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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids.

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it.

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying”

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements.

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you.

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit.

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin.

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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astonmartinii · 6 months ago

Text

home ties | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem bff!reader

got a home race curse? that's no match for the power of friendship

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 31,498 others

tagged: yourbestfriend

yourusername: today i start my pilgrimage across europe - i.e. i'm a 20 something who is inter railing to try and 'find herself' BUT i shall be stopping at any church i can find, bestie @charles_leclerc we're getting that home win this season

view all comments

user1: INTER RAILING? BUT BUT BUT WHAT ABOUT CHARLES?

user2: this better be a SHORT trip because i need her in the ferrari garage this season

charles_leclerc: don't have too much fun without me :(

yourusername: iMPOSSIBLE

charles_leclerc: good i hope you miss me everyday

yourusername: like a wife waiting for her husband to come home from the war

charles_leclerc: why am i not the wife?

yourusername: i mean you're the one going here, there and everywhere

charles_leclerc: but i'm the pretty one?

yourusername: die ❤️

charles_leclerc: do you or do you not have a picture of me in your locket?

yourusername: do you or do you not want me to lay offerings for wins this season?

charles_leclerc: noted.

user3: these fools are so dear to me

user4: i know we need positive male and female friendship representation but like god i need them to fall in love

pierregasly: so fuck me then?

yourusername: is your name charles leclerc?

pierregasly: i have known you just as long as charles

yourusername: so has max and este you don't see them bitching up a storm in this comment section

maxverstappen1: i mean i just about to but ummmmmm have fun travelling!

estebanocon: i am very secure in our friendship.... some people not so much

pierregasly: i will spit in your coffee

estebanocon: it's already on the top shelf, good luck goblin!

yourusername: okay............ but thanks max!

user5: i love how most of this grid grew up together - not because it's cute but because they're all rude to each other

user6: they'll cry over each other's wins but won't follow each other on instagram

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,207,683 others

charles_leclerc: an okay start to the season. get well soon carlos!

view all comments

user8: @yourusername i know you're on your travels but you really need to get your ass back in the garage

charles_leclerc: trying real hard not to blame her rn

yourusername: skill issue

charles_leclerc: HOW DARE YOU

yourusername: if you need me to perform, then babe that's on you

charles_leclerc: is it really a crime to want my best friend with me at races

yourusername: did you not include my letters to you in your very instagram dump

charles_leclerc: but those are just letters :(

yourusername: just letters? i see. i guess i won't send any more

charles_leclerc: NO I'M SORRY PLEASE KEEP SENDING THEM

user9: i'm so sorry but this is too cute to not be romantic

user10: i know platonic soulmates exist but damn they're making it real hard to not believe they're in love

user11: they're either in love or charles is a puppy with severe separation anxiety

pierregasly: have you considered that he could be both

user12: HUH?

yourusername: regardless .... i'm proud of you doofus

charles_leclerc: thank you pookie

carlossainz55: do i not get a get well soon? anything?

yourusername: i'm glad you didn't die?

carlossainz55: i guess i'll take it

user13: y/n is unapologetically a hater

yourusername: no i'm just a charles stan first and foremost

user14: as you should

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 39,412 others

tagged: yourbestie

yourusername: yeah i'm here in the middle of a random forest eating hard pasta but charles was back on the podium so more candles and offerings coming your way

view all comments

yourbestie: do we have to stop in every church?

yourusername: YES

user15: i need someone as passionate about me in my life

yourusername: i am COmMITTED TO THE CAUSE

yourbestie: too committed i'm tired

yourusername: sit back and enjoy the stain glass windows let me do the work

user16: i feel like i'm having charlesxy/n withdrawals already

charles_leclerc: me too

user17: instagram live? twich? TWITTER SPACES? i'll do anything

yourusername: babe i'm in the middle of the forest

charles_leclerc: i thought you'd make it work for me but i see how it is

yourusername: stop i will cry and run home

yourbestie: ?

