as you worked, the gentle concentration on your face making his heart swell with warmth. He loved these quiet, silly moments with you, where the world seemed to fade away and all that mattered was the laughter and lightness you brought into his life.

“Well, I’m honored,” Spencer said with a mockingly serious tone, though his eyes betrayed the laughter he was holding back. “But what if they look better than yours?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Then I’ll have to break up with you,” you teased right back, trying to keep a straight face.

“Don’t even joke about that! I’d die without you!” Spencer exclaimed dramatically, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“Oh, shush,” you replied, smiling so big that you thought your heart might burst from how much you loved him.

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice softening as he looked at you with all the love in the world. “If they look better than yours, you have to stay with me, despite the jealousy. I love you too much to let you leave.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out to gently cup his face. “I would never leave you, Spence.”

“Ditto,” he said, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

You leaned in for a sweet, smiley kiss, sealing the promise between you both. It was a kiss filled with love, with the kind of joy that made everything else fade away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken vow that you would always be there for each other, no matter what.

—

Present

You nodded slowly, still unable to find your voice. The shock of seeing him again, the man who had left you so broken, was enough to leave you speechless. But there was something in his eyes, something raw and vulnerable, that made you pause. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you now, with an intensity you hadn’t seen in so long, that made you want to hear him out.

Without another word, Spencer gestured toward a nearby bench, and you followed him silently, your mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter. As you sat down, the distance between you feeling both too close and too far, you wondered what he could possibly say that would change anything. But you knew you had to hear it, whatever it was, because despite everything, a part of you still needed closure—or maybe, deep down, you hoped for something more.

Spencer sat beside you, the tension between the two of you almost tangible as he struggled to find the right words. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and regret, a chaotic mess that made it nearly impossible to articulate what he was feeling. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even thought about what he would do if he ever saw you again. He had tried to put you out of his mind, to bury the pain and guilt deep inside, because it was easier than facing what he had done.

But now, sitting next to you, the reality of his actions weighed on him like a heavy stone, and he could see the hurt and anger in your eyes. You were waiting for him to speak, but the silence stretched on, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

Finally, your patience snapped. “What do you want?” you asked, your voice sharp and cutting, a clear sign of the anger brewing inside you.

Spencer flinched at your tone, the pain of your words like a physical blow. “I don’t know, honestly,” he admitted, his voice weak and uncertain.

“Bye,” you said coldly, turning to leave, the finality in your tone making it clear you were done with this conversation.

Panic surged through Spencer, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, desperate to keep you from walking away. “No, Y/N, wait,” he pleaded, his voice trembling.

But you quickly shook off his touch, anger flaring in your eyes. “You absolutely do not get to touch me,” you snapped, your voice hard as steel.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer stammered, his hand dropping to his side, feeling the sting of rejection.

“For touching me or something else?” you demanded, your voice laced with bitterness.

“Everything,” he whispered, his eyes filled with remorse.

You let out a harsh, humorless laugh, the sound bitter in the quiet night air. “Well, since you clearly don’t know what to say, let me start,” you said, finding your voice with a strength that surprised even you. Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly held up your hand, silencing him. “It’s my turn to speak, do not interrupt me.” He nodded, his heart sinking as he braced himself for the words he knew were coming.

“I cared about you, Spencer,” you began, your voice steady but filled with the weight of all the pain you had been carrying. “I thought you cared about me too. All I ever wanted was to be a first thought, but instead, I was an afterthought. Wanting to know when my partner—and my roommate—was going to be in a different state doesn’t seem like a lot to ask.”

Spencer’s throat tightened as he listened, the truth of your words cutting him to the core. But he knew better than to speak, knew that you deserved this moment to say everything he had never let you say before.

“And then,” you continued, your voice growing more intense, “to go and tell your coworker—someone I considered a friend—not to tell me anything about you anymore? God, that’s so fucking mean, Spencer. You were mean to me.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, proud that you hadn’t let the tears fall, even though they were threatening to spill over. “I never once accused you of cheating, or even thought that you were doing anything behind my back,” you said, your voice softer now, but no less filled with hurt. “I didn’t ask for constant attention or updates. I didn’t yell at you, belittle you, or blame you. All I wanted was for you to care about me. And you didn’t.”

Spencer felt the shame wash over him, the weight of your words pressing down on him until he thought he might break. But he stayed silent, letting you continue, because you deserved to have your say.

“And yet, you dragged out the end of our relationship instead of having the decency to put me out of my misery,” you said, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “I wanted to fix things—as pathetic as that feels now—I wanted to work it out with you. But it’s clear now that you always knew the end was coming.”

Spencer’s heart shattered at your words, the realization of how deeply he had hurt you hitting him like a freight train. He had been so wrapped up in his own fears and insecurities that he had never truly considered the impact his actions were having on you. And now, hearing you lay it all out so plainly, he was struck by the enormity of what he had lost.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, but you shook your head, cutting him off once more.

“No, Spencer,” you said, your voice firm, the strength in it catching him off guard. “I don’t need an apology. I needed you to be there when it mattered, and you weren’t. So, tell me, why weren’t you there?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and piercing, demanding an answer that Spencer wasn’t sure he could give. He looked at you, seeing the hurt and anger in your eyes, the way you stood there waiting, needing an explanation that could somehow make sense of the pain he had caused.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tried to find the words. But how could he explain the mess inside his head, the way his fears and insecurities had twisted everything? How could he tell you that he had been too wrapped up in his own struggles to see what he was doing to you?

“I…” he began, his voice faltering as he searched for something, anything, that would make this right. But nothing came. The excuses he had told himself for so long now felt hollow and pathetic in the face of your unwavering gaze.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the truth, the only thing he could offer. “I was… scared. Of losing myself, of losing control. I thought… I thought I needed space to figure things out, but all I did was push you away. I wasn’t there because I was too wrapped up in my own head to see what I was doing to you.”

You stared at him, the admission doing little to soften the anger that burned in your chest. “You were scared?” you repeated, incredulity lacing your tone. “And you think that’s an excuse? Spencer, I was scared too. I was terrified of losing you, of watching you slip away without understanding why. But I didn’t shut you out. I didn’t abandon you when things got tough.”

Spencer felt the weight of your words like a punch to the gut. “I know,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his guilt. “I know I failed you. I don’t have an excuse, Y/N. I was selfish, and I hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry.”

But even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t enough. They couldn’t undo the damage that had been done, couldn’t erase the pain he had caused. He had failed you when it mattered most, and now he was standing here, faced with the wreckage of what once was.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to keep the tears that were threatening at bay. “Sorry isn’t enough, Spencer,” you said, your voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “It won’t change what happened, it won’t bring back the trust that was broken. I needed you, and you weren’t there. And now… now we both have to live with that.”

Spencer’s heart shattered at your words, the finality in them like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to reach out, to somehow pull you back from the edge, but he knew he had no right. He had lost that right the moment he chose to walk away instead of fighting for what you had.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But if I could go back… if I could do it all over again, I would. I would be there for you, I would fight for you. I’d give anything to make it right.”

But you shook your head, the sadness in your eyes cutting deeper than any words ever could. “You can’t go back, Spencer. Neither of us can. We can only move forward.”

“Together?” he asked, his voice filled with a desperate hope.

“Are you serious?” you replied, incredulity and hurt lacing your tone. With that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there alone with the weight of his regrets.

—

A year ago…

You walked into the apartment after an extremely grueling day at work, your body aching for the comfort of the couch and the sweet relief of doing absolutely nothing. As soon as you opened the door, however, you were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of your favorite meal wafting through the air. The familiar scent brought an instant smile to your face, and you couldn’t help but follow your nose like a cartoon character, eagerly tracing the delicious smell to the kitchen.

There, you found your adorable boyfriend, Spencer, fussing over pots and pans, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to perfect the meal. The sight of him, so intent on making everything just right, made your heart swell with love.

“Need some help, handsome?” you asked, leaning against the doorway with a soft smile.

Spencer jumped slightly, his concentration momentarily broken. “Huh? What? No! Go sit down, relax, I got this,” he insisted, his voice filled with warmth and determination.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his insistence. “Okay, baby. Thank you,” you said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, which brought a pleased smile to his face.

With that, you made your way to the couch, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. Moments later, Spencer joined you, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. On it were two plates of your favorite food, two glasses of wine, and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. The thoughtful gesture took your breath away.

“Spence… what is all of this for?” you asked, your voice tinged with surprise and emotion.

Spencer set the tray down gently and looked at you with those kind, caring eyes that always seemed to see right through to your soul. “You seemed off when you called earlier,” he explained, his voice soft and full of concern. “I figured you were having a hard day and wanted to treat you.”

Your eyes welled up with happy tears, the overwhelming love you felt for him making your heart flutter. “I love you so much, do you know that?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Spencer’s face lit up with a playful grin as he teased, “I don’t think I do. Can you tell me a hundred more times?”

You giggled, leaning closer to him. “How about a million?” you offered, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Spencer’s smile grew even wider as he leaned in for a sweet, tender kiss. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured against your lips, and in that moment, all the stress and exhaustion of your day melted away, leaving only the warmth of his love.

—

A month later…

You walked into the coffee shop down the street from your office, savoring the familiar comfort of your Thursday morning routine. It was your little treat to yourself, a pick-me-up to help push you through the final stretch before the weekend. As you stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloped you, instantly soothing some of the residual stress from the workweek.

You were lost in thought, mentally debating whether to stick with your usual order or try something new, when you felt a gentle bump against your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” a familiar voice apologized.

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat when you recognized him. “Spencer?” you said, the surprise evident in your voice.

He offered you a small, almost shy smile, as if he were seeing you for the first time. “Hello, stranger. My name is Spencer Reid,” he said, extending his hand as if introducing himself to someone he hadn’t met before. “I’m terribly sorry I bumped into you. Allow me to buy your coffee?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his playful formality. “What are you doing? Did you hit your head?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice.

Spencer shook his head, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “No, ma’am,” he replied, his tone light. “I’m starting fresh. Can only move forward, right?”

“Right…” you echoed, the words resonating with a meaning that made your heart flutter a bit, some of the cobwebs that had gathered around it beginning to fall away. There was something about this new approach of his that caught you off guard, but in a good way, like a breath of fresh air after a long winter.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you stuck out your hand, playing along. “Y/N,” you introduced yourself, feeling a spark of warmth you hadn’t expected. “Yes, you can buy my coffee. Thank you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened with a mixture of relief and hope as he shook your hand, holding onto it just a moment longer than necessary. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a small glimmer of something you thought you had lost—a sense of possibility, of maybe, just maybe, starting anew.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

782 notes · View notes

hederasgarden · 2 months

Text

Like Oil and Water

Summary: Your office power struggle with Scott comes to a head. Paring: Scott (Twisters) x F!Scientist!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Enemies to lovers trope, PIV sex, fingering, and dirty talk. Slight angst. A/N: The story is based on this ask I received. I know there are like…five Scott fans out there besides me so I hope y’all like this. I have no explanation for this fic except I’m horny for Scott. I had an alternative ending to this story but whoops feelings crept in. Thank you to @ryebecca, @whatblogisthis216 and @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking this over. The snazzy summary is courtesy of @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“I’m never picking up your coffee order again,” Javi swears, handing the Starbucks cup to you. “Whatever happened to coffee with a little bit of cream?”

“Capitalism,” you reply, taking a sip. It wasn’t exactly how you liked it, missing that deep caramel flavor, but you appreciate Javi’s effort. “Thanks again.”

He nods, drinking from his cup as you make your way down to the labs, discussing the results from the latest test.

“We will need to adjust the relays, but other than that, I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “I’ll let the techs know we need those changes made this week.”

“Sounds good. I gotta make a quick call, but I’ll join you after,” Javi promises, disappearing into his office while you make your way down the hall.

You hear the low timber of Scott's voice before you spot him in conversation with one of the female techs. You loathe to admit it but he looks good, his tanned forearms on display with the sleeves of his white company shirt rolled up. The baseball cap tucked into his back pocket and dusty boots let you know he probably came straight from the field.

"We need to fix the relays. They failed the test. Again. That's unacceptable," he begins, gearing up for another one of his infamous lectures. "Back when I was at MIT, this type of calibration was the first thing we were taught."

Scott may have been one of the smartest guys on Javi’s team but he was also a smug asshole. From the moment you met him, he irritated you, reminding you of every man who thought he was smarter and better than you just because of his gender. Everyone expected engineers to be difficult to work with, but Scott took it to another level. Who could blame you for taking him down a peg or two when you had the chance?

"So you went to MIT. Big whoop," you begin, delighted to see Scott tense up at the sound of your voice. When he turns to face you, the tech is quick to scurry away. "Call me when you have a PhD from a real school, like Caltech, Scotty."

He hates it when you call him that but today it's your jab about MIT that strikes a nerve. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he exhales harshly. God, that angry look in his eye really did something for you. Too bad his looks couldn’t make up for how much of a dick he could be.

Scott practically spits your first name out, stepping into your space to loom over you. His broad shoulders and muscular build block your view of the lab. You tilt your head to look at him, fighting the urge to smile. "You really should address me as ‘doctor,’" you calmly remind him, tapping your name badge.

You arch a brow, waiting for his response but his mouth snaps shut, attention moving to something behind you.

It’s Javi.

"Come on guys," he sighs. "Play nice."

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly. "I'm always nice.”

"Why are you even in the labs today?" Scott questions, glancing down at your heels.

You smooth a hand down your dress and smile. "I'm the Vice President of R&D for Storm Par. These are my labs. I belong here.”

"Dressed like that?" He scoffs.

"What, you don't like it?" You ask, turning in a slow circle.

"We had a meeting with some new investors," Javi supplies, trying to cut off the start of another fight between the two of you.

Scott turns away and you can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He still hasn’t forgiven you for talking Javi out of letting his uncle invest in the company. It would have been easy money but you never liked the business plan. It was best to stick with government grants and investors without any personal connections.

Javi touches your arm. “Come on, we gotta finish that grant.”

You hum in agreement, trailing behind him to the doorway. Pausing, you glance back and catch Scott watching you, his lips pressed into a thin line. With a grin, you wiggle your fingers at him, amused to see the furrow in his brow deepen even further.

The rest of your day is blessedly Scott-free and you spend your time buried in meetings and wading through needlessly complicated grant submissions. Javi employed some of the smartest people you’ve ever had the privilege of working with but they were terrible when it came to making the science digestible to investors. You sigh, rubbing your temples. It was going to be a long night.

You work uninterrupted, buried in the complexities of the grant, until Scott storms into your office, slamming the door behind him. “Did you tell the techs they could go home early?” he demands.

“Please, do come in,” you deadpan, setting aside the papers you’re holding.

“Did you send them home?” He repeats, rounding your desk and invading your personal space. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I did.” You rise to your full height but even in heels, he dwarfs you.

“That wasn’t your call.”

“You do remember my job title, right?”

“I’m VP of Operations,” he reminds you. “I say when they go home, especially when we’re on a deadline.”

“They report to me, and you’ve had them working long hours,” you fire back.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, as he gives you an unimpressed look. “You’re too soft on them. I told Javi you weren’t right for this job. This isn’t academia. We work hard here.”

You bristle at his words, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the soft skin of your palm. He has no idea what it took for you to get here, the challenges you faced, or the men like him you had to prove yourself to.

“Go fuck yourself, Scott.”

You glare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. You wait, ready for whatever asshole comment is sure to come but he just stares at you. Then, to your surprise, his gaze drops to your mouth. You freeze, electricity zipping up your spine when you realize you’re close enough for your chest to brush his as you exhale. Looking back, you won't remember the impulse that led you to tilt your head and press your lips to his, only that you did.

The kiss only lasts a second before you pull away, heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, neither of you moves, but then suddenly he surges forward, his large hand grasping the side of your face. His lips crash into yours roughly. A hand at your hip urges you back until you bump your desk but he doesn’t stop until he’s practically dragged you on top of it. He presses in close, eating up what little space remains. You groan, grasping at his shirt as you push your hips into his.

“Fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours as his warm breath fans across your face. For one terrible second, you think he might stop or say something stupid to ruin the moment but then he’s kissing you again. He forces a hand between your bodies and roughly pulls your underwear aside so his fingers can drag through your folds. You’d be shocked by how fast it’s all happening but any higher thought fizzles out once his thumb circles your clit and his tongue breaks the seam of your lips to taste you.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, back arching in response to his talented fingers. Through your lashes you see him smirk down at you. “No smart comebacks now?” He questions.

Before you can retort he adds a second finger. You moan, rolling your hips to seek more of him. “Knew you’d be fucking greedy,” he whispers.

He watches you fuck yourself on his hand with a hungry glint in his eyes until your pace slows. He glanced at your face. You rise up on your elbows, brow raised. “Am I going to do all the work here?”

“Shut up,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers.

A witty comeback is on the tip of your tongue but it dies when Scott brings his fingers to his mouth. He stares down at you while he sucks them clean, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your stomach clenches hard at the sight.

“That’s better,” he comments, unbuckling his belt. “Nice and quiet.”

He takes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on his thick length. If there was ever a time to stop, it’s now. You look at Scott, his dark gaze swimming with desire and push the thought away, rising up to kiss him. The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance and you lift your hips. You relish the way he looks, dark hair curling over his sweaty forehead and his body straining for you. Knowing you’ve done this to him sends a rush of want through you.

Scott pushes inside slowly, hissing as your wet heat envelopes him until he’s halfway in and then he snaps his hips forward unexpectedly. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. He falls forward and the weight of him is electrifying. You’d be embarrassed at the desperate little sounds his mouth swallows up if he didn’t feel so damn good.

He fucks with an intense kind of precision you’ve seen him bring to his work, reaching deep inside you to hit all the right places. You bury your fingers in his dark hair and pull, eliciting a needy moan from the irritatingly talented man above you.

“You gonna come for me?” He asks, breathless.

A desperate little, please, slips past your lips without your permission, spurring him on. He hooks a hand under your knee and forces your leg into your chest as he keeps up his frantic pace. The new angle takes him even deeper and pleasure ripples through your stomach. He feels unbelievably good and you practically sob when he pulls back and rises to his full height, afraid he’s going to stop. But he doesn’t, grasping your hips with both hands and forcing you to meet his thrusts.

You’re tantalizing close and, without thinking, you reach down to help yourself along but Scott is quick to slap your hand away, replacing it with his own.

“That’s mine,” he growls, the rough pad of his thumb catching on the sensitive skin. He watches with rapt attention as his cock and fingers work in tandem to drive you over the edge. You come with his name on your lips.

“Fuck, just like that,” he gasps.

Before you can recover your breath, he leans down and kisses you, his weight pressing you into the desk as his hips move relentlessly. Then he shoves himself deep inside and stills, groaning. Your ears ring and your body buzzes with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. The two of you stay like that, intertwined and panting until, finally, Scott moves.

Cool air rushes between your bodies and you stare up at him. You can see him thinking in real time, his clever gaze searching your face as he continues to process what happened. What could either of you possibly say after this? Nothing good you realize.

