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popculturebuffet · 4 hours ago

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Transformers More Than Meets the Eye Season 2 Retrospective: World Shut Your Mouth Parts 1-3 (Pateon Review for Brotoman.EXE)

Hello all you happy autobots and after nearly a fully year and a crossover.. welcome back. It's been a long road but it's finally time to get back on the lost light for TRANSFORMERS MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE SEASON 2 BABY

For those just embarking, More Than Meets The Eye was a long running Transformers comic by James Roberts, a fun trek to the stars where a bunch of Autobots allegedly quest for the mythical cybertron while in actuality figuring themselves out, cracking jokes, getting traumatized and saving the unvierse. It's one of my faviorite comics ever and thanks to my good patreon brotoman.exe I finally got to cover it. I complied season 1 into two posts (thanks tumblr) you can find here to get up to speed

Over the break I started a look at Boom! Studio's power rangers that continues in feburary i'll be doing on and off, then a bunch of fun side quests including Transformers One which you can find my gushing review of here

But I missed these guys and i'm excited to get back to this series. In fact with my Giant Days retrospective starting up in january, that means i'll be covering two of my faviorite comics of all time simultaneously. Also that time the Government decided if they ignored gotham maybe it'd go away. Lots of fun plans for next year.

A big reason besides just the joy of this series is simple: Out of the three seasons Season 2 is my faviorite. I loved it the most reading the comic the first time. Season 1 is great.. but also makes a lot of assumptions in some places, assuming the reader didn't start with this comic and will just know what the dead universe is or who overlord is. It make sense for the time as Chaos was the last thing to happen chronologically and last stand of the wreckers was a hit: it's not a bold assumption that most transformers readers still on board know all this. But it is a bold assumption to not ease readers who might NOT have been there for the previous volume or noped out after it was bad and felt bad, or who are coming in fresh because "hey look hot rod! cool space adventures! queer robots! sign me up'. I'm in the latter category in case you were wondering.

Season 1 is good.. but Season 2 feels more accesible while continuing the great plotting, paying off a lot of season 1's setups, adding a few of it's own and generally being pretty damn awesome. It also adds some fresh faces to shake things up with Chromia being a faviorite of mine, Nightbeat being fun, and Getaway being one of the most intresting characters they've added for reasons I won't spoil but if you know your already booing him.

The biggest and best though and the one I feel helps pull the series together... is Megatron. The former leader of the decipticons, the big bad of most transformers media... joins the autobots and the lost light. It brings the series themes of war and it's cost into focus: Cyclonus is CONSIDERED a decepticon, but while he shares the philosphy he wasn't there killing our heroes friends. One of the things I feel the season 1 cast really lacks for it's post war themes is any deceipticons.. and putting the most infaomous one of all, a man with so much blood on his hands he could fill a swimming pool more than makes up for it. Megatron is TRYING to do better as we'll get into, geninely wants to do something.. but struggles both with being better and EVERYONE hating him. At least to start EVERYONE is understandably hostile to megatron, who dosen't help by being his usual standoffish self. It's a fun situation... and also great for comedy as he both makes a good straight man and pisses Rodimus off as he's not happy about his new "co-captain" and the duo's banter is pitch perfect.

IT also allows for megs to be thorughly explored: why did he do this, what does he regret. Dark Cybertron hinted at this, but now he's a full time cast memmber we relaly get into why Megatron is the way he is. He feels so critical to the series it's a shocker that he's there because Editorial wanted him in one of the books.. yet it works so perfectly. The lost lights established issues with seeing the cons as automatically evil, their war trauma nad moving on are tested by putting the biggest symbol of all thier issues and the reason many exist at the helm. It's an engaging , hearbtreaking thought provoking season and we can finally kick it off under the cut as we find out HOW Megatron got this sweet gig, how everyone's dealing with it and just how drunk trailbreaker can get.

We begin

And we're back, with Nautica, now mostly settled in hurrying up to talk to her new bestie Brainstorm. And right away the series already has a new charming character dynamic: Chromia finally provides someone genuinely intrested in Brainstorm's work when it isn't on fire and a foil as she finds his newest idea a tad questionable: COLOR CODED LASERS, so you can tell who the baddies are. Ahhh how I missed James Roberts addiction to taking goofy parts of the franchies and making them an actual thing. This one dosen't quite take off as Chromia points out just how bad it is while Brainstorm just says.. maybe change the color. It's also a nice little peak into his character through some wacky nonsense: depsite the war having passed.. he still sees it as the good guys and the baddies. Granted a good number of decepticons were pieces of shit, but as prowl has proven time and time again and will somehow be allowed to keep proving, just because your on the right side of history dosen't make you a good person. It's something Chromia fully grasps and adds some fresh perspective; she's TECHNICALLY an autobot, but her home planet wasn't in the war and it gives her a diffrent perspective.

The two notice a pile of people outside Rung's office as he has a very special patient.. and it's here it's revealed whose the captain now. I spoiled it a tad early out of necisity but it's still such a great panel

I just notice the little cubes of energon and the energon equilvent of a water jug for the first time. I love that Rung has refreshments. Such a good therapist.

So we flash back six months and get used to it as we'll be going back and forth to explain well, how did we get here? Rodimus is prepared to leave, understandably as he was just through some shit before the whole crossover.

Optimus however dosen't want ANYONE leaving till after the trial. And naturally Prowl dosen't want a trial but a public execution. He even says it twice, proving that Magnus should've just let Chromedome finish him. Optimus points out WHY they need one: the public needs to trust the autobots again so the trial needs to be transparent. Granted Optimus still makes some fumbles in setting it up: while he makes the wise decision to apoint magnus as the defense, as he knows even with every reservation Mags will do the right thing, he appoints PROWL to proscution. Prowl who the NAILS could easily point to as biased. Prowl who Optimus knows from the crossover as Rodimus damn well told him set up the whole overlord fiasco out of paranoia. Prowl who SHOULD STILL BE AT THE BOTTOM OF A CLIFF INSTEAD OF IN THIS PRIVATE COUNCIL. I get it's not asshole free, Starscream is also there, and Rodimus has some thoughts about that that sadly feel all too relevant

Just that feeling that you can't grasp WHY something very stupid and horrible happened... or why they elected it to office.

So the trial is set, and Rodimus reveals why he's so twitchy: the matrix. Granted Optimus once again comes off as a bit of a prick, and unlike the prowl thing where Roberts hands are tied by the sister book having Prime weirdly trust the guy, Optimus just.. seems grumpy at Rodimus breaking the matrix. Despite ya know DOING SO TO SAVE THOUSANDS OF SENTIENTS. I love this book, with all my heart.. but sometimes it forgets our heroes can and have actually done shit.

So Rodimus is going to thunderclash for help, which frankly is a hell I wish on no one. But he has a reason for being so twitchy besides "everyone is being a dick to him today and the planet is ruled by a smooth talking facisit now": Thunderclash hasn't responded which given who we're dealing with is not exactly good. Still Rodimus being present gives Optimus an idea to speed things up.

Back at therapy Megatron is annoyed Rung has made his fusion cannon a penis thing, a gag I love but Rung points out why: Megatron is being evasive

So Rung tries something diffrent... great encounters. Who he met that had the most impact on him. Megatron deflects by pointing out how they met, the incident at the Macaddams from Chaos Theory. it's a major reason why I wanted to cover it, the other we'll get to as we go. Megatron dosne't begrudge him from forgetting and tries to use his usual rhetoric and deflect.. but Rung's found an opening: See he brings up Megs biography.. and specifically that he found a rare first edition, the others all wiped.

It's a quote I deeply love and shockingly haven't had a use for till now. But it's not only once again precisent.. but also gets to the heart of things. Rung tried finding the change, found nothing.. and then spotted the deidcation and asks whose terminus. Before he can dig in on that, the lights go out. Megatron takes that as a sign to leave to go refuel and then get back on deck so Magnus doesn't get too comfy. He does point out why he edited it out though: Terminus was a friend. and taught hims omething important. Okay it's vauge as hell. Rung is curious though as we find out MEGATRON asked for the session. Also btb, Ravage, one of soundwaves cassets is lurking on board. It dosen't come up in this half of the story and I almost forgot to mention it but it will naturally be important later.

Back in the flashback we get a brief bit of levity as Swerve holds fake "Crewditions" to fuck with people. It gives us a look at the adorable nerd Nautica is and nightbeat eventually shuts it down. It's a fun bit and leads us into what Optimus was getting at: letting Chromedome extract testiomny. Probablem is.. Megatron has a deathly fear of mnemosurgery, reacts harshly and assumes their coming to take his brain instead of you know, trusting optimus. I mean I can't blame him for not wanting to take the needle. Rodimus.. takes the chance to mock him and say megatron will end up where he started: under rock deep under ground with nothing to show for it. And this.. will be a mistake. Not for the whole of cybertron as it leads to some good things, bu tfor Rodimus as it's going to be a pain in the ass in the short term as Megatron has Rodimus give Magnus a box.

Back on the ship Skids and Nightbeat are hanging out. Their buddies now. And Chromedome is.. not doing well just sitting in his cell replaying rewind's message having ALMOST recovered a little.. but then you know, he didn't get to kill prowl so back to depression he goes. Nightbeat is curious though.. the last number on Domey's hab suite is missing.. something... is up.

Speaking of.. I don't have a transition. Whirl is doing what he does best: pick a fight to mask his deep issues. In this case he sucker punches Megatron

It does not. Once again Whirl not only picked a fight with someone stronger, but someone who did not want one. And unlike Cyclonus who simply threatens to murder him some day, Megatron cuts to Whirl's core. Whirl brings up the fact he tried to murder Megatron in a prison celll... and Megatron reveals in gratittuude for setting him on his path, he ordered his men to never actually kill Whirl. I like the ambigiuity: Megatron is usaully straight forward.. but he's also smart and knows this kind of lie, or even worse truth, would damage whirl way more than a fight he did not want or ask for and lets the fight go while Whirl looses an arm in Megatron's insides as shockwaves use of him as a space bridge means his stomach's all kinds of freaky.

After this we flashback as Megatron explains the why of his therapy: he explains the editing that life is all edits, slowly piecing things out of your life, changing yourself for better and worse and sometimes the wordk you've done.. is unsalvagable. You need to start over. And that's what Megatron is doing here, why he threw his past away on Luna 2 where the trial took place. We'll find out what that means later for now the issue ends as the crew finds a mysteroius coffin with an autobrand in space.

We open our second issue with the return of Tailgate! I missed him.. I missed all of these guys granted but still I forget sometimes he was in a coma between seasons. But he's back and Cyclonus smiles upon seeing him coming. He's then massively confused as Tailgate tries to jam his finger in his head as his new signature move, but still it's clear he's happy for a change. Tailgate gets caught up to speed on just about everything.. only to see Megatron hauling a coffin and wearing the autobrand. They both have one as Tailgate got his as a present while in stasis , with Cyclonus feeling it dosen't fit either of them. We do get a cute moment though that after a drunk autobot you da man now dawg's tailgate, Cyclonus assures Tailgate he was missed.. by him. He says it about as directlya s he can without just saying "I missed you dawg now let's go have robo sex".

Back in the past, Rodimus is watching the trial with tons of victim testimony.. too many. In a nice bit to show his depth he does feel it's necessary, the bordedom comes from just how the same it is: so much trauma in a pile. So he's greatful for a break as Atomizer asks him. You remember him right? The red one? has a visor? Hasn't been plot relevant till now o clock?

Well now he is and he's suspiciously giving Rodimus a keypad with the names of every person that voted against him when he called for a vote on his captinancy. Rodimus does the right thing shrugs it off.. twice even.. but Atomizer knows his audience... he knows even at his lowest and most regretful.. rodimus still thrives on attention... and simply says he'll stop pushing.. if Rodimus says it one more time.

Back in the present everyone's at swerves and Swerves now has a bouncer, 10, one of the legislators left over and reporgrammed. He only says 10. While he deals with that and Swerve is grumpy over the new captain, though frankly should be greatful megatron let him keep his bar given what a stickler he is, Natuica, Skids and Riptide, a new crewmember whose less important than Nautica are watching Trailcutter slowly drink himself into a coma. His crippling self esteem issues and alcholishm have lead him down the darkest hole imaginable and it's sad to see, sadder this time around as having read his spotlight and seen just how shabbily he's treated by everyone but Whirl, whose busy patching up his pride, you can see why he's drunkely spiraled. And it only gets worse as Riptide mentoining Megatron drinks some kinda super fuel gives the poor shambles an idea.

Back to the past, and Starscream is being starscream, going on a long rant first describing how much he's acomplished and how much he loves his poeple and exactly what you'd expect till Magnus tells him to knock it off, then a long stew of lies painting Megatron as a mistaken blundering fool whose revolution got out of hand and whose been lead by others. This.. is what gets Megatron to activate his escape hatch to the suprise of no one. While part of it is genuinely good impulses as we've seen. he still has an ego. It's not as big as Starscream's as tha'ts just not physically possible, but it's enough to get him to say "fuck this time for plan b" after pleading guilty and intended to just.. give up.

Chromdome goes to visit Nightbeat. Turns out as he's been rewatching Rewinds's last words again.. and again and again, and again, and again and again and again and you get it, he's noticed a change...Rewind screaming. A change that's now gone and understandably Nightbeat think's it's just grief and Chromedome refuses to see the naunce in that and plans to storm off... till Nightbeat sees something... REWIND.

So it's back to trailwhatevers drunken escapades. Nautica leves as she's tired of water man and skids egging this stupidity on as Trailbreaker breaks into megatron's room.. well rather the door goes missing. This issue does a nice job of amping things up.. that something IS seriously wrong with the ship and the sign on chromedome's suite was just the start.

So he breaks into suplies, checks the energon and finds megatron.. and finds megs, magnus, ratchet, some white guy, guy with a visor and cool red guy with a visor starring him down. Trailbreaker responds by busting out his new move a "panic bubble" that lasts 90 minutes. While he huddles and his enablers have no idea we go back to the past.

Starscream is doing what he does best: celeberating prematurely that he's won, he's the true leader of the decipticons. er cybertron...

The Autobots also got an autobump. But the real meat is back in the present. Nightbeat has figured out what Rewind might be. A g-g-ghost! Specifically a data ghost. Information has a life of it's own, and Rewind was constnatly recording... and him stopping when his spark stopped. Sidenote I just realized transformers sparks are where their hearts are and i'ts a consitant thing in this comic. Like no matter the side the spark tends to be at the center... I know this because of all the impalings. So many impalings. I'm not haunted at night you are.

Point is Nightbeat is fun, on a tear if not exactly senstive as Chromdome is both depressed he didn't bring his partner back with the power of love and thinks it has ot be revenge since he hasn't been contining the quest for dominus ambus like he promised. They have bigger issues.. which i'm saying a lot this review but is true as the wall of nightbeat's habsuite is GONE. Somehow their not in the vacum of space. or something.l the art really isn't clear.

So back with Trailboy, he's coming down and is ready to go to prison or be sent home or whatever just as long as it isn't a beating. The bad news is he's still getting a beating as Megatron thunks him on the head. The good news is Megatron.. is a good leader now. He recognizes the problem and activated Trailbreakers fim chip. Basically he can drink he just can't get drunk. Disabling it is how robots get drunk in the first place. It's a violation of space.. but something necessary as this coudl've gone so much worse. It's also a job opportunity: Megatron admits this shoudln't of been even possible: even with the door going missing someone breaking in this easily and this drunkenly is impressively sloppy. He needs a new cheif of security since with all these extras and all this chaos.. no one.. no one thought to hire a new head of security since Red Alert's breakdown. Especailly given it was proven he was entirely sane and hearing a serial killer in their walls, but we'll get to his fate later. Point is Megatron sees this drunken breakdown for what it is: a very depressed man with a disase who badly needs a purpose and gives him the job. It shows already that while Megatron is still coarse and arrogant.. he's also a better man. In the past he probably woudl've just killed trails and does threaten to murder him.. but here he empathizes seeing that he's just a bot at the very end of his rope with no one actually supporting him but given the panic bubble with actual talent. Sending him home or locking him up helps no one. Giving him a job, a purpose and what he wanted most of all: recognition.. that ... that's a good thing Megatron did.

So Trailbreakers rock bottom did help though: it opened the casket and since no's eyes are leaking out of their skull, Megatron opens it to find RODIMUS BODY. Yup apparently he's been dead this whole time.

TO find out how we... should go back to the flashback. And we do but get no answers: Megatrons pleading not guilty now, while Rodimus did the thing we all expected and reads the data pad.

We being our final issue for now where we left off: on trial. Yeah this bit isn't BAD.. but feels like it woudl've been better as it's own issue in the middle or at the end of these three. A whole flashback to explain. It's how most comics do it and while that can get tedious I now see why: you can thread flashbacks with a story well, see the first arc of the most recent captaina merica run. JM Stranzki nicely synchs up Steve's past trying to stop american nazi's with the present. Here it synchs up a little but it feels like two diffrent stories that are important but keep interupting each other.

I do like the trail as it helps set megatron up: why he's here where his heads out etc and I like his prewrittne response he has magnus read out

Now the mentally violate part is fucking bullshit. That's.. entirely made up and not at all what happened and footage from the cell could easily prove that. That's just megs being a dick. But the rest.. isn't wrong. They didn't pull any witnesses from the decipticons, any of his loyalists left alive who might speak for his character, and while Magnus did his best he really didn't make an actual defense, his judge is his archenemy and his prosecuter is a known war criminal. It's very clear Megatron only let this go as far as it did because he planned to just sit and rot and was fully taking the kangaroo court.. but hot rod and starscream woke up his ego: his desire to not have the story end in shame.. but in doing SOMETHING right.

More on this soon. For now everyone has some drinks and kicks back, riptide studies a bit and we get back to the past where exactly who you'd expect are reacting exactly how you'd expect.

Look starscream isn't suprising.. but at least he's entertaining. Of course he's going to pout his evil plan isn't going the way he wanted. Prowl is also unsuprising.. but a giant fucking dick i'm still baffled john Barber couldn't see as a monster. Maybe it's roberts writing but you can't just..conviently ignore that one of your main cast commited war crimes in the other book or is saying shit like this. Or blame it on constructicons as he'll end up partially doing. Prowl is arguing they should basically have a show trial and trying to imply it's us or them and not "everyone even monsters deserve a fair trial. " Ratrap cuts through this very RID argument with a simple point: Ask megatron what he wants.