charles_leclerc: i'm sorry, enjoy your travels i just miss you

yourusername: i miss you too :(

yourbestie: gross

maxverstappen1: so like how do we go about getting you light candles for us?

pierregasly: good luck bro

yourusername: first of all, ew. second of all, no. third of all, YOU DON'T NEED THE HELP

maxverstappen1: okay damn tough crowd

charles_leclerc: you've not got the leclerc charm buddy

maxverstappen1: i've seen the 2012 haircut clearly charm was needed

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1,409,562 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: look who's backkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

view all comments

user20: phew i thought he was gonna die from separation anxiety for a second there

maxverstappen1: he's just dramatic

yourusername: so you don't want the souvenir i got you

maxverstappen1: I DO I DO I DO

yourusername: you know what you have to do

maxverstappen1: ugh. i'm sorry charles, your weird need to be with y/n at all times is kind of cute (if you weren't 26 years old already)

user21: the fact he's so pumped for her to be back - fave duo ever

user22: not to be that one freak but the last picture is looking very girlfriend to me

user23: you make a good point but i don't wanna get my hopes up just yet

user24: was his separation anxiety not enough? i feel like there's no way he could be in another relationship when he wants to be with her so often

yourusername: i'm glad to be back - the wilderness was lovely but nothing compares to you

charles_leclerc: teehee

yourusername: and i get to be reunited with my favourite gal pascale and light votives together

charles_leclerc: my lucky charms for real

pierregasly: i mean only one person has been there for each of your wins in f1 just saying

yourusername: so i'm sorry pierre i'm SORRY THAT MY APPENDIX NEEDED TO COME OUT

yourusername: but i do believe it contributed to the win

charles_leclerc: it did cause i raced so fast so i could get to your side quicker

yourusername: awwww a real gentleman (take notes pierre)

user25: how can they not be in love ^^^ LOOK AT THE MATERIAL PEOPLE

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 59,304 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: this is the set up for monaco week

view all comments

user28: babe is taking up residency in saint devote that's crazy

user29: idk what she's doing but the moon was red ... is she really going to manifest the home win

yourusername: if i can, yes! but if he does win it's all charlie and his talent

user30: ugh you guys are so cute

charles_leclerc: having you back and racing in monaco? best week ever

yourusername: it will be

pierregasly: once again no good lucks for us

maxverstappen1: i'm really starting to think our childhood meant nothing to you

yourusername: booooo the home town hero is obviously the one i'm supporting

maxverstappen1: you told me to "choke on your cock" when i asked if you would watch from my garage in zandvoort

yourusername: welllllllllll

pierregasly: just admit you have a favourite

yourusername; fine, charlie is my favourite

charles_leclerc: :)))))

pierregasly: :((((

yourusername: you asked me to???

user31: i don't know who will be happier if charles wins monaco charles or y/n?

charles_leclerc: i know who would cry more

yourusername: i'm a big crier and proud

alexalbon: not you guys coming for my albon_pets brand

yourusername: don't pit the kids against each other

charles_leclerc: let us be dog parents in peace alex

user32: so like that's their dog.... they're together?

user33: they're so confusing

user34: i mean it's so obvious they're in love so a dog really isn't that crazy

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, joris_trouche and 3,874,099 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: monaco finally loves me back (and so does she)

view all comments

user35: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

user36: i am NOT okay

yourusername: so unbelievably proud of you charlie, you deserve this more than anyone and you've made everyone proud ❤️ 🤍

charles_leclerc: thank you my love xx you've always believed in me and i'm so glad i could share this moment with you

yourusername: you're the love of my life and i would do anything for you

charles_leclerc: you already have <3

yourusername: i would light every votive i can find again if it brings you joy like this again

charles_leclerc: you bring me all of my joy

user37: they're so cute your honour

user38: lowkey forgot that they confirmed their relationship because the win was simply hitting too hard

user39: it's hitting like crack and it will be the only thing i talk about for the rest of my life

pierregasly: congratulations calmar!! i knew you could do it and i'm very happy for you both xx

charles_leclerc: thanks brother, you next

yourusername: we love you pear !!