“Don’t,” you whisper, finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.”

Scott closes his eyes and swallows hard. Then he's moving, slipping out of you with a grunt. He turns away from you, redressing. The clink of his belt buckle is loud in the quiet office. Pressing your fingers to your swollen lips, you take a moment to let yourself feel everything before pushing it aside and standing on unsteady legs.

You fix your appearance the best you can and busy yourself with shuffling the mess of papers strewn everywhere. It might be cowardly, but you keep your gaze fixed on your desk when you hear the door creak open. You wait, the minutes dragging by until you know it’s safe to look up, only to find Scott still there.

He lingers in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you.

Then you blink and he’s gone.

♡

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.

#scott #twisters #twisters fic #twisters fanfic #scott twisters #scott x reader #scott x you #scott miller x reader #scott miller x you

1K notes · View notes

formula1au · 3 months

Text

reward for a champion

summary: max is playing on the sim while y/n distracts him

pairings: max verstappen x gf!reader

content: fluff, teasing

warning: none (no smut)

word count: 644

Max sat in the middle of his living room, his eyes glued to the multiple screens of his race sim. The setup was impressive—three large monitors curved around him, a high-tech steering wheel, and a seat that mimicked the cockpit of his Red Bull Racing car. He was deeply immersed in a virtual Grand Prix, navigating through the twists and turns of the Monaco circuit.

Y/n leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a mischievous smile. She knew how much Max loved his sim racing. It was his way of unwinding and staying sharp during the off-season. But today, she felt a playful urge to distract him.

She walked over to him quietly, her bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. Max didn't notice her approach, his concentration unwavering as he took a particularly tight corner. Y/n leaned in close, her lips just inches from his ear.

"Are you winning, Max?" she whispered, her breath tickling his neck.

Max jumped slightly, the car on the screen swerving dangerously close to the corner. He quickly corrected the mistake, his focus momentarily shaken. "Schat! You scared the hell out of me," he said, laughing despite himself.

Y/n giggled and moved to sit on his lap. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You just look so serious," she teased, poking his side gently.

Max shook his head, trying to keep his attention on the race. "This is serious business, you know. I can't afford distractions."

"Oh really?" Y/n said, raising an eyebrow. She slid her hand down his arm, her fingers lightly tracing his skin. "What if I do... this?" She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, then his jawline, her lips trailing down his neck.

Max's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Liefje, you're making this very difficult," he said, his voice strained with a mix of amusement and distraction.

Y/n pulled back, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come on, baby. It's just a game. You can always restart if you crash."

Max grinned, glancing at her briefly before focusing back on the screen. "You know I hate losing, even in a game."

"Well, if you win this race, I'll make it worth your while," she said, her voice low and suggestive.

Max's eyebrows shot up, and he chuckled. "Oh? And what exactly does that mean?"

Y/n leaned in close again, her lips brushing his ear. "You'll just have to win and find out," she whispered.

With renewed determination, Max fixed his eyes on the track, maneuvering his car with precision. Y/n watched, impressed by his skill and concentration. She decided to dial down her teasing, not wanting to genuinely ruin his race. Instead, she opted for a different approach.

She slipped off his lap and moved behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders. She began to massage his tense muscles, her thumbs working out the knots. "Relax, Max. You've got this," she said soothingly.

Max sighed, the tension easing from his body as he navigated the final laps of the race. With Y/n's hands working their magic, he felt a surge of confidence. He took the final corner flawlessly and crossed the finish line in first place.

He let out a yell, raising his arms in victory. "I did it!"

Y/n clapped her hands, her face beaming with pride. "I knew you could. Well done, champion."

Max turned in his seat to face her, pulling her onto his lap. "Now, about that reward you mentioned..."

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes sparkling. "Patience, Mr. Verstappen. Let's just say it'll be worth the wait."

Max smiled, kissing her softly. "I like the sound of that."

They stayed there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, enjoying the quiet victory and the promise of something more.

628 notes · View notes

voxsremotec0ck · 7 months

Text

𝐒𝐢𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞.ᐟ

ᯤ Vox x Fem!Reader

ᯤ NSFW, cockwarming, dom!Vox, mean!Vox, spanking, claws, riding, overstim

wc - 1k

˗ˏˋ Vox has a long day of work ahead of him and he knows just the thing to make it bearable ˎˊ˗

Today was going to be a long fucking day in his monitor room. He has to prepare next week’s broadcasts, look over blueprints for new products; basically anything you could think of Vox needed to do.

It also didn’t help that last night, Valentino went on another rampage, complaining about something Angeldust said to him at a club.

So to say the Tech Overlord was stressed and very much not looking forward to today was an understatement.

At least, he wasn’t until he got a brilliant idea.

And that brilliant idea of Vox’s is what led you here, straddling his lap completely naked with his cock buried inside of you.

You weren’t allowed to move, not until he finished all of his work. No, you were just meant to keep him company, keep him warm, and keep him entertained.

It was so hard to sit still with him, stuffing you full, tip just kissing your cervix. Especially when Vox would bring his hand to your back, gently running the tips of his claws along your spine and making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You clung to his suit jacket to ground yourself. Your eyes were glued to the floor, watching his sharks swim around under the thick glass as a distraction. But the throbbing between your legs just got worse as time passed.

Just sitting here felt like torture.

All you wanted was for him to at least let you roll your hips, even slowly. Feel his hard dick move inside of you and drag across your sweet spot.

You didn’t even realize you had started moving until a loud smack filled the room, and your ass-cheek began to sting.

“W̵̦͌h̶̫̘̰͝ä̷̯̻́̐́t̶̰̼̋͌ did I tell you?” Vox’s smooth voice sounded like static, and you whimpered.

“Don’t move.”

“Correct, and what are going to do?”

You took a shaky breath and clung to him tighter, “Sit still.”

Game show noises rang condescendingly from the speakers in Vox’s monitor. “Good girl. I’m almost done, so if you can continue to be good for me, I’ll let you cum, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded against his chest, the nickname making you clench around him.

The sounds of Vox glitching make you realize what you’re doing and relax. A hand comes down to smack your ass again, making you flinch, “D̷͉͇͊̀̎o̶̬̔̌l̷͉̇̒͛l̸͈͛͝-“

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry it’s-“

“I know, you love it when I call you that, don’t you?” Vox asks, his hands squeezing your ass and his claws just barely piercing your skin.

You nod, and He smacks your other cheek, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you making you moan, “But I can only call you that if you’re actually good for me. So will you be good for me, Dollface?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good, I promise!”

Vox chuckles, “Good.”

Another hour passes like that, you trying your absolute hardest to stay still while Vox continues working. Your legs and hips are sore from being in this position for so long, but nothing is worse than the ach in your core.

You silently wish your flat-faced boyfriend would hurry up.

A sigh leaving Vox’s lips made you perk up like a dog, and the sound of the keyboard being replaced with the clicking of a mouse got your hopes up.

“Okay,” Vox hummed, making one final click with his mouse before leaning back to look at you, “All done.”

“R-really?” You ask, tears of relief filling your eyes.

The Overlord chuckles meanly and brings a clawed finger up to wipe a tear that escaped, “Yes, honey, really. Are you ready to ride me now?”

“Yes!” You sniffle, nodding your head so fast you almost bump it against his monitor.

“Then what do you say?” That cocky smile you both love and hate spreads across his screen as he asks.

“Please! Please let me ride you, please let me cum!” You all but scream, tears really falling now.

Vox’s smile grows impossibly wider, and he leans back in his chair, getting comfortable as he slips his hands in the crease between your hips and thighs, “Good girl. Now go on, make us cum.”

You didn’t hesitate for even a second. The moment those words fell from his lips, you were bouncing and rolling your hips, hands fisting his suit in a death grip.

Finally, you were chasing that release you craved.

“Fuck Doll, this really got you worked up, huh?” Vox groaned, squeezing his hands in your hips and piercing your skin with his claws. The pain made you cry out and clench around him.

You wanted to yell at him; of course, you were worked up after being teased like that for hours. Instead, all you could do was moan and hold onto him, already feeling your climax approaching.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum-“ You babbled out, trying desperately to fight it off until he gave you permission.

“Okay, but you better not stop moving.” Vox chuckled breathily, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

All you really registered was his permission to cum. Your body tensed as pleasure tore through your body, making your hips stutter and your back arch.

“God, you look so good like that.” Vox glitched out, his hands moving your hips for you, fucking you on and off his cock like a toy.

You were definitely screaming now, barely able to enjoy your orgasm as the Overlord roughly thrust up into you. Overstimulation made the feeling painful but didn’t stop a second release from building in your core.

“F-fuck Vox!”

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m the one making you feel this good!” Vox’s voice was buffering along with his screen, and you barely registered the lights flickering.

“I’m- fu-ck gonna-“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, cumming without his permission and clenching around him like a vice.

“F̴̻̺̂̀ǘ̷̝͂̓c̶̣̈͒k̸̟̄!” Vox cried out, cumming inside of you and filling you up even more.

You could feel the static in the air as the power went out, but neither of you cared. Instead, you both sat there panting, limply holding each other as you came down from your highs.

“We,” Vox said through quick breaths, “are definitely doing that again.”

You chuckled tiredly and opened your mouth to reply before a loud, muffled scream tore through the quiet, and you recognized Velvette’s voice as she shouted,

“VOX I SWEAR TO FUCK!”

I can’t believe I have a little over 100 followers already omg

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin x reader #vox x y/n #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #hazbin hotel oneshots

1K notes · View notes

bookworm551 · 1 year

Text

Take The Edge Off | Miguel O’Hara x fem!Spider-reader

You, like so many other Spider-People, are tired of the brooding and serious attitude of Spider-Man 2099. Unlike the other Spider-People, however, you have a solution for his uptight demeanor.

A/N: this is entirely self-indulgent. This man has been living in my head rent-free for weeks now. I’m down bad, y’all. Also, I might make this into a series, who knows

Warnings: smut, PiV, sub Miguel, overstimulation, oral m-receiving, minors (and my roommate) DNI

Word count: 4.9k words

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

The door of your room slid closed behind you, and you let out a large sigh. Today had been exhausting. What started out as a quick an easy anomaly-hunt turned into a fiasco requiring multiple Spider-People to come in as backup, including Miguel. You hated when he joined your missions, he made you feel like you couldn’t handle the job on your own. Plus, you found it harder to concentrate on the missions when his figure was looming over your shoulder.

To make matters worse, you had broken your interdimensional traveling gizmo. It still seemed to keep you from glitching, but you couldn’t seem to communicate with the others with it after accidentally slamming it against a wall earlier that day. You made a mental note to ask Miguel for a new one later, but for now, you just needed to relax.

You peeled off your suit and removed your web shooters and tossed them haphazardly on your bed next to your pillows. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top before grabbing a quick drink of water from your fridge. When on Earth-928, you lived in a small studio apartment in headquarters like all the other Spider-People. There was just a bed, a small dresser, a kitchenette, and a door that led to your bathroom, but it was nice, and you enjoyed staying there on the days you weren’t in your own dimension.

As you were pulling out a bottle of water from your refrigerator, you heard your door slide open. In walked Miguel O’Hara, still in his suit with an irritated expression painted on his face.

“I don’t know how things work in this dimension,” you said with an eyebrow raised in annoyance, “but where I’m from, we typically knock before entering someone’s room.”

“You’re not answering my calls,” He replied in a serious voice. You huffed in exasperation. “Seriously?” You said. “You’re not going to acknowledge that you just barged into my room unannounced? I could’ve been naked for all you knew.”

Miguel looked down at you with a deadpan face. “You have a lock,” he argued, pointing at the button next to the one that opened the door. “I trust you know how to use it.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not the point,” you shot back. “The point is that you can’t just barge in here whenever you feel like it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be in here if you answered my calls,” He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. You let out an annoyed sigh. “My communicator is broken,” you explained, raising your arm to display the damaged watch.

His dark eyes glanced away from your face to the device on your wrist before moving them back to your face. “You broke my gizmo?” He asked in an accusatory tone. You raised your hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t break it,” you argued weakly. “It was broken…by a wall…that I slammed into. Listen, it was an accident, but I really need a new one.”

Miguel looked unimpressed. One of his eyebrows was raised in disapproval, and his full lips were turned downward in an unsympathetic frown. “I don’t just have a secret stash of watches for you to go through,” he told you in a level voice.

Now, you crossed your own arms over your chest and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Oh, I’m sure you do,” you countered. “You just don’t want to share.” Miguel stiffened a little bit at your accusation. “What do you call all of this that we’re in?” He asked incredulously. “My building, my tech, my universe that I’m sharing with you. You’re welcome.”

You scoffed at him. “Okay, sure,” you conceded. “But don’t act like you don’t need the rest of us to help with your mission.” Miguel didn’t like that, not one bit, and you could tell by how his eyes seemed to darken and his already-tall figure seemed to tower over you menacingly.

“I don’t need you,” he said in a hard voice. You stared up at him defiantly for a moment. It stung just a little bit, but you knew how that the best way to get him to back off was to make him uncomfortable.

Your stare softened as a coy smile pulled at your lips. “I see,” you mused slyly. “You may not need me, but you do want me.”

That did the trick. Miguel’s hardened eyes looked up at the ceiling in exasperation as he let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know why I put up with you,” he muttered under his breath.

You could feel a triumphant smirk growing on your face. “Because your hopelessly in love with me,” You offered as a joke. Miguel’s eyes moved from the ceiling back down to your face with an unamused gaze. “You think you’re so funny,” he said in a monotone voice.

“I know I’m funny,” you replied confidently. “I’m just trying to figure out what went so wrong in this universe that you’re not funny.”

“I can be funny,” he argued in a serious voice.

“Prove it.”

“I don’t owe you any proof.”

“Then I don’t believe you.”

“Fine.”

You smirked up at him knowingly as he stared down at you with his arms still crossed in front of his broad chest. It was so easy to get him riled up, and you loved making a sport of it. You couldn’t help but think he looked so good when he was angry.

“What?” He demanded, noticing your smug look. "I know what's wrong with you," you stated matter-of-factly. Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, he replied, "You?"

"Yes."

In his eyes, you could see a small flash of surprise. He hadn't expected you to agree with him. "Me," you repeated, "Hobie, Peter, and all the other Spider-People here. All that responsibility is driving you mad." He scoffed at your words. "You don't know the half of it," he replied sourly.

You hummed softly and placed a hand on his chest and ran it up to his shoulder. His eyes flashed to your face sharply, and he seemed to stiffen under your hand. "You're so tense," you observed casually, gently squeezing the muscle under your palm. "You should consider taking a break from all of this for a little bit."

He stared down at you for a moment before scoffing again quietly and turning away from you. "This is too important," he said grimly. "The fate of the multiverse rests on the work that we—,"

"Oh my god, Peter is right," you interrupted him with a laugh and roll of your eyes. "You're killing me with all your 'fate of the multiverse' speeches. You need to take the edge off a little bit." You turned away from him as you spoke and took a sip of water from your bottle.

"Take the edge off?" He repeated dubiously. "And how exactly do you suggest I do that?"

You were glad you had your back turned to him because a sly smile pulled at your lips. "There are several ways," you replied casually. "There's drinking, smoking," you paused a moment before adding, "exercising."

"Exercising?" He echoed doubtfully. "I have superhuman strength. Why would I exercise?" You turned back to face him, unable to resist the smirk on your face. "Cardio is good for you whether or not you have superhuman strength," you told him with a shrug.

He caught your suggestive meaning. You could tell by the way his eyes moved from your face to your body for a moment. You even thought his face looked a little red at your insinuation. "I don't have time for that," he said mutely in reply. You laughed. "Oh, you think you're so good that you would disrupt the fate of the multiverse?"

Miguel didn't seem amused, and he looked down at you with a level stare. "I mean that I can't make time for somebody else," he explained. "I have a job to do, and I can't let anybody distract me from it. And for your information, I am that good."

Your lips pulled up in a wry smile, and you raised your hands defensively. "Sorry, didn't mean to challenge your performance," you said. "I didn't know you were sensitive about it."

Miguel huffed at you, glaring down in offense. "I'm not sensitive," he argued.

"Seems like it."

"I am not—," he cut himself off with a sigh and ran a hand down his face. "I don't even know why I'm arguing with you about this," he mumbled. You chuckled softly and crossed your arms again. "Because you are too tense and need to take the edge off a little bit," you answered for him, repeating your words. He opened his eyes to look down at you, completely unamused. "And you want to be the one to take the edge off?" He questioned skeptically.

You placed an affronted hand over your heart in mock offense and asked, "What kind of girl do you take me for, Miguel?" He didn't seem to hear the humor in your voice because he looked away from you as his face flushed in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but smile at his reaction. This was too fun. "You would have to say the magic word first," you told him simply. Miguel's dark eyes returned to your face, and you could tell he was studying you to see if you were being serious.

Taking a few steps forward, you stood directly in front of him. Your head was tilted back as you looked up at him through your lashes. You ran a hand up from his abdomen to his chest, and you noticed how his breathing deepened at your touch. "Please," you told him with a smirk. "Or por favor. Whichever you prefer."

"I don't beg," he replied in a serious tone. You huffed an amused breath as you kept your hand resting over his quickening heart. "That's a shame," you said. "I would've loved to hear it."

Miguel didn't react to your teasing, but you could see now that his eyes were fixated on your smirking lips. Without a word, he raised a hand to your chin, his suit intuitively withdrawing to his wrist so that his bare thumb was running gently across your bottom lip. He was thinking about it. He was tempted.

You parted your lips for him, and Miguel slowly pushed his thumb into your mouth. You welcomed the intrusion and gently ran your tongue along his skin. You could see his jaw flex at the sensation and knew that now, he was really tempted. He pulled his hand back from your face and looked over at the door in contemplation. You had been teasing him, but his hesitation made you excited. He could still go, but you wanted him to stay. You wanted him.

"What do you say, Miguel?" You asked softly. "Do you think the multiverse can survive 10 minutes without you?"

His eyes moved from the door to your face again for a moment. It was difficult to read his expression, and you waited in the heavy silence for him to respond. After a pregnant pause, Miguel turned away from you and walked back to the door.

You felt a pang of disappointment in your stomach as you watched him walk away from you. The sting of his rejection hurt a little more than you had expected, and you felt your face grow warm as a result. When he reached the door, he paused a second before raising his hand to press the button to open your door.

Only he didn't open your door.

He locked it.

When he turned back to you, his eyes were dark with desire. He crossed back over to where you were standing and grabbed your jaw in one hand. He lowered his head until his nose brushed against yours. Then, soft as a feather, he whispered, "I can last a lot longer than 10 minutes."

Before you could say something snappy back to him, Miguel pulled you in for a heated kiss. His tongue slipped in between your lips, causing you to moan softly in his mouth. Your hands slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to your body. His own hands gripped at your waist and slid under your shirt, pulling the material up your torso.