Back with the corpse First Aid is examining and has NOT been doing well. Ratchet primarily asked for his help because Ambulons' death hit the poor guy hard and he's been in his room barely engaging with anyone sense. Seems to be going around. Still calls need to be made.. and thus after a three issue absence, kinda... it's the return of the king

Yeah a rare full page here as everything about this is great, Rodimus clear grief... and it being interputed by a petty argument. I like that like Ultra Magnus Megatron just.. cuts through Hot Rod's bs.. that he's now tag teamed by two people who won't take his shit. And both have a point: They are co captains. Made up rank or not optimus judgment stands, but Rodimus was sulking for what was implied to be several months, kinda proving WHY maybe they needed a new captain.. co captain. Whatever. While Optimus taking the reigns from Rodimus is cruel as this is Roddy's quest, he acomplished little and let a serial killer on board on a dare. Megatron has done FAR WORSE.. but has far better motives than his own deep seated insecurity.

So back in prison Megatron is wondering about the people who tried to spring him. By the way some decpitcons tried to free him. It.. it sure did happen. I nearly forgot to mention it but in doing os realized just HOW superflous it ends up being. It shows Megatron isn't going to flee but like.. we got that.

And this proves it as Megatron explains why he' squesting and wants to change things to being judged by the knights of cybertron. He dosen't want his epitaph to be written by starscream. He wants to do something right

He's trying to atone for what he did. this isn't just an escape hatch: he had one ready, unsuprisingly, but his reasoning... is good. he just wants to make a better world after ruining this one.

Optimus agrees. While he could just throw megatron in the brig till Rodimus finishes the quest, He sees the genuine nature of this request and asks for two non negotiables first

Second we'll naturally get to later, as for now Rodimus is freaked out and thus calls for TEAM RODIMUS WHAT WHAT. Specifically nightbeat, nautica, chromedome, brainstorm and skids, all people who are smart and can deal with weird shit. He ignores Night beat about to tell him shit is weird and instead has chromedome once hack into a dead body

Yeah Rodimus is a bit of an ass this arc even by his standards. Nautica finds specteralist symbols, chromedome only finds curosy memories left and first aid confirms via enermost energon that it's him. Sometime in the near future he apparently dies after they reunite with drift again.

So Rodimus has a resonable adult reaction to his impending death: CUT OFF HIS ARM. After all if his corpse has two arms, he has one it can't happen. Perfect plan! Megatron points out the flaw and I just.. love how these two bounce off each other. We've never really had someone on the same level of rodimus point out his stuidlty. Others have but with those bellow the command trinity he can tell them to shut up and respect the captancy and magnus and drift were both weird in their own ways: drift was new agey by cybertronain standards and magnus would marry the rules if that wreen't against the rules. Megatron is megatron.. but he lacks the quirks whiel still being megatron enough to be funny. He's straight with roddy like magnus but unlike magnus has no clear issues he can push. Roddy can pull out the "your a monster card" and does frequently and will call megatron out on a lower moment next time, but it's not something that works when pointing out basic logical falicies and when the person isn't trying to be space hitler these days.

Thankfully rodimus mental breakdown is interuppted as a large portion of the ship disappears behind him. So Nightbeat's right while Brainstorm's latest invention has the right idea

Meanwhile our other new castmate finally reappears: Getaway. As Tailgate is hot doggin and grandstanding at the bar, Getaway comes up and starts flattering him, calling the little guy a hero and blatantly hitting on him in a way that's obvious to a grumpy cyclonus and anyone with eyes, but also comes off creepy... the way he just... butters Tailgate up it seems wrong. And it is but we're a long ways away from that. The alarm goes off and we go back to the flashback. Megatron denounces deciptconism and everything he stood for, a bit mopey.. but understnading

Speaking of MOpey rodimus shows Ratchet the pad.. and finds out Megatrons going to be assigned to his ship. And his pissy ness.. is entirley justified. Now his months long mope sesh isn't, he didn't act like an adult and unlike first aid and chromedome he's not dealing with severe trauma and depression: he's just sore his ship got taken away and if he wanted to prove he's still captain, fucking act like it. Be a leader.

That said it wasn't within Optimus' rights to fucking do this. It's not his ship, not his mission, not something he's been involved with apart from a brief team up. He has no authority over the lost light and should've had no authority to keep it here for the trial. He's not in charge of anything but the autobots. not cybertron, and frankly shoudln't of been judge. His intentoins are noble: keep megatron honest and in the public eye and watched and under fools energon so his strengths down, it's why the special diet. But his actions are simply selfish and not how a leader acts: While sometimes you HAVE to ignore the will of your team to do something right in fiction, to give someone a second chance even if they sucked before, this.. isn't his team. He was autobot commander but he RESIGNED. Bumblebee is dead. This decision is not his to make. He didn't set out on this mission. He changed an entire ships mood, put the crew with a leader they truly hate simply because he knew they'd listen to him and wouldn't contest it and that... that's not good leadership. That's not being superman tha'ts being a dick. It works out long term, but it's an example of the rest of the autobots dismissing the lost light crew's autonomy. They stopped being one united all together faction the second they split and while they'll be there when cybertron needs them, the autbots left on cybertron have to accept they aren't one big army anymore. He's not THE SUPREME COMMANDER. He deserves respect I get asking for favors but this is a unilateral decision tha thas horrific consequences.

Anyways Rodimus feels bad as he was considering generally using the pad as Atomizer suggested, to cull the herd.. but can't. Ratchet points out what a stupid thing this would be but lets its lide given bout the cirucmstances and the fact Rodimus agrees to destroy it. That said.. he also points out it's fake. his name isn't on the list.. and that clearly wounds Rodimus.

So we end act 1 of the story as everyone scrambles to exit the lost light. We get some great banter as Megatron gives a classic villanous unhand me.. and Rodimus points out good guys don't really do that and I love their bickering on the escape pod

Now kiss... but maybe later as the lost light is gone. And that ends part 1

While splitting it in half this was was just circumstance, and it's late release was just me having a massive cold the split fits as while I consider this is a 6 part arc and all of it's collected in the same volume, it really is two acts the first slowly building up to the big event and explaning "why megatron here" while part 2 leans more on the sci fi high concept now we're all caught up. It's why I wish we'd gotten a flashback issue. Maybe DO rodimus as a corpse then the flashback.. then reveal he's alive. I dunno. This stretch of issues is decent but the trial stuff makes it drag slightly. I'm not reading this book for a self righteous asshat to hold a trial for his arch enemy whil ea war criminal screeches to just kill him already.

Having to spend time with Prowl did not help, as .. it's Prowl. he sucks. And I admit a large part is how the series ends, with Prowl somehow surviving all this, yes, really, and getting to dismantle the lost light. I'll get to the context in a few years, but that knowledge just makes me hate him more. Every panel is him just being the smugest most uncomfortable dickweed and it really pisses me off he's allowed to be involved in this trial AT ALL. That he's not HAVING A TRIAL or in a cell. I mean I get doing megatron first but i'm shocked starscream didn't throw him in one as he has every reason just to piss optimus off. I get so tired of the heroes throwing their hands up at prowl being a dick, arguging with him but doing nothing, something that will lead to a whole ass crossover event. And yeah you could blame his current combiner status but it's clear from the flashbacks before his brainwashing or his time as bruticuis, he was a DICK. An authortarian asshat who thought the ends justified the means. He's the Transformers verison of amanda waller but without the comptence or style... so absolute power era amanda waller, but I digress. He's a bad person and while Rodimus actions involving overlord haunt him I notice somebody never gets tried fo rit, exiled or just... plain.. kicked out. Optimus should NOT have brought him to earth or even talked to him. He gives Rodimus so much shit, and the shit over his not resinging was deserved.. but he lets PROWL get a fucking free pass till it's too late only punching him after he's comitted more war crimes. The more I think about it the more prowl's presecnce just drags down this whole affair and I didn't think i'd be ranting about him AGAIN but here we are.

This first half is fine, as while season 2 is my faviorite it does have a bumpy intro with the flashbacks, everyone being a tad grumpy and the first arc really being everyone adjusting to a war criminal being made captain. The levity the series needs to ballance it's deep sads isn't there often and it's only when Rodimus returns the series equilbrium comes back, his man child nature perfectly setting up comedy again with Swerve in a grumpy mood and Trailcutter's breakdown being more sad than the shennigan the series tries to play it as partly. He's a constantly negelected and unseen person lashing out and doing a drunken stupid that only dosen't end in his death because Megatron is a shockingly cool guy. But once you get Rodimus and Megatron arguing and our cool star trek style high concept of the week going, things feel like the comic I feel in love with and thankfully the second half is way stronger for it.

Next Time: We find out where the lost light went, Megatron gets a cat, and a former member of the crew returns! Kinda! Multiverse theroy is a bitch! I'm pulling for ya we're all in this together

#transformers more than meets the eye #megatron #hot rod #transformers #ultra magnus #rewind #chromedome #nightbeat #nautica #swerve #ten #ratchet #starscream #optimus prime #trailcutter

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wake-me-up-inside-imagines · 2 days ago

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HI ! I hope you are doing fine.

Could we have an AU where Charlie met his love in a meeting between the different mafia groups. His little dove is either a direct rival or the descendant of a rival mafia chef.

(gender neutral for Charlie's would be so cool!)

Sure thing! Honestly not sure if I did super well on this one but I hope you enjoy it!

Yandere mafia boss with a darling who’s his rival

Gn! Reader

Warnings: Maria boss characters, somewhat stalking, mentions of potential kidnapping, obsession

Divider credit goes to @strangergraphics

Yandere Charlie who’s been competing with you for years. Being the head of his mafia would never have been easy, he knows that, but most of the time he’s able to get a leg up on anyone who dares go against him, whether it be an individual or a group like his. But with you…he’s never been able to surpass you. He’s not weaker than you by any means, he knows he’s giving you just as much trouble as you are to him, but…it’s not enough. He needs to be at the top, and he just can’t seem to manage that when pit against you and your organization.

Yandere Charlie who’s never met you before, not in person at least, and he never wants to. He knows who you are, of course he does, but why would he ever want anything to do with you? He’s running a tight and brutal business, and you’re getting in the way of what he wants, threatening to surpass him at any moment. It’s like you two are neck and neck, struggling toward the same goal, and he hates it. He needs to be the best of the best, he needs to be the most powerful, he needs to be feared above anyone else. He needs to get rid of you, but he knows that’s a risk he’s in no position to take.

Yandere Charlie who is determined to kill you if you were to ever face him, to wipe out your organization until only those he could use were left. He knows it’s a long shot with the way things are between you now, but all he needs is one opportunity, just one moment of solid luck…

Unfortunately, business comes before his murderous intent. So when a new, unprecedented rival arises, threatening to wipe both of your organizations out, Charlie must do what he can to neutralize the danger and keep his business thriving. And after much back and forth between the two of you, he comes to the unfortunate conclusion that it might be time to create a temporary alliance with you.

Yandere Charlie who doesn’t know what to expect when he goes to meet up with you in person, but he’s not taking any chances. He’s armed to the teeth with a barrage of guards following behind him, and he knows you’ll most likely do the same. It’s a tense situation all around, one he knows could lead to his death if he’s not careful, but what choice does he have? He has to go, no matter the risk.

Yandere Charlie who’s immediately stunned upon entering the meeting room, but forces himself to remain on his guard. You’re more stunning than he ever imagined you could be in person, but surely he should have expected that, right? You’re just as wealthy as him, you have access to every item you could ever need to make yourself appear as dazzling as you look. This is a trap, a mere distraction from the point of the meeting, it has to be!

But…Yandere Charlie can’t help but be drawn to you as the meeting progresses, although on edge. You’re beautiful, but more than that you’re tough, intelligent, and unflinching even in the face of such danger. It’s no wonder you’ve been able to keep yourself afloat in such a brutal business. You’d have made a good ally, if things were different.

Yandere Charlie who leaves the meeting with a new allyship, but also with new intrigue. He needs to know more about you…for security reasons. That’s why.

Yandere Charlie who only grows more infatuated with you as time goes on. You don’t seem to be warming up to him much, no matter how much time you two have to spend planning together, but he’s certainly warming up to you, becoming more and more infatuated by you to the point of obsession. Every interaction strengthens the feelings he’s trying so hard to push away, his thoughts have become full of nothing but you, he needs to know more about you, he needs to be near you-

Yandere Charlie who tried brushing off these feelings as caution, then curiosity, then hate. You’re supposed to be his rival! He’s supposed to be wary of you, to be plotting your downfall as soon as the other threat is taken care of, so why? Why is he so enamored by you? It has to be for the sake of his own organization, right? He just wants to make sure he can exploit your weaknesses, right? He hates you with his whole being…right?

Yandere Charlie who denies his feelings until he can no longer stand it, his heart threatening to explode at any moment. It’s not normal to become so flustered around his rival and he knows it. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about kissing you, he shouldn’t be desperate for your absent affection, and he definitely shouldn’t be scouring every source he can find for information about your type, what you like, if you have a partner. He’s in love, and he simply can’t stand not having you to himself anymore. He needs you, he needs you now.

Yandere Charlie who knows you’ll never fall for him, not if things continue on the way they are currently. He’s delusional, but he’s not stupid. He can’t trick himself into believing you’re a helpless thing that needs his protection like he could with a civilian darling, because you’re literally on par with him in terms of power and skill. You’d most definitely attempt to get him assassinated if he treated you as anything less than the powerful person you are. But…

Yandere Charlie who knows that if you two were to get married, it would mean your organizations would combine. Which means that you’d both have more power in a partnership. It’s a tempting offer considering what could be a stake, but hey, making an offer can’t hurt, right? (It can).

Yandere Charlie who hides his devastation at your adamant refusal, his brain racing as he tries to understand. He gets that your rivals, but do you really think after all you’d been through at this point that he’d backstab you? I mean, it’s a brutal business, but really? Is he that much of a perceived danger to you? How else is he supposed to show his love and dedication to you without coming across as weak?

Yandere Charlie who under normal circumstances would move on to kidnapping, but with you, he can’t. You’re too powerful and he knows it, there’s no way he’d be able to take you away, let alone hide you away in the safety of his house. For the first time in Charlie’s life, he’s stuck. He’s unable to obtain the one thing he so desperately wants, and you’re none the wiser to it. He wants you so bad, but he can’t have you, and so he sits in his misery, every interaction with you breaking his cold heart a little more.

All he can do now is get closer to you and pray that an opening pops up. Or that you change your mind and fall head over heels in love with him. It can’t hurt to dream, right?

He’ll have you one day, he’s sure of it. He has to, because if he can’t have you…there won’t be much of his sanity left to keep him a float.

He just hopes you’ll come around. For his sake, and for yours.

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transssexualheart · 2 months ago

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Saw Phil Lesh last year in New Haven. Went with two hardcore deadheads- my job was to roll joints in the backseat. I had never seen such a show before- I was 20. I was to turn 21 a month later. Friends older than me offered to buy me a drink, but I refused. I wanted this memory, so badly. Some part of me knew, despite the comforting denial, that I was losing the time to ever see quite a show ever again. I am young. I want to cherish every moment I have before it is gone.

This concert is one of my absolute favorite memories. One friend gave me a few shrooms to replicate to authentic experience, the other stayed beside me the whole time to make sure nothing when wrong, as it was only my second time on shrooms. I remember scarlet begonias the best… aside from when we cheered for an encore, and Phil came back out. I heard from one of them that some people complained that Phil had sat down towards the end of his encore… fuck those people. Have some sympathy… he was like a year and a half from death, still giving everything he had. I adored that concert, and still do. The ticket is on my bulletin board, but now, I would love to have it framed. Tattooed, even.

I am so grateful that a couple of people were able to take me to such a life changing event before it was not available anymore, and, even more, I’m glad he lived such a full and rewarding life. Rest in peace Phil Lesh. Rock on forever you legend.

#rain rambles #I’m bummed #I really really was wanting to see him again #hoping that those two and I could make one more plan at least #in addition at least one of them knew him sort of personally #like knew his wife and shit Yknow #he didn’t come to work today. I played almost nothing but grateful dead all day.#i’m actually so sad #I feel like I did when I heard Neil Peart died #except I’m still mad about him because it was cancer which is worse than living a really full life Yknow

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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—”

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly.

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both.

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall.

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence.

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door.

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that.

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small.

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself.

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer.

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission.

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist.

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow.

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this.

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back.

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.”

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms.

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him.

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold.

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters.

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten.

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you.

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way.

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot.

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again.

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself.

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words.

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.

“Really?”

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic.

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you.

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?”

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately.

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have.

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot.

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again.

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore.

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt.

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed.

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one.

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body.

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself.

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh.

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else.

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?”

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked.

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are.

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft.

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten.

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.

He’s still perfect.

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit.

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent.

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth.

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle.

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest.

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment.

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are.

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly.

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous.

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for.

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time.

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two.

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you.

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre.

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in.

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static.

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak.

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern.

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good.

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you.

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound.

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good.

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster.

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect.

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe.

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure.

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good.

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you.

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.

But it’s too much all combined.

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained.

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob.

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be.

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you.

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face.

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies.

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself.

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now.

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves.

You want the same.

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.”

part eight

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic

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sxcret-garden · 9 months ago

Text

Ateez Reaction ღ Asking them to teach you how to fuck [M]

ღ Ateez all members x fem-bodied!reader ღ genre: smut reaction (best friend!Ateez x inexperienced reader), (implied) friends to fwb/friends to lovers in one part ღ warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption

Author’s note: This is definitely not what I had planned to write today but oh well :’) I hope you guys enjoy~

Edit: This is labelled as having a fem-bodied!reader, but Yeosang's, San's, Mingi's and Jongho's parts also work with a gn!reader (I changed the wording slightly for two of those parts to make them gn, cause the original versions weren't very far away from that) - Yunho's part is technically gn too, but i think one line of it makes no sense if reader is imagined to be male bodied!