maxverstappen1: I KNEW IT

charles_leclerc: that i would win my home race?

maxverstappen1: yeah, yeah... congrats but I KNEW YOU FOOLS WERE IN LOVE

yourusername: yeah you and about a million other people, we weren't that secretive

maxverstappen1: let me have this one thing

user40: yeah this is the worst kept secret in the world

yourusername: sorry guys but have you seen my boyf, there's no way i wouldn't be showing that off

charles_leclerc: HAVE YOU SEEN MY GIRLFRIEND???

yourusername: awwwww i love you

charles_leclerc: and i love you too

fin.

note: here's a small one to celebrate charles finally winning his home race, i won't lie i did cry. idk it's when he brought up his dad it just started the waterworks but i'm so proud of my lil millionaire racer guy :)))

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic

2K notes · View notes

buckymorelikefuckme · 7 months ago

Text

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #i can't remember how to tag bye

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anniebeemine · 15 days ago

Text

this is modern feminism- s.r x fem!reader

warnings: minors dni, oral sex (fem. receiving),

Spencer’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he walked into the bedroom. You’d been keeping your Halloween costume a secret, dropping hints and leaving him to guess, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

He stood frozen in the doorway, trying to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. His own costume—an impressive take on the 12th Doctor, complete with a sharp navy coat, red-lined and flaring out dramatically, paired with a crisp white shirt and black trousers—suddenly felt inadequate compared to what you were wearing.

You turned around to face him, the tight babydoll dress hugging your curves in all the right places and pushing your boobs up nicely, paired with fishnet stockings that drew his gaze down your legs. Your hair, usually neat and tidy, was styled in loose waves that cascaded down your shoulders, and he couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to wrap those soft strands around his fist. The thought sent a jolt through him, and he quickly tried to banish the image from his mind.

But the more he tried to focus on anything else, the more he found himself staring, his eyes tracing the lines of your outfit, admiring how the dress accentuated your figure, the effect was undeniably sexy.

Realizing he was dangerously close to outright ogling you, he shook his head, trying to snap back to reality. You were just about to apply the finishing touches to your makeup when you caught him standing there, a dazed look on his face.

"Giving up on guessing already?" you teased, turning fully to face him with a playful smirk.

Spencer cleared his throat, desperately searching for words, but all he could manage was a weak, "Um..."

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and struck a playful pose. "I'm a mouse, duh," you said with a wink, placing the little ears on your head, pointing at them. The simple addition of mouse ears and a tail completed the look, and somehow, you managed to make it both adorable and impossibly seductive.

Spencer finally found his voice, though it came out a little rougher than he intended. "You look... incredible," he said, his eyes softening as he took in the whole ensemble. He still tried to be respectful, to not let his gaze linger too long, but it was impossible to deny how stunning you were.

"Thanks, Doctor," you replied with a grin, stepping closer to him and placing a light kiss on his cheek. "You ready to go out and show the team what we've got?"

He nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, just... let me grab my sonic screwdriver," he said, his voice a little shaky as he turned to collect himself. But as he reached for the prop, he couldn't help but sneak one last glance at you, his mind still reeling from the sight of you in that outfit.

Spencer stood frozen by the door, his eyes wide as they took in every detail of your Halloween costume. The usually composed and articulate doctor seemed to have lost his words entirely. You tilted your head, a small frown of concern crossing your face.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, your voice soft. "I can change if you don't like it. I have a black dress I can wear instead."

He snapped out of his daze at your words, shaking his head quickly. "No, no, it's not that," he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. "You look amazing. It’s just…"

You waited, watching as he struggled to find the right words. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your outfit and back again, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Finally, he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m not worried about you,” he said, his voice steadying as he looked at you with a mixture of awe and something darker, more intense. “I know you can handle yourself. It’s just… I’m not sure if I can handle you.”

His admission hung in the air, and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks. Spencer wasn’t usually so forward, but tonight, the raw honesty in his voice made your heart skip a beat. His thoughts seemed to be far from innocent, his eyes darkening as they traced the curves of your body. You could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, his usually composed demeanor faltering as he imagined all the things he wanted to do to you.