You broke apart for a moment to allow Miguel to pull your shirt over your head before your lips crashed back together. He took several steps forward until the back of your legs hit the bed, and he pushed you down roughly onto the mattress. He followed down after you, placing a hand next to you for support while the other gripped at your breast through your bra.

"Up," Miguel demanded as his hand tried to reach under your back to unclasp your bra. You arched your body off the bed for him, and he was able to unclip it after a few seconds of blind grasping and threw it on the ground unceremoniously.

Greedy hands roamed across your body as he pressed his mouth to your breasts in sloppy kisses. You moaned at his hot touch, running your hands through his dark hair and pulling his head down to your body. After a few seconds of feeling your soft skin, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and swiftly pulled them off, underwear and all.

You couldn't help but giggle at his eagerness as he took a moment to admire your naked form under him. It was hard to read on his face what he was thinking, but there was the unmistakable look of lust burning in his eyes. You reached a hand up to his chest which was still covered by his suit. "Your turn," you whispered breathlessly.

He stared down at you for a moment before his suit finally retracted to expose the muscles of his body, leaving him only in a pair of black briefs. He looked like a god with his well-defined physique towering over you, and you ran a hand over his tanned skin in awe.

"Fuck me," you gasped softly. "You look so strong." He hummed in response and lowered his lips down onto yours for a quick kiss. "I am strong," he replied in a low voice. "And I am gonna fuck you." With that, he started grinding his hips against yours, and you both gasped softly at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure it gave you.

From under his briefs, you could feel the large bulge of his cock aching to be freed. You reached your hand down to the band of his briefs and tugged them downward. Miguel didn't need to be told what you wanted, and he reached down and hastily removed the small article of clothing from his waist.

You had to take a moment to stare down at Miguel's absolutely massive size. He was without a doubt the biggest you'd ever been with, and you had a moment of doubt about whether or not he would even fit in you. Your eyes glanced up at his face again and saw he was smirking down at you. He must have read the apprehension in your expression, and it made his ego swell. Well, you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Placing a hand against his chest, you lifted yourself up off the bed and pushed Miguel down so that your positions were switched. Now, you were straddling him as he lay on the bed under you. Miguel seemed a somewhat caught off guard by the change, but he didn't seem to mind as he ran his hands up your thighs to your waist in admiration.

"You like it like this?" He asked with interest, his eyes roaming your body above him. You smirked and responded, "Sometimes. I like the view from up here." His lips twitched upwards in amusement. "It's not so bad from here either," he said.

You hummed your appreciation as you moved your hips further down his body where his cock was waiting. You rubbed your wet entrance down his length, causing both of you to moan softly. He pulled at your hips to bring you back up again, obviously eager to be inside you.

You hovered over him for a moment, smirking down at his face. Under your hands, his chest was rising and falling in anticipation, but his face was glaring up at you in frustration. "Don't be a fucking tease," he growled, his fingers digging into your waist. You chuckled at him. "Don't worry," you murmured as you ran your hands up the muscles of his torso. "I'm gonna take care of you."

Sitting upright, you slowly lowered yourself onto him. Miguel closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as you moved inch-by-inch down his thick length. Your fingers dug into the skin of his chest as you took ragged breaths. He was stretching you out like you'd never been before.

A salacious groan tore from your throat as you bottomed out, your hips resting against his. "You're so fucking tight," Miguel whispered, opening his eyes to gaze up at you lustfully. His hands gripped at your ass, urging you to move, to give him the friction you both so desperately craved.

Leaning forward, you rested on your hands planted on his chest and started grinding against his hips. Miguel closed his eyes again, his head pressed back against the mattress as he groaned softly at the feeling of being inside you. You could see all the stress of leading the Spider-Society melt away from his mind as he became fully engrossed in the pleasure you were giving him.

You couldn't help but smirk at the sight of him under you. How often had you imagined this scenario late at night after your missions together? How many times had you admired the shape of his body when you knew he wasn't looking? And now, you were able to see everything, feel everything, and it was even better than you had imagined.

As you grew accustomed to his massive size, you began increasing your pace. The back-and-forth movements you were making caused your clit to drag against his pelvis just right, and the head of his cock was rubbing up against your G-spot in a way that drew quick, breathy moans from your mouth. Miguel was also enjoying you from this position, his large hands still firmly planted on your hips as he guided your movements from below.

His head pressed back against the bed, he groaned. "You look so pretty sitting on me like this, taking every inch of me." You took a shuddering breath at his words, nails digging into his skin as you continued grinding your hips against his. "You're so big, Miguel," you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes. "And you feel so good inside me."

The sound of your gasps filled the space around you. Miguel grunted and began moving his hips up and into yours, pushing himself even deeper into you. "There we go," he mumbled almost to himself. "Keep going like that. Shit, you feel so good."

His words caused another soft groan to emerge from you. You would never admit it, but you had sought out Miguel's approval from the moment he offered you a place in the Spider-Society. Mission after mission, you hoped for a compliment or an acknowledgment of appreciation, but Miguel only seemed to compliment Peter Parker from fucking Earth-13122. Now, hearing his praise fall from his lips as you were riding his dick drove you wild.

You felt yourself growing more desperate for relief, and in your hazy, lust-filled mind, you realized that Miguel was starting to take charge of the situation. His hands were moving you against him as his hips were thrusting up into you. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate it, but you just wanted him to relax, to take a break from leading for once.

You blinked opened your eyes to look down at him. His eyes were red with desire as he stared up at your face, his quiet gasps emerging from his parted lips. The eye contact was electric, and you could only stand to look at his heated gaze for so long before you turned your face aside, and your eyes fixed on your discarded suit next to you.

Even though you couldn't quite think straight, an idea formed in your mind on how you could take back control of the situation.

Taking his hands from your hips, you guided them up your torso toward your breasts. "Que bonita," he murmured, his rough hands following your prompting to explore your body. You sighed as he gripped at your soft skin. "Fuck, Miguel," you moaned softly, still grinding steadily against him and gasping with every rock of your hips. "That's it, babygirl," he told you. "Keep saying my name like that."

And you did. You whispered, sighed, and moaned his name over and over again as you increased your pace on top of him. Your eyes became unfocused as you felt a knot in your stomach start to form, and your breathing started to become ragged. Miguel could sense that you were close, and his hands came back down to your hips to encourage your desperate movements.

You fell forward as you tensed suddenly, nails digging into his chest. Cries of pleasure tore from your mouth as your orgasm completely took over your body. You couldn't think, couldn't speak as you rode out your high against his hips. Miguel groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him, and he watched in awe as you came undone on top of him.

After a moment of blissful pleasure, the sensations all became too much for you, and you had to pause for a moment to regain your breath and wait for your thighs to stop shaking. When you had somewhat regained your ability to think, you leaned down and pressed your lips to Miguel's in a sloppy kiss as you pulled yourself off of his cock.

He grunted at the loss of your warmth around him, and he tried pulling your hips back down on his own. You chuckled at his desperation and moved your lips to brush against his ear. "Don't worry," you whispered, still out of breath from your orgasm. "I'll take care of you." As you spoke, you reached over to your suit and grabbed one of your web shooters and placed it on your wrist as discretely as possible.

You nipped at his earlobe before pulling away, causing him to sigh softly. Gripping Miguel's wrists, you pulled his hands off of your hips and slowly raised them above his head. He didn't resist your directing, he just stared up at your face with lust still burning in his eyes.

You placed his hands next to each other above his head, and before he could lower them again, you shot a web to keep them pinned down. Miguel's head snapped up in alarm, and his arms struggled reactively against his bindings. You couldn't help but smile deviously down at him while his arms flexed in an effort to free himself. He looked so pretty tied up like that.

After a few seconds of resisting, Miguel relaxed his arms and looked back at your face. "I'll get you for this," he told you in a low voice. You smirked down at him and ran your fingers down his face. "I don't doubt it," you replied in a silky voice, tracing the edge of his face and placing two of your fingers on his lips. He parted them for you and gently sucked at your fingers as he closed his eyes.

You took a moment to etch this image of him into your mind. Here was Miguel O'Hara, humorless and authoritarian, tied up beneath you with your fingers in his mouth. It was perfect.

"I'm not done with you yet," you told him sweetly as you began moving lower to where his cock was waiting, still wet from your cunt. You wrapped your hands around his length and moved them up and down experimentally. Miguel's head fell back against your bed as a muffled groan resembling a sigh escaped his mouth. You smiled in satisfaction at his reaction and steadily increased your speed.

"Mierda," he whispered. "Just like that." His abs were flexing at the sensation of your movement, and his hips started bucking upwards like he was trying to fuck your hands. You placed one of your hands down on his thigh to keep him from thrusting while you lowered your mouth onto him, taking as much of his length as you could. What you couldn't fit into your mouth, you continued stroking with your other hand.

Your mouth around his dick caused Miguel to strain against his bindings. A deep growl rumbled in his throat as your head bobbed up and down, causing tears to form in your eyes as you tried not to choke on his massive size.

"Your mouth looks so pretty wrapped around me like that," he groaned, looking down at you. You turned your eyes upwards to meet his, and after a second, you winked and swirled your tongue lazily around his cock.

Miguel nearly came right then, and you could tell. He screwed his eyes shut and turned his head away from you, taking deep, uneven breaths. You lifted your mouth off of him with a crooked grin. "Don't be shy," you lilted. "I want you to cum on me." His breaths became louder and faster. You started increasing the speed of your hand, and the muscles of his thighs and abdomen began to tighten until finally, he was gasping out your name as he came in your hand.

The hot substance landed on your neck and shoulders, and Miguel groaned with his release as his head fell back against the bed in satisfaction. His panting breaths filled the air as you slowed your hand's pace. You didn't stop though. Instead, you smiled deviously before lowering your mouth back down his length, taking as much of him as you possibly could while still moving your hands up and down.

Immediately, Miguel sucked in a sharp breath and began moving restlessly under you, trying to escape the overstimulation you were causing him. You couldn't help but think of how good he looked as he struggled against the bindings of his hands, the muscles of his arms flexing desperately above his head.

Shuddering breaths escaped from Miguel's mouth, and he actually started whining under you. "Basta," he gasped through clenched teeth as he was writhing on your bed. "Párarte. It's too much." You could see that in his desperation, his claws were attempting to cut away at the binding you had placed them under, but they weren't able to catch any of your webbing.

You raised your mouth off of him with a smirk while your hands still moved up and down his length. At this point, his thighs were shaking, and his whole body was flexing with overstimulation. His head was thrown back against the bed with his eyes screwed shut while shaky grunts and gasps filled the air. "What's the magic word?" You asked sweetly, stroking up and down nonstop.

"Porfa," he gasped desperately. "Por favor, please."

The sound of him begging was so sweet, and you were tempted to continue despite his pleas, but you relented. You sat up slowly, watching with satisfaction how his whole body trembled as he recovered from your touch. His rapid breathing was starting to even, and he seemed to sag down into your bed with relief.

You crawled up slowly toward his head, bringing your face inches from his own. You moved your hand up to where his were pinned and ripped away the webbing. He sighed at the relief of being able to move his arms freely again. His eyes were still closed, and his lips were parted as he panted softly. You ran your hand through his hair with a smile, and his eyes opened to look at you. It was difficult to read his expression, but you thought that in his half-lidded eyes, there was something like gratitude.

"I told you I'd take care of you," you murmured softly, your lips brushing lightly across his own before you pressed a lazy kiss on them. He seemed too worn out to kiss you properly, and his mouth moved sloppily against you. "I needed this," he admitted quietly, words mumbled into your mouth. You chuckled at him before pulling away and rolling off the bed.

"Stay as long as you'd like," you offered over your shoulder as you sauntered off to the bathroom for a shower. Even though you couldn't see him, you knew he eyes were fixed on your figure as you closed the door behind you.

You sighed as the warm water washed over you. Letting the water spray on your face, you almost couldn't believe what you had just done. You didn't expect anything substantial to come from this, but you didn't mind. Miguel was a welcome distraction from the shit that you dealt with during your missions. Maybe, you could help relieve each other's stress every once in a while like this.

You weren't sure how long you stayed in the shower. When you finally stepped out, you wrapped a towel around you and stepped back into your room to pull out fresh clothes. You weren't surprised when you found that your room was empty, but there was something that caught your eye on the side of your bed. Crossing over to your bed, a smile grew on your lips when you saw a new wrist gizmo sitting on your pillow for you.

1K notes · View notes

siythn · 4 months

Text

Sick & Soup

GOJOXREADER! You hate Gojo. Gojo hates you. It's the way everything's always been. But when you wake up in the middle of the night desperate for something to help your aching body, Gojo being the one to help makes you rethink your distaste for one another. _________ ♫ MASTERMIND - taylor swift ❝ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ? ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴍᴇ, ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴀꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ᴍᴇ.❞

TAGS - @dottedsilktie @ophelias-fate @skadee @augaws @bruhm0mentum

When you feel that itchy feeling scratching your throat when you wake, you’ve never wanted to throw yourself out the window more.

You toss and turn in your bed as if it’s supposed to cure the discomfort, but the weight of unease presses down on you like a suffocating blanket.

The darkness of the night feels more congested than usual, and an unshakable feeling of irritation gnaws at your insides. With a frustrated sigh, you reluctantly push aside the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

The dormitory is eerily quiet, with no quiet footsteps or words exchanged, the only sounds being the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Everyone else seems to be on a mission, leaving you alone in the silence of the night. Normally, the loneliness would be a break from the chaos Jujutsu Tech brought, but tonight it only adds to your sense of isolation.

You make your way to the kitchen, the cold tiles sending shivers up your spine—you would kill for some fuzzy socks at the moment. Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway, the sound bouncing off the walls with your faint sniffles.

As you reach the kitchen, you rummage through the wooden cabinets in search of the medication you desperately need on tippy toes, knocking over a few bottles in the process. The darkness and thinking you could search for it without a light doesn’t help.

“Oh thank god,” you whisper with a rasp just as you find the blue bottle, titled Bold with Ibuprofen. Pouring out a glass of water, you’re interrupted by a sudden noise that makes you freeze in place.

Sure, you’ve had your fair share of horror films, but today, especially now, were you going to deal with something near that.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you slowly turn around, your eyes widening in alarm as you come face to face with the last person you expected to see at this hour.

"Gojo," you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. You can’t tell if it’s in relief or frustration.

He stands before you, his white hair catching the moonlight filtering in through the window. His blue eyes, normally holding mischief and arrogance, now pique a hint of curiosity as he stares you down with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you doing up so late, huh?" Gojo asks, his tone laced with amusement.

You bristle at his casual demeanor, the tension between you palpable in the air. Despite being classmates at Jujutsu Tech, you and Gojo have never seen eye to eye. His cocky attitude and reckless behavior never failed to get on your nerves, and you make no effort to hide your disdain for him.

Clearly, it worked both ways.

"I could ask you the same thing," you retort, lazily crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

Gojo chuckles, taking a step closer to you until there's a foot or two of space between you. Not to boost his enormous ego—but you can’t help but quiver at his presence. Being around him just feels suffocating, like a looming shadow threatening to engulf you whole.

"I couldn't sleep," he admits with a shrug, his voice softer now. You pick up on how it sounds, almost vulnerable? "Too much on my mind, I guess."

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief and scoff at his words. You refuse to let your guard down despite the sincerity in his tone.

You've learned the hard way not to trust someone like Gojo, someone who thrives on chaos and unpredictability.

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it?" you snap, turning away from him to hide the unease flickering in your eyes.

You pick up the cup, swallowing the blue pill before drinking a mouth full of water. Turning around to put the glass into the sink, you ignore the blue-eyed male, slightly brushing shoulders with him. As much as you hate his presence, the feeling of his eyes watching you is worse.

You can feel the air between the both of you crackling with some type of tension as you avoid his gaze, hoping he'll take the hint and leave you alone. But to your dismay, he doesn't budge, his curiosity only growing stronger with each passing moment.

"Come on, seriously, what are you doing up?" Gojo persists, leaning down to get closer to you, insisting on getting an answer.

He wasn’t stupid, he could probably pick up a hint or two from the pill you just swallowed. But of course, it’s Gojo, he would never just let you off without his snarky remarks.

You grit your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as you struggle to keep your composure. "I told you, I couldn't sleep. Is that such a crime?"

Gojo's eyes narrow slightly, a grin sneaking upon his lips. He knows his teasing is working, and you hate how you’re feeding into it. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

You roll your eyes, refusing to dignify his accusation with a response. But Gojo is relentless, his persistence wearing down your defenses like waves against a stubborn rock.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks suddenly, his tone softening as peers over your shoulder, watching you clean the cup with soap and a sponge.

You pause your movements, caught off guard by, what seems to be, concern in his voice. "I'm fine," you mutter, brushing off his question with a dismissive wave of your hand.

But Gojo isn't convinced, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of weakness. "You don't look fine," he observes, his brow furrowing. "You look more pale than usual, and you're trembling. Are you,” he pauses, gaze attentively looking over you again. “—sick?"

You bite back a retort, unable to deny the truth of his words. Despite your best efforts to hide it, the stillness of your body gives away the answer to him without words.

"What's the matter, little Miss Perfect? Catch a cold from all that attitude?" Gojo taunts, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

You let out a huff of annoyance, swallowing back the retort that threatens to spill from your lips as you scrub the already clean cup harder. You try and block his presence out, but it’s seemingly impossible.

You know your silence doesn’t help you with his mocking, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your cool again, even if his incessant teasing is enough to make you want to scream.

Rinsing the cup, you dry it off with the nearest towel, trying hard not to give in and smack him straight with it. You can’t hold back your words when you hear his deafening laugh as you put the cup away.

"What's this?" you demand, turning around to face Gojo, who now leans against the counter with a smirk on his face. "Why are you still here?” you voice, glaring at him as you continue.

“I mean, don’t you have better things do to than just pester me? Is that seriously how boring your life is? I’m starting to be convinced you’re worrying about me.”

Gojo chuckles a second time, his laughter ringing out against the walls. "Please, like I'd waste my time worrying about you," he scoffs, his tone present with disdain. "I just thought you might want some company since you're too weak to take care of yourself."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much," you snap while taking a breath.

But Gojo just shakes his head, his grin widening into a deeper smirk. "Sure you are," he says, his tone mocking. "Which is why you're up at the crack of dawn, looking like death warmed over."

You open your mouth to fire back a insult, but before you can get a word out, Gojo interrupts you with a wave of his hand. "Enough chit-chat," he declares, his tone surprisingly authoritative compared to his childish personality. “Sit. Stay."

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. "Excuse me?" you sputter, too shocked to form a coherent response. You’re not a little kid, and you’re definitely not one to be ordered around.

But Gojo just nods towards the couch, his expression leaving no room for argument. "Sit," he repeats, his voice firm.

With a begrudging sigh, you do as he says, sinking onto the couch with a exaggerated sigh. Arms across your chest, you watch in bemusement as Gojo disappears into the kitchen, his movements loud and purposeful as he now rummages through the cabinets.