Hongjoong:

when one day you somewhat shyly ask him if he would teach you how to please a guy he’s definitely surprised

but it’s also not like he sees a problem with friends hooking up? i mean - y’all know each other well and trust each other, so having sex shouldn’t be an issue

teaches you everything you wanted to know and then some more, until suddenly you can barely even remember that other guy who made you feel like you needed to practice so much anymore

he’ll be gentle with you, seeing how you don’t have much experience yet, and somehow he’ll end up pleasuring you first to help you relax

only when you’re about to cum on his fingers does he stop for a second to consider whether it’s really okay to go this far with you

but you’re enjoying yourself, and now you’re whining for him to keep going, so that’s what he does

makes you cum and then lets you rest for a bit, before he starts guiding your hands down his body

praises you for everything you do and gently nudges you in the right direction, until you have him cumming into your fist - but he won’t stop there

there’s just something insanely hot to him about having full control over what you do to him as he gives you instructions, and this is definitely also awakening some kind of corruption kink deep inside him

eventually you end up on top of him as he guides you down his cock and into a steady rhythm, having you ride him

and of course this becomes a regular thing between the two of you, both keeping up the pretense that you’re still just “practicing”, when really there’s a carnal need growing inside both of you that makes you always come back to each other for more

Seonghwa:

the first time you bring it up to him that you’ve been wondering if he could help you practice having sex he feels conflicted to say the least

of course he wants to help you!! but this is about having sex with one of his best friends, and he doesn’t know if he wants to cross that line with you

but at the same time it’s also apparent that your question is affecting him when you can see his ears turn red, and eventually he has to get out of there for a second to get himself a glass of water sakdfjlks

“So is that a yes?” you ask him when he comes back, and he almost spits the water back out aksdljfkjsd

“I-I’ll have to think about it, Y/N…” he somehow manages to stutter, before he forcibly changes topic

he needs a few days to calm down about this, but once some time has passed he figures it’s probably not a big issue if he helped you out a bit, right?

you agree on a few rules like no kissing, no actual intercourse, but he’s willing to let you touch him otherwise

and so you decide to start slow, with a simple handjob, and he actually finds himself enjoying the way he can tell you what to do, gently push you in the right direction, plus the sight of having your hands wrapped around his cock just does something very sinful to him - so it’s no surprise that you don’t have any trouble making him cum

but now he feels the need to pay you back, and so you let him finger you, and his skillful touches throw you over the edge in no time

you do this a few times, until eventually you find yourselves growing more needy, and you end up sucking him off while he eats you out, quietly turning it into a game of who can make the other cum faster in your mind

needless to say, now that you started casually hooking up you won’t be stopping anytime soon

Yunho:

he is SOSO flustered when you first ask him about whether he could teach you a bit about sex the first time and immediately says no aksjdklfsk

“Y/N, we’re just friends… shouldn’t you do that with an actual boyfriend?”

but you insist, admitting that you feel embarrassed about how inexperienced you are, and of course this guy reassures you that you’re fine the way you are, and once the right guy comes along he will surely be understanding with you

and as much as you want to believe his words, your insecurities prevail, until eventually you find an agreement that you can at least come ask him about stuff if you feel unsure about something so he could give you a verbal explanation

and you take him up on that offer pretty soon, simply because you’re curious kasjflkasdj

so when one day you ask him out of the blue whether guys prefer getting handjobs or blowjobs he’s a blushing mess first of all

“W-well, it depends on the guy…?” - so you ask him what he prefers and now he’s visibly uncomfortable

but he figures you’re just curious, so he tells you about how both is nice, it really depends on his mood, but he probably prefers a simple handjob most of the time

he loosens up a bit eventually, and as you continue talking about the topic and you ask him all kinds of questions, neither of you can deny that it’s affecting you

except nothing really happens afterwards, because you know he wouldn’t want to overstep that boundary

it’s only until a little later, when you’re both drunk at a party and he suddenly pulls you aside to tell you that he hasn’t been able to think about anything but what it would be like to have sex with you

and well, you pressing your body up against his does nothing to deflate that situation, and so you disappear in the nearest room where it’s just the two of you, and in no time clothes are flying off and your hands are all over each other

but despite the desperation that the both of you are feeling, he’s still careful with you, taking the lead as you spend the rest of the night fucking in that room

Yeosang:

he has no idea how to react when you ask him to teach you how to fuck, so it’s just awkward silence for a few moments

until he offers to treat you to a few hours with a sex worker instead ksajdflkjs

and well, that’s not exactly what you had in mind, because the point of you asking him was that he’s someone who’s known you for a long time and who knows you well

“Ahhh, I see… then sorry that I can’t be who you want me to be, but no.” (why does he have to say it so dramatically fksdjkfas)

you’re of course a bit disappointed, but it’s not like you don’t understand him - not everyone would want to cross that line with a friend - so you leave it at that for now

until one evening you’re together at your place, and you can tell something’s off about him - he seems fidgety and like he’s anxious about something, so eventually you decide to ask what’s up

and he doesn’t really want to give you an answer at first, but eventually he manages to force out an explanation

“Just… what you said to me a few days ago… I thought about it again… and maybe we can try it after all?” - you two talk a lot so it takes you a while to understand what he’s hinting at, but once you do, you’re immediately by his side

you reach for his hand as you’re sitting side by side, and somehow both your nerves are making it hard to do anything

“S-so… how do we start? Do we kiss?” he asks, and you agree that that might be a good idea, and weirdly enough as soon as your lips meet his and you fall into an unhurried pace, both your anxieties seem to be washed away

you get into his lap, and somehow you both just end up following your instincts, only breaking the kiss to tell each other what feels good, and then eventually in order to moan at the way you dry humping him is about to get the both of you off

you’re taking this very slow, but it becomes a regular thing for you to meet up in order to have sex from then on, both exploring and learning about each other’s body as you go

San:

another one who feels very conflicted the first time you bring it up to him

he doesn’t think mere friends should be doing this kind of thing with each other, but at the same time he can’t say he isn’t tempted

he says no at first, but the days after he just can’t stop thinking about you naked, on top of him, underneath him, you name it

until these thoughts start to haunt him in his dreams too, and he knows he can’t possibly be normal around you anymore if he doesn’t do anything about this

so he decides to help you out after all, under the premise that you won’t have any actual intercourse

instead, he teaches you how he likes to be touched with hands only, and eventually he also lets you suck him off

tells you exactly what to do that would drive any guy insane, gives you advice in between moans and at some point he will start rambling, until his high is coming so close that his train of thought just cuts off

and once he sees the state he put you in after cumming in your mouth - your glazed over eyes, his seed dripping down your lips before you lick it all up and swallow - he just can’t help himself anymore

“Shit, Y/N, let me fuck you, please,” he mutters, desperation in his voice

and as soon as you give him the okay this guy will be all over you, being rougher than you’d have expected him to be, fucking you as he’s led only by his instincts and his need to feel the warmth of being inside you

Mingi:

he’s another one who isn’t opposed to having sex with a good friend

actually, he feels a weird sense of relief when you ask him if you could practice with him, because he feels very comfortable with you and so he knows he too will be able to let go quickly

you start slow anyway, because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you - seeing how you don’t have much experience yet - and so he’s even more surprised when you reach for his dick pretty quickly

you ask if what you’re doing is good, and as you’re giving him a few strokes this guy is hard in no time

will put his hand onto yours to guide you into the pace he likes, but very soon he’ll simply leave it up to you, wanting to know exactly what you would do to him if he doesn’t interfere

and soon enough his sanity will start to slip away, and when he starts bucking his hips into your hand the dynamic shifts ever so slightly, because suddenly you don’t seem so inexperienced anymore at all as you dare to tease him about how needy he is

lets you make him cum onto his stomach, before you call it quits for the day, but you’ll be sure to come back for more soon

he’ll let you get him off in all kinds of ways, until eventually you two start experimenting with anything and everything you’re curious about, all under the premise of “practice”

and soon he too will feel the need to return the favour and get you off too, learning all about how your body reacts to his touch, and figuring out together what feels best for you

you’re gonna spend whole weekends at his place just fucking, and in no time you basically know each other’s bodies like the back of your own hand

and it’s more than likely that in the process this guy actually falls in love with you, and even though it’s still a whiiiile until he actually finds the courage to tell you that, he will make damn sure you won’t even think about wandering off to someone else

“You’re mine, Y/N,” - the words will repeatedly slip past his lips as he’s fucking you, and surely enough they do something to you too

Wooyoung:

you two tend to be very touchy to begin with - even though you’re definitely not in love he gives you kisses on the cheeks or your neck all the time, and when you’re having a sleepover you can be sure it will include a good amount of cuddling

so when one day he’s spooning you, focused on drawing random patterns on the skin on your arm, and you tell him that you’ve been thinking whether he would be okay with showing you how to properly please a guy he isn’t put off by the idea at all - though he is a little surprised, both because he was of the impression you had a lot more experience than you do, and because he didn’t think you’d ever consider him the right person to come to with a favour like this (like????? who else would be a better person??????)

and this guy is so gentle and respectful with you - he’ll ask exactly what you want him to show you, what you want him to do, will ask before whatever he does whether you’re okay with it or not,...

you just end up having really sweet sex as you help each other out of your clothes and you both get a little distracted worshipping each other’s body

there will be a lot of giggling as you slowly figure out what the other likes and what not, until you end up flat on your back, with his head between your legs, and suddenly all that light-hearted curiousity turns into a deep passion

he eats you out and makes you cum on his tongue multiple times, eager to please you and to see how many more of those sinful moans and whimpers he can draw out of you

until finally you grab him by the hair and pull him away so he would give you a break to catch your breath and to remind him that he was supposed to teach you how to do this stuff

“You asked me how to please a guy,” he replies. “This is how you please this guy right here.” - at this point he is absolutely pussy drunk, there’s no going back for him

will offer to get you off every single time you have a sleepover from now on (and mysteriously the amount of sleepovers you have is suddenly increasing drastically), but he will also exert some amount of self control beforehand and let you get him off too, before he makes you feel good

Jongho:

the first time you very awkwardly hint at him that you’ve been wondering if he’d be willing to teach you how to fuck he simply laughs

until he realizes you weren’t joking

panics internally as all the times he’s gotten off while thinking of you flash him by and he somehow manages to tell you that you’re just friends and you should really reconsider this!!!

he never actually gives you a proper answer on that day, and neither of you bring it up until like two weeks later

you’re both chilling with your phones in your hands, having made yourselves comfortable on his bed as you often do when you’re at his place, when he suddenly speaks up

“So… do you still want me to… teach you a few things?” he asks, not taking his eyes off his phone, and you can feel the nervousness radiating off of him - but as soon as you say yes that mood instantly gets replaced with confidence

“Then come here.” - he goes slow to figure out what you’re okay with and what not, but when you throw your arms around him once he starts scattering kisses in your neck as he hovers above you, he knows he can’t hold back anymore

gets you off with his hand first, before he guides yours to his cock and shows you exactly how he wants you to return the favour

“Wanna go all the way? Cause I’ve been thinking about this…” he admits, and when you say yes he doesn’t spare you any details

tells you about what he wants to do to you, and lets you decide which of his fantasies you want to recreate, until you end up in all kinds of positions, having him fucking one orgasm after the other out of you, until it becomes clear you’re getting tired and you really can’t take any more

you’re both very awkward after this, to the point you act weird around each other even in front of your other friends, who start wondering whether you had a fight

but as things calm down between the two of you, you meet up again at his place

you decided prior to that that what happened several days ago was a one time thing, and you wouldn’t do it again

or so you thought, because as soon as you find yourselves side by side on his bed again, neither of you can deny that the only thing you’re thinking about is continuing where you had left off last time

#ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #ateez hard thoughts #smut

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sistertotheknowitall · 10 months ago

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Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

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ro-is-struggling · 9 months ago

Text

Earn It || Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: While Spencer was away on a case, you had no better idea than to send him spicy pictures of yourself as a way to encourage him to work harder to get home fast. You ignored his warnings and orders to stop and now that he was back home it was time to face the consequences of acting like a spoiled brat.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn without plot, established relationship, dom!spencer, sexting, masturbation, bondage, dirty talk, cum eating, deprivation of touch used as punishment (if that makes sense? idk it's just porn)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: idk what this is, I have had this idea in my mind for a while now and I only wrote it because someone left me a nice message praising my spencer smut, so enjoy, I guess

Do you want to get notified when I post? JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE!

You were buzzing with anticipation, counting down the minutes until Spencer got home. You knew you'd be in trouble —it was clear from the short messages he'd sent you—, but that was part of the fun. You had crossed the line this time. The messages you had sent him while he was stuck at work could only be described as torture. But you couldn't be held accountable for your actions, at least not completely. You missed him-his touch, his lips on yours, the sound of his voice calling your name-and you wanted to make sure he knew it.

Spencer had been away from home for too long, working a few states over to catch a killer who targeted young, blonde women. It was apparently a tough case so for the last few weeks you had to settle for talking to him on the phone late at night. Hearing his voice before bedtime was nice, comforting, but over time it stopped being enough. You missed having him by your side at night, feeling his warmth and the touch of his fingers on your skin. You missed his kisses, his soft lips caressing your body while you whispered his name into the darkness of the night....

It was clear that phone calls were no longer enough to satiate your need for him, so in a moment of impulsive arousal you decided to give him a little incentive to work harder to come home to you. You were simply showing him what he was missing.

The first picture you sent him was simple and tasteful, a conscious choice intended to lure him into your trap. It only showed the lower half of your face, your lips drawn into a sad pout. It also showed part of your chest which was covered by one of Spencer's shirts. It had the first few buttons undone, showing your collarbone and the mound of your breasts, but nothing more. You sent it with a simple 'I miss you', hoping he had his phone nearby to see it.

His reply came not long after, and you almost felt bad for what you were about to do when you read his innocent and oblivious 'I miss you too :(‘. You replied with another photo, this time much more revealing. The shirt was unbuttoned now, revealing the cute red lace bra that hugged your breasts. It was Spencer's favorite and you knew it was going to have the desired effect on him. 'I wish you were here...' you wrote before you sent it. And without waiting for a reply you sent him another picture, this time showing the full lingerie being, posing in a provocative way. Without hesitation you wrote 'to rip it off my body' and pressed send.

You knew your little plan had worked because Spencer didn't answer for quite a while. He had seen the messages, but he was probably too stunned and busy to reply to you. When he finally did, it was a warning. 'Behave.' was all he wrote back, but you ignored it. In the next picture you sent him you had removed your bra, your hard nipples framed perfectly in the picture. Two of your fingers were lost between your lips, the red lipstick slightly smudged at the corners. 'I wish they were your fingers' you typed and Spencer's reply was another warning. 'But I guess mine will have to do for now' you ignored him once again, sending him a video of you burying those same fingers inside you as you moaned his name.

Your provocative messages didn't stop until you came, but even though you knew Spencer had seen them, he didn't reply. Nor did he call you that night like he had been doing every day. He was silent for two whole days. Two long days in which you kept wondering if maybe you had taken things too far. It was torture waiting for some kind of sign from him that would bring you some relief, but when you read the message he sent you knew that had been his intention all along.

'I'm on my way home. I want you in bed wearing the red set by the time I get there.' was all he wrote and you knew he was angry. Spencer was going to make you pay for behaving so badly and you couldn't help but wonder what method he would use to teach you a lesson. Punishments were always creative with him. Spencer wasn't very keen on violence during intimacy, it reminded him too much of his job, you supposed. He was rough in bed when he was in the mood for it and never objected to giving you a spanking or two when you deserved it, but he didn't enjoy making you cry in pain or leaving severe marks on your skin.

Spencer was more of a soft, pleasure dom, which meant that most of the time he was more intense than aggressive. He loved the irony of using pleasure to create pain, often overstimulating you to the point that your body would scream for him to stop. His domination over you was more subtle, more psychological, so his punishments always had a hint of irony in them. The worst one —and at the same time, the best one– had been once you had come without his permission. His way of teaching you a lesson that time was forcing you to cum over and over again, attacking your abused pussy with his fingers, his tongue and a vibrator without giving you hardly any time to recover between orgasms.

You wondered if Spencer had something similar in mind, the very idea frightening and exciting you at the same time. Your clit throbbed between your legs, your panties ruined with your arousal before Spencer even got to lay a finger on you. That was the effect he had on you. All he had to do was send you a stupid message and your whole body would begin to tingle with anticipation, waiting for his command.

When you heard the sound of the apartment door opening you almost jumped out of bed with joy. There was nothing you wanted more than to run into your boyfriend's arms and shower him with kisses as you told him how much you had missed him. But you knew you couldn't —or, rather, shouldn't— do that. Spencer wanted you in bed, wearing his favorite lingerie, and that's exactly what you did. Even though it was a little late to play nice now, you didn't want to give him any more reason to prolong your punishment —whatever it was. So you settled on the bed, putting yourself in a suggestive pose and waited patiently for Spencer to enter the room.

He took his time and you knew he was doing it on purpose. Your punishment had begun the moment you decided to ignore his warnings and now you had no choice but to accept it. Listening to his footsteps walking around the apartment, knowing that he was only a couple of feet away without being able to do anything about it was a real torture, but you deserved it.

"I'm disappointed in you," was the first thing Spencer said when he finally entered the room. He had that hard look in his eyes that he always gave you when you disobeyed him - the one that told you it was in your best interests to listen to him. His pupils were widened, the beautiful hazel color almost completely taken over by the darkness of desire in his eyes. You shifted nervously on the bed, suddenly feeling small under his intense gaze. Spencer walked toward you and you felt like an animal trapped by the predator that wanted to eat it. There was nowhere to run.

"You've been a very bad girl," he clicked his tongue in disapproval, bringing his hands to his neck to loosen the knot of his tie. "Teasing me with those pictures while I was at work, ignoring my warnings, cuming without my permission." Spencer shook his head and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip. The tone in his voice —too calm for someone in his position— almost made you regret your little stunt. Almost. "If you want to act like a spoiled brat, I'll treat you like one."

Spencer ordered you to sit on the bed with your back against the headboard. You obeyed without question, knowing that this was not the best time to complain. You watched him remove his tie in one tug, twisting the soft fabric in his hands before approaching you. He was careful in tying your wrists to the headboard, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he made sure to limit your movements, leaving you completely at his mercy. It was torture to feel him so close and not be able to touch him. Not to mention how incredibly frustrating it was that his hands barely rested on you when it was strictly necessary, as if your skin was burning him. You hated it, but when you let out a whine of protest, Spencer gave you a look that let you know it was best to keep your mouth shut.