The images flitted through his mind in rapid succession—pinning you to the mattress, his hands gripping your wrists as he kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless. Bending you over the couch, his fingers digging into your hips as he took control, the idea of completely unraveling in the privacy of your shared space, where no one else could witness the fire between you.

A slow, teasing smile spread across your lips as you watched him wrestle with his thoughts. “You know,” you said, your voice laced with mischief, “we don’t have to go out. We could stay in, if you want…”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your suggestion, and for a moment, he looked like he might actually consider it. His breath caught in his throat, the thought of spending the night alone with you in that outfit, or out of it, sending a wave of desire through him that was hard to ignore.

Spencer caught you in a kiss, his lips pressing firmly against yours, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second longer. His hands framed your face, his breath coming in soft, heated bursts against your skin. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, and you knew, without a doubt, that there was no way you were leaving the apartment tonight.

“We’re staying home,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough.

You nodded, already feeling the heat building between you. Your hands moved to the clasp of your babydoll, fingers fumbling to undo it, but before you could manage it, Spencer’s breath fanned over your neck as he gently pulled your hands away.

“What?” you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation. His demand had been so soft, so quiet, that you needed to be sure you’d heard him correctly.

“I said, leave. It.” His words were firm, but there was an underlying tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your cunt throbbed at his command, your body responding instinctively to the shift in his usual demeanor. Spencer had never been one to leave your clothes on during sex; he usually preferred to see every inch of you, to explore your body with his hands and mouth. Sometimes he’d leave his shirt on, or his pants would stay around his knees or ankles, belt buckle jingling with each thrust, but never had he left anything covering you. The thought of him being so turned on that he wanted to keep your outfit on was enough to make your head spin.

He pushed you backward, gently, guiding you until your back connected with the wall. His hands roamed over the cups of your dress, fingers tracing the delicate lace that barely concealed your breasts. You whimpered beneath his touch, the light pressure driving you wild with need. As you reached out to untuck his shirt and slide his jacket off his shoulders, Spencer’s eyes never left yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

When he finally sank to his knees before you, his gaze traveled up your body, taking in every detail of the outfit you’d chosen. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he moaned, his hands lifting the bottom of the babydoll, the fabric sliding easily over your hips.

He paused, expecting to find something modest underneath—maybe a pair of shorts or something similar. But when he discovered the lace panties that perfectly outlined your cunt, his eyes darkened further, a mix of desire and something akin to possessiveness flashing across his face. He cupped his hand over you, feeling the warmth and dampness through the thin fabric.

“You were going to go out like this?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry and awe as he looked up at you.

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “I knew we’d never make it out of here,” you whispered, your voice filled with a confidence that matched the fire in his eyes. “Told the team we’re sick, so be prepared to lie on Monday.”

A slow, appreciative smile spread across Spencer’s lips. “Smart girl,” he murmured, his voice full of praise. He leaned forward, pressing kisses over the fishnets that covered your legs, each one accompanied by a soft compliment. His lips moved closer and closer to where you needed him most, the tension building between you with every touch.

Spencer’s breath ghosted over the lace that covered your cunt, and you could feel the heat radiating from his mouth as he got closer. His hands slid up your thighs, gently parting them as he positioned himself between them, his mouth hovering just above the lace.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire before he finally pressed a kiss against you, the fabric doing little to dull the sensation.

You moaned softly, your hands finding their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as he continued to worship you with his mouth. Spencer's hands gripped your thighs, keeping you steady as he lavished attention on you, the feeling of his mouth through the lace making you tremble with need.

“Spencer,” you breathed, the sound of his name only spurring him on as he pulled the lace aside, his tongue finally meeting your bare skin.

Spencer’s tongue was a slow, deliberate torment against your bare skin, every movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The sensation was overwhelming, like he was unraveling you piece by piece with each flick and swirl. Your breath hitched, and a soft moan escaped your lips as his mouth worked you over with an intensity that made your entire body tremble. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to push you right to the edge, only to pull you back just before you could tumble over.