All you can hear is the clatter of pots and pans, punctuated by the occasional curse word muttered under Gojo's breath.

When a few minutes go by, you can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity as you wonder what he's up to, but before you can investigate further, Gojo emerges from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup in one hand and, a spoon in the other.

"Here," he says, thrusting the bowl and a spoon into your hands. "Eat this."

You blink in surprise, too taken aback by his unexpected gesture to formulate a response. Gojo just watches you expectantly, his arms crossed over his chest as he waits for your reaction.

With one last hesitant gaze at him, you take a sip of the soup, the warmth immediately spreading through your body like a comforting embrace. It's delicious, and for a moment, you forget all about the animosity that usually exists between you and Gojo.

"Thank you,” you murmur, your voice soft but still heard enough to pick up the gratitude that comes from your words.

Gojo shrugs, you don’t know if it’s the moonlight playing tricks on you—a faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away. "Don't mention it," he mumbles, suddenly bashful.

You take another spoonful of soup, the cozy feeling spreading through your body and easing some of the discomfort you've been feeling. But as you do, the weight of Gojo's unexpected kindness hangs heavy in the air, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions inside you.

Despite the warmth of the soup and the comfort of the moment, you can't shake the resentment that still lingers between you and Gojo. Your hate for him runs a little deeper than some soup.

"I still hate you, you know," you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than to Gojo.

But he hears you loud and clear, his expression shifting from bashful to contemplative as he regards you with a thoughtful gaze. "I know," he replies simply, his voice surprisingly gentle.

There's a brief moment of silence between the two of you. But then, it’s interrupted unexpectedly as Gojo lets out a soft chuckle, his laughter echoing off the walls of the dormitory.

"Well, lucky for you, my soup has magical healing powers," he jokes, flashing you a playful grin.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress the small smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that," you retort, your tone teasing despite yourself.

Neither of you seems to know quite what to say, so you both fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room the soft clinking of utensils against bowls as you eat and his occasional heavy breaths.

As you finish the last spoonful of soup, you set the empty bowl down on the coffee table. That icky feeling in your throat is now gone but replaced with a strange mix of gratitude and confusion swirling inside you.

Gojo wordlessly takes the bowl from you and carries it to the kitchen, his movements fluid and silent. You watch him go, feeling a pang of guilt tug at your conscience.

You try your best to maintain your animosity towards him, but his unexpected sincerity has left you feeling unsettled; and unkept. You don’t like it, at all.

When Gojo returns from the kitchen, he catches your eye and gives a small nod towards the hallway.

It's a silent invitation, a gesture of understanding, that the both of you could hate each other later. But for now, you can just pretend.

Nodding in response, silently grateful for him taking the push and making the first move. You push yourself up from the couch, and within a few seconds, you find yourself falling into step beside Gojo as you both make your way down the dimly lit hallway.

The silence between you is comfortable, the tension of earlier dissipating with each step you take, shoulders coming close to touching. You can’t help but steal a glance at him, noticing the way the moonlight filters through the window, casting soft shadows across his features.

For the first time, you find yourself seeing him—not as the arrogant troublemaker you’ve always known him to be, but as a person, flawed and complex, just like you. That this is him. No stupid glasses, no stupid grin, no stupid remarks.

As you reach the end of the hallway, Gojo slows his pace, coming to a stop in front of your room. He turns to you, his expression unreadable within the dark corridors.

The soft glow of the light spills through the window, casting a gentle illumination over the hallway, enveloping you both in its ethereal embrace. There's a moment of quiet stillness between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

You turn to face Gojo, intending to express your gratitude for his unexpected kindness. But as you open your mouth to speak, the words get caught in your throat, your voice failing you when you need it most.

Instead, you find yourself simply staring at him, truly captivated by the way the light dances across his features, casting shadows and highlights that only serve to accentuate his natural charm.

Gojo's gaze meets yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. His blue eyes, ones that you resent to gaze at for too long— now hold a depth of emotion that makes you lose any sense of voice.

In the silence of the night, you find yourself lost in his eyes, forgetting everything else but the brief connection that exists between you tonight.

As the seconds tick by, neither of you says a word, as if content to simply bask in the warmth of each other's presence. You find your eyes trailing to the illumination that catches the strands of Gojo's white hair; ones that look soft to the touch.

Maybe Satoru Gojo isn’t all that bad.

His gaze lingers on your face, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of your lips for a brief moment. It's a subtle gesture, one that goes unnoticed by anyone but the two of you, but it sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

You feel your breathe stop as you catch the fleeting glance, your heart pounding in your chest as you wonder if perhaps, just maybe, there’s something more between you and Gojo than just petty distaste.

Maybe you had it wrong all this time.

For a moment, it feels as though time slows to a crawl as you wait with bated breath, half-expecting Gojo to lean in and close the distance between you.

But just as quickly as the moment comes, it passes, and Gojo takes a small step back, his expression unreadable as he breaks the trance you find yourself both in.

You watch him closely, unable to tear your stare away from his face as you search for any sign of what he might be feeling. But Gojo's mask is firmly in place, keeping you from knowing his true intentions.

You’re left with nothing but questions and the memory of that brief, thrilling moment between you.

But before you can dwell on the thought any longer, the sound of approaching footsteps as you both realize where you are, that it’s not just the both of you. With a start, you turn away from Gojo, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you.

"Mm, thank you," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you glance back at him over your shoulder.

Gojo offers you a small smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he nods in response. "Anytime," he replies softly, his voice warm with sincerity.

And with that, you turn back to your door, the moment between you and Gojo fading into the past.

With a shaky exhale, you feel a flush of embarrassment color your cheeks as you try to shake off the moment. It was in the heat of the moment, you try and convince yourself.

But as you slip into your room and close the door behind you, you can't help but wonder what might have been if Gojo had chosen to act on his impulses. Would you have kissed him back? Would you have liked it?

No, of course not. Why would you? The only real reason why you might even consider kissing him back was to get him sick, to get him back.

Right?

AUTHORS NOTE! - pretty pls request stuff !! love to hear what you guys want me to write / gives me motivation and inspiration ᰔᩚ

#ꜱɪʏᴛʜɴ #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jjk x reader #geto #nanami #choso #gojou satoru x reader #enemies to lovers #might be my favorite fic to date #jjkau #jjksickreader

287 notes · View notes

notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

Text

Stay the Night

here’s some old-school Bucky in Wakanda smut. I didn’t think I’d publish Bucky stuff here, yet here we are. Hope you enjoy x

18+, smut, fluff. It's just you and Bucky in Wakanda while the team is away. He tends to his flock, you wish he tended to you.

“Today is the literal meaning of ‘hotter than Hades’,” you announced as you collapsed less than gracefully on a broken tree log as Bucky Barnes shot you a look over his shoulder, sweat protruding from every pore in his tanned, muscular form, a tendril of long, dark hair falling into his glassy blue eyes from the loose ponytail behind his head.

Jesus, a man should never look that damn good, you thought, fanning yourself with your shirt, the material sticking to your drenched skin. Thank god the heat hid your blush.

“Bored?” he asked, scooping up a hay bail and loosening it for the goats he tended to munch on.

“Radio silence,” you replied. “I kind of feel like I’m in the way of the locals when I can’t contact the team. I haven’t heard from Nat, Sam or Steve in a few days. I am pretty useless at times like this.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, pointing at the water bottle you had parked beside you. “You brought water. I assume that’s why you’re out here in the midday sun,” he teased as you tossed it to him and he caught it easily with his right hand, twisting the cap off and guzzling the cool refreshment.

Every movement was pure sex, you sighed quietly as his throat bobbed, water falling from the creases of his lips and down his chin. Life seemed much fairer before Bucky Barnes.

“Thanks, Buck,” you rolled your eyes as he finished the bottle easily, crushing it in his palm and laughing at you, walking back to hand it to you.

“No, no,” he nudged your boot with his. “Thank you,” he went back to stacking and distributing hay as you said a quiet goodbye and told him you’d see him later.

You hated when the team was away.

While you’d made some friends in Wakanda, you were still finding your way and mostly felt in the way of working alongside the Wakandan defence and communications teams. They used a lot more sophisticated tech than Stark had ever provided you and you’d never admit it out loud, the tech was somewhat confusing at times, thanks to its gross advancement over what you were used to.

You’d always be thankful for T’Challa and his family for taking you into the palace grounds, a necessity, T’Challa explained. It was beyond amazing and his lovely mother, Ramonda, fussed over you to ensure you were comfortable at all times. It was nice to feel so welcome, but so lonely without your family.

Steve, Nat and Sam had left days ago. Wanda and Vis were off the radar (lie, you knew they were having some kind of rendezvous in Europe and had no intentions of interrupting whatever was or had developed between them).

That left Bucky.

After he’d been woken from cryo, Shuri had run every test known to man on him to assist in the removal of the trigger words, he’d gratefully taken up residence away from the hustle and bustle of the wondrous city and hauled his ass out to the farmlands, simply requesting the peace, privacy and quiet. For the first time in over 100 years, he was able to be his own man without fear of retribution. Sure, the dark memories flickered occasionally, but the words would never hurt him again.

He enjoyed the serenity in the sounds of nature, with the exception of an iPod that Sam had gifted to get him up to speed on more modern music than the 1940’s bops Bucky was more accustomed to –

You sighed, hearing the knock at the door, interrupting the reverie of mindless TV. It was late, too late for guests. After dinner, you’d showered and retired to your PJ’s – your threadbare, well-worn Yankees shirt (your first souvenir of New York City when SHIELD moved you there years earlier regardless of your disinterest in baseball) and loose PJ pants. “Coming,” you replied, pushing yourself up to open the door, surprised to see Bucky on the other side - cleaned up, void of sweat and dust in lazy sweat pants and a white t-shirt. A casual Bucky Barnes. This new development was not helping your crush. Not in the slightest. “Hey. You lost?” you teased lightly.

He showed you a bottle of Glenfidditch and you chuckled a little, moving from the way to let him in. Closing the door behind him, you leaned back against it, a little confused about his visit as Bucky simply didn’t visit anyone aside from Steve or Shuri. You only visited Bucky occasionally to make sure he wasn’t segregating himself, but he did usually prefer his own company when Steve wasn’t around.

“Got ice?” he asked, going to the kitchenette for a couple of tumblers.

“I don’t actually – if I’m going to drink aged whiskey, I’ll be doing it properly.”

“Ooh,” Bucky cooed, a small grin growing on his lips. “A woman after my own heart.”

“Blame Steve – a few years back when we all moved to the Tower… fuck, just after Ultron maybe? Steve brought out a bottle of this stuff and I’ve been a convert ever since. He said you guys would destroy bottles together.”

“Well, he did. I would drink responsibly though I didn’t know at the time I could put them back as well as Steve could with the serum running through my veins,” he said, bringing the glasses to the coffee table, cracking the top and pouring you each a glass. “Are you gonna join me or hang out by the door?”

“Sorry,” your face flushed as you skittered over and sat at the other end of the couch. He handed you a glass and gave you gentle ‘cheers’ before you sat in silence for a while, enjoying the smooth amber liquid. “…Bucky, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I dunno – you seemed a bit forlorn today. Thought I’d try and be a friend,” he shrugged. “You’ve been pretty accommodating to me since we got here. I guess I could repay the favour even if you’re only checking in on me for Steve. And you’ve got air conditioning,” he tossed in the joke to try and lighten the mood.

“Steve didn’t ask me to keep tabs on you,” you admitted.

“Oh,” Bucky said, sipping his whiskey and easing back on the couch. “Do you like it out here?”

You chewed your lip, dropping your eyes to the glass. “I mean, it’s a hellova lot better than being shipped out to The Raft,” you admitted as he stifled a chuckle.

“True.”

“If I’m going to be on the run for associating with the team, it might as well be in one of the most securest places on the planet.”

“You chose well,” Bucky agreed.

“Would have been stupid for me not to take it. I owe T’Challa, and Steve, a lot.”

“They’re good men.”

“Absolutely.”

Silence overtook the room again though there was no discomfort with it.

“Thanks for havin’ a drink with me,” Bucky said as he polished off his glass. “It’s getting late,” he got to his feet.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he said with a gentle shrug, collecting his tumbler.

“You’re not imposing. It’s nice to have the company, to be honest,” you confessed.

“'Nother glass then?”

“Definitely,” you said, hoping not to appear too eager. Bucky gave a small nod and poured again.

“I know I’m not much of a talker,” he told you as you sat and cradled your glass close to your chest.

“I just enjoy the company regardless of noise levels,” you shrugged. “It’s different when the team is here, but when they aren’t…”

“When they aren’t?” he pressed.

“I have too much time with my thoughts.”

He raised a glass. “I hear that.”

Your glass joined his. “Why are you in the farmlands then and not in the palace?”

He nodded slowly as you hoped you hadn’t overstepped the mark. Blame the first glass of booze – less than tipsy you would never ask such a question. “Just tryin’ to earn my keep – least I can do since T’Challa is harbouring an international war criminal, assassin, murderer – ”

You gave a gentle laugh. “He’s not harbouring you.”

“Protecting me then,” Bucky corrected himself.

“Maybe protecting you,” you admitted, agreeing.

You both continued a polite conversation, mostly about Steve and the team before you both started dozing at your respective ends of the couch. “I should really head out now,” Bucky said.

“Stay, it’s a million degrees out there.”

He gave you an incredulous look that told you he knew what you were saying, but staying was still a terrible idea. Suddenly overwhelmed, you realised it completely sounded like a blatant invite for sex. It wasn’t, you thought. Was it?

Trying telling your libido that.

“If you stay on your side of the bed, Bucky, and I stay on mine, we won’t have any issues,” you try to regain your composure.

“Are you completely sure?” he looked about as convinced as you thought you were.

“My God, it’s sleep,” you told him. “I would never deny you, of all people, Bucky, sleep.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”

“It’s far too hot to stay out there overnight. Enjoy a night’s sleep in the air con,” you joked. “If you enjoy sleeping in comfy climates, hey, you might even move in here.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Here?”

You blinked a few times, not catching his tease. “Yeah, like here, the palace.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

“Oh, you thought in here. With me,” you barked a laugh, getting off the couch and heading for the bed, Bucky following a safe distance away. You stifled your discomfort with snark, “Oh, darling,” you leaned forward to cup Bucky’s stubbly chin. “Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

“Oh darlin’, don’t fall for me so quickly. It’ll only end in heartbreak,” he mocked in return. You laughed incredulously, thinking to yourself, ‘too fuckin’ late, buddy’ and moving to your side of the King bed and pulling the pillows towards yourself.

“If you’re truly concerned, here. Build a pillow wall with me. Put that hay bailin’ practice to good use.”

He sighed with a gentle smile, he was thoroughly enjoying this cheeky banter you’d suddenly worked into your conversation and helped you build the Great Wall of pillows.

“Perfect,” you said, fixing the last pillow in place.

“That is an impressive pillow wall,” Bucky concluded, stifling a laugh. “Failsafe.”

“Make yourself comfy,” you told him, laying back as he pulled off his soft cotton t-shirt and folded it, placing it neatly on the bedside table next to him, a habit he’d picked up in military training in the 40s and never really lost it, no matter what control he was under, you imagined.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he told you. “It is a lot nicer inside than out.”

“Told you,” you replied with a chuckle, raising a fist to him over the wall.

“What is that?” he chucked.

“My knuckles? You’ve never knocked ‘knuckles’ with someone? A fist bump?”

He laughed louder. “No, I’ve never fist-bumped.”

“Then hit my knuckles with yours,” you instructed as Bucky did as he was told. Still confused for a second, his hand met yours gently before opening and clutching your wrist in his warm, rough-skinned hand and bringing your open hand to his lips. The rules of the pillow wall were suddenly crumbling before you. Destroyed so easily.

“You need to behave,” you told him, suddenly very nervous.

“I’m finding it so hard. We’re here and I know it’s not just me that is feeling this, sugar,” he continued kissing to your wrist and moving towards your inner elbow as he got to his knees. Your body betrayed you as goose pimples shot up and down your spine and you found yourself sitting up opposite him. “All I wanna do is compromise this pillow wall.”

You could cut the tension in the cool room with a knife as your eyes burned into his. Chewing his lip, he made no secret of his intentions as he licked his mouth and walloped the pillow wall away.

Suddenly there was no divide and you were looking at each like they were your last meals. “Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly.

“If you don’t, I’m going to kiss you,” you retorted as he skimmed across the sheets to you and pulled your body flush to his. He sunk his fingers into your hair and pulled your face to his, leaving a small kiss on your waiting lips.

“Is that okay?” he asked, almost afraid.

“More,” you demanded as a reply. There was nothing forgiving about it – you were suddenly craving him – his mouth, his touch, his body, his scent and he was surrounding you in a way no other person had before.

He moved back a little. “One minute – I gotta explain…” he breathed gently. “This is kind of my first time being intimate in a long time. I know this,” he looked at his left shoulder, ashamed. “I know it’s not sexy. And if you don’t want to be with me because of it - ”

You grasped his face in your hands, forcing his eyes to meet yours and kissed him lightly. “Believe me when I say I do not care, Bucky. I know you do but I need you to know, this changes nothing for me.”

“I’ve imagined this so many times with you, pleasing you and now we’re here, I just…” his soft Brooklyn accent rumbled. “I just imagined it as me. The old me.”

Your head spun – he felt the same way? Jesus Christ, assassin school taught him surely how to fool you into believing he barely knew you existed.

“Well, I only know this, Bucky – I’m pretty crazy about you.”

His eyes flickered. Maybe it was emotion, you weren’t sure.

“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

This time, he blushed.

“So maybe, you should just lay back,” you said, helping guide him to do so, his head settling amongst the remains of the disastrous pillow wall and you kissed him, he moaned just loud enough to hear. “And we have a good time, okay?”

He nodded, nervously. “Okay.”

“Now, relax,” you said, unsure where your confidence was coming from but you knew he needed you to lead him and you were going to treat him right. He deserved this – you, and all of you. All for him.

You ungracefully tossed the sheets from the bed, they’d just be getting in the way and crawled towards Bucky’s feet, grabbing the loose elasticised ankles and pulling at them, the sweats he wore drawn from his slender hips, descending his powerful thighs and calves before you disregarded them all together, leaving him solely in boxer briefs. Calvin Klein, how so very rude.

And dear, if your mouth didn’t water at the surprise he poorly hid in them.

Kissing his ankle and working your lips up the inside of his legs, tickling behind his knee, he shuddered. He shuddered hard. “Fuck,” he muttered. You smiled against his skin, lips moving again, your hands massaging his powerful thighs. Stopping at his waist, you crept onto his lap and pulled away your shirt. Bucky sighed, his hand reaching out to touch you. You leaned closer to him as his arm skirted around you, pulling your body flush to his to kiss you, your tongue tracing his full lips as he enthusiastically opened his mouth for your tongues to meet. His hand scalded your skin as he groped at you lightly, cascaded your side and tangled into your hair, deepening the kiss as his hips started to move beneath your body, his cock needing the friction.