"You're going to stay there and keep your eyes on me at all times." He stated with a calmness in his voice that should have alarmed you. But instead of wondering what he was up to —and what that calm meant to you— your mind was distracted by the slow movement of his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing himself to you. " Now you'll know how I felt when I saw your pictures and those videos of you pleasuring yourself while I was stuck at work, unable to do anything about it."

Spencer moved closer to you, leaning down to be at eye level with you. The air caught in your throat as you stared at him, fearing that your mere breath might somehow cause him to pull away from you again. His gaze was firm, intimidating, but hidden among all the desire and lust you could still make out a glimmer of the characteristic softness in his eyes. It was an interesting contrast, captivating. It reminded you that no matter how rough he might be at the moment, the sweet, loving, everyday Spencer was just a word away.

You could hardly believe he was touching you when he took your face in one of his hands. His warm, slender fingers pressed over your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. He used his grip to tilt your head up to make sure your eyes never left his at any time. He had you trapped between his hand and his eyes, frozen still as you anxiously awaited his next words.

"Now you'll be the helpless one. You'll be the one that has to sit back and watch as I pleasure myself, tied to the bed, unable to do anything to relieve the pressure between your legs."

After removing the last of his clothes, Spencer settled himself on the opposite side of the bed. He made sure you had the best view of him and his hard cock before he began to pleasure himself. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as if you were being hypnotized. Up and down, up and down, his hand moved along his shaft while his mouth let out the sweetest moans you had ever heard. Every little gasp he let out went straight to your center, that throbbed desperate for attention. Spencer sounded desperate and you wondered if he hadn't relieved himself since you had sent him those pictures.

You fought your bonds without even realizing it, your body responding in its own accords to Spencer's stimulation. He didn't scold you for it, on the contrary he seemed to enjoy it. He increased the pace of his hand slightly, his eyes never leaving your figure. The way they roamed over your body —slowly moving down from your face to your neck, stopping at the curve of your breasts before trailing their way down your abdomen and to your legs— almost felt like his caresses. If you concentrated hard enough you could feel the ghost of his fingers following the path of his eyes. But it wasn't enough, not when you were trapped listening to Spencer's moans, watching his hand move up and down his cock as his tip leaked precum. Your mouth watered at the sight, yearning to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue. You could almost taste the salty treat on your tongue, your brain recreating it as best it could. It was criminal that he wouldn't let you touch him when he was so close to you.

"Like what you see?" Spencer mocked you as a pathetic whimper managed to escape your lips. "It's such a shame you were so bad 'cause right now you could be the one touching me... And I could be pleasuring you."

"Yes, please! I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Just please, I need it." you begged, momentarily excited by the mention of him pleasuring you. You were willing to do anything to end this torture.

But Spencer wouldn't budge. "Oh, I know you do, baby. I can see the wet spot in your panties from here. But I can't give it to you. Only good, obedient girls get what they want and you have been very, very bad."

He enjoyed every second of your torture, delighting in the whimpers you let out and the way you struggled against your bonds. Your body squirmed deliciously on the bed, protesting against the lack of attention. Spencer responded to your whimpers with moans, being more vocal than usual to prolong your torture. Every sound he let out increased the fire in your stomach along with your frustration. Your pussy tightened around nothing, desperate for attention. The pressure in your tummy was too much, almost unbearable. You needed relief, whatever would help you take the edge off.

You didn't even realize you were squeezing your legs together until it was too late. You were desperate and while the little friction your thighs provided as you squirmed was not enough, it was better than nothing. Your clit pulsed with every little movement, your juices trickling down your legs and making your job easier. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate on the subtle tingling between your legs to see if you could increase the pleasure that way somehow. The moan that fell from your lips was pathetic, a mixture of pleasure and frustration that alerted Spencer to your little trick just as you were getting somewhere.

You snapped your eyes open as you felt the impact of his hand against your calf. Spencer gave you a stern look, his expression blank as he forced your legs apart again. "You do that again and I won't let you cum tonight, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" you whimpered, feeling your hope renewing at the promise of a future orgasm. "I'm sorry! I'll be good, I promise."

It was real torture to have Spencer so close, naked and stroking his cock inches away without being able to touch it. His moans were getting louder and louder, his words dirtier and more condescending —praising your expression of desperation and mocking the way you twisted against your bonds. Your desperation increased along with the speed of his hands, which worked increasingly faster to bring him to the edge of pleasure. He was close, you could feel it, and as pathetic as it sounded, so were you. Your underwear was ruined, soaked with the juices of your arousal. Spencer hadn't touched you, but you were sure that a simple brush against your clit was all you needed to reach your climax.

"Was it worth it, baby?" He managed to say between gasps. "Was it worth it to disobey me? Sending all those pictures just to end up like this, tied to the bed, forced to watch me pleasure myself while you get nothing."

Oh Spencer was enjoying torturing you way too much. He wanted to break you, push you to your very limit and hear you beg for his forgiveness. He wanted you to earn your relief just as you had earned your punishment and he wasn't going to stop until you begged for mercy. In another circumstance you might have put up more of a fight, after all, it was always fun to riled him up. But you were far too desperate to feel his touch to play hard to get. You needed him, you'd been apart too long and you couldn't stand the distance a second longer.

"No, it wasn't! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. I should have listened to you. I won't do it again, I promise! I'll behave! Just, please... please." There was no way to hide the pathetic tone in your voice. You were so frustrated, so needy for attention, that you could almost feel the tears burning in your eyes. You were willing to cry if that's what it took to earn Spencer's forgiveness. You would do anything to feel his hands on you.

"Oh yeah? You'll behave?" He spoke as if he didn't believe you, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he increased the pace of his hand. "Will you stop acting like a spoiled brat and be my good, obedient little girl?"

"Yes! I'll be your good girl, I promise! I'll be so good for you, sir! Please."

Suddenly, Spencer stood up from his place on the bed, approaching you in a couple of steps. "Open up then." He commanded bringing the head of his dripping, reddened cock close to your lips. You didn't need him to tell you twice, tilting your face up as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, eagerly waiting to taste him.

"That's it, that's a good girl... swallow it, swallow all of me... good girl." Spencer moaned as he came in your mouth, his hand stroking himself until he shot the very last drop of cum on your tongue. The squeal of bliss you let out at the taste of his salty flavor was pathetic, but you were too far gone to care. You eagerly swallowed everything he gave you, devouring it as if it were the sweetest candy.

Spencer mumbled sweet praises as he came down from his high, caressing your head with his usual softness. It was a small action, but you missed his touch so much that it was enough to fill you with joy. You thought you were finally in the clear, that you had received your punishment so well that Spencer would show you mercy and finally let you touch him. But when he sat down across from you again and looked into your eyes, you noticed that the intimidating darkness was still present in them. You struggled against your bonds once more to see if he would take pity on you and untie you. But he answered you with a click of his tongue that stopped you immediately.

"You did such a good job for me, baby." Spencer's voice was barely a husky whisper. He brought one of his fingers up to your cheek, collecting the drops of his cum that hadn't made it into your mouth. You tried to lean into his touch, but he removed his hand quickly, bringing his finger to your lips. He didn't have to tell you what to do, you automatically opened your mouth and wrapped your tongue around his finger, tasting his relief.

"But your punishment isn't over yet. You earned your relief, but haven't earned my forgiveness yet. You still don't get to touch me. Now open those pretty legs for me. I'll give you what you want and we'll see how much you can take."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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inzaynety · 7 months ago

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investigation: start! ⤫

➢ summary: when visiting the third division, there’s never a shortage of questions and confusion about you. a few take it upon themselves to get to the bottom of it.

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 2574 words, nosy officers, jealous hoshina, suggestive at the end, iharu has a crush on you, slight spoilers for the manga for certain instances to make the plans make sense but it’s vague

➢ notes: i was reading thru character profiles and it made writing this a little easier w the interactions 🫡 hope u enjoy

prequel - pt. 1 of slice & dice - pt. 2

The lives of the higher-ups were always a topic of discussion for the members of the defense force. If anything, it seemed to be entertainment and gossip to exchange and bond over between divisions. One of the hot topics includes Commander Ashiro’s childhood, courtesy of Kafka.

The only person they couldn’t get anything on was their own Vice-Commander. He was already an enigma himself with that cheerful yet unsettling grin, and they were all witnesses to the receiving end of his narrowed stares during training. The most they could get out of him was a boisterous laugh that shared nothing. They were getting bored.

But with boredom comes the urge to seek new things. And in this case, dirt on Vice-Commander Hoshina.

There wasn’t much they could see initially–until you came along.

Now, you weren’t an uncommon sight for the Third Division officers. They would see you hanging around Okonogi or eyeing a few of the new officers during training with an intense gaze that they didn’t know if they should feel flattered or intimidated. Most of the time, however, you were in close proximity to Hoshina. During division meetings, the officers never saw a day without the two of you conversing in some way whether it be through words or standing right next to each other. There was no blatant physical contact but the distance between you two was a little odd to say the least.

So some took it upon themselves to start a mission.

Kikoru would never voice her true intentions out loud but it was clear that she was as invested as her companions were if her constant questions about the matter said anything about it. She was influenced by her close peers and their enthusiasm definitely fed that.

Reno didn’t want anything to do with it… at first. He changed his mind after only an hour and he thinks it’s due to spending too much time with a certain someone who loved entertainment. Iharu sneezes in the distance.

Kafka was simultaneously wanting to join the younger members in their antics, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk another week of pushups. While he would admit that his arms were tougher, those exercises reminded him of the embarrassment every time he miscalled his commander. But the thought of having some knowledge about Hoshina was interesting, to say the least.

It seemed they were all bored overall.

Ultimately, they all decided to make a plan and figure it out separately. Your division was visiting for a week and reconvening would wait until the weekend. It was time to investigate.

Minase was the one to kick it off, prompting her fellow members to gain more confidence. It all started with an innocent encounter in the operations room when she, Kikoru, and Hakua passed by.

There were voices inside but the most prominent ones were yours and Hoshina’s. The Vice-Commander was a little surprised to see them when they intercepted at the door but it is quickly masked when you step out, a hint of a smile on your face possibly due to the joke he told you only moments before.

“Now, what’re you three doin’ here?” The Vice-Commander asks, hands in his pockets while you stand slightly behind him with your head tilted.

Minase always had a good ear being a great listener for her peers and was able to hear what he had said to you. It was a flirty quip, but not enough to not be told to a close friend. Upon seeing that she had caught both of your attention, she smiles.

“Good afternoon!” You greet her as well but a silence falls over you five. It’s a bit awkward–Kikoru side-eyes her friend to see what the whole stopping and rushing over here was for, but Minase had a plan already set. “We were actually looking for you, Commander,” she looks directly at you and you raise a brow at the implication of her tone.

“Oh?” You take a step forward. “What for?”

“Some training tips, is all. After the last session you gave us, it motivated us to work on our blade work even more!” Like Hoshina, your preferred way of fighting had nothing to do with the guns everyone else used. You hum in acknowledgement.

The Third was full of promising new officers and it would be a waste to not help them hone their skills even more. But you were sure Hoshina was pushing them enough with his own swordsmanship. You even learned a lot from him yourself.

Hakua stifles a choked sound when Minase elbows her gently, not expecting to be put on the spot just like that. And despite already being told of their group’s plan beforehand and having her outgoing personality, it was still a nerve-racking request.

“Y-Yeah! You seem close to Commander Narumi so we thought you guys would have similar fighting styles.” In your head, you think they’re referring to how he’s the strongest and anyone would want to learn from the best of the best. Gen wasn’t the easiest to get a hold of and you felt flattered they would ask you directly, so of course you would help out.

On the side, Kikoru is tasked with watching the Vice-Commander. Not all reactions were verbal and she was the most observant of the three, but she couldn’t maintain her eyes on him the whole time lest he get suspicious.

But now she thinks her eyes have deceived her. At the mention of Commander Narumi, Hoshina’s eyes peek open. She sees how they darken more as Hakua talks about your fighting styles but just like his initial surprise earlier, that expression left as quickly as it came.

She tucks that away.

Vice-Commander Hoshina had his “Kaiju killing eyes” at the mention of Commander Narumi. Don’t know what that could mean. - Kikoru

That’s jealousy! - Minase

Now you see what I mean about his eyes?? - Kafka

Iharu was infatuated with you from the get-go, though you would say that his first inspiration was Commander Ashiro. Saving him that day was what began his journey into the Defense Force, but it was you who motivated him to alter his fighting style to keep up with Reno.

Speaking of the latter, he was sitting beside him in the cafeteria as the two tried to think of a plan for their part. They caught wind that Kikoru’s group got a promising lead and it was up to the rest to solidify it. But they’ve been stuck for the past hour trying to come up with their own thing and asking for training would be a stolen idea.

Reno watches as more and more officers walk into the shared area and grab their meals from the line. They’re a mix of your division and the Third Division members conversing among themselves and he immediately sits up with his idea. Iharu turns his head in surprise to find Reno’s attention already turned to him.

“What? Got an idea?” Reno nods fervently and brings both of their heads down to speak more quietly. Iharu raises his brows at the proposal and his cheeks turn pink. He’s outspoken, yeah, and confident, sure, but this was you.

His friend pleads with him. He relents.

It’s not too long before you step into the cafeteria with the goal of lunch like everyone else. Spending time with Okonogi was great and all but she fried your brain with data only she and your Operations Leader Sora could keep up with. This was grounds for a well-deserved meal before your joint training session as well.

Iharu watches as you get in line and as he stands up to line up behind you, and like Reno predicted as you grab your tray, you see the officer. To his and Iharu’s surprise, you greet him first.

“Officer Furuhashi, right?” You ask after grabbing your tray. There’s a bright look on your face at the excitement of seeing the man who impressed your previous Commander. He shakily nods and you smile in response. “Commander Ogata said a lot of things about you.”

Iharu lets out a polite chuckle. “All good things, I hope?” He gets a laugh out of you and you both fall into a comfortable conversation as you move down the line. Reno watches the door and he hopes the timing works out, or Plan B would have to be used. At least Iharu was having a good time.

It’s when the two of you reach the end of the line and walk towards Reno’s table does Hoshina appear from the doorway. The red-haired officer doesn’t see him yet and your conversation is at the point when you have a hand on his arm as you’re gushing over his newfound ability with his Kaiju suit. He feels a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder and Iharu freezes, looking to his side to see his Vice-Commander.

“Vice–”

“Afternoon, Officer Furuhashi. Whatcha two talkin’ about?” By then your hand still hasn’t left his arm and he feels Hoshina’s grip get tighter. Iharu places his tray down onto the nearest table and your hand drops to your side but you didn’t notice.

“His new ability,” you answer, “we were talking about it earlier with the operations team, remember? I was just looking for you, Officer Furuhashi, I’m so glad I got to talk to you.” Your answer is so sincere and he feels like he could melt right then and there. But to the side of him, there was also a strange sensation in the air.

It was akin to bloodlust.

“The same here.” Iharu answers and bows, “Please, enjoy your lunchtime.” Before you can say anything more, he turns on his heel straight towards Reno with his head down.

The two sit there in silence as you look on in confusion before Hoshina pulls you along with him for his lunch. They aren’t looking at the two of you but Reno already got what he needed.

Vice-Commander Hoshina almost broke Furuhashi’s shoulder. I saw he also had one of his blades behind him while they were all talking. - Reno

WHAT?? - Iharu

By the way, what was plan B? - Kikoru

Iharu asks her directly if she’s dating the Vice-Commander. - Reno

HELLO?? - Iharu

Hi. - Kafka

Kafka knew he was going to be the last of the bunch to get this done. The digital community board on their group chat was a smart idea by Minase and he was able to see what the younger officers were trying to do with this mission.

Kikoru and her friends got the first response but it needed more. Reno and Iharu got the “more” and all-in-all needed one final piece to set the puzzle. Kafka was proud of them but was currently in a situation with absolutely no idea as to what he was going to do. He thought that was more than enough to assume there was a relationship between the two of you, but Kikoru kicked him for that, too.

Was there any way to get you to confess about it? He thought about asking you directly but even though you were younger than him, you still held a higher title. And he didn’t want to face the potential wrath you could unleash for asking such a question. Were you the type to dish out punishments like the Vice-Commander? Again, he didn’t want to risk it.

He had to do it soon too, you and your division were leaving in the morning and it would be another month or so before you and Hoshina would be seen in the same vicinity.

Kafka sighs and runs a hand through his hair. This was troublesome but they were counting on him.

He looks around the library he’s doing his nightly study session and sees that the time is very close to midnight. He’s shocked and now there’s absolutely no way he’s going to catch you at this hour, not unless you were training anyway. His best bet was to find you early in the morning but even that was a bit of a gamble.

Deciding on his defeat, Kafka puts his books and pens away before heading out into the hallway back to his room. He gets a sense of deja vu when he sees the light of the training room still on and assumes it’s the Vice-Commander again, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch him in action, right?

He walks up to the slightly open door and stops in his tracks at the sight. Both you and Hoshina were holding blades. Your’s were slightly longer and his were the typical ones he used during outside missions. Needless to say, they were the real deal.

In the blink of an eye, you’re lunging towards each other and Kafka thinks if he blinks even once, he’d miss about five slashes shared between you two. Following Hoshina alone was already too much but watching someone match his speed? It was out of this world.

The match only lasts for about half a minute, ending with a knife to both of your throats from the other. A moment of heavy breathing follows before you groan and toss your head back in exasperation, both of you simultaneously lowering your weapons.

“I still can’t get that last one right!”

“It was close! And hey, ya got the blade to my neck.”

“I always get the blade to your neck.” You roll your eyes. Hoshina was the best swordsman there was and it was incomparable to your personal weapon, so of course he would be better than you at it. ‘Whatever, I’m heading to bed.” Hoshina lets out a laugh. You put away the practice weapons and as you head to the door, Hoshina pulls you back to him by your wrist.

“Wait a second,” he says and leans his head down to yours.