The room spun around you, your world narrowing to the feel of Spencer’s hands on your thighs, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the relentless, intoxicating pleasure he was drawing from you. You tangled your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing everything he had to give.

“Spencer,” you gasped again, the word barely more than a breath as he continued his worship, his hands gripping you tighter, grounding you even as you felt like you were floating, every nerve in your body alight with the fire he was stoking. His name was the only thing you could manage, the only coherent thought in a haze of pure, unfiltered bliss.

He didn’t let up, didn’t slow down, his tongue moving with a precision that left you breathless, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. You felt like you were on top of the world, like nothing else existed except for the way he made you feel, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, reeling your forward. He kept you steady as he stood up.

Spencer’s hands slid up your legs, lifting you with a strength that surprised you, his mouth never leaving your skin. Before you knew it, your legs were wrapped around his waist, your back pressed against the wall as he held you up with ease. The new angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, your head falling back against the wall as he continued his relentless assault by grinding himself against you.

The babydoll dress slipped down your shoulders, and Spencer’s fingers found the cups, tugging at the delicate fabric until it tore away, the sound of ripping lace echoing in the room. The cool air hit your skin, but the sensation was quickly replaced by the heat of Spencer’s mouth on your breasts, his tongue circling your nipples before taking one into his mouth.

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he lavished attention on your breasts, his free hand slipping between your thighs to continue the slow, torturous rhythm that had your legs shaking. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending singing with the pleasure he was giving you, every touch driving you closer to the edge.

When he finally pulled back, Spencer’s hands were still on you, guiding you gently until you were standing, your knees wobbling as you tried to catch your breath.

You looked down at the torn babydoll, a whine escaping your lips as you realized the damage. “You ruined it,” you pouted, the words coming out breathless, a mix of complaint and tease.

Spencer’s eyes were dark, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, then your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll buy you a thousand more,” he promised, his voice rough with desire. “If it means we can repeat this, I’ll tear them all away.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, the thought of him wanting you so desperately that he would ruin any piece of clothing in his way only heightening the intensity of the moment. You pressed closer to him, your hands running down his chest as you looked up into his eyes. “I think I might take you up on that,” you whispered, your voice still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that left you breathless all over again. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves he’d just worshiped, his touch still possessive, still filled with that same burning need.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid x you #fanfic #spencer reid smut

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aphroditesmoon · 10 months ago

Text

wish you'd ask me

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: you're not good at reading subtle hints, clarisse realises that maybe she should've been more upfront with her feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, clarisse is down bad, reader is very neurodivergent coded, kissing, flirting, title n fic inspired by 'Wish You'd Ask Me' by Matt Maltese.

A/N: thank you for 1.9k followers!! I love you all dearly, my ask box and dms r always open, im glad that my writing is being enjoyed by so many people<3

wc: 4.5k

You have been in camp half blood for more than 4 years. You have made yourself at home for the last several years.

It was easy to view yourself as lesser or inadequate in comparison to other mortals during your days in the real world before you were sent to camp. The world has never failed to remind you of how different you were. Always too much or not good enough, always special and never normal

And it wasn't like you were dying for some sort of diagnosis to justify why you are the way you are, but upon discovering that you were actually a demigod, it felt like all the questions you've been harboring to yourself was finally answering themselves.

Everything clicked. Everything made sense, though at the same time, it felt impossible. You were a very confused little girl when you first arrived at camp. A girl who just wanted someone to tell them that it'll all be alright in the end.

And you still remembered the first person to hold you by your shoulders and made you look into their eyes as they told you that it was all going to be okay.

The girl with beautiful long curls and dark piercing eyes. The girl that everyone else, apparently, was afraid of.

But you could never be afraid of Clarisse La Rue.

Not with the way she smiles when every time she sees you, the way she never fails to make you feel included even in activities you're not capable of participating in. Not with the way your whole body electrifies every time your skin touches, when your hands brush against each other.