You paused and raised a finger to him. He raised a confused eyebrow as you scampered off him to lose your sweats, no panties underneath. You didn’t let him get a good, long look at you before you moved to rid him of his boxers, hard cock free and you gave him a few encouraging pumps, his eyes rolling back. “Sweet Jesus,” he begged for mercy. “Please.”

“Please?” you raised a teasing eyebrow and sat on your knees between his muscular thighs. He was asking you to go down on him. You’d never felt so willing before to please a man as you were for to do for Bucky.

“Please,” he tried again as you could see this man didn’t need to be teased, he just needed to be wanted. Adored. Loved.

“Okay. Okay, now you sit back, Barnes. And you let me take care of the rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he tucked his arm behind his head, licking his lips as you took him in your palms before an encouraging kiss to the head and taking him into your mouth. “Dear God,” he managed to say through groans. His hand found your hair again, pushing your hair from your face to see what he thought was the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen work over his body. “Baby, that is so good. So hot,” he encouraged, clutching roughly but not enough to hurt, just enough to spur you on. You continued your ministrations for a few minutes more before he guided you away from him, gasping. “Baby, stop. I’ll come.”

You blinked at him. “That’s okay,” you promised. “I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

He grinned at you. “I’m sure you can. But I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he admitted shyly.

“Oh,” you gave a gentle nod. “I thought I was doing something wrong.”

He shook his head, alarmed. “God, no. You were a little too good at what you were doing,” he reassured you. “Get up here,” he pulled you to his face to meet him for a lingering kiss. “You could kill a man with that mouth.”

“I doubt that,” you got suddenly shy, burying your blushing face in his neck as he guided your face back to his.

“Don’t get bashful now, sweetheart,” he gazed at you like you were about the best damn thing he’d ever seen. You didn’t know how or why, but the look turned you on more than any act prior to right then. You just wanted to make him happy, release him, and feel him come apart under your hands. “I have an admission to make, and fuck, I hope this doesn’t come across as shitty…” he said quietly.

“What’s that?” you asked, suddenly feeling very exposed regardless of you lack of clothing.

“Uhh… I don’t know, logistically, how I make this work without you on toppa me, baby. I’m sorry, I don’t want to crush you if something goes wrong,” he looked as though he wanted the bed to eat him whole.

And why, you don’t know. But his admission gave you the confidence you didn’t expect. “Is this you suggesting I ride you?” you gave a small giggle as he chewed his lip.

“Lil’ bit, yeah. I know that sounds so goddamn selfish – ”

“Giving me the power over you makes you selfish?”

“Well, it takes away a fair amount of effort,” he reasoned. “And you know, I wanna show you what I can do…” his voice trailed off, timidly.

And suddenly you understood. This wasn’t just about a missing limb – this was the pain and terror from all those years ago. The raw, never-ending trauma of Bucky’s initial testing, falling from the train in the Alps. Losing his arm seemed so minute in all of it. Years of physical and mental abuse, and psychological torment at the hands of HYDRA, of the Soviets, whoever was the highest bidder for The Winter Soldier.

This was touch, connection, feeling wanted and adored – oh, how needed to Bucky understand how much you wanted to be the person to help him.

You tutted him and inhaled, gently cupping his cheek, choosing compassion. “Relax, handsome, lay back and enjoy,” you instructed as he nodded slightly and wrapped his scorching hand around your ribs. It was such a simple act, but it turned you on so much. It felt possessive, wanted. “I want to make you feel so fucking good – will you let me?”

You don’t know why you asked, but you knew you needed to hear him tell you he wanted this too. “Yes,” he nodded shyly. “Hell yes.”

“Okay,” you leaned down to kiss him, reached between your bodies and in your warm hands, adjusted your body on his. Viewing Bucky as he felt you sheath your body around his was as good as it could ever get – his plumb lips drawn into his gleaming white teeth, his bright blue eyes hidden behind his long lashes. Giving him some time to adjust, just like you were to his size encouraged you as he lightly raised his hips in hopes for you to move. “You good?” you asked again.

“Better than, amazing,” he told you, gripping your hip and your body slowly started to move above him. “Jesus Christ,” he uttered, raising his eyes to look at you.

Taking his hand and linking your fingers as you relaxed and stopped trying to ensure his good time (it appeared ensured) and sinking into feeling so good yourself, you moved your hips more, craving Bucky deeper, hoping to find that elusive little spot to make you explode.

“Touch yourself?” he pleaded quietly. “Please, sugar?”

Appeasing him happily, he watched your free hand creep down your body and open yourself up to where your bodies met, your fingers putting on a show as you toyed with yourself just for his dark, lust-filled eyes. Your body tightened under the pressure and Bucky’s pleasured grunts and curses was certainly on the rise. His hand relinquished yours as he clutched onto your ass, forcing you rougher into him, his tempo speeding up and urging you to do the same from the friction his body caused yours.

“God, you feel so good. So wet, so warm,” he muttered, his breathing deepening as his hips haphazardly fired into you. “Are you close?” he asked desperately. You were, you so fucking were, you realised, his simple question bringing you even closer. You nodded as you pressed harder against your clit, desperate for your own release and of course, his.

He needs this, you reminded yourself. You needed this. “Fuck, yes,” you replied as he used his abs to sit up, suddenly so much deeper into you as you looked at each other face to face, chest to chest and Bucky kissed you. He kissed you with those beautiful lips and a tongue that knew exactly how you wanted to be kissed as he moaned into your mouth. He wrapped his arm around your waist and took a nipple into your mouth as you started to come – that was the move, the special way to push you over the edge. Realising this, Bucky grinned and looked at you, using those pearly whites to chew lightly and you were coming. Coming so hard that you felt like you might have seen stars as he let out a litany of curses and came hard too.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Bucky breathed, chest heaving as he rolled onto his back, taking your body down with him, keeping you wrapped in his embrace and softening inside you. Bucky Barnes liked to cuddle, you realised.

“Holy shit,” you managed to say as you tried to settle your breathing. “That was fantastic.”

“Really?” he asked bashfully. He looked you in the eye and begged you weren’t lying to him. You nodded and tenderly kissed him. “Good,” he gave a small, shy smile and suddenly appeared so boyish. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have the thank me,” you told him. “Trust me, I’m just glad you stayed.”

“Fuck, me too,” he laughed. “Me too.”

Hearing your phone beep, you shot up through the heaviness across your chest and halted you. Bucky’s body subdued you – the body heat he exhumed was hot and stifling. He groaned, pulling you back down to him.

“They’ll call back,” he muttered. “Sleep.”

“It’s the team,” you whispered back. He breathed heavily, reaching out for the phone for you reluctantly and putting it in your hands. Relief washed through you. The team, including Wanda and Vis, were returning to Wakanda imminently. “Did you sleep okay?”

Yawning, Bucky slightly freed you from his grasp. “You weren’t wrong about sleeping comfortably – I mean, I don’t deserve to, but it was the most relaxing sleep I’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Bucky. Truly.”

He soothingly kissed your naked shoulder. “Thank you for last night.”

“I just hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“So much,” he breathed against your skin, rolling you to your back and lightly pining your body under his. You loved the feel of his weight on your body. You would come to crave it. Addicted and all in less than 12 hours. You’d fallen so hard, so fast. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you couldn’t lie. Bucky’s body was made for a multitude of sins and loving on a woman? The top. He kissed each eyelid that fluttered closed under his touch, the tip of your nose, his mouth travelling through your throat to your décolletage. “Behave…” you teased, your fingers lacing into his long, dark, loose waves.

He laughed into your skin. “Okay,” he nudged your knees apart, his hips meeting yours. He felt as if he was flying – he’d never imagined the confidence he felt, that you’d given to him. Or how you could have destroyed it by rejecting him. The power you had over him was stifling. That was a hellova lot scarier than what was to eventually come.

“What did I say?”

“You told me to behave.”

“And what did you do?”

“The exact opposite,” he admitted. “I just can’t seem to keep my mitts offa you. You’ve opened the floodgates, sugar. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again.”

Your phone beeping incessantly now, you found yourself in a world where only you and Bucky ceased to exist. The rest of the world could wait another hour.

#make me regret posting this 😬#bucky with the good hair #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky angst #white wolf #notroosterbradshaw #reposting from another life #if this bombs I’m deleting it

1K notes · View notes

mechaknight-98 · 4 months

Text

Holy Grail 1

Authors note: the poll fic is coming along with a few other ideas I’ve been churning out. In the meantime here is a SFW stitching together of last week’s fics with some extra story at the end

“Picture this: it's the final round of Core-A’s Tatsunoko VS Capcom blast from the past tournament and my friend Bonsai is facing off against a new challenger whose gamer tag is Mothra. (she also happens to be his girlfriend Olivia Hye, but more on that later) The set is tied between Bonsai and her. She's been wrecking His team of Frank West and Tekkaman so to throw her for a curveball He goes Polymer and Morrigan. Mothra is confused “No one plays Polymer,” she says perplexed at Bonsai's choice, but Bonsai smiles at his opponent, and says confidently "I do," being a strong competitive player Bonsai easily beats Mothra with his unique team.”

Our friends clap happily as I recount the tournament story for those who weren't present; Jacob, Haseul, Arin, Nagyung, and Tobi. Olivia Hye (Mothra) was less than happy with my recounting of events.

“Yeah, I don't know why you're so cocky; you came in third,” Olivia rolled her eyes, her skepticism evident.

I narrowed my eyes at her before asserting, “Yeah because I only lost to Bonsai. I beat everyone else I played against, and I would have beaten you,” I said, laughing, knowing that despite my boisterous and arrogant antics, I often backed it up with skill.

Bonsai knew I put in more hours into the game than he did. I was constantly in the training lab, mastering characters, but he still bested me because he was the better player. Bonsai also knew If I hadn't pushed him to learn more characters, including Polymer and Morrigan. Plus my strategic input, proved invaluable against high-tier players due to their unpredictability. he would have not won today's tournament

Olivia remained unconvinced. “Oh, come on, Bonsai beat you in three rounds with one flawless win,” she retorted.

Sensing an opportunity to dismantle her argument, I was ready to point out flaws in her playstyle and offer ways to improve, but Bonsai, defending his girlfriend from my unwanted critiques, intervened, “Sorry, Liv, but Daizo would level you. I only beat him because I know how he approaches the game and his patterns.”

Hyeju laughed, “Please, and like I couldn't! We all play together every Thursday, and he always comes in under us.” Bonsai and I exchanged knowing glances, and I decided to drive the point home.

Raising an eyebrow, I struck the killing blow, “Um, Olivia, what two characters are my mains in TVC?”

Olivia shrugged, “Um, Karas and Chun Li?”

I looked at Bonsai as he broke the news to his girlfriend, sighing as he explained, “Hye, he hates playing Chun Li and Karas. He only does it to you because I ask him to.”

Olivia was flabbergasted, “Why?” she asked.

Bonsai knew he had to broach this carefully. “Well, did you see his last match?”

Olivia shook her head. “No, all I heard from that was screaming while I got us lunch.”

Bonsai sighed, elaborating, “Babe, he zero to deathed his opponent after reading their first assist correctly, and he only started playing Joe the Condor today.”

Olivia looked at him, then at me, confused, as did the rest of the group.

“You just learned Joe today?” Arin inquired, struck with bewilderment.

I nodded, prompting Jacob to ask a very legitimate question, “Wait, why risk that at a paid tournament? That seems out of your win-at-any-cost mentality.”

I shrugged before answering, “Because as soon as I was in the same bracket side as Bon, I was getting third place no matter what, so why not see how far I could push my limits?”

Olivia looked at me with disgust, “How arrogant of you to think you can just waltz in and win a tournament on whim picks.”

I laughed and responded, “Liv, we had to give you an advanced tech crash course when you told us you wanted to participate on a whim, despite only playing occasionally with us. I don't want to hear about me doing anything competition-wise on a whim. I am always competition-ready.” This made Olivia go quiet.

Arin, bless her heart, sensed the tension and grabbed my hand. Her touch, as always, was a soothing wave cooling off the plasmidic heat that I felt burn in the Vacuous Core where normal emotional reactions should be.

It worked until Olivia's hurt ego resurfaced, and she said,

“Okay, then Daizo, if you're so great, how about a friendly exhibition match?” I heard Arin sigh, and I knew that either I or Olivia was going to receive a lecture later. But honestly, she already blooded the water by doubting me and further pushed me with an official challenge. So when we got to Bon and Liv's place, I was nearly delirious with anticipation.

I beat Liv 25-1. We could have stopped at 13-0, but the part of me that my friends don't like demanded I beat her more. Thankfully, before I could make Liv cry, Arin and Bonsai stopped me.

“Okay, Disaster, that's enough. You have proved your supremacy, and I don't think Hye can take anymore,” Bonsai's sad tone reached me, and I came out of that dark place.

Arin and I went back to our shared apartment, leaving Bonsai to comfort the almost in-tears and shocked Olivia on their shared couch. He cuddled next to his girlfriend, who was a little grumpy that I beat her...repeatedly

“I can't believe Daizo’s so mean,” she said with an adorable pout. You smiled and nestled closer.

“Come on, babe, you went after him and triggered one of his "episodes". Be glad we stopped it before you went 1-29,” Bonsai said.

Olivia was just revving up, though, “It's just…(He shut her up with an impassioned kiss) uh, babe, no fair.” Bonsai spent the rest of the night consoling his girlfriend's hurt feelings.

A couple of days after what I guess you could call my "bullying" of Hyeju, our little friend group met up again, as we had planned. Arin and I ended up being late due to circumstances beyond our control—a rainstorm that felt almost biblical in its intensity. Arin laughed as we finally entered her car.

"You know, this reminds me of the time we fell for each other," Arin reminisced.

"Yeah, it was a cloudy morning like this," I responded.

"Cloudy? It was pouring," Arin corrected.

I raised an eyebrow. "Huh, oh, I guess that day has such a weird recollection in my head."

"Yeah, me too, but I distinctly remember the rain and seeing how soaked Jacob and you were," Arin replied. "To think we were at each other's throats, and in a split second, we were making out on the floor."

"Yeah, love is weird," I said.

Jacob was grinning ear to ear as we walked to his car. "We're going to this party—there will be girls, grub, and, best of all, games," he said excitedly. I nodded as I got in the car with him. The synthetic smell of maple and brown sugar bombarded me uncomfortably.

"Dude, do you have to have the most obnoxious air freshener?" I teased.

Jacob laughed before saying, "Oh, so you insult my taste, huh? Well, what if I were to tell you that shirt is terrible?" He teased back.

I smiled and responded, "Nope, you can't hurt me. I'm too excited—I've been watching them for so long, so finally going to see Core-A in person seems sick."

"Me too," he said as he started his car.

When he went to shift gears he gave a weird look and then said something odd, "Oh, one thing—don't be mad," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Arin is going to be there," Jacob responded, and I died a little inside.

I groaned. "Is it too late for me not to go?"

"Dude, she's a 5'5'' girl. You'll be fine, Mr. Legendary Spell Fencer," Jacob reassured me. I scratched my hair nervously, thinking about possible outs.

"I don't know, the last time we met, we yelled at each other for two hours," I said.

"I remember—you guys sounded like an old married couple... Maybe that's it. Maybe you two like each other, but your minds misattribute the attraction with spite. Maybe the two of you just need to kiss, and the wires will be crossed correctly," Jacob suggested as he drove off, sealing my fate.

I rolled my eyes and confidently explained, "There is no way."

Jacob hesitated as if remembering something. "Well, remember how the first time you guys fought, afterward you were all hot and bothered thinking about her for two weeks? It was also weird because you would say all these nice things about her like 'How could someone so compassionate and smart be so damn pig-headed and boorish? I hate that vexing bitch.' You know, weirdly flirty stuff," Jacob said teasingly. I looked at him with an "Are you serious?" look. He laughed, of course.

"Hey, it's just a theory," he finished.

After that, for the most part, we rode in silence until we reached Core-A's studio and the location of the party. We got out of Jacob's baby blue VW Beetle, which he lovingly referred to as the "Love Bug" (which I believe is copyrighted, but I could be wrong). We walked into the purple venue, though the atmosphere breathed competition without the sweaty smell. The air was chilled to a comfortable level as we filed in along with a few others.

"Ah, Jac, glad you could make it," a tall Korean man said as he approached us. He hugged Jacob, who smiled, and then the man sized me up.

"You must be Daizohan?" the Korean man asked.

I nodded affirmatively. "I am."

He extended his hand and introduced himself, "Nice to meet you. My name is Gerald Lee."

I couldn't help but grin widely. "I know who you are. I'm a huge fan. I've watched all your channel's videos and loved what you have done, not only for the fighting game community but for competitive communities everywhere," I raved.

Gerald Lee smiled, then said, "Please, then enjoy yourself, make friends, eat, and have fun. I only ask that you be respectful. Some pretty public figures are roaming about who would like their privacy," I nodded in agreement.

"Sure thing, sir," I replied, to which he chuckled before walking away.

Jacob nudged me, pointing out, "Dude, I've never seen you smile that big."

I squinted at him, annoyed. "Jacob, that's one of my heroes."

Jacob laughed at my expense, "I can tell. Now, don't get too excited, but I think they have your favorite over there." I turned to see the familiar loading screen and couldn't contain my excitement. I lifted my hand in anticipation and walked over to the TV. It was exactly what I had hoped for: Tatsunoko VS Capcom. I sat down, feeling nostalgic as I hadn't played the game since childhood. Despite its age and my lack of recent practice, I was instantly transported back to the date of its release, a ten-year-old rediscovering his first fighting game and embarking on a decades-long love affair. I was engrossed in the game when I heard a voice asking,

"Hey, can I play with you?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Let me just quit this arcade match," I said as I exited my current run-through of the mode.

"I'm surprised you've been so invested; you haven't moved once since sitting here," the voice remarked.

"Well, this is my second favorite game of all time," I explained.

I noticed the voice sitting next to me, intrigued. "Oh, what's the first?"

"Kingdom Hearts II," I replied.

"Oh, I hear a lot about how complicated those games are," the voice said.

I smiled, replying, "Well, they're usually less complicated than life, to be honest." The voice laughed, causing me to smile. It was feminine and pleasant, making me feel like I was at a calming beach.

"This is my first time playing this one, so I don't know how to play. Can you teach me?" the voice asked. I nodded and turned to face her, handing her the controller. Our hands touched, and then our eyes locked, sending my emotions into warp drive.

"Arin?"

"Daizo?"

Arin and I looked at each other with equally confused expressions before she abruptly stood up and said, "Bathroom. Now." I followed her, hoping to avoid a scene. Thankfully, no one saw us enter the furthest one from the party.

Arin and I silently glared at each other until she spoke first, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Um, I was invited by Jacob," I replied.

I watched as Arin rolled her eyes, “Yeah, of course he'd invite you. God, I hate you cameramen sometimes.”