Kafka, in the meantime, ducked his head to avoid being seen at least a little longer knowing he was not running away to hide in time. There aren't any more words being exchanged and he thinks there’s something else going on in that small bit of silence.

He pops his head up and makes eye contact with Hoshina’s open eye.

Got pushups. - Kafka

Damn. Sorry old man. - Iharu

So you got caught? Amateur. - Kikoru

Leave me alone! I tried. - Kafka

So you really didn’t see anything? - Reno

Oh, yeah. They kissed. - Kafka

…

What? - Kikoru

I got caught by the Vice-Commander. Scared me. :(- Kafka

…

HUH?? - Kikoru

Bonus:

After Kafka leaves, his head hung low at the premonition of more punishment, your arms stay on Hoshina’s shoulders.

“Did you have to do that?” You muse, playing with the shorter hairs near the nape of his neck. He shivers at the feeling but his eyes open slightly and they’re not looking at you so softly.

“Did ya have to talk about him before training?” He counters back. He knows what you’ve been doing. You scoff.

You also know what he’s been doing. The murderous intention at the mention of you and Gen, the physical warning during lunch at Iharu, and even a mark of possession to the poor older man who was just joining in the fun of his peers.

“Of course,” you bring him down to you, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. You feel his hands tighten on your waist.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

©inzaynety 2024

#kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kn8 x reader #kn8 fluff #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina #fics

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alexthetrashyracoon · 5 days ago

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Simon loves coming home. It doesn't matter if the deployment was a long one or a short one.

It's not because he hate his job or his brothers in arms. He might not look like it but he would die for the guys. Sure there are guys he would rather kick to the other side of the planet but everyone has such people in their lives.

No. Simon loves coming home because of you.

You are his sweet little neighbor across the hall. You take care of his place when he's gone, you pick up his mail and buy groceries when he tells you that he'll be home within a certain timeframe. When Simon knows the specific date of his return, you go so far and bake a cake or cook his favorite food. Simon loves you for this.

But never has never gathered the courage to ask you out, because why would he do this? You two have something good going on, why would he ruin it? Also, why would someone as sweet and nice as you want someone like him?

Simon isn't a bad lover, at least he hopes he isn't, but his partners have never complained before. But he's too ragged, he thinks when he sees himself in the mirror in the morning. The dark circles under his eyes, the scars on his skin, his inability to not chew his lip into a bloody mess or his unhealthy habit of picking at his skin, all of those things make him undesirable in his own eyes.

It's late when he returns this time. It's Sunday evening, he has planned on not getting stuck in the traffic and it has worked out fine for him.

At first he wants to knock on your front door, but he hesitates, it's too late, you're probably asleep already. He checks the watch on his wrist, it's shortly after midnight. Simon knows you've got work in the morning.

So he makes his way to his apartment and unlocks the door with one hand while he juggles his phone and wallet in the other and is immediately greeted by the warm light of the living room lamp you had made him buy last year, and the smell of freshly cooked potatoes and steamed vegetables. Even the steak still smells warm.

To his surprise you're not asleep, but instead you stand in his kitchen, doing the dishes so Simon doesn't have to do them in the morning.

"Evening pretty." Simon greets, not too loud, he doesn't want to startle you. It doesn't matter, you are too deep in your thoughts and jump nonetheless.

"Simon!" You call and hurry over to greet him with a warm hug and soft kiss against his stubbled cheek. "You're back! And in one piece!"

"Just for you, love. Wouldn't want to see your sad face if I came home missing a piece." Simon teases and wraps his arms around you, not wanting to let go already. You smell nice, you smell like home, Simon always laughed when someone said something cheesy like this. How could someone, a person, smell like home? But Simon realizes it right now. "I missed you." He says before placing his lips against you, tentative at first, scared for you to pull back and curse him to hell and back.

But you surprise him once more. Instead of pulling back you intensify the kiss, your arms wrapping automatically around his shoulders. Simon grabs you by the waist and hoists you onto the counter, never breaking the kiss that makes his head spin, he feels like a teenager before his first date.

"Missed you too, Simon..." You giggle as the kiss breaks apart and you two are breathing harshly.

And before Simon knows it home isn't just a place anymore.

For Simon home is a person and for the first time in ages, Simon doesn't fight it. He loves it.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #cod x gn!reader #cod x you #cod x reader #cod mwii #ghost x you

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thewritergx · 13 days ago

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Gentle Torture: Dbf!JoelxF!Reader

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Joel Miller loses every ounce of restraint when a high school senior moves in next door. Pre-Outbreak

Warnings: Smut: Age Gap (Joel in his late 30s, reader starts out at 18), Dbf!Joel, Fingering, Kissing. Curse words, Drinking, Party.

Word Count: 4.5 K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

I have been obsessed with the dbf trope lately. This story is very much inspired by @pearlessance. Please go check her out.

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

Joel Miller could not believe all the choices he made in life had led him…here. Standing above you, your legs sprawled out, pussy wet and glistening for him. He hated where he was right now. He hated that he loved it so much, watching as you quivered at his touch. Hated that he craved you every goddamn waking hour of his life. He fucking hated you for being so innocent, so irresistible. It was a gentle torture, something he never experienced in his thirty plus years of life.

By all accounts, he was a good man. Sure, he had been arrested a few times as a teenager, won (and lost) some bar fights, and broke a few women's hearts. That did not make him a bad man, at least he had hoped not. He had made an honest, decent life. He had flaws like any other man, but he knew deep down he would die for those he loved, no questions asked. That had to count for something.

He was sure he was a good man, but when Joel laid his head to sleep at night, his mind always led him down that bad bad place. He closed his eyes and flashes of you in perfect little bikinis, tight crop tops (the ones where your nipples set perfectly visible and erect for everyone to see), and those tiny denim shorts tortured his mind. Thoughts of you had plagued him, clouding his mind and hardening his cock over and over again for months.

It had not started out this way, not in the slightest. Over a year ago, you and your father, David, had moved in next door. At first, he had not paid much attention to the new additions next door. Sure, he introduced himself, shaking your father’s hand and giving you a light smile and wave. But there was not much interaction after that. Not until some remodeling was needed on your home. Joel being a construction worker was obviously convenient for your father. David had never been much of a handyman himself, so Joel was the first person he came to for help.

“Your dad says you want to paint your room?” was the first sentence Joel had actually spoken to you, his voice smooth and raspy all at the same time. It sent chills through you, an innocent crush on the older man already forming. The two of you stood in the empty bedroom, all your things moved temporarily into the living room.

“I was thinking something dark, maybe a forest green”, was all you responded, holding out a stack of paint cards you picked up from Home Depot. Joel took them lightly in his hand, his fingers brushing against yours. It was enough to wake every nerve in your body. You hoped the hot blush on your cheeks was not too obvious.

“This one. The sun would wash out the rest”. Joel held up a card to the wall, Vermont green. You nodded in agreement. It was your favorite too. Joel couldn’t help but notice how small you were next to him, your frame drowned in his as he stood firmly still next to you.

“So you're starting a new school. It must be hard being a senior in a new place.”

You nodded again, carefully lining tape at the base of the walls like Joel had shown you moments before. “Yeah, especially with the year being halfway over. But I’ll manage.”

Joel relaxed at the sound of your soft voice. It was so refreshing, happy, and full of youthfulness. “Got any plans for college? Ya’ seem smart” Joel asked, lining the floor with a thin plastic material.

“I’ve actually got my license for cosmetology already. I'm trying to find a shop right now, but it’s hard being new to the area and still being in school.”

Joel nodded, taking notice of how soft and bouncy your hair looked. Perfect curls stop just under your shoulder blade. Perfect for him to grab onto while you sit on all fours, ass up and face down for him. He quickly shook the thought away, cursing himself for even being alone in a room with you. What had gotten into him?

As the year went on, Joel and your father started hanging out more and more. A familiar boyish relationship formed between them and now they seemed, for the most part, inseparable. Joel spent weekend after weekend in the backyard of your house, cooking steaks, hotdogs, and hamburgers. You had graduated and were home all the time in the summer. He always tried to ignore the way your perfect little ass bounced with every step you took towards the pool, you bikini bottoms ridding up, hardly covering anything and a red popsicle sitting between your plump pink lips. He had never been jealous of a popsicle before. It made him angry, hot all over. He recalled days he accidentally burnt the meat on the grill, too dazed out at the thought of you to pay any mind to food. He was starved, but never for what he was cooking.

Joel always cursed himself after, hating how much he wanted to destroy your innocence. He made it his mission to be as friendly as he could while still keeping his distance from you. He never sat in chairs next to you, never hugged you, never even gave you a high five. But he would offer you smiles, ask how school was going, and help you with math if you ever needed it. He hoped this was enough to stop the involuntary twitch in his cock every time he saw you.

It never was.

You, on the other hand, were always trying to get closer. You never needed help painting, and you definitely never needed help with math. In fact, it was one of your best subjects. On days you knew Joel would be over, you would dress a bit lighter, show a touch more skin. Enough that he could imagine, but not enough for your father to notice anything was up. You were not always sure if it worked, but you swore some days you could feel Joel’s eyes linger on you like a lion stalks its prey. Other days, it felt like he was disgusted by you. Only saying a short ‘hey’ and then practically running as far opposite from you as he could. It was so frustrating. You were eighteen, not a child. You knew you could handle him, knew you could take him.

Today was not a good day to tempt Joel. He had woken up yearning, his skin on fire for you. He had done his best to stay away from your house for the day, taking a cold shower and trying to focus on anything other than the eighteen-year-old girl next door. But you had other plans, knocking steadfastly on his door.

Joel startled at the light bangs, pacing towards the window and reluctantly moving the blinds. He watched as you stood on his front steps, a sweet smile on your face. God, what did you want?

Joel opened the door hesitantly, looming in the door frame. “Hey, what’s up sweetheart?” He asked, forcing a casual tone from his clenched jaw.

“Did you forget…You’re supposed to be cooking for my dad’s party. He’s gonna be pissed if people show up and there’s nothing to eat.” You spoke, a hand laid lightly on your hip. You wore a light blue sundress, the material flowy and hugging your waist like it was handcrafted for only you.

A strap from a black bra poked through the thin top of the dress, causing a silent groan and a string of curses to raddle his brain.

“Goddamn it, fuck! I fuckin’ forgot. Just come in…” Joel cursed, slapping his forehead and dragging it down his face.

“You look like shit,” you laughed, taking a long glance as you gently stepped inside the living room. A worn-down couch and loveseat sat in the center of the room, a glass table between them. The walls were boring beige, to be expected.

“I d-didn’t sleep good…that’s all”, Joel groaned across the room, slamming down two pills. His head was fucking killing him. He rushed around the kitchen, pulling spices and items from the fridge. He let out a few “Grab this and this”.

“Fuck, I need to change. Why didn't you come get me earlier?” Joel’s tone was impatient, something you had never really heard before. He was always so pleasant.

“My bad. Didn’t know I was babysitting a grown man,” you huffed, holding a plethora of ingredients Joel had thrown at you.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ smart ass” Joel half yelled. He stopped for a moment, a deep sigh escaping him. He forced himself to finally look at you, his eyes traveling up your body. Fuck, you looked so good.

“Sorry…Listen, I need you to take this shit to the grill while I get the ribs ready. Then come here, get me a decent outfit. Nothing crazy. Just need a semi-nice shirt and jeans.” Joel raddled, his words coming out faster than you processed.

You nodded your head in agreement. It was something Joel loved about you. How easily you listened, how accepting and obedient of his words you were.

A few hours had passed and Joel’s sour attitude had remained the same. He watched from a lawn chair, drinking beers like a sad old man as you danced with family and friends, hugged your father, and smiled at the few strangers in attendance. He tried his damndest to keep his boiling anger at bay, possessive thoughts of grabbing you and leading you to his bedroom invading him. It pissed him off even more to see you act so casual. Like the thought of him ravishing you never crossed your mind. Was he just some kind of freak weirdo obsessed with a teenage girl half his age? Or worse… was he just your dad’s friend to you?

Racing thoughts plagued his mind. He probably looked like a standoffish asshole to everyone. He had hoped to be in good spirits by the time the party started, but you just would not fuck off. You stood next to him as he cooked, offering help in any way you could. Of course, you were trying to be polite, just wanting to be of assistance. He knew that he should not be so angry at you, but that stupid sundress was making his cock throb against the zipper of his jeans, no release in sight for hours. He daydreamed of when he could lay in bed, cursing himself as he pulled up your Instagram page. Like most nights, he would zoom in on your pictures, picking out ones of you on the beach, your thighs, ass, or tits on display. Then, he would gently drag down his boxers, coat his hand with a thin layer of spit and stroke his cock until he was cumming on his stomach.

For now, he was stuck in this chair, watching you like a fucking weirdo.

“Joey”, your dad’s voice rang out across the yard, an octave above the heavy rock music playing in the background. Joel hesitated to stand, scared his semi-hard cock might be obvious to those around him. He forced himself up, half-drunk beer in hand, and made his way over to David.

“Just wanted to t-thank you for bringing everyone t-together. You've been a g-great friend to me, and you’ve been so so good to y/n. You would be a great f-father, ya know.” Your dad’s words were slurred and he drunkenly threw his arm around Joel's shoulder. An intense sting of guilt and disgust rushed through Joel like he was being struck by lightning. Guilt because he was daydreaming of fucking the brains out of his best friend’s daughter and disgust because David had just compared you to Joel’s imaginary child.

“Of course,” Joel spoke simply, quickly downing the rest of his beer. This wouldn’t work. He needed something hard. A drink that would actually loosen him up. Joel pulled himself from your dad’s arm, trying to act as happy as he could. He’s finally lost sight of you. Thank god. “Gonna go get another drink, want anything?” Joel asked, watching as your father struggled to gain balance. Clearly, he was cut off. “Actually, never mind.” Joel laughed, his first genuine laugh of the entire day.

Joel wandered to the backdoor, sliding the glass frame open and quickly ducking inside. The house was quiet, everyone gathered outside drinking and laughing. It relaxed him, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the door framing and letting out a heavy breath.

“Social anxiety?” You asked, standing in the kitchen, a cherry popsicle wrapped around your lips.

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel smiled, shaking his head and begging to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but near you. His skin crawled as he watched you lick the popsicle, your tongue gliding in a circular motion around the tip. You knew what you fucking doing. Joel knew it. You both knew it.

Joel stayed glued to the doorframe, his eyes locked on you as you silently dragged your tongue from the bottom of the popsicle to the top and then dipped it deep into your mouth.

“Stop,” Joel commanded, taking long strides to the kitchen. He did not dare get too close to you, so he stopped when you were just out of reach, hoping the distance was enough to hold him back.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” You spoke innocently, sucking the tip of the popsicle until red juice settled on your lips and ran softly down your chin. A light smile sat on your face as you looked up through your eyelashes at Joel, continuing your gentle attack on the popsicle.

“I’m serious,” Joel spoke, not a hint of emotion behind his words. He took an involuntary step closer, his legs no longer under his control. “You know what you're doing…” Joel whispered, lowering his face until it was just above your ear, his breath hot and thick on the smooth skin of your neck. Every fiber of your being stood at alert and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why was he so close? Why had he been in such a bad mood today?

“Joey, I-” Your voice was enough to push him over the edge, and without warning, he took the popsicle from your hand, laying it down on the counter. He pressed his body against you, trapping you between him and the counter. Your back arched against the cold marble, a hint of fear widening your eyes. Joel stood silently in front of you, looming above your tiny frame.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me little girl”, Joel’s voice had finally softened but his jaw and fists were still closed tight, like he might explode at any moment.

You try to speak, try to come up with any type of words, but your mind has disconnected from your body and all you can think is ‘Joel, Joel, Joel’. You don't try to pull away from him, don't even fight when he takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes meet his and you swear you could die right there.

His lips fan above yours momentarily, so close but still so achingly far away. “Say you want this,” Joel mumbles, dragging his thumb across your plump lips, a bright red stain left behind by the cherry flavoring.

Your body is a melting, trembling mess already. “I-I w-want this,” your words are hardly audible, all breathy and slow.

That’s all it takes for Joel to completely break, come undone to the point he can never be ‘done’ again. Joel slams into you, pulling you into a sloppy kiss, claiming you through a desperate mess of saliva and tongue. He can taste the cherry on your lips, sweet and addicting. He is completely lost in you, biting softly against your bottom lip. You tug your hand in his hair, thick brown locks finding a home between your fingers. He is a fucking mess and he cannot stop himself from dragging his hands to your waist, pulling you in so deep you are practically one. You suck in a deep breath, allowing Joel’s tongue to dip further inside, swirling inside your mouth desperately. You try to stay quiet, try to keep composed but a moan escapes you before you can even think about stopping it. Need rushes through your body as you whine into him and you feel every muscle in Joel’s body tighten around you.

Joel cannot believe he is actually fucking doing this. His mind is racing, thoughts clouded with needy desire and despair. He ached for more of you, anything you would offer him. Joel allows himself to get lost in you, finally roaming his hands to your hips, rough and possessive. His lips never part yours, sucking at the tip of your tongue and softly dragging his teeth across it.

Joel's strong hands travel lower, gripping your soft curvy thighs with calloused fingertips. He squeezes your supple flesh, pushing you deeper into the counter. He swears he could do this, just this for hours, never even needing to be inside you to feel euphoria. He kneads at your skin, pulling you flush against his body and biting your lip again. Hesitance lingers through him but he ultimately gives in, slipping his hand under the hem of your dress. Joel groans against your lips as his fingers wander to softer, gentler skin. They move higher and higher until they meet the edge of your panties, slowly tracing a finger along the fabric, his other hand on your waist keeping your wiggles firmly at bay.

You finally break the kiss, tearing your mouth away from him with reluctance. You place your forehead on his shoulder, breath hot and heavy against his chest. He drops his head, resting it gently atop of yours. His hand on your waist gives you a light squeeze. Joel inhales deeply, the smell of rose and vanilla filling his senses. A low groan reverberates through his chest, need echoing off of him. He wants you right here, doesn't even care if anyone sees or walks in. Doesn't care if it would end up with him getting his ass beat. He just needs you.

You bite down on the fabric of Joel’s shirt as his hands travel to your ass and grip you tight. He easily lifts you, sitting you down gently on the cold marble in front of him. He knows better, knows not to dip his fingers inside you but your pleading, begging, eyes told him differently.