Unaware of the growing feelings within, I gave her the response she wanted, “Damn it, why are you always so mean? Like, what did I do to you?”

Arin rolled her eyes and teased, “You? Please. I'm sorry, but why would I ever be friends with such an attention whore? Did mommy and daddy never give you enough as a child?”

Seeing where this conversation was going, I decided to do something more interesting. I decided to play into her analysis.

“Actually, yes. My parents were consumed with work much of my childhood and had a rigid structure that maintained my physical safety but preyed upon my social and emotional safety as a special needs child, leading to severely stunted emotional and social growth but excellent physical and cognitive growth. This manifested as childhood chasing and severe attention-seeking behaviors. Thankfully, I'm risk-averse enough to have that rein me in from being an absolute menace. Also, if I am attention-seeking, so are you, as often you join me happily in that, as seen by the show we put on for Nagyung’s birthday where we argued for three hours.”

Arin stood there stunned. I watched as she tried to form a response until I got bored and walked away. She grabbed me and said, “Wait, Daizohan (she was using my full name, so I knew she was serious). I am sorry, I didn't know.”

I gave her a kind smile and replied, “It's all good. I also didn't realize until just now when you were talking about it.”

Arin smiled, and that same feeling of a wave washing over me crept up. “Well, now that you know, I expect better from you,” I nodded, and we walked back to Tatsunoko vs. Capcom. While walking, I noticed how pretty Arin was. Like, she was distractingly pretty.

As we walked back, that distraction caused me to walk into a metal pole. Obviously, I fell, but Arin was quick to pick me up and begin scolding me about “staying aware.”

As Arin spoke and droned on and on, my body sent a shiver down my spine before sending a weird impulse to my brain.

“Arin’s stern scolding is kinda of hot; she makes a great and nurturing mother. I should make her a mother,” my brain told me, and I jolted. Arin noticed, and for a moment, the animosity in her eyes dissipated, and I saw something I wasn't expecting: genuine concern.

Arin’s features softened from a disgusted grimace to concerned caution as she said, “Are you okay? You just jumped!” I nodded, standing there dumbfounded. “Good,” she continued, “Hey, don't scare me like that, Daizo.”

In an instant, all that animosity turned into this overwhelming desire to kiss her. Before I knew it, all I could think about besides how pretty her eyes were with her cute glasses was how to go about kissing her. So, I did. At first, it was awkward as Arin was combating similar competing feelings of infatuation and infuriation. After a few seconds though, she joined me in choosing to be infatuated. We broke the kiss and Arin smiled at me and said, “What?”

“Oh nothing just remembering our first time together Arin smiles as we get in her car and drive to Nagyung and Jacob’s place.

While Arin and I were on our way to the meetup, she asked me what I thought Jacob would like for his upcoming birthday.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I already got his drinks, food, and presents handled," I reassured her.

"Good, I know when you're on top of things, you overachieve. I just need to remind you," Arin said, relieved.

"Oh, you never have to remind me of friends. I always show up for them when I can," I replied, which made Arin laugh.

“Hey babe, can I ask you something?” Jacob walked into the living room.

“Sure, what is it, Naggy?”

"Why did you invite Arin and Daizo? They're so gross," Nagyung whined.

Jacob chuckled before replying, "Daizo and Arin are my friends, and while they may be 'gross,' they are good company."

Nagyung sighed, annoyed. "But Jakey, they are obsessed with... that, what did you call it?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "The Holy Grail or fighting games?"

"The Holy Grail," Nagyung confirmed.

"Oh, well, yeah. Everyone needs friends who chase the Holy Grail. They show you where you're lacking," Jacob replied.

"What?" Nagyung responded, confused.

"Chasing the Holy Grail means chasing the impossible. Both Arin and Daizo have impossibly large goals, which is probably why they work so well together. But I digress. They are chasing impossible goals for different reasons. For Daizo, it's to see how far he can take himself in this world, and for Arin, it's to prove herself," Jacob explained. Nagyung nodded and then replied,

"But why can't they be satisfied with what they have? They're successful and have a great love life and careers. What more could they want?"

Jacob shrugged as he replied.

About 65 minutes later the couple finishing up cooking lunch.

"Wow, you guys finally made it?" Nagyung said smiling. I gave a thumbs up and Bonsai explained how traffic was terrible for some weird reason.

Arin perked up, "It's mostly because of the rain and the impromptu K-pop festival going on in Hongdae."

"Wait really? (Bonsai turns to Haseul) Why wasn't the best group ARTMS invited," Bonsai said

exaggeratedly. Haseul blushed and smiled as Arin and I both suppressed the urge to say "What are you talking about the best is obviously Oh My Girl,"

Bonsai noted our restraint and smiled, "You know it shows that there are still tickets and they're pretty cheap,"

Arin and I looked at each other before we both said "So it's settled We are all going," The group nodded excitedly as we got up and began prepping for the Concert. We all ordered Tickets and then walked to the venue. On the way, Arin grabbed my hand, "What's up?"

"Nothing just showing everyone who you belong to," She said with a possessive smile,

"Are you jealous?"

"No, I am not the Jealous type but what's mine is mine end of story," Arin said smiling. I smiled back before kissing her forehead.

"Blegh. You guys are so gross," Hyeju says as she notices we haven't moved for a bit. Arin rolls her eyes before grabbing my hand and having us catch up to the others.

We arrived at the festival and its insanely lively fantastic atmosphere despite the gloomy weather. Plenty of Alcohol for everyone except Arin, plus me, and several acts we were more than excited to see. We decided to start with H1-Key as they were the next act. (We probably should have gotten food in hindsight but it's not that big a deal.) As H1-Key performed many of their hits Arin and I danced to music, as did our friends (At one point Nagyung was twerking on Jacob which was always hilarious). when the weather dropped to a colder temperature we moved less to conserve heat but still sang along. Arin nestled herself in my jacket to stay warm due to our size difference. After that act, We decided to get food and stopped by the nearby Ramyeon place. We all congregated around a pretty big table which allowed us to stay near our partners but also be in decent positions to talk to everyone.

Arin put her hand in mine as we watched our friends. "So Daizo how much longer are you here for?" Haseul asked.

I looked to Tobi for confirmation he held up the number three letting me know I had three weeks left

"Oh three weeks left," I answered. Subtly I noticed Arin tightening her grip on me. I turn to her and clarify, "I will be back though,"

"Oh, when," Nagyung asked.

"Uh probably in the second half of the year, around September," I replied.

Arin‘s grip softened, and I looked at her before saying, “Don't worry I'll be back,”

After we finished we went back to the festival and enjoyed the rest of the acts.

We got back from the impromptu festival around midnight I want to say, and on the way back to Jacob's place we were stopped by a lady, She stood at the precipe of a crosswalk. She is holding a massive sword and she says,

"If one of you can land a hit on me; I will give you a massive prize." My friends all look at each other and then at me to stop me but I'm already walking to the lady.

“So I just gotta land one hit?” I ask

“Yes,” the lady responds

“Any other rules? Stipulations?” I add

“Nope give it all you got,” the lady says with a pleased smile.

“Okay! Let's do it.” I reply. Arin grabs my hand and says

“Go get em,” I smile and reply

“God I love you,” Arin beams and I turn to the lady. I summon my spell sword and get in a combat-ready stance. The lady smiles before taking out a needle and syringe. She injects herself and I watch as her eyes begin to glow. I stand guard as she also gets ready. I blink and in an instant, she is at my throat. I block her blade and disarm her by throwing both our blades away.

Taking advantage of her staggered and uneven stance I grapple her and throw her to the ground. As she lands I get one quick strike to her arm. She smiles,

“A thief with honor.” the lady says as I help her up. I notice her skin is a magenta color and she only has one eye. She smiles at me before saying, “Congratulations,” and everything goes dark.

When I wake up I am on a floor mat with Arin sitting above me. I sit up and Arin Jolts.

"Where am I," I ask.

"Babe relax," Arin says hearing my heart race

"Okay," I say as she has me slow my breathing.

"There has been a bad situation,"

"What is it?" I ask

"Look," Arin says sadly

I look at what she has gestured at and see my home planet shattered and exploded. I breathe in and out slowly processing what I am seeing, I turn to Arin and she grabs me tightly before saying, "It will be okay Daizo."

I had only one question on my mind, "who did this?"

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #olivia hye #fromis9 nagyung #oh my girl arin

168 notes · View notes

soxcietyy · 9 months

Text

Secrets

Yuta x fem reader

18 +You were sent to by the higher ups to jujitsu high to investigate. Only to be found snooping by a special grade sorcerer. He has his way of making you rat yourself out. 18+

˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚ don’t read this if your sensitive to non con, anal, crying, rape?

"There’s something odd going on in jujutsu tech in Tokyo. As you know we can’t really be sticking our noses in because of Gojo Saturo. So we are going to send you to go and investigate. Find anything you can and we’ll reward you." A higher up said as they sat behind a barrier that kept there identity hidden. It was a pretty dark room. Dimly lit by a sorry of an excuse lamp.

You cross your arms as you close your eyes to think about it. "Are you asking me or telling me?" You raise your brow.

"Telling you, please do we look like the type of people to ask for favors?" A old woman spoke.

"And if I don’t do it?" You ask.

"You have a chance of being executed for defying orders."

There’s not much else to talk about at but you don’t say anything. You rather let this be over with than dragging it out. You were confused why they picked you out of everyone thought. Was it because they sent you because you were out of the country for years and nobody will know who you are?

Walking out you grab your pocket knife and take a long look at it before heading out to your new mission. It didn’t take you long to get your destination, at least that’s what you tell yourself. You kept going in and out of sleep on the plane because of the time zone difference.

You stood Infront if the entrance of Jujutsu high and furrow your brows seeing it was wide open. No defense, security or opponent in sight. At least you would get to go home soon after this. Walking in you make sure not to be seen.

This mission had you peeking around corners, waiting for people to pass by and trying to listen for anything good. Unfortunately all people talked about was that they hated school exams. You sigh as you continue to wonder off. Walking further into the school had you thinking about the three names in your head that they told you to watch out for, Yuji, Maki and Fushiguru. You guessed there were the only people who would be an issue. As long as you don’t underestimate them everything shall be fine.

After what seemed like an hour of wondering around you decided to take a break. Sitting on top of a tree you comfortably sat down and awaited for something good to come towards you.

It was almost as the universe listened and responded. You hear faint voices getting louder and louder. Eventually they were so close that they could hear them. You freeze once you see it’s Gojo, you didn’t dare to move around that man. You’ve heard things about him and it was very concerning knowing what he is capable of doing.

You could hear him chatting over the phone about something important being in his office. He didn’t disclose what it was but I sounded good. He continued on saying they should meet tomorrow since he had plans today. Hearing this made you grin ear to ear, talk about luck huh?

When he left you slipped down the tree and went on your search for his office. It didn’t take long to find it because it was one of the biggest ones building and room wise. Stepping inside you look around to see a pile of papers sitting on the corner of the desk. You sigh seeing that you were going to have to search through the stack.

First you had to check the drawers first. Opening each and every one of them, leaving no spot unchecked. the first few had more papers and the last drawer had random trinket. Nothing too important so far. If only this man was organized and actually did his paper work.

After what seems forever you moved onto the stack of papers. You scanned each and every one of them no matter how insignificant they seemed. Then You heard the door creek open. You hesitated to turn around hoping you were just hearing things. There’s no way someone would be coming in here right? Before you could turn around you were launched to the wall.

You let out a shaky breath as you tried to stand up. Whoever just did that had a strong kick. You had made a dent on the wall and the sheetrock crumbled onto the floor. White powered covered all on your nice clothes. You groaned remembering that you had just gotten these. Looking up you could see someone standing there. It’s was someone you wernt quite familiar with. Then again you wernt familiar with anyone unless they were staff or higher ups. Eventually you stood up and brushed the debris off of you.

"That was really uncalled for you know." You say.

"I don’t think you have the right to be saying that when your snooping around where your not supposed to." He says.

"Right, how about you just let me go home and pretend none of this happen." You approach him trying to come off as friendly. Your hand secretly slipping in your pocket to get your knife. Before you could get any closer you saw a big black blob that pinned you against the wall. You groan and see a huge curse spirit Infront of you. Your eyes widen as it screamed at you. Saliva and bad breath hitting you all at once. You start to panic realizing who he was.

Yuta Okkotsu, the one who helped defeat Geto, the special grade sorcerer, the top of his class, the one who got sent to Africa to study aboard. You could literally pee yourself right now. Your try’s to escape from the curses grasp but she pinned you to the wall really hard.

"Don’t try running away now. Who are you? Who sent you and why are you here?" He asks as he got closer. At this point he was a few inches away from you.

"You’re acting like I would just tell you so easily. I’m also a special grade and you’re going to regret messing with me." You were lying through your teeth hoping he would back off.

"Special grade huh? I always wondered how tough others are." He says putting his sword the rested on his back on the desk.

What did he mean by that?

"What are you trying to say?" You ask him

"I’m just wondering how much are you willing to handle before breaking and giving in." He says as snaps his fingers. With that the curse spirit is gone making you drop to the floor.

You didn’t last long there since he grabbed you by the arm and threw you onto the desk you were just searching not to long ago. You grunt as he forces your arms onto your back. Once again you try to free yourself with no success. He kicks open a drawer and pulls out some sort of black rope. Tying your hands up tightly so you wouldn’t be able to free yourself.

You then feel as he pulls your bottoms down and your panties. You squirm trying to escape and end up falling onto the floor. You could hear a chuckle come out of him as he leans down and grabs your face.

"Ready to answer some questions?" He asks.

You shake your head repeatedly not giving in. If you did the higher ups would punish you for opening your mouth.

He lets out a sigh as he pushes your face onto the floor and lifts your hips up in the air. With your knees on the hard cold floor. This wasn’t that bad right? Maybe he was just trying to scare you. And if not at least he was a good looking guy. Plus you’ve done it a handful of times already.

Hearing him unzip his pants made your heart race. He spanked you a couple of times before spitting on you. You roll your eyes feeling how he missed and spit onto the wrong hole. Not everyone could be perfect you guessed.

You waited for him to insert it in but something felt off when he rested his cock in the back entrance. There was no way, no possible way he was about to do that. No way he was about to insert it in your a-

You felt a sharp pain in your unused hole. "Wait, wait, wait." You yell with wide eyes.

Fortunately he stopped and looked at you.

"Please anywhere but there, iv never used that before." You begged him.

"Then answer my question." He said

You lay there in silence for a few seconds before he continued. You felt like you were dying. Like he was ripping your insides apart. He shoved himself all the way deep down to the point of you shaking. Tears rolled down your face. He grabbed you by the hair and made you look at him.

"Ready to give in?" He asks.

You shake your head slowly as you dug your nails in your hand. He dropped your head and started going in and out of you. You cried and begged him to stop. You tried to run away so many times just for him to drag you back in position. He ignored you please for help. The only way he was going to listen was by you telling him everything.

You squeeze your eyes shut. "M sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean to be snooping around. I was made to do this, I didn’t want to." You cry.

"Who made you do it?" He says as he continued plowing your Virgin hole.

"C-can’t say, they’re probably going to execute me. Please Yuta I can’t no more." You sob.

He stopped once again and pulled out. He took a second to admire your gaping hole.

"Just tell me everything and I’ll stop. I promise I won’t let them do anything to you." He runs his hand down your spine. You shake under his touch as he stares you down.

He shoves it back in earning a desperate moan from you. Moans of pain and despair that filled your eyes with more tears. He kept going in and out of you so many times. Eventually you couldn’t anymore.

"I give in, please I’m done." You shout.

He pulls out of you and sits you up so your on his lap. Face tainted with tears and pain. "Y/n, my name is y/n L/n." You say as your breathing heavily. "I wasn’t sent here to investigate by the higher up. I didn’t want to but I was forced to. I’m sorry." You cry.

He held you in his arms as you cry on his shoulder. Untying the knot on your arms with the rope he took from Gojos drawer.

"I’m sorry too but all you needed to say was that and nothing would have happened. You know I hate to say this but you look so good crying. Just makes me want to mess with you more." He says caressing your head. He pulls you back to take another good look at you.

"Now run along little mouse."

#yuta okkotsu #jjk second years #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu x y/n #yuta okkotsu smut #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta headcanons #jjk yuuta #yuuta smut #yuta jjk #yuta x y/n #jjk yuta #yuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta

306 notes · View notes

spinningwebsandtales · 5 months

Text

Imagine Kafka Taking Care Of You At A Kaiju Cleanup Sight

Kafka Hibino X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Kaiju gore, blood

Word Count: 1.3k

(A/N:) I have been so dang excited about the Kaiju No. 8 anime! I have read the manga since it came out and when they finally announced it getting an anime adaption, I freaked out. So yesterday was so awesome, I watched it three times! XD So I apologize for the fangirl I'm about to become and hopefully all the other Kaiju No. 8 fangirls can appreciate what I'm about to do! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

You just knew your bosses hated you. It wasn't unusual for companies like Izumo Tech requesting specialists to go out in the field and oversee the kaiju cleanup crews. Only to make certain that they were receiving the best parts of the kaiju to create weapons, armor, and various forms of gear for the brave men and women who take the battles to the front line. But for some unfortunate reason you were the one being constantly sent out to supervise. It had to be done, even though the majority of the cleaning crews did their jobs right, but you'd be out of a job if you didn't go. This time you were to watch and take note of the Monster Sweep Inc. crew. The best of the business and always making sure they sent nothing but the parts Izumo requests. This wasn't the first time you had overseen this crew and you enjoyed being around them. What you didn't enjoy was dodging spurts of blood, or tripping over entrails, or squishing eyeball pieces under your shoes. The Defense Force always left a mess and it was the brave and iron stomached men and women of the cleaners.

Rubbing at your temples, fighting the oncoming headache, while your driver navigated the destroyed streets of the city. Your bag across your knees and the seatbelt strapped tight. You said a small prayer for the poor white shirt you unwittingly wore today. The car squealed to a stop as you couldn't go any further in the vehicle. Giving you a sorrowful smile, your driver let you out before backing out as fast as he could, leaving you alone in front of a giant bloody kaiju mess. Heaving a large sigh, the tainted coppery tang of kaiju blood filling your nostrils, you got to work.

"Hey Kafka," Masahide called to the dark haired male.

Kafka lifted his face shield wiping sweat from his forehead before heading to Toku's direction. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach, sensing he was being dragged into something else. He just hoped it wasn't entrail duty like the other times. But when Kafka saw you standing at Toku's side everything became clear, but it still didn't mean he was dodging entrail duty just yet.

"(Y/N) just got here. She's being assigned to your side since you're closer to the parts Izumo Tech are looking for."

You gave him a small wave, holding your bag tightly and standing as straight as could be. Making yourself as small as possible seemed like the safer option of keeping clean. You and Kafka knew each other pretty well by now as you had been on several scenes with him and the crew. You had become his charge every time you were on scene and it wasn't unusual for you both to go out for drinks and dinner afterwards. Majority of the time the other guys would join but sometimes you both were alone. So in Kafka's care you always felt safe as he tried his best not to splatter you with any kaiju fluids. Majority of cleaners didn't like you around, thinking that you were only here because the company thought they were doing their jobs wrong when it was the complete opposite. So it wasn't unusual for you to get doused in gore in an act of retaliation.

"Welcome back," Kafka said giving you a warm smile.

"Looks like you guys have your work cut out for you this time," you replied.

He sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat, "They keep upping our finish dates every time a kaiju is dispatched. They're really working us to the bone."

"Well if anyone can do it and handle it it's you guys," you offered him what little encouragement you could.

"Thanks." Kafka walked past you leaving you a little confused as he went to the company van. He tugged a large protective jacket from a bag on the floorboard before setting it on your shoulders. You gratefully slipped your arms inside and zipped it up to your chin. It swallowed you but you wouldn't complain.

"Thank you so much!"

Kafka blushed, "Didn't want your pretty shirt to get messed up."

"I didn't know I was coming out into the field until I came to work," you grumbled. "I would have dressed accordingly. Please continue like I'm not even here."

"I couldn't do that even if I tried," Kafka laughed. "Follow me. Some idle chat would do me some good."

Time passed by quickly as you and Kafka fell into easy chatter and before you both knew it lunch break was called. Majority of the time the smells of the dead kaiju killed your appetite but some form of luck came your way as the wind was right. Blowing the majority of the stench in the opposite direction. But still you couldn't do anything more than nibble on a few veggies you had packed in your bento. Kafka noticed you barely eating, so he dug around in his cooler. Tossing you a can, you caught it, barely.

"Ginger ale," he said at your confused glance. "It'll help settle your stomach. I carry them around just in case I'm on entrail duty. I also have some nausea pills somewhere too." He started to pat around in his pockets.

"No that's okay," you hurriedly grabbed his wrist. "This is more than enough thank you."

Sipping at the cold beverage and testing out a few bites of your lunch. You were able to finish most of it, but didn't push your luck as you had a couple more hours of staying on sight. The bark of the tree you leaned against, bit into your back. But you enjoyed the moment of just being able to take it easy. It was a rare thing to get to enjoy the slow pace of life. Between kaiju attacks, rushing around for work, and the fast pace of just life in general; you didn't find many times like this. Kafka, now finished with his lunch, leaned backwards cushioning his head with his hands. He breathed deep relaxing as the sun danced across his skin.

"Want to grab something later together," Kafka asked. His shoulders shaking as his nerves almost made him redact his question. You carefully slid your hand over, tugging at his sleeve, Kafka removed the hand you wanted from behind his head. You clasped his tightly in your grip, threading your fingers together causing him to stiffen. He knew he was sweaty and it only made his hand sweat worse and he didn't know how you felt about that. But you didn't let go.

"I would like that a lot," you replied. This time resting your head on his shoulder. "Thanks for taking care of me Kafka when I come here."

He gulped, "I enjoy it and want to make sure you're safe."

That had always been the thing. Nobody made you feel as safe as Kafka did. Accidents happened all the time at the sights of kaiju clean up and while it was dangerous for everyone involved. With Kafka you felt like at his side was the safest place that existed. Kafka squeezed your hand, closing his eyes and relishing in the touch of you. He would keep you safe no matter what. As he felt it as his duty as a man and friend. That is just who Kafka is deep down in his core. He squeezed your hand tighter resting his head on top of yours. Taking in the moment with you before you both got back to work. Yeah if you were by his side it was the safest place you could possibly be.

#Kafka Hibino X Reader #Kafka Hibino / Reader #Kafka Hibino #Kaiju No. 8 #Kafka Hibino Imagine #Kaiju No. 8 Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

251 notes · View notes

foxaftershocks · 6 months

Text

Ghost Boy (Lars Pinfield x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You and Lars have a pretty contentious relationship. Until you don't

Words: 3.1k

Basically some fun enemies to lovers stuff

“What is this?”

You looked up from your laptop, fingers stilling on the keyboard. Dr Lars Pinfield, the bane of your existence and the most combative towards your work, was standing over you, holding up a phone. The screen was playing a video, a TikTok edit of him around the lab playing with one of those viral songs.

“A video,” you replied with a small shrug.

“Why would you post this to the internet?” he demanded.

“I’m the lab’s social media manager. What do you want from me? I’m giving the people what they want,” you replied, already tired of the conversation.

Lars had never understood the point of you in the lab. You weren’t a scientist like the rest of them, but you were a one person communication team, educated in science communication and marketing. You were there to ensure their reputation continued to soar and they continued to get funding for their experiments and tech. It was a pretty simple concept. You let the world know how cool they were, and they could continue doing what they wanted.

Lars hated it. He’d made it clear that he thought there was no point to you being there and that you only got in the way of the real science. He hadn’t realised how the modern day functioned in so many ways. You were the one writing the press releases. You rewrote the grant applications that got them money. You explained exactly what it was they were doing so people couldn’t complain about their secrecy.

In truth, it was your dream job. You got to hang out with all kinds of paranormal phenomena and then show the world how cool the lab was. Your friends had grown tired of you constantly talking about, and yet you couldn’t stop. So for one of the scientists, the one you probably admired the most in the entire lab, to be so dismissive of your work was crushing.

“No one wants this,” he snapped.

“Really?” You raised a single eyebrow at him, “videos and photos with you in them perform the best. People demand to know who you are. They want more of you. So I made a tongue in cheek video acknowledging that. It is our best performing video.”

You were never going to admit that you fully understood why people liked the video so much. You felt like you might be half of the views by yourself. You’d never admit it, but that nerd had something about him. If you didn’t know any better, you might think you had a crush on him. Which would just be stupid.

“You’re meant to be telling people about the science,” he said, “that’s why you’re here. Not for this shit.”

“That shit is the foot in the door that gets people in to listen to the science,” you replied, waiting for him to understand something he never would.

“No one is listening to any science with this,” he snapped.

“What’s wrong, Lars? Does getting attention from women scare you? Not used to it so you don’t know how to react?” You laughed.

He scowled at you before storming off, muttering under his breath, most likely insulting you. You rolled your eyes, going back to the press release you’d been working on before he’d interrupted you. Something crashed in the background and you rolled your eyes again.

The next time he found you, you were filming in front of the containment units, explaining how proton streams were used in the trapping of ghosts. His phone was thrust in front of your face and you sighed.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Hello to you too, Lars. Is the science cooperating today?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

“You posted another one,” he snarled.

“The ladies were clamouring for it. I can’t disappoint our audience,” you replied, “now if you’ll excuse me I’m trying to talk about actual science, Lars. You probably don’t understand it. What I’m doing is very complicated.”

You gently patted him on the shoulder, giving him a faux commiserating look. His scowl darkened and you pouted up at him.

“Stop doing this,” he said.

“I hate to tell you this, ghost boy, but people like pretty people being the ones to tell them stuff. So I’ll keep posting your pretty face, and then they’ll listen to me be smart with the science. ‘Kay?”

“No, not “’kay”.” He used air quotes which made you glower up at him, “I’m the scientist. I’ll talk about the science.”

“Sure. How about you take over? I’m sure I’m not nearly as good as you at explaining proton streams without using all that technobabble you like so much,” you said, stepping back from him to let him take over the video.

“I don’t have time for this. I’m doing actual science,” he said.

“Whatever you say, ghost boy. But your fans will be disappointed,” you said with a small shrug.

He looked to the camera then back at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose. You offered him a winning smile and he shook his head.

“Fine. You’re probably getting the science wrong anyway,” he said.

You grinned to yourself as you skirted around him, standing behind the phone set up with the ring light. You gestured for him to start speaking but he looked at you blankly.

“I was explaining how the proton streams capture ghosts,” you said.

“Well, they’re made of a stream of positively charged ions which counters the negative charge of the ghosts,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Sure, and what are ions?” you asked.

“Ions are just atoms or groups of atoms that are charged positively or negatively,” he replied, “obviously ours are charged positively.”

“And how do they get that way?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could feel the smirk on your face, his obvious frustration only making the moment sweeter. You sauntered back into frame, shoving him over to stand beside him, looking into the camera.

“So atoms are made up of three things. Protons, which have a positive charge, neutrons, which are neutral, and then you have the electrons which have a negative charge. The protons and the neutrons are together in the middle of the atom as the nucleus, and then the electron orbits around the nucleus. Depending on how many protons and electrons their are, atoms can have different charges, which is how they bond together into molecules,” you said, turning to look at him at the end to see how he was reacting.

“Everyone knows that,” he scoffed.

“Do they?” you asked, “not everyone pays attention in their science classes. Plenty of people don’t even turn up to them. Start with the basics and build up to the more complicated stuff.”

He rolled his eyes but he gestured for you to continue.

“Right, so if ions are made up of atoms then the charge is to do with how many protons and electrons those atoms have. Our proton streams use positively charged ions, meaning there are more protons than electrons,” you said, back to the camera.

“Our proton packs can strip the electrons from the atoms to positively charge the proton streams. And because ghosts are negatively charged, the proton streams hold them in place so we can lower them into the trap which holds them until they can be brought to a containment unit just like this one,” Lars said, gently patting the red metal door behind him.

“So there you go, Gina. That’s why you always see the ghostbusters with those massive backpacks on when they’re running around the city,” you said.

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding incredulous, “that’s the entire thing?”

“Bite sized science. Short enough to not lose their attention, factual enough that they learn something,” you said.

You weren’t sure how to interpret the look on his face but you didn’t have time to unpack it before he walked off, not even bothering with a goodbye. You chuckled, stopping the recording and taking your equipment back to your desk.

Editting the video, you couldn’t help but smile at the screen. There was something about watching your interaction with Lars that had you laughing to yourself. You shouldn’t have found it as amusing as you did. Something in your chest began to warm as you watched it over and over again. Eventually you had to slam your laptop and focus on something else or else you’d just watch him on repeat.

You had to ignore that it was one of the better performing science explainer videos you’d posted in quite some time.

“Hey, ghost boy,” you said, sauntering up to his desk a few days later.

His eyes were slow to look up at you. You held out the bag of chips you were eating, offering him some. He considered you a moment before his hand slipped into the bag. You rested against the edge of his desk, looking down at his work.

“Whatcha working on?” you asked.

“What do you want?” he asked rather than replying.

“Well, I was thinking since our last video did so well, we should do some more. Between your pretty face and my words we’d be unstoppable,” you said.

His eyes ran over you from behind those thick framed glasses and you found yourself feeling nervous about his answer. It wasn’t like you’d asked him on a date. His answer didn’t matter that much.

“I have better things to be doing with my time. Like actual science,” he replied, looking away from you.

“So you don’t want people to know about what you do?” you asked, “you don’t like talking about science with me?”

You saw a flush climb up his neck. You nudged his shoulder, offering him a wide smile.

“C’mon. We were amazing. Despite your personality issues, we make a pretty good team,” you said.

He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. You lent closer, hoping to hear the acerbic comment you were sure he was making. He reared back, as if your presence was offending him, something so disgusting he couldn’t bare it. Your stomach swooped and you drew back again quickly.

“Never mind then. Clearly you’re so much busier than me and don’t have time for anything but nerd shit,” you said, “keep the chips.”

You got out of there as quickly as possible, not sure you’d be able to handle looking at his stupidly cute face anymore. The pressure behind your eyes was allergies, nothing to do with him. And the shame was just part and parcel for working on the internet.

You definitely were not feeling so bad because of Lars Pinfield.

Something made a soft noise as it was placed onto your desk. Raising your head from the cushioned position it had on your folded arms, you found the sweet scent of coffee wafting towards you. You reached for the mug, taking a long drink from it before looking up.

Lars was standing a few steps away, watching you. You gave him a small smile, sipping from the mug again. He readjusted his glasses, still watching you and you weren’t sure how to react. It had been a few days since you’d spoken to him, keeping your distance after the disaster that was your last conversation.

“Thanks, ghost boy,” you said, voice quiet.

“You were practically asleep at your desk. Who else is going to bother the scientists?” he replied.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, “have you been missing me?”

He scoffed.

“Or maybe you’re just jealous that I’ve been bothering all the other scientists instead of you,” you said, hiding your smile behind the rim of your coffee mug.

He couldn’t meet your gaze.

And then it hit you.

“You know my coffee order,” you said, looking down into the mug.

“I’m observant,” he replied, adjusting his glasses again, still not looking at you.

“Careful, ghost boy, or I’ll think there’s some sweetness under all that spice.”

That flush again. You wanted to know what it meant. You stood, ignoring him when he took a step back. Your fingers were soft when they brushed against the flushed skin, warm under your touch.

“What are you doing?” he asked, batting at your hand.

“You’re blushing,” you said.

Your fingers were still resting against his neck. You could feel how fast his pulse was thrumming and when you looked up into his face you found wide blue eyes staring down at you. Pink lips were parted and you felt frozen, caught up in his gaze.

You blink and he tore himself away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said before quickly retreating.

Once again you were left feeling stupid, like you’d been rejected by your crush. The whiplash was staggering. You fell back into your chair, robotically drinking the coffee he’d made for you. You hated that it was perfect. You hated that he’d run away from you. You hated that he could make you feel like this.

It all came to a head a week later. You’d been avoiding him, and if your gut was right, he was avoiding you too. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. None of it had been making any sense to you.

You were in the middle of setting up a shot of one of the ghosts when raised voices began to grow closer. You ignored it, used to the outbreak of arguments in the lab. Stress and frustration were not unusual in the parapsychology field.

“She’s making a mockery of us.”

Oh yes, you knew that voice.

“Lars, she’s just doing her job,” Winston said.

“She’s a distraction,” Lars said.

Turning the corner he looked furious. You blinked at him and he blinked back, clearly not expecting you to be right there.

“I hired her for this. There’s been a significant decrease in online outcry about the work going on here. The news hasn’t complained about the Ghostbusters in weeks. People seem to finally be understanding what we do here,” Winston said.

“Everything she does makes fun of us online. No one is taking us seriously here. Have you seen those videos of me she’s been posting? She doesn’t care about the science and she certainly doesn’t understand how important our work is here,” Lars complained.

“Are you kidding me?” burst from you, “do you seriously think I don’t care about this place?”

“I know you don’t. You wouldn’t make light of everything we do here if you did,” he replied, pointing his finger at you, “you have no idea how brilliant we are.”

“Seriously? You were a laughing stock before I got here. I did the research. I know how people talked about you. Because of me people understand what you do here. I write all your press releases so the news isn’t making fun of you. I rewrite all of your grant applications so you have money. I make it clear that what you’re doing here is very serious business and not just fucking around with ghosts. And if you think I don’t care, then you’re not as smart as you think you are. Of course I know how brilliant you are, Lars. I’m the person constantly telling the world exactly how brilliant you are. So don’t think I don’t know because I do. Probably better than anyone.”

He strode towards you, something fierce on his face. You held your ground, not going to be cowed by him again. You were sick and tired of him constantly looking down on your work just because it wasn’t science. He had no right to complain about you or the work you did.

He stopped in front of you and you stared up at him, waiting for the next acidic words out of his mouth. Instead, both of his hands came up to cup your cheeks and he was pulling you in. His lips landed on yours and you felt yourself freeze. He kissed you harder and you melted, hands landing on his chest.

Oh.

So that’s what the flush was about.

It took until Winston cleared his throat for the two of you to break apart. You looked up into his face, at a loss for words.

“I think I’ll leave you two to sort this out between you,” Winston said, “but I doubt you’re going to want her to leave now.”

He chuckled as he left, sauntering away from the two of you.

“You kissed me,” you said.

“I’ll do it again if you’re not careful,” he replied.

“You have to take me to dinner first.” You gently tapped his nose, “or agree to film more videos with me. You do kind of owe me. You did try to get me fired.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“Why do you hate them so much?” you asked, “are you actually uncomfortable with scores of women finding you hot? Because if so you should know that I’m one of those women that finds you hot.

“Of course you do. I don’t like the ones about me because it’s not about the science. They shouldn’t care about how I look but about what I do,” he said.

“And the one where we explained the proton streams?” you asked.

“It was so obvious how I feel about you in that one. People were talking about it in the comments. It wasn’t about the science, just speculation about our relationship. And I thought if you saw it you might… realise exactly how I feel about you,” he said with a soft sigh.

“Aw, ghost boy, I think I’ve figured it out.” You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, just like you’d once spent too long imagining doing, “and who cares if they’er speculating about our relationship. They’re still listening to the science as they do it. Foot in the door.”

His hands landed on your hips, pulling you a half a step closer.

“I suppose I can force myself to film some more videos with you,” he murmured.

“I think you’ll like the rewards you get if you do,” you whispered.

“Oh?” His nose brushed against yours.

“How about we do a pilot study right now?” you breathed.

“It’s so hot when you talk science to me,” he said.

Your lips pressed to his again and you sighed into his mouth. You thought you could kiss him for hours, doing nothing but melting into him until you didn’t know where you stopped and he begun. His arms curled around your waist and you found your back hitting the cool glass of the ghost’s prison, pressed against it with his body moulding to yours.

“Your hypothesis seems to be correct. I think I will like my rewards for filming your videos,” he murmured against your lips.

You kissed him again in response.

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield x reader #ghostbusters frozen empire #lars pinfield imagine

271 notes · View notes

ughthisisntright · 1 year

Text

Lap of Luxury | Sugar Daddy!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: As a young woman without much income, a joke of a job, and an unfortunately expensive taste, your curiosity one evening leads to a string of events far out of your control.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 23, Bradley is 40), suggestive themes (no smut), fluff

Word Count: 4,635

“Babe,” your best friend slurred. “You need to get on Seeking Arrangements! These guys- they just buy you stuff! And give you money!”

Another conversation about your not-so-much of an income, splitting a bottle of wine with your best friend, and her insistence on helping you has devolved into this. Discussing a sugar daddy arrangement from a site for older folks. You couldn't imagine a worse way to spend your night.

“Aren't they, like, old?” You ask with a sneer. Your friend just laughs it off.

“And rich!” She squeals. “You’d never have to work another shitty job again! C’mon just try it!” She grabbed your phone from you and fumbled with it to download the app.

“Ugh, what’s your password?” She showed you the screen where the app store was asking. You hesitate before typing it in and allowing her to do the rest.

“Okay first thing’s first,” she places her hand on your knee, mostly to steady herself. “Never use your real name. So you're going to be…”

She starts typing on the phone, probably using her galaxy brain to come up with something truly brilliant. And by brilliant, that means ridiculous.

“Genevieve,” she states finally. You don't hate the name, but it's not yours. You made a mental note to change it when you're sober. “Everything else will be the same. And…”

She starts scrolling through your camera roll. You'd have freaked out but really, there wasn't anything there she hasn't seen already. She taps on a photo of you she took a week ago at a vineyard the two of you had visited (on her dime) and handed your phone back to you,

“Voilà! Welcome yo Seeking Arrangements,” she grinned at you. You looked down at your profile and sighed.