Your pupils dilate with lust, a soft whimper easily hexing Joel’s finger back to your thin panties.

Joel looks down at you, soft hunger written across his face. “This okay?” he whispers, lightly dragging a finger down your clothed slit. You wonder if he can feel the warm, wet spot staining your pretty pink panties.

“Mmmh,” is all you can reply, Joel’s free hand caressing the skin of the inside of your thigh. He applies gentle pressure, slowly spreading your legs, making more room for his long fingers. Your dress rides up, fabric bunching just above your pelvis. You were finally on display for him, cunt almost exposed.

Joel watches you tremble under his touch, eyebrows furrowed as he palms at your core. His hand is so warm and your breath hitches in your throat. His movements are slow, so hurtfully soft. He has not even done anything, but his chest is rising and falling like he just fought in war. Your forehead returns to his shoulder and you grab at his forearm, body screaming for more of the sweet sensations of his fingers. You place a light kiss on his shoulder, closing your eyes as Joel uses his fingers to massage your outer lips, pinching them together. Joel moved his finger in a swirling motion, circling your clit with possessiveness. He groans into your neck, breathing in your sweet scent again. He was drunk off it, drunk off you.

“You gonna let me take these off?” Joel whispers, dipping the very tip of his index finger under the hem of your panties.

“Yes, sir”, you whine, your voice a destroyed pathetic cry. Joel chuckles, a smirk on his lips as your cry vibrates through him.

“Just Joel, baby”, he responds, pulling at the thin black material.

“Joel”, you repeat, cold air hitting your exposed core.

Joel is quick to drag your panties down, past your white heels, and shove them deep in his pants pockets. He couldn't just leave them lying around. Joel swallows hard, the back of his throat dry with nervousness. He knows he should stop here before he does anything he can’t take back. But it’s too late, and his fingers are reaching for your sensitive bundle of nerves. Joel takes a moment to spread your legs wider, groaning as he finally takes a look at your pretty pussy. He could’ve passed out at the sight, your lips plump and the inside a dark rosy pink. You looked like heaven on earth.

Usually, Joel would have lubed up his fingers, shoved them in your mouth until you were gagging around them, and coated them thickly with your spit but he could tell you were wet enough, your arousal dripping down your cunt to pool on the marble under your ass.

His finger enters you and you can't stop the loud moan that rings through the empty house. “Shh, babygirl, shh”. Joel speaks tenderly. He curls his finger upwards, gently stroking against your soft walls. He can’t believe how fucking wet, warm, and tight your pussy feels around his finger. He wants to die in there, drown in your juices.

You nod your head, biting your lip so hard you swear you taste a hint of blood. Juices coat his finger and a faint squelching sound fills his ears. Fuck, he’s never been so hard. You arch your back, hips rudding gently at his movements. More moans escape you, and you have to slam your lips back on his to keep quiet.

He meets your kiss, swallowing every sound that involuntarily floods out of you. He pressed his finger in deeper, pumping in and out as slow as he could. He tried his hardest to stay gentle, too scared to get rough.

“Oh! Joel…n-need more”, you whimpered watching as fingers entered and exited you smoothly.

“Yeah? This not enough for my little girl, huh?” Joel growled, adding a second finger deep inside you. This time, he curled his fingers with a mission. He had to make you cum like this, had to feel your walls tighten around him.

His two fingers were so thick, stretching your cunt out with a subtle burn. It was so much more than you were used to, more than you could ever give yourself. You gasped at the new sensation, your pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper.

You were crying now, whimpers and moans of Joel's name spilling out of you like a bucket of paint kicked over on the floor. “Fuck, J-Joel. Please, please. Can’t take anymore. I’m gonna cum, please.” You practically screamed, hands tight around his shoulders.

“Such a good girl. Go ahead and cum on my fingers.” Joel growled “Let me watch you”, he demanded, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. Your mouth fell silently open, eyes locked on his.

You felt your chest tighten, a coil snapping inside you and shaking your entire system. “Oh fuck,” you screamed, feeling more wetness drip out of you and down your soft thighs. Your vision blurred, a foggy haze destroying every once of strength in your body.

“There you go, baby girl. Just like that”, Joel mumbled, placing soft kisses on your forehead and cheek. He subtly slowed his fingers until they came to a stop, pulling them out of you with a sting. “Did so good for me, so fucking good.”

Joel whipped his fingers on his pants, grabbing your hips and helping you down from the counter. Your legs wobbled as they hit the ground, and Joel helped you regain balance. He took a moment to fix your hair, whipping away the thin layer of salvia he left on your lips and chin. You pulled your dress down, legs still shaky.

Joel squeezed your side again. His brown eyes stare down at you and he places one last soft kiss on your lips, before clearing his throat and walking out of the kitchen towards the front door.

He doesn't say bye. Not to you. Not to his best friend. He just goes home, hating himself and craving you even more.

You stay pressed against the counter, your face flushed and lips swollen a bright pink. You take a moment to catch your breath, questioning if you imagined the interaction. Your heart races as you feel your core, slightly sore and dripping.

#smut #joel miller #joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #touch starved #joel smut #dbf!joel #the last of us hbo #video games #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal

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kayesfanfics · 9 months ago

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X-Men 97’ Nightcrawler x Reader

Warnings: ‼️X-MEN 97’ SPOILERS‼️, smut under the cut, cuteness overload-

A/N: KURT IS MY ALL TIME FAVORITE X-MAN/MARVEL CHARACTER IN GENERAL I ADORE HIM SO OF COURSE I HAD TO WRITE FOR HIM AFTER THE NEW EPISODE. I really hope we see him join the team or at least just more of him!

You were a mutant on Genosha when you met Kurt, he had helped show you and the other mutants around from your ship the island, and you had followed the handsome blue boy around like a lost little puppy. He was charming and mischievous, flirty with a cute fangy smile on his face. After the official tour was over, you asked him to show you some hidden gems of the island, to which he bowed and kissed your hand, “As you wish!” before teleporting the two of you away from the crowd. He had showed you a beautiful, peaceful and tropical spot away from everyone else, where the two of you got to know each other, soon becoming friends and meeting at that spot almost every day

He’d ask you out on a date pretty quick, he’s not shy about flirting at all and will make it clear that he finds you attractive and would like to know you more intimately. He’d take you to a nice restaurant, showing up in a dashing suit to impress you and his curls gelled back in a slick style. Will compliment you on your dress/suit and have you twirl for him to see the full outfit, saying “Mein gott! You look absolutely stunning, liebe!” before pulling out your seat for you like a gentleman and ordering a nice bottle of wine for the both of you to have with your dinner

After dinner you go for a walk around the gardens, holding Kurt’s arm he held out for you. His tail would curl around one of your legs as you talked, sitting on a bench together to view the night sky above the beautiful greenery together. He’d want to know your life story and would share his with you, he’d want to know what you like to do, what you hate, what you’re afraid of, what you love, and he’d share all of that about himself with you as well

After a few dates you became official, more often than not staying with each other in your homes (we’ll get to what goes on in the bedroom later😉). He’s a huge cuddler for sure, wants both his arms around you and his tail curled around your waist or leg. He doesn’t mind being big spoon or little spoon, he’s perfectly content and happy with both and just wants to feel your skin against his. He’s big on physical affection and PDA, he just loves you so much and he’s a physical guy in general. Wants to be able to hold your hand, give you kisses, wrap an arm around your waist, anything as long as he touching you in some way. Plus he likes to show off how lucky he got with you, showing you off and always making sure everyone knows he’s taken. He’s highly sought after, after all (if you ask him)

He’s always got a date planned, he’s definitely not one of those guys that lets the other do all the work in the relationship. He’ll take you to your favorite restaurants, do your favorite activities, anything you would like to do. He’s adventurous and will try anything once, and will always make an effort to do things you enjoy. He will teach you some sword fighting skills, just you know how to use them and plus, do some borderline erotic sparring sessions with him of course! It’s something he enjoys and wants to do with you, but if he ever cut you with a sword he’d want to damn himself to Hell because HOW DARE HE GIVE YOU A CUT LESS THAN A CENTIMETER LONG?! HE’S THE WORST PERSON TO EVER EXIST. He will bandage it and kiss it better, begging your forgiveness despite you already saying it wasn’t a big deal and it didn’t even hurt at all

When you were recruited to the X-Men, he was offered a spot as well so the both of you packed up and moved to the X-Mansion so you could help mutants from there. On missions, he’ll always catch you if you fall and teleport you out of harms way. Definitely flirts during battle as well and likes to show off his skills to you, making you giggle and smile at him before focusing back on the mission. If you get hurt during it, he’ll teleport you to the mansion immediately to the medical room before going to help his teammates so he can get you their help quicker. Will spend lots of time with you and cuddle with you while you recover, you don’t have to lift a finger, this man will get you whatever you want

He does like to tease you a lot, things like squeezing your butt as you walk by or giving it a light smack with his tail. Will whisper innuendos and jokes to you during important meetings and such to make you giggle, to which Scott gives you a deadpan stare until the two of you refocus. His tail will move up your pants or skirt under the table, making your face heat up

He’s constantly winning you over long after you’ve become official. Will still bring you flowers, will still flirt with you, but he’s also the type to be like “Would you still love me if I was a bug?” He does need some reassurance due to his looks and how he’s been hated because of them, like, HE knows he’s sexy, but he wants to make sure YOU think he’s sexy. And you assure him you think he is⬇️⬇️

NSFW Under the Cut

Oh he is SUCH a lover boy. He’s more focused on your pleasure than his own for sure, and my man is SKILLED and EXPERIENCED (everyone wants a taste of the fuzzy man-). His hands will be all over your body, even his tail will be wrapped around you as well, and he’ll be mindlessly blabbering on and on in English and German about how much he loves you and how beautiful/handsome he thinks you are. My dude is AMAZING at giving you head, doesn’t matter which genitals you have, he’s got experience with both and will have your legs shaking and your back arched far off the bed during round one. If you’re AFAB, he’d know exactly where the clit is and exactly how to pleasure it, rather than just roughly rubbing it and calling it good. If you’re AMAB, he’d for sure be fingering your ass while sucking you off, his other hand squeezing your thigh and spreading your legs for him while his tail holds your other leg for him, or even smacks your ass with it teasingly

You often insist on giving him head in return, which of course he doesn’t mind but HE IS ALWAYS TRYING TO MAKE SEX ABOUT YOU, when you want to make it about HIM sometimes. He’s so loving, caring and sweet to you, you just want to show him how much you love him as well and sometimes have to get that through his fuzzy head. He loves body worship for sure, so he’d love to hear you say how hot and sexy and handsome and adorable and beautiful he is while the two of you make love to each other, it’d make him cum 10x harder and faster

He’d lowkey be kind of basic and love missionary, but he’s certainly not vanilla. He just wants to be able to see your face and to hold you close to him, so missionary tends to be good for that, but he’d also love it if you rode him and watch your chest bounce and toss your head back at the feeling of his cock inside of you. I honestly think he’s got more girth and length, but definitely not too short at all and would fit perfectly inside of you. He also likes to hold your hand during sex, which may be cheesy but he just wants to make sure you’re okay the whole time

Being in a mansion with many others, it is sometimes hard to find privacy and quiet time for longer than 20 minutes, so he’ll sometimes teleport the two of you elsewhere so you’re not interrupted. When in your room at the mansion though, he likes to make you scream while teasing you to be quiet and that someone will hear you, covering your mouth with his hand or kissing you muffle your loud moans and whines for him. But when the two of you walk out to the living quarters to join some of the others, Jubilee and Roberto will not make eye contact, Morph will give Kurt a knowing smirk and a high five, while Gambit outright says “You know we could hear y’all at it all the way down here-“ before Scott gives you two the disappointed dad look and says “There are children residing here.”

Kurt: And how exactly did Jean get pregnant?

Scott: 😳

Kurt: Yeah, that’s what I thought-

#x-men x reader #x men 97 #xmen x reader #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #Kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

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elixirfromthestars · 22 days ago

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Crossroads

Pairing: Ex!Bucky Barnes x Neurosurgeon!Reader

Summary: On a rainy night on your way home, fate decides to cross your path with someone who used to hold the dearest place in your heart.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning(s): ANGST / heartbreak / failed relationship / very tiny mention of a surgical procedure, not in great detail / I know I mentioned angst already, but this is all angst with maybe like a tiny sprinkle of fluff / medical career mentions (I did my research, but just in case I got anything wrong) / mentions of Bucky's trauma and hardships from his past

Prompt/Theme: chai latte (caught in the cold rain) + melancholy (write a tragic tale)

a/n: This is my submission for @the-slumberparty ‘s Winds of Autumn Challenge. Did I choose melancholy because of my name? Perhaps 🫢 In all honesty, it has been too long since I wrote a pure angst piece, so I knew I had to write something to get the heartbreak going. As a piece of advice, not everything is as it seems, so wait till the end for the whole story to come together. I would say happy reading, but instead, I'll wait here with tissues and a hug for those who need it after reading this. ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`) Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ // main masterlist ♡

Lightning crackles across the sky as you scurry across the puddle-ridden streets of New York desperately searching for a cab. The wind had rendered your umbrella useless, so the rain fell in harsh sheets against your body—soaking you from head to toe.

You had been performing an emergency surgery on one of your patients in a different hospital from the one you resided in. Your patient had suffered from an aneurysm brought on by a complication from a previous surgery. She couldn’t be transported across the city as immediate medical attention was needed, so you were transported to said hospital via the hospital helicopter.

Which you obviously couldn’t use to fly back home.

The surgery took longer than anticipated—eight hours to be exact. When you were close to being done there was unexpected bleeding coming from the surgical sight and you had to go back in and reexamine everything to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, there were no more complications after that and you could focus on stabilizing your patient so she could go and recover in the intensive care unit.

The downpour had started towards the end of your surgery. You were far from home and the already unfamiliar streets had blurred together amongst the harsh streaks of water obscuring your vision. It was still the early hours of the night and you were exhausted—longing to collapse against your bedsheets and wrap yourself in their warmth. Tiredness had seeped its way into your bones faster than the rain had seeped into your coat.

As you cross another street you spot a bus shelter nearby and make a run for it. Knowing it might be a while before you can catch a cab and at least those glass walls would be enough to protect you from the icy wind that threatened to freeze you. Once inside you try your best to warm up your hands, observing the way your breath materializes in the air. You consider ordering a rideshare, but you know the numbness in your fingertips has to go away before you can take your phone out and order it.

Fate, however, had other plans for you.

“Y/n?”

Your body stiffens when a voice calls your name, flinching slightly at the way the thunder that follows rattles the glass shelter. The shiver that makes its way down your spine is no longer from the chilly air.

This can’t be happening—not after two years. Not when you had finally moved on from him.

He calls your name again, his presence cementing itself into reality. You don’t want to face him, but there’s that small part of you—the part that will forever be his—that begs you to look. That needs to know if it's him.

Your head turns slowly, holding your breath as you keep your emotions in check as best as you can. Hoping the universe was playing a cruel joke on you and presenting you with someone who sounded exactly like him.

But what stranger would ever utter your name with such heart-aching familiarity?

Deep down you knew there was no mistaking it. It was him. It was Bucky. You would know the sound of his voice even in the loudest of crowds—like a language only your heart spoke. Even now when it was on the cusp of becoming a forgotten one.

Your eyes meet his as a flash of lightning illuminates you both. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the way his eyes seem stormier than the sky. Filled with as many conflicting emotions as you know are reflected in yours.

“Bucky. Hi…”

When you find your voice it sounds foreign to you—quiet and tight. The years of rebuilding every part of yourself are on the edge of crumbling down in a simple greeting. Bucky gives you a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks between you and the bus shelter. He frowns for a moment as if having a silent debate with himself.

“Is it okay if I um…?” He nods towards the inside of the bus shelter as he trails off. This is when you finally notice the way the rain whips against his skin, soaking him where he stands, and it dawns on you what he’s asking.

He wants to know if it’s okay for him to seek shelter from the rain with you. The man who used to insist on holding your hand wherever you went because he loved the feeling of your hand in his, the man who would hug you from behind and hide in the crook of your neck as he showered it with kisses when he missed you on the days you came home late, the man who cuddled you close every night and whispered how much he loved you between kisses that seemed to want to reach your very soul—that man was now asking for your permission to be in the same space as you.

Oh, how cruel fate could be…

“Yes, of course. It's fine,” your response is polite—too polite, and your movements are virtually robotic as you take a few steps to your right to keep a stranger’s distance between you. He mumbles a small thanks before he steps inside, his hands firmly in his jacket pockets. Keeping to his personal space as much as possible.

Silence stretches between you—heavy with unspoken sentiments—interrupted only by the booming of thunder and the drumming of rain as it hits whatever is in its way. You try to distract yourself by counting the seconds between the stoplight changing from green to yellow to red and then green again, but it's no use when he’s but a few steps away from you. The man who you used to know like the back of your hand is now a stranger and it's causing you more distress than you’d like to admit. The inside of your cheek feels the brunt of that torment as you bite it incessantly. You have to do something about this silence before it consumes you.

“How have you—”

“How’s it been—”

You both speak up at the same time, holding each other’s gaze for a fraction of a second before falling into an awkward laugh. He clears his throat before encouraging you to speak first. You look away, the civility of his tone crawling under your skin and unstitching mended wounds—some of which still had not fully healed yet.

“Okay, well how have you been, Bucky?”

“Good. I’ve been good. You?”

“Oh. I’ve been good too.”

The exchange went by quickly between half-truths and hesitations. Then it crept up again—the silence. Gnawing at you both and mocking you for not being able to have a simple conversation. When words between you used to flow as freely as the rain that traps you here—really the lack of vocabulary now is laughable. Your past selves would have never been able to wrap their heads around how hard talking to one another would be.

Your past selves would also never understand why you broke up.

Your current self still doesn’t entirely understand.

Bucky shifts on his feet, lips in a tight line as he speaks up, “I read about your recent award. Congratulations, you deserved it,” the sincerity in his voice causes your head to snap in his direction. When you see his genuine smile, one that makes the corner of his eyes slightly crinkle, it tugs at your heartstrings in a way that threatens to pull you back to him.

You won that award for your research achievements in neuroscience a few months ago. Which could only mean that at least until a few months ago, Bucky had been keeping up with you. A piece of information that left you speechless and with a million thoughts running through your mind.

Had he always kept up with you?

Or did he only just recently revisit a part of his past?

Were you on his mind all this time like he had been in yours?

There was so much you wanted to ask—to say—but instead, your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water until you were able to mutter a soft, “Thank you.” The sound so quiet it was almost swallowed by the rain. Bucky caught it, however, his body less rigid hearing the familiar cadence. He smiles a little wider, the kind of smile that chips away at the walls you built up these last two years and insists you spill a string of secrets you have locked away in the deepest depths of your heart.

All secrets that revolve around him.

How you also kept up with him, never scrolling past a social media or news post highlighting anything that had to do with the Avengers in hopes of getting a glimpse of him. Visiting the coffee shop where you two met on occasions telling yourself it's because no other coffee tastes better, but really it's because of the memories of you two that lie in every corner of that building. The loss of him follows you even when you order takeout because you would rather deal with the lie of ordering for two rather than with the truth of ordering for one.

However, the biggest secret of them all pertains to those days when the ache, the longing, and the loneliness become a cacophony too loud to ignore, that you find yourself rummaging through your closet. Searching for the shoe box that’s tucked away amongst miscellaneous items. One that holds the pieces of your heart that shattered the day Bucky broke up with you.

A faded movie ticket from the Lord of the Rings marathon you took him to, gum wrappers folded into hearts that Bucky had a habit of doing every time you needed a new bookmark, photobooth pictures that always ended with you two kissing, a letter he wrote you on your one year anniversary where he told you he loved you for the first time, and other items you cherished with every part of you.

Holding onto these things might seem to others like a mistake when your goal is to move on, but these were things you couldn’t find the strength to get rid of. And if that made you weak, clinging onto bits of what was the greatest love of your life, then so be it.

You were weak—and quite frankly you didn’t give a damn.

The one thing holding you back from pouring your heart out to Bucky was how things had ended. The vagueness, the fight, the resentment and confusion. All of it took hold of you and screamed at you to be more cautious—to keep your guard up.

Thunder snaps you out of your thoughts, grounding you in the present once more. You need answers, but you know you have to be careful about how you retrieve them.

You cross your arms, pressing your coat tighter against your body in an attempt to comfort yourself—turning to face him only to have your heart skip a beat when you realize he is already looking at you. His gaze softens with a vulnerability that makes the words get stuck in your throat.

You let out a shaky exhale, “I uh—I saw Sam became the new Captain America. I also saw you on the news fighting alongside him. Are you two friends now?” The question comes out innocent enough, making Bucky’s demeanor brighten as he takes it as a sign that you’re open to talking to him. Your hidden intention behind that question is a need for confirmation of something that eats away at you anytime you think about his reason for breaking up with you.

Bucky runs a hand through his damp hair, “Yeah, sort of—it's a long story. We went on a mission together and I realized he wasn’t that annoying, so we became mission partners and I guess you could consider us friends now,” he explains to you with a fond expression, one that leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Through the occasional flashes of lightning you’re able to get a better look at him and the sinking feeling is on the verge of drowning you.

Bucky no longer had harsh dark circles under his eyes, his scruff was nicely shaven, and his posture was lighter as if the world was no longer falling heavily on his shoulders. His hair is shorter than when you last saw him, he had lost a bit of weight, and he had found a friend in Sam. Something you had encouraged him to do while you two were still together, but he refused on account of saying he only needed you. All of this verified to you the one thing you feared the most.

Bucky had been right all along. He had been right in breaking up with you.

Two years ago, Bucky had sat you down on his living room couch and told you he wasn’t ready for a relationship. That was it—that was his reason for ending things with you after almost two years of being together. He claimed he wasn’t ready for a long-term commitment, not after everything he had gone through. And seeing him now, seeing how much better he looked was enough proof for you. No amount of your love, your support, or your companionship would have been enough to keep him in your life.

Bucky had been right all along, and you hated how utterly bitter that made you.

How could you accept that what tore you to pieces mended Bucky back together?

The air between you shifts, it’s thick and acrid, and your heart races in your chest with fury as loud as the thunder that rumbles in the clouds. Leaving you wondering if Bucky can differentiate which one is more turbulent. He can sense the change in you and it causes the heaviness in his shoulders to return and his body to go rigid—his own heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

Your phone rings and you use it as an excuse to turn away from Bucky. You pull it out of your bag and check the caller ID—it's Nate. Your neighbor from down the hall of your apartment complex who moved in a couple of months ago, and was now a casual hookup of yours. You weren’t one for hookups, but after years of no connection you longed to feel something—anything with anyone.

You were only human after all.

You answer the call, needing to put your attention elsewhere before you say anything to Bucky you might regret later. You keep your responses short, knowing Nate could only be calling you at this hour for one reason and one reason only. Bucky didn’t need to know that reason, so you decide to keep the conversation as brief as possible.

Bucky shifts his weight on his feet as he pretends to watch the rain. Focusing on a water droplet sliding down the glass wall as it races the other droplets to the ground. He’s tempted to use his super soldier hearing to listen in on your conversation, but he knows he doesn’t have the right to. There are only bits and pieces that slip through—like the fact that you’re talking to a man—and it has one soul-crushing thought come to his mind.

You have someone. Bucky comes to the conclusion that you have moved on.

As soon as you end the call the words slip out of Bucky’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Was that your boyfriend?” The word boyfriend tastes bitter on his tongue and he can’t help the prickly edge to his voice. You catch the way his jaw tenses and he averts your gaze—ripping the wounds of heartbreak right open. He has no right to feel any sort of way about you moving on. He knows it, you know it, and yet there he is troubled at the thought of you with someone else.

Screw not saying something you’ll regret later.

“Yeah. That was him,” you lie with the utmost confidence that even you believe it. A tiny voice in the back of your head scolds you for lying, but it's hard to hear it when the resentment fights its way up to the surface and wins.

Bucky had fallen from a train, been brainwashed, tortured, beaten left and right in battles, gone to war, blipped out of existence, stabbed and shot more times than he can count and yet no physical blow could ever amount to the sheer devastating pain he was feeling right now knowing you had found someone else. Knowing there was someone else who got to see your sleepy smiles in the mornings, who got to cuddle you close to his chest on movie nights, who got to steal kisses from you while cooking dinner together, and who got to hear your laughter whenever he wanted—a sound that never failed to make Bucky all warm and fuzzy inside.

There was someone else who now had the privilege and the honor to be loved by you, and to love you.

Bucky would never be able to recover from that.

“I’m…happy for you. I’m happy you were able to move on,” Bucky lies through his teeth as he says those words that feel like acid on his tongue.

“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter,” you retort coldly, causing Bucky to flinch as if you had struck him.

“Y/n I—”

“No. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear how you weren’t ready for a relationship. How ending it was for the best. Breaking every single promise you made to me like it meant nothing to you. You don’t tell someone you love them, that you want to move in together—you don’t talk about the future and then turn around and break up with them because you’re not ready for something long-term. Not unless…not unless it was all a lie from the start,” your voice cracks by the end and it takes everything within you to swallow the lump in your throat before it suffocates you.

The thunder roars so loudly it shakes the glass walls around you and for a second you think they might break—but ultimately they don’t. Bucky doesn’t know what to say, taking a sharp intake of a breath before blowing out the air in what sounds like a choked sob. Every fiber of his being longs to break the distance, wrap you in his arms, and never let you go. Cradling you close to his chest like he used to whenever you were upset.

He had lost that privilege—he’s well aware of that, and yet his wishes remain the same.

Bucky knows there’s more he can say. Things that might not restore what was broken, but that will definitely give you answers or closure. Although, at the risk of hurting you even more he keeps them to himself and instead whispers a strained, “I’m sorry.” Letting the weight of his apology hang in the air.

Your tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away not wanting to cry in front of him. Maybe you shouldn’t be bitter and resentful—after all the man you loved with your whole heart ended up better off without you. If you truly loved him you should be happy for him. Despite that, there is no ounce of happiness that you can conjure up for him right now. At this moment, you are swimming in an ocean of negative emotions that are close to pulling you under into a very dark place.

You can be the bigger person tomorrow—tonight you won’t be.

Bucky can hear it before it comes into view, a cab is finally making its way down the road. He steps out into the road to wave it down, the rain ricocheting off of his shoulders. Without speaking another word, he heads over to the cab and opens the door to the backseat, gesturing for you to go in. For a second, you hesitate to take the cab. You know once you do this is it—it's over.

A beat passes until you make a decision. With a heavy heart, you force one foot in front of the other, stepping into the rain and then into the backseat. Accepting this small gesture from Bucky as a heartfelt goodbye. If you stuck around any longer that bit of animosity brewing in the pit of your stomach would’ve boiled over.

You don’t look at Bucky as he closes the door, but you steal one last glance at him as you tell the driver your address. The sight squeezes your chest so tightly it might stop beating—Bucky is crying. He’s hiding it well with the rain and with the way he stands, but you know him better than that. At one point he was your other half and you can tell by the way his jaw trembles, his eyes narrow, and his expression molds to one of pain that he’s crying.

You hide your face from him as the dam breaks and everything you had been holding back comes flooding out.

Bucky steps back into the shelter of the glass walls and watches the cab drive off with you in it—taking his heart and his hope with you.

Bucky tries to force the tears to stop, but he knows it's no use. Just like you, he had held back a sea of truths he wanted to confess. Truths he wasn’t sure you even wanted to hear or he even deserved to tell.

Bucky is not doing good. He has to throw himself into work and missions every waking moment because if he doesn’t his thoughts will run straight to you. Every night he has to hold his pillow close to his chest because he got so used to sleeping with you cuddled against him, that he feels like a part of him is missing and it steals his sleep. He tosses and turns for hours and stares at the ceiling as if there he’ll find the answers on how to make the heartache go away. In the silence, he longs to hear your voice, so the radio and the tv stay on so he doesn’t have to sit with the uncomfortable. The food he eats lacks flavor and the world around him seems devoid of color.

His existence feels soulless without you.

Sam is trying to get him to talk about it, but you’re the one thing Sam is not allowed to bring up. Not when Bucky is ashamed of the full story—of the truth.

The full story—the full truth—was the one thing most of all that he wanted to get off of his chest and confess to you. Bucky didn’t break up with you because he wasn’t ready for a long-term relationship. That was the biggest lie he had ever told and one that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He was ready. He was so damn ready he even bought the ring to ask you to marry him—to make forever official. That was until he noticed how his problems began to bleed into your life. So much so, that your career as a surgeon began to suffer from it. The one thing you were most passionate about—your dream—the one thing you worked blood, sweat, and tears for was in jeopardy because Bucky was still suffering from the baggage of his past as the Winter Solider.

Bucky felt like a burden. You would never call him that and he knew if you ever heard him call himself that, you would do and say everything you could to assure him he was wrong. You loved him so deeply and so selflessly that your career became an afterthought. When his nightmares plagued him, when his PTSD was triggered, when the world felt like it was closing in on him—there you were. By his side no matter the time of day to hold him close and reassure him he wasn’t alone, that he was safe, and that he was loved. Bucky had become so dependent on you he didn’t realize how it had affected you until he stumbled across the warning letters your job sent, the voicemails, and the overheard calls. The articles that came out questioning your morality for dating the Winter Solider—a cold-blooded killer.

Your reputation as a surgeon was on the line because of him.

That’s when Bucky knew he had to call it off. He had to be the one to end it and fix his own problems before his darkness ruined you. You had sacrificed so much and worked endlessly to prove yourself in your field, that there was no way he would let you risk all of that for him. He knew he couldn’t be honest with you over the real reasons—you would never accept them. So he made sure to find a reason that would lead you to hate him.

Bucky knew he had to be the villain of the story. He was used to it, he’d be okay with it. As long as you were safe from the shadows that followed him, he would gladly be the bad guy. For some people that was all he’d ever be, at least in this case he could control the narrative and in the end it would benefit you.

Bucky couldn’t give you forever, no, but in letting you go he made sure you kept your dream—and that was enough for him. That meant everything to him.

He had to suffer the greatest loss of his life so that the love of his life could be free. A hard truth that he would forever carry the weight of and that you would never know was done as an ultimate act of love—the selfless act of knowing when to say goodbye.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #james barnes imagine

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maxivstappen · 4 months ago

Note

congrats on 1k again mel 🤍 i'm so proud of u!!

i'm requesting for ur event: the lyrics "you make me wanna fall in love" from "juno" by sabrina, and the driver is oscar piastri

౨ৎ MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ‧˚. OP81

౨ৎ PART OF MY 1K EVENT & my short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

summary — you said it was casual, but you both knew it wasn’t. he liked to tell people that he’s certainly not in love with you, so maybe you just had to make him fall in love.

a/n — thank you so much for your constant support ml🥹 im not too happy with how this turned out, but i hope you enjoy reading anyway <3 based on the song ‚juno’ by sab!

warnings — kinda smutty?? jealous!oscar, making out, very suggestive, hints of angst, english isn’t my first language, not proofread

It really wasn’t your fault.

You decided to keep it casual as to not get him into any drama, so that people know his focus was keen on racing - becoming a world champion and whatnot - and also for your sake, because the hate, if you weren’t used to it, really could become unbearable, and the last thing Oscar wanted was for you to have to deal with any of that, you were just way too precious to him for that. So the decision was made. No strings attached.

Stupid, right? No strings attached is something to settle on before being all the way into it. Because at that point of your relationship, there was no way to keep it casual anymore. The only way was to take a few things that had been said two or three times too often back. To leave it all behind and really only do those things for ‚urgent needs‘ . No more spending the night or cooking together or meeting up without the friend group or sneaking away from said friend group just so he could finally rip the dress you had been teasing him with all night right off of you. But he had other plans, he seemed to just keep going with it. Telling you how much he missed you every time he was back from the long weekends, repeating the same three words over and over again as he makes his way down your thighs, kissing every clothed and unclothed spot he could reach from under you.

The first time it happened it was simply an accident, at least that’s what you told everyone. At least that’s what you told yourselves. But your touch and perfume still lingered even after a week, so the next time you saw each other at a birthday party of one of your mutual friends, Oscar couldn’t keep his hands off you either. Confessions of being attracted were spoken out loud and the only thing keeping you from taking it farther was nothing more than a mental holdback. You were scared of the public. He was scared to see you hurt because of that.

After a weekend during summer break spent together you asked him to finally decide on where to go on from this. He blurted out that he’s not in love, so there was no reason for things to get complicated. Your breath hitched. Casual hookups was what he said. Friends with benefits, you chuckled, seemingly angreeing with him as to not make this situation any weirder, even if it hurt just a tiny bit. But he was right. You had a different idea of a perfect life than he had. Racing was his passion, being in the spotlight was part of the sport, and you couldn’t even handle having to hold presentations in class because you hated being the center of attention. You two were just too different.

So yes. It is his fault! Because if he’s really, after all these lovey-dovey moment shared, still not in love — like you admittedly were — then he should stop acting like he did. Why would he get you flowers every few weeks? Why would he gift you a whole vacation with your best friend including hotel, trips and things a sane person wouldn’t even ask for for your birthday, and the rest of your friends would only get a normal birthday card and occasionally whatever small thing they had wished for? If you were really just casual, then why did he treat you as if none of this was ever just casual at all? Why did he treat you like his girlfriend if he so confidently stated that he’s not in love with you just months ago?

He couldn’t expect you not to want him to fall for you too if he was the one who made you fall for him in the first place. As if the “casual” sex wasn’t enough already, he just had to do the most romantic shit for you as to not let you get over him at all. He wanted to play with your head, he made it obvious. Too many mixed signs, too many actions done but too little words said. Lucky for you and for him, two can play the game.

If he was sooo sure he’s not in love with you, which he just had to be, maybe you just had to make him realize his loss if he ever lost you. You had to make sure he knew that you were desired also by men who weren’t him, and since it‘s his fault you fell for him in the first place, he should be the one who has to face he consequences of not loving you back.

In other words, a little jealousy clearly wouldn’t hurt him.

You were getting ready in the bathroom of your apartment together with your best friend, “juno“ by Sabrina Carpenter playing in the background while you gossiped about whatever came to mind — including Oscar and you. It was a secret to everybody else, but not to her. She was the one you cried to after Oscar told you he didn’t have feelings for you.

You finished up your makeup with some lipgloss, and once you were final,y content with your accessories and outfits, you made your way over to your friend’s, jack’s, birthday. Everybody was there, including Oscar. And Lando. His only ally and his biggest rival. If that didn’t make him crack, then nothing would, but you decided to try, at least. Lando and you got along alright already when you had only just met, and he was the first man to point out that Oscar and you aren’t just friends, right?

So when you suddenly put your hand on his arm, slowly rubbing up and down his biceps, he was confused at first, and then caught up on your quick nod in Oscar‘s direction while holding eye contact with him. Lando didn’t mean to do him any harm, but as much as he loved his teammate, he would never be one to turn down an opportunity to mess with him like this, especially not if he knew it would, at last, make Oscar snap so he didn‘t have to listen to his hopeless whining about his relationship with you being oh so complicated. Just ball up and confess, man.

It was innocent at first. Just simple touches, your hand on his chest for just a tiny second because you needed something to steady yourself on as your reached behind him to grab your drink from the small table the couch stood in front of, or his arm around your waist when you all stood next to each other to take a round of shots. Lando was certainly amused and your best friend was winking and giggling at you the whole night, seemingly loving your plan, because Oscar was definitely reacting.

His blood was boiling and he wanted to punch that smug look right off of Lando‘s face. How dare he touch you when he knew that Oscar, his own teammate, loved you?

Oscar thought it was better like this. Playing pretend instead of facing the truth, and he was pretty damn good at doing so. He was sure you believed him when he said that he doesn‘t want your relationship to include anything other than moments of lust, he thought it was easier that way. He thought it would make things less complicated, thought he could live his life without having to put you in any danger, live his life without needing you by his side every second of his damned life if he just put some boundaries. Surprise! It only made things worse, plus apparently, guys seemed to think you were available now, thought they could have you like only he can. And it made him fucking furious.