“Now what?” You ask flatly.

“Find someone!”

“How? I don't know how to use this!”

“Ugh, you're so boring sometimes…”

Thus began a hunt for the “perfect man” to fund your broke self’s habits. It was all a drunken blur from there, and you passed out on your couch after about two hours of playing around on the app. You had no idea there were so many men willing to give their money away to young women with no regard. But it was working out in your favor.

You woke up the next day with a pounding hangover, cottonmouth and your phone on 5% battery. Your friend was nowhere to be found - as usual after drinking binges like that. You mentally kicked yourself for allowing it to go this far but, realistically, you didn't care to go into work today anyway.

A quick text to your boss and a shaky walk to your bedroom to plug your phone in preceded your chug-fest in the kitchen. Drinking straight from the tap wasn't fast enough, but it would suffice. You groaned as you finished gorging yourself on your borderline acceptable tap water, went to the cabinet, and pulled out your bottle of painkillers. You popped two extra strength tablets and washed them down with yet another healthy gulp of water.

You walked back to your bedroom and laid in the quiet dark on your bed. Just as you closed your eyes, your phone buzzed. Once, then twice. You pick it up to see you have missed messages from men on that confounded Seeking Arrangements app. You groan and set the phone down again, remembering just how horribly drunk you got last night. Drunk and stupid, it seemed. You hear another buzz and pick up the phone in frustration, unlocking it and then scrolling through the messages and threads you'd started last night.

Genevieve. What a stupid name. You quickly changed it to your name and kept scrolling through. You deleted many of the threads, only stopping on a few men who were even remotely close to your age bracket. All tech startup guys with nothing better to do than wine and dine young women into their panties. Typical.

You’re about to delete the app when you see one face in particular that doesn't piss you off like the rest. You open your conversation from the night before to find it was pleasant, not sexually charged, and genuine. You smile briefly before clicking his profile picture. He’s handsome, too handsome. What’s the catch?

You open his profile to see his age, what he does, and where he is. He’s forty, lives nearby in San Diego, and is an aviator for the Navy. The military thing would have been a turn off if the conversation you’d had didn't look so… refreshing. You scroll to see his net worth - nearly one million. Unheard of among these other men. He must be well-off.

You scroll more and see he’s very close by. A block away. You excitedly - but cautiously - type a message to him.

You: So sorry, I fell asleep. I think it's wild you’re still single at your age. How doesn't that mustache pull women nowadays?

You bite your lip and quickly turn the brightness down on your phone, the blue light making your migraine worse. You see him typing and your heart flutters.

You can't believe this is happening. How did you let your friend talk you into this? Were you crazy? Desperate? Or just lonely? You watched the bubbles on screen appear and disappear as the man on the other side of the screen typed his response to you.

The self-loathing part of your brain told you he was figuring out how to turn you down gently. Tell you you're too young for this, to go find someone your own age, chase your dreams, and whatever other sentiments he could think of. You wanted to hear it, but you also didn't. This was all too much.

Until it wasn't.

Bradley Bradshaw: No worries, sweetheart. I see you're nearby - let me come get you and treat you to brunch. Mimosas?

You stood outside your apartment with your cutest outfit on, though to someone like Bradley, it could be considered… revealing. You didn’t have much, hence the entire reason your friend had convinced you to join that stupid app in the first place. Regardless, you stood waiting for Bradley to come pick you up for your impromptu brunch date.

Could you even call it a date?

Your mind swam as you stared down at the photo of him on the app. He was handsome, yes. You just weren’t sure if this made you one of those gold-digging, shallow women who you were sure were all over this app. He looked as though he’d spent a lifetime laughing, living. The wrinkles you could see that weren’t airbrushed out of this photo seemed deeply set. A good sign that he wasn’t as stuffy as some of the other guys you’d apparently spoken to.

Was this just a giant ass mistake?

What if he was just another one of these guys looking to fuck a younger woman and then give her some hush money? Or even expensive gifts in lieu of hush money? You didn’t want to be the dumb trophy on some older man’s arm. And that was when it hit you - you actually liked Bradley. It was just a small crush, of course, you’d hardly known him. Hardly even spoken to him. But from the little interaction you’d had he seemed like the genuine article.

Before you could psych yourself out any more, you heard the low rumble of a classic car getting closer. You popped your head up to see a bright blue classic Ford Bronco headed your way. Your eyes lit up - having an affinity for classic cars - and you simply prayed that this was Bradley coming to get you.

The car came to a stop right in front of you, and the aforementioned Bradley was looking out the window at you with a grin. He pulled his aviators down the bridge of his nose and looked you in the eyes. A genuine kind of look on his face that had you melting inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said kindly. “Are you ready to go?”

You nodded wordlessly and shoved your phone into your small purse. Bradley jumped out of the Bronco and approached you. He was incredibly tall, compared to you, and he didn’t have this dominating presence that you kept thinking he would have. No, he was like a giant teddy bear - someone you could imagine curling up with at the end of the day and getting nothing but hugs and kisses from.

“You’re even more adorable than that picture on the app, you know,” he tilted his head sweetly to one side. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, though you weren’t sure if he would notice.

“I-I’m happy I’ve surpassed expectations,” you croaked. “God, I’m sorry-” He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m nervous, too, sweetheart,” he admitted kindly. “Let’s get to where we’re going and we can be nervous together.” He took your hand and led you to the passenger side of the Bronco. He opened the door for you and helped you get up into the seat. He waited until you were situated before closing the door and walking coolly to the other side and getting into the driver’s seat.

“I hope you don’t mind. I chose a more secluded spot than I normally would,” Bradley admitted as he pulled away from the curb. “Not because I’m embarrassed, but just because I’d hate to have people I know giving me shit.”

“I completely understand,” you say softly. “I would die if someone I knew saw me doing this… Whatever this is.”

“I’d say we can put off putting a label on it until we’re sure, yeah?” Bradley looked over at you with a smile. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

“I love the sound of that,” you said sweetly, looking at him with a smile.

Soon, you arrived at a small brunch joint on the outskirts of the city. Bradley had assured you he’d never seen his buddies here, and you assured him that your friends are too broke to afford this kind of place. Sharing a laugh, Bradley cuts the engine and gets out of the Bronco. He walks to your side and helps you out before linking your arm with his.

“I’ll treat you right, okay?” He said sweetly as he walked you in. You only smiled in response and allowed him to lead you inside. He gave his last name coolly to the hostess and she ushered the two of you to a more private booth at the back of the restaurant. Bradley pulled your chair out for you and let you sit first. What a gentleman. He took his seat across from you and removed his aviators.

Those eyes were mesmerizing. Beautiful brown that you swore had little flecks of gold in them. You could get lost in those eyes if you weren’t careful, so you quickly picked up the small menu and looked it over. Yikes. You for sure wouldn’t be able to afford this.

“So, I can tell this is not something you usually do,” Bradley said softly. “Me neither, if I’m honest.”

“Honestly? My friend made me do it. We were… Drinking last night. And she convinced me this would be a good idea.” You admitted candidly. “I didn’t know what to expect.

“Hah! Sounds exactly like what my friend did to me,” he admitted right back. “I forgot the app even existed until you messaged me last night. Then, I just got this… feeling. Like, if I let this slip by, I’d regret it the rest of my life.”

“Hence, why we’re sitting here having brunch together,” you finish for him. “I have to admit, Bradley, you don’t seem like the type to go for… younger women. You’re mature, put together, and seem like a zero-bullshit guy.”

“Yeah, well, the Navy sort of beats that into you,” he laughs softly. “Women are usually deterred by the military thing. They automatically think you’re looking to get married, or they think you’re active duty and are going to lose you. So they don’t even bother trying.” He looks up at you. “I’m just trying to find someone to spoil. Someone to care for, and someone to care for me right back.”

You appreciated his honesty. You liked skipping around the nervous chatter, the lies, the embellishments. This was a far cry from some of the dates you’d been on in the past - boys pretending to be men that they’re not. Bradley clearly went through that when he was your age. And he clearly realized it doesn’t work long-term.

“You’re saying all the right things, Bradley,” you chime. “I just want you to know… I’m not after your money or whatever else it is you have to offer me. I’m not sure what I’m after here, but I’d like to explore this. Whatever it ends up being, or not being, I’m interested to see where it goes.”

You’re surprised to hear those words coming from your mouth. An hour ago you were just about ready to call this whole thing off. You were sure this would make you lesser than; lump you in with all the other desperate girls your age just looking to get rich and not work for it. But, honestly, you didn’t care about money - your friend did. If this all worked out, if Bradley ended up being more than just a Seeking Arrangements date, you’d have to thank her for being such a gold digger.

Oh, the misery.

"I do too, sweetheart,” Bradley said sweetly. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

Brunch went exceptionally well. Bradley told you stories from his time in the Naval Academy, TOPGUN, and even a few missions you were pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to share. He told you about his parents and how he followed in his dad’s footsteps. He told you about everything. He was a man who’d lived. You couldn’t grasp, still, how a woman his age wouldn’t want him.

You shared stories from your years in college, your job, and from your childhood. Absolutely nothing compared to the nearly twenty years he had on you. You felt silly telling him about yourself, but he was genuinely interested. He asked so many insightful questions, held your hand, and maintained eye contact. You thought maybe, just maybe, he was falling for you.

You’d be remiss if you didn’t admit you may be falling for him, too.

When the bill came, Bradley snatched it away from you with a mischievous grin. You playfully pouted at him and he just waved you off. He took his wallet out and slid a credit card into the book and held it until the server came back. Clever little devil.

“I told you I’d spoil you, sweetheart,” he mused. “This is me spoiling you. But, I should warn you. This is only the beginning.”

You grinned at him and nodded, relaxing back in your seat. He was just so cool. His entire demeanor, his attitude - devil may care kind of air about him. You enjoyed his youthful aura, especially since you knew he was not quite as youthful as he used to be. It was truly a breath of fresh air.

The bill was paid, you’d successfully drank three mimosas, and Bradley was looking at you with stars in his eyes. He walked you out of the restaurant and to his Bronco. He looked down at you once the two of you were on the passenger’s side. Brushing some hair from your face, he smiled softly and pulled you just a touch closer.

“Well, I’m dying for your review, sweetheart,” he said with a grin. “Did I live up to expectations?”

Your mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Did he? Did he? You’d just spent three hours chatting with a man nearly twice your age about his life, your life, and genuinely enjoying each other's company. And he wants to know if he lived up to expectations? You smiled widely, no longer able to conceal the excitement you felt in your gut about this.

“Very much so. I’d even be so bold as to say you’ve surpassed them,” you took his hand in yours gently. He responded by squeezing your waist a little tighter.

“Then,” he said in a lower tone than he’d used earlier. “You wouldn’t find it uncouth of me to do this?”

Before you could even think of a witty response, his lips were on yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. Your initial shock washed away quickly as your lips pressed back against his. He was gentle, nothing extravagant, nothing lying beneath the surface - just a kiss. His hands slid around your back and upwards, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands found purchase on his large biceps, squeezing as he drew you nearer.

Like in the movies, you felt an instant spark. Little electrical pulses all over your lips, your cheeks, and wherever he touched you. His hands seemed to be made for you. They seemed to know exactly how to hold you, how to caress you, and how to make you forget all except him and this moment.

And all too quickly, he was pulling away from you. He looked down at you with gentle eyes, a small quirk of his lips. You stared back up at him with your mouth hanging open ever so slightly. He brought his hand up and swept his thumb over your bottom lip. You almost had to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the mild ache that warmed your core.

Bradley let out a soft chuckle and opened the door for you. Like earlier, he helped you into the Bronco and then got in himself. He started the vehicle and started driving away from the restaurant. Your mind swam with the possibilities. He could be your father, but you wanted him. You wanted him to be the man in your life. Just from this one little encounter. You were sure you wanted him.

It really was like the movies.

You noticed eventually that you were nowhere near your apartment, or his. In fact, San Diego wasn’t around you at all. You’d traveled north, and then west. To a small little shopping center away from town. You looked at Bradley curiously and he met your gaze as if on cue.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he said coolly. “I’m taking you to the beach. But you need a bathing suit. And, honestly, so do I.” He grinned at you and pulled into a parking spot. Just great! He was already blowing his money on you. Part of you felt guilty, but the other part of you - the part that was still listening to your friend - wanted to see this all through.

He pulled you into a store that sold probably the most revealing swimsuits for the most outrageous prices. You cringed every time you looked at a price tag even though Bradley had assured you nothing was too expensive. Finally, after looking at a one-piece suit that was anything but “one piece,” you pulled Bradley to you.

“I cannot let you spend this kind of money on such little fabric, Bradley,” you pleaded. He simply smiled down at you and nodded.

“I understand completely,” he looked around at the options and narrowed his eyes. “Let me find something worthwhile then.” He kissed your cheek and walked off to search for a suit for you. Dumbfounded, you stood back and watched for a second. Then, without even thinking, you started looking for one for him to wear. Like some kind of girlfriend would.

You picked up a red pair of trunks, the shorter kind that have come into style recently. You weren’t sure if these would make him look younger or just plain silly. You didn’t really care, though, you wanted him to wear them. You figured this would be a good color on him.

When he eventually found you again, he had his hands behind his back. A shit-eating grin on his face, you’d notice. You held up the trunks you’d chosen for him, a small smile on your face.

“How are these?” You asked sweetly. He nodded in approval and then brought a one piece suit out from behind his back.

Your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw it - bright red, just like the trunks you’d chosen for him.

You let out a genuine laugh and smiled up at him. He pulled you in for a quick kiss before taking the trunks from you and walking to the register to pay. You followed behind him but quickly tucked yourself against his side at the counter. He’d picked up a pair of aviators for you, a couple of towels, and some sunblock. Once he paid, he took your hand and led you out of the shop.

“Let’s change into these before we head out. I wanna get right into it when we get to the beach,” he handed you the swimsuit and gently pushed you in the direction of the bathroom. He went to the men’s room to change, and you changed as instructed.

When you arrived at the beach, you were in awe at how gorgeous the scenery was. Not a person in sight, either. Perfect, you thought. Bradley hauled you to the sand like a little kid and laughed at your protests.

“The water is fine! Come on, let me see that suit I got you.” He pinched your sides and tickled you into submission. You shoved him off of you with a wheezing laugh and tore your clothes off to reveal the swimsuit. His eyes traveled down your body in a very uncharacteristically obvious way.

“Wow, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Red is definitely your color.” He took his t-shirt off and tossed it aside. He was surprisingly muscular for someone his age. It added to his charm, you decided, that he was able to stay in such great shape. “How about me? Red a good color on me? Someone my age?”

“Yeah, actually. Those make you look at least ten years younger,” you teased. He laughed and watched you take off towards the water. He followed behind you and let his feet get wet from the waves.

You, on the other hand, were the young sprite who was going deeper into the water. You let the water lap at your thighs before traveling out a little further. The cool water felt amazing on your skin, even better with the sun beating down on you. You closed your eyes and let the waves rock you from side to side. You surely could get used to this.

You suddenly felt hands on your hips, a firm grip. You jumped slightly before turning around to come face-to-face with Bradley. The sun made his eyes sparkle just as you’d predicted in the restaurant. You looked at the age on his face and sigh softly. It’s not as obvious in the sun. Not something you expected.

“You forgot something,” he said softly. He propped the pair of aviators he bought on your face and gently pushed them up the bridge of your nose. He poked the tip of your nose with a boyish grin. “Perfect.”

“You’re gonna let me get a sunburn, too?” You chide with a poke to his ribs.

“Oh, never,” he said with a scandalized look on his face. “Here, turn back around.” He produced the bottle of sunscreen and smirked.

You turned around without hesitation. You felt his hands all over your back as he spread the sunscreen around your skin. He rubbed up and over your shoulders, kissing them gently when he was finished. He traced your spine on the open back of the swimsuit he bought you. You shivered ever so slightly when his hands brushed your skin so gently. He worked the sunscreen into your neck before gently turning you back around and working it over your collarbone. You saw the hesitation in his eyes when he went to drag his fingers lower, but your lack of protest replaced his hesitation with determination. He massaged the sunscreen into the swell of your breasts slowly. Your breath caught in your throat at the touch. The familiar ache between your legs returning.

He moved on to your arms and the tops of your ears. He then put a silly little stripe of it on the bridge of your nose, making you giggle. You took the bottle from him and repeated the gesture on him. He grinned proudly and pulled you close again. His lips crashed onto yours in a hungry kiss, more intimate than the last.

You knew then that you could get used to this.

You grinned widely and charged at Bradley, jumping into his arms. He laughed and caught you with ease, spinning you around as you wrapped your legs around him. He playfully tipped you backwards so your hair brushed the water. Your squeal of excitement rang out clear as day, making him smile brighter than you’d seen.

He pulled you back up and you buried your face in his neck. His skin was slick with sweat and sunscreen, and he smelled still like the subtle cologne he wore. He held you securely against him, never daring to drop you.

You pulled your head back and kissed him again. It came easier now, kissing him. It was more exciting, less anxiety-inducing. You liked the way the walls had been dropped and the affections came easier. He gladly kissed you back, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. A soft, more needy than intended whimper left your lips at that.

Instead of scaring him away, it only spurred Bradley on. His hands cupped your rear possessively and he carried you back to shore. And you knew where it would go from there.

He set you down on one of the towels and crawled over you. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he explored your skin with his mouth. Your hands slid up and into his hair, whining softly as he ravaged you with that perfect, experienced mouth.

“I need you to know, sweetheart,” he grunted. “This isn’t a one-off.” You tilted your head, sweat on your brow.

“I’m going to take you out, bring you home, make you mine,” he explained further. “I’m not ready to let you go yet. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” you breathed. “I’m not ready to let you go yet either.”

“Good,” he said before kissing down your stomach, dangerously close to your aching cunt. “Because I don’t want to go too fast.” He kissed back up your stomach and to your lips.

A pitiful little moan left your lips in protest. He chuckled softly and looked down at you.

“We have time,” he said simply. You wrapped your arms around him and laughed softly. His lips connected with your collarbone before he lifted you back up.

“Let’s order something and eat dinner here. Sound good?” He suggested. You nodded with a grin, kissing his cheek. As he was busy ordering something for dinner, you looked down at your phone for the first time since that morning. You opened it up and looked at your conversation with Bradley on the app. You bit your lip and closed the app. Then you took a leap.

You deleted the app.

Bradley was the only one you cared about among the list of men you’d chatted with. And in a stupidly short amount of time, you started picturing yourself with this man. This real man. He turned to you and smiled as he spoke on the phone with the place he was ordering from. The look on his face when he looked at you was enough. This, eating dinner on a secluded beach, was enough.

Tagging people who may enjoy: @roosterscock @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @roosterbruiser @beardedladyqueen @seresinsweetie @sebsxphia

#rooster brain rot goes brrrrr #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #sugar daddy bradley #sugar daddy rooster

773 notes · View notes