So when you stood up to pour yourself another drink in the kitchen, he followed, of course not before shooting the other driver for McLaren a death glare. Lando sighed and leanded back in his seat, happy to see your man finally making a real move. He hoped so, at least. Oscar closed the door after entering. It was only you two now.

“Fancy another beer?“ You asked calmly, but the feeling in your stomach was far from calm. This could end in complete rejection, maybe he could see right through your façade and thought you were childish for doing this? But how could you not?! Oscar himself made you do it with his mix of signs every damn time you saw each other!

He shook his head.

The tension between you was palpable as he watched your every move, back turned to him. You felt awkward, but tried to ignore it. The light was dim, and you could still feel the bass vibrating through the floor and the walls coming from the speakers in the living room. Was music this loud even allowed at this hour?

You finished pouring yourself some more champagne when you saw him walking over to you in the reflection of the glass cupboard in front of you. You sucked in a breath, not daring to say anything, feeling slightly hazy from the alcohol you‘ve drunken in the past few hours already. His cologne became starker as he stepped closer to you, eyes closed as you let the familiar smell of him take over you completely. You only opened them again once you realized he caged you between himself and the counter, pressing himself against your behind. He started softly kissing down your neck behind your ear, almost tickling you with how light his lips felt against your hot skin. You wanted this, you wanted him. But his touch wasn’t nearly enough, you wanted all of him, and not just his body. Every yet so little interaction you had during the evening left you with butterflies going crazy in your tummy, yet he never seemed affected, not until Lando came into view. Did he really only want your body and not more?

“What were you doing with him, y/n?”

Nothing but a moan left your mouth as he gently bit into your skin, sucking on your sweet spot as you subconsciously rubbed up against him. You didn’t even want to reply, you just wanted him to keep caressing your skin with his mouth. “Tell me what you were doing with Lando, huh, baby? What were you thinking?”

“Oscar I-“

“Keep talking or I’ll stop,” he whispered as he made his way down your back and then back up your shoulder, kissing and mouthing at every spot. Thankfully your best friend had convinced you to wear the backless top, you thought.

You huffed. This felt so humiliating, but you couldn’t keep going like this, not when he makes you feel like this and then leaves like nothing ever happened. You lived a lie and it was time to stop.

“I was trying to make you jealous so that you would finally stop and do something!”

Oscar’s furrowed his eyebrows and stopped in his tracks, hands still on you. What were you talking about The tension came crashing down onto your body once again, his doing not distracting you anymore. You seemed to want to have this conversation, and Oscar could easily put some of his lust away in moments like these. You didn’t get a reply, the cue for you to turn around and face him. You were still caged between him and the counter, his hands steady on either side of you now as he leaned down to look at you. you couldn’t focus like this, not with him so close to you and with the alcohol running through your body like blood. You looked up at him with doe eyes, prettily batting your lashes even if your mascara was slightly smudged already.

“Stop what? Talk to me, please. I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he looked concerned. Worried even, worried about what he might have done wrong. He wanted to be with you, keep you as his, so why would you want to stop being exactly that?

“Why don‘t you love me?“ You whispered, tears forming in your eyes. You hated it, but it was inevitable. The confrontation was overwhelming you anyway, and being under the influence managed to make it a lot worse. Your hands were all shaky and so was your every breath as you anticipated his reaction, expecting rejection but still hoping for more.

“I- What? Why would you think that?“

“Maybe because you literally said so?“

“Uhm, okay fair point. Listen y/n,“ he sighed, and you could practically hear your heartbeat throbbing inside your chest. He thought for a second, but didn‘t say a thing. Instead, he grabbed your face and kissed you like never before, he kissed you with more than just passion, he kissed you with love. his fingers wiped away a tear that had rolled down your face, kissing and holding you as gently as he could. ��Don‘t cry on me, y/n, please don‘t,“ he begged as he now kissed down your cleavage, leaving lovebites on your collarbones. “Was just being stupid, didn‘t wanna hurt you baby, thought long distance is too hard,“ he said something, anything to make you understand that the only reason he didn’t confess was because he was scared of his life not being compatible with yours, and not because he didn’t love you.

You smiled into the kiss once he reached your lips again. You‘d have to talk about it more tomorrow morning after taking some aspirin, you knew, after all, that you‘d go back home with him. It wasn‘t enough to make it official, you weren‘t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you finally had the guarantee that he felt the same way, that he loved you just like you did him.

Oscar swore himself at that exact moment, when he felt you smiling while his lips were dancing against yours, that he would never make you feel so unloved again. It wasn’t his intention in the first place, but seeing your beautiful eyes filled with tears because of him made his heart shatter, and he never wants to see you like that again, not if he was the reason for your pain. And even though you did have to make him realize through making him jealous, you certainly didn’t have to make him fall in love with you.

Because he already was.

౨ৎ general taglist / sns taglist ::

@norrisdriver / @1655clean

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eddiemunsons-missingnipple · 9 months ago

Text

And then there were three.

Eddie munson x pregnant!reader

Summary: you and Eddie find out you're pregnant.

Warnings: fluff, talks of pregnancy, pulling out, condoms etc. Talks of sex. Kissing.

WC: 2.5k

A/n not proofread. I'm posting because it's been rotting away in my drafts. Sorry if this isn't good. I don't even remember what it's about.

18+ minors dni

"This can't be real..." You whispered to yourself as you stared blankly at the piece of plastic in your hands. Staring at two little pink lines.

Two little tiny pink lines telling you you're pregnant. How? You and Eddie have always been careful. You used protection every single time you had sex.

You've had scares in the past where your periods were weeks late. But when you ended up being over a month late this time around. You decided it was time to take a test. You had a gut feeling you might have been pregnant.

You were exhausted more so than usual. Extremely sensitive and had nausea every morning and evening. Were you surprised? No. Shocked? Yes. There was a little part of you hoping you were wrong. A baby right now just wasn't in yours and Eddie's plan.

You've only been dating for almost two years now. While having a family with him is something you do want. Getting a head start right now just wasn't ideal. You only just moved in together this past summer.

Now that you hold this little test strip in your shaking hands, you know you'll have to break the news to your boyfriend eventually. He's out in the living room watching The Golden Girls. A show you never would have guessed was his favorite. You heard his laughter echoing around the trailer during the cheesecake episode.

Was he going to be mad? Would he scream and yell at you? Blame this all on you? You thought to yourself. You felt like you were going to throw up out of nervousness.

No. Eddie wouldn't be upset with you over something like this. He isn't that type of person. No matter how others viewed him to be. He isn't like that. You can't even remember a time he raised his voice to you. You soothed yourself down, taking deep breaths.

Opening up the bathroom door, you make your way over to him.

"Hey baby, come watch." He pats the cushion next to him.

You swallow hard. "Uh, can we turn this off for a sec?"

Eddie looks up, noticing there was something very wrong with you.

"Uh, sure." He grabbed the remote, switching the tv off.

"Well, there isn't any better way to tell you this, so I'm just gonna say......I'm pregnant." You blurted out.

Eddie laughed at first. "Pregnant. Okay." He takes a sip of his beer. His laughter quickly died when you saw the serious and very scared look on your face.

"You took a test?" He gulped.

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago." You swallow another lump in your throat.

You immediately start to panic again, "We're always careful. I don't know how this happened."

Eddie stands to quickly be by your side. He hasn't really had time to process what you just told him. His immediate focus right now is calming you down.

We're careful...WE'RE ALWAYS CAREFUL!" You shouted. Your face is growing hot, and you feel like you could pass out any moment.

"You always wear a condom you fuckin' keep them in your wallet for christ sake"

"I know, baby, but I mean those things don't always work," Eddie reassured you softly, rubbing your back.

"We're always careful." You repeated again.

"Well, let's think back to when we weren't careful." He's trying to help put the pieces together. There had to have been a time when you both were so caught up in each that he didn't put on a condom or something.

"When was there a time I didn't at least wear one?"

"I dunno." You tap your fingers against your forehead. While Eddie guides you to sit down on the couch. "There had to have been a night - where - we..." You trailed off.

"My parents," you gasped loudly, snapping your fingers together.

His brows shoot up, and his eyes widen. He suddenly remembers that night very, very well. But he pulled out. He knows he did.

"When we stayed the night because of the storm" You continued on. The memory of that night flooding back to you. That was it. Eddie had promised to pull out right before he finished - yet obviously didn't do it in enough time.

There was something in the air that day. You couldn't pinpoint what it was. You had told Eddie to behave, but at dinner, you were the one misbehaving. Teasing him a little. Trying to get a rise out of him. You didn't think he was still going to be worked up even after it was time for bed. You were wrong. Very wrong.

"Huh," Eddie sounded utterly perplexed. He moves to sit down next to you. trying to bring you any amount of comfort he can offer.

"Huh what?" You repeated back to him. Why wasn't he as freaked out like you?

"Jus' the fact that I got you pregnant on a pull out couch is fucking ironic" He was in disbelief. Absolute disbelief. He knew pulling out wasn't his strong suit, but he never thought from just that one time would get you pregnant.

Was Eddie upset you were pregnant? No. Not at all. Having kids with you was something he always saw in your future together. How could he be so stupid, though? He thought. The one time he doesn't use a condom and you get knocked up.

"Are you--are you joking right now?" Your mouth hangs open. "Don't joke, please don't joke."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Everything will be okay. " He pulls you to him. Your head lays flat against his chest. He was trying to be supportive, but on the inside he's freaking out. When he freaks out, he makes dumb jokes to lighten the mood. Something he knows he shouldn't have done, but it's too late now.

"Sooooo at yours parents place it was then." He draws out leaning forward to rest a hand under his chin.

"I guess." You murmured.

Eddie smiles fondly to himself. He most definitely remembered that day. That night, most importantly.

"....well," He perks up, jumping up to stand. He was trying to be as optimistic as possible. Truthfully, on the inside, he was freaking out. If you weren't sitting there in front of him right now, he would probably be pissing himself. Eddie knows you would be an amazing mother to his children. He most definitely knows he would be a great father, too. A complete contrast to how his father was.

"Time to make some calls." He was already heading for the phone when you panicked, running over to stop him. "We can't not yet--i need to see a doctor first."

"To make sure I am...I mean I know I am, but I need confirmation,"you further explained. Eddie just stood there listening to you and agreed as he silently nodded his head.

"Okay, well, after we see the doctor, who are we telling first? Your parents or my parent?" He was so eager to tell everyone. He was terrified, but the more he thought about it, the more excited he became. A tiny little version of you and him mashed together, running around.

"We'll tell Wayne first." You said matter of factly. You loved your parents, but you were closer to his uncle. He was like a second father to you, and you couldn't imagine anyone else knowing before him.

Eddie smiles and leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

"You scared?" He whispered leaning his forehead against yours.

...a-a little, but we'll be fine." You whispered back. The longer it sinks in that you're pregnant, the panic seems to fade. Eddie wasn't angry with you. He was scared you could tell but that's to be expected.

"Don't be scared, baby. We're doing this together." He reassured before kissing your lips softly again. "M'gonna take care of you both."

It's been three weeks since you took your pregnancy test and had your doctor's visit. They confirmed you were, in fact, expecting. Two months, to be exact. You were greatfull you got pregnant in the winter. Oversized sweaters and hoodies were your best friends. Now, it was time to break the news to everyone.

Eddie and you had already agreed. Wayne was going to be the first to know. You had everything planned out. You had told Eddie to call his uncle and ask if he wanted to go out for dinner. Knowing Wayne, he wasn't going to pass up on an opportunity to spend time with either of you.

You wanted to surprise him with a gift. You know Wayne has a green thumb. He loves to garden. He brags about how he has the best tomatoes in Indiana. So you took Eddie shopping for the perfect gift to give to him as a cute way to tell him you and his nephew are having a baby. You hope he'll catch on and figure out he's going to be a grandpa when he opens his present. It's a little onesie with "Home grown" embroidered on the front with little veggies.

"I like this one." You pointed at the cute little outfit on the hanger.

Eddie chuckled,reading the front. "Wayne's gonna love it. Hell won't be surprised if he tried wearing it." He joked, picking up the tiny shirt off the rack.

You giggled, "I can't wait to tell him."

"Me too, I can't keep my mouth shut for much longer." He mumbled, smirking at some of the funny sayings scribbled on the baby clothes.

The longer you came to terms with the fact that you're pregnant, your stress eased up. Sure, you were still scared, but you had Eddie and your friends. Plus your family. You reassured yourself almost daily that you'd be fine and to enjoy your pregnancy. Every single article of clothing you saw you bought. Didn't matter the color or size. If it was cute, you picked it up.

Eddie was a nervous wreck in the beginning but concealed it well. Mostly because he knew he needed to be there for you. he was also excited, too. He couldn't wait to share his hobbies with his little one. Read them bedtime stories. Sing to them at night before bed. Teach them to play an instrument or two. He looked forward to showing up to the PTA meetings in his battle vest with his sweet "mini me" on his hip.

Eddie knew he was going to be a good dad. He promised you and the baby still in your tummy every night he'd protect the both of you. He couldn't keep his hands off your belly. You weren't far along in your pregnancy, but Eddie was constantly hoping he could feel a little kick.

"We should do the dinner today." Eddie mentioned holding a handful of baby clothes.

"He might wanna to do it tomorrow since he's off."

"I'll call'em when we get home and ask. he can't say no to me." You agreed. It's true Wayne can't say no to you. Which you will take advantage of.

Later on that day after you and Eddie arrived home. You put Wayne's surprise in a little gift bag with a note attached to it.

Picking up the phone, you began dialing his number patiently, waiting for him to pick up. He should be home by now. You thought. "Hey Wayne, it's me, your favorite. I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me and Eddie tonight instead of tomorrow? "

Eddie leaned closer over in the wooden chair sat by the dining room table. He scoffs when he heard you get extatic on the other end. Knowing full well, his uncle said yes.

"You will? Okay, we'll pick you up at five o'clock sharp."

"Favorite, huh?" He crossed his arms with a smirk.

"You know it." You playfully mess up his hair as you run to your bedroom to get ready.

"Yeah, well, I've known him longer... I have seniority over him!" Eddie yelled out, teasing you.

He gets up from his chair, making his way to your shared bedroom. He stands there leaning in the doorway. Admiring you getting undressed in front of him. Taking in every curve on your figure.

Eddie moves to wrap his arms around you from behind. Pulling your back tight to his chest. His nose buried in the crook of your neck. You smiled softly, melting into his arms.

"Ya know, I was reading that baby book you bought it said something about sex helping induce labor." He whispered seductively in your ear. His lips trailing light kisses down your neck.

You turned your head."...Eddie, that's not until months from now." You let out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah, but just think about how well prepared you'll be when the time comes - kid is just gonna slide right out." Eddie argued. You know half of him is joking, and the other half is completely serious.

"Get dressed, babe. we leave in thirty minutes." You peel yourself from his tight grasp.

"Offer still stands." He holds up his hands in surrender.

Fifteen minutes went by, and there was a loud knock at your front door. His uncle had driven over so you all could ride together. After much bickering from Wayne, you all packed in Eddie's van.

Wayne refused to let Eddie drive, so it was you and him upfront with your boyfriend sulking in the backseat. Mumbling to himself about how he's not that bad and how everyone else just drives slow.

You noticed Eddie's uncle looking at the small gift bag you made up for him. His eyes kept wandering over to guess who it was for and what was inside.

Once all three of you pulled up in front of the new local diner in Hawkins. You three gathered in and let the hostess walk you over to your table. You and Eddie sat next to each other in a booth, leaving wayne alone across from you. The waitress comes over taking everyone's orders. After she left, you figured it was the perfect time to give it to him.

You look up at Eddie, nudging his side to grab his attention. His uncle just got done scolding him over his breaks needing change.

"So uh, we got you a present," Eddie coughed. He doesn't think he can handle more lectures from the man who practically raised him.

But he straightened up his back, preparing for anything.

"Yep here you go hope you like it." You picked up the bad next to you and placing it front of him.

"For me?" Wayne grabbed it and started taking the tissue paper out. "It ain't ma' birthday yet."

He laughs when he pulls out the tiniest little shirt he's ever seen. "Home grown, that's cute...I don't think it's gonna fit me though darlin-."

He cuts his sentence, short eyes growing wider by the second. You and Eddie look over at each other, smiling from ear to ear.

"Is this what I think it is?." Wayne questioned with tears threatening to spill over his lashes.

"Yep we're having a baby." Eddie moved to wrap an arm over your shoulder and pulling into his side.

"We wanted to tell you first." You choked back a sob.

Wayne still gathering his thoughts. He's holding the small onesie in his hand like he's already holding your newborn baby.

"I-I'm gonna be a grandpa?" Wayne wiped at his eyes. His was starting to become overwhelmed.

Here come the tears from Eddie now. His eyes swelling up and nose turning red. He's never seen Wayne this over come with emotions before. The only time he's ever seen him like that is when his dad started his usual mess. That was always just out of anger and frustrations mostly. This was pure joy and happiness. Wayne has always wanted the best for his nephew.

"We're thinking of naming them, Ozzy." Eddie tried to joke and lighten the mood.

Wayne couldn't say anything but only shake his head at nephew. He cleared his throat, grabbing napkins from the dispenser on the table.

"We are not." You spoke up, wiping your eyes.

Your food finally came, and the waitress gave all three of you a concerned look. A table full of adults bawling their eyes out is a cause of concern. Especially in this town. It was only when she noticed the tiny onesie folded up neatly beside wayne on the table, did her worry look drop. She mumbled a soft aww and set everyone's food down.

"Congratulations to all of you." She said with a warm smile.

The rest of the night went on like normal. Except now instead of Wayne fussing at Eddie for not eating healthy. He was doing that to both of you. Telling you how you need to order seconds because you're eating for two. Informing Eddie how the trailer needs to be baby proofed immediately. The only thing left to do was tell your parents next and his friends. You can only assume which of the two is going to freak out the most.

You leaned over and whispered to Edde, "You wanna tell Dustin next ooooor-?"

He side eyed you. " We're telling your parents next - if it makes you feel better, I'll be on the phone so they can yell at me instead."

"Deal?" Eddie leaned back in the booth, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He was busy focusing on Wayne's ranting and your concerns about telling your parents.

You sighed, dreading that phone call, but knowing it needs to be done. "deal."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x pregnant!reader

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