It didn't matter what anyone think, because no one could change the perception you've built of her. Clarisse La Rue is good. Or at least she is to you.

When you first heard of the rumours surrounding her, you did think better than to force a friendship on her. You strayed away from her and stuck to your cabin siblings and your books, but you noticed daily how she'd still go out of her way to talk to you at least once a day.

It didn't need to be a long conversation, just a passing acknowledgement. An easygoing 'hey, how've you been doing.' Sometimes she'd even go as far as cracking a joke with you.

With how serious her face is whenever she make the jokes, you'd have to think twice as hard and thrice as faster than another person to try and guess if she was being genuine or not so you could fit in a necessary laugh when you needed to.

Even as her anger became more apparent because of the new kid's accidental climb to fame and embarrassing the Ares' cabin, she still found time to make a conversation with you.

It had been long since you tried to ignore or avoid her. You learned that her attention towards you is harmless, and that she seemed much more comfortable telling you certain things compared to others. If she has been viewing you as some sort of safe box, then you don't really mind it. You liked listening to her talk and keeping her heart's intent as your secret.

You too, talking to her. To some people, you are reserved,

and to others, talkative. Either way, people find it easy to discard you at any moment they decide you are irritating.

But Clarisse listens. And she asks questions, she's patient- much patient that anyone could anticipate or guess.

It may be hard for others to believe, but Clarisse is more complex than she seems. She had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the capacity to respect boundaries. The more time you spent with her, the more that side becomes easy for you to access.

Today, however, marks a new record for your friendship with her. A few weeks ago, she had informed you of her newfound interest in the history of folklore monsters. What a coincidence that you were currently self-studying on that specific topic.

She insisted that you hook her in on whatever it is you're learning. She had even gotten you a doughnut to eat together outside the library as you told her of your insights of dragons and their theorized blindness and incapability to differentiate a variety of prey.

The conversation went well, she seemed immensely in awe of your knowledge and had no problem telling you how she felt.

You even gave her some book recommendations, though you knew she wasn't much of a reader.

You felt a shift in your relationship that night and had spent the next three days studying more and more about the topic. And today, you had asked her to spend the evening with you.

You shouldn't feel so nervous asking her to hang out. That is what friends do, after all.

She found you in the library, sitting on the floor in between two large bookshelves. She had been right on time and enthusiastically so. The two of you sat together, hidden by the shelves as some semblance of privacy.

Clarisse looked confused when you had explained that you indeed wanted to spend the rest of the day in the library, but she accompanied you anyways.

You could never get sick of the smell of the books. Old and new, they all have some nostalgic past tied in between the pages, begging to be discovered.

You had your back on the walls with tinted windows above your head as she's seated opposite of you in a criss-crossed position.

Today, the library isn't as packed as usual. There were still people walking in and out and checking out the books on the counter, but not too many that it became obnoxiously loud and annoying.

After finishing another book of Monsters and how to spot them, you're feeling knowledgeable enough to explain the lore of the Giants to Clarisse, she had asked you about this the other day, giants have been long extinct to the point that some might even say they may have never even existed. And so you were interested in sharing with her all of the information you have learned about the majestic species of a beast.

You started with the general information. The basic understanding of what a Giant is the mythhs of Giants and the validity of those sources. Clarisse listened closely in the beginning, never interrupting you unless she had an actual question.

She seemed in awe of the stories you tell her of. You don't blame her, for you yourself have been most interested in the topic of Giants.

You were an hour an a half in when noticed her attention faltering. She leaned against the cases of books, her eyes twitched slightly when you began to explain the different types of giants, and the difference of how they operate.

Her hands are folded together on her lap, and you can feel her listening in on everything you're telling her as she adds in some commentary here and there, but you also felt that she wasn't entirely in on the conversation.

The dim lights of the library made the atmosphere feel warm and secluded, even with its vast space and many other campers hanging around in the other tables and shelves. You made sure to keep your voice low as you spoke in fear of the librarian kicking you out.

You had a good reputation with the library workers, they liked how organized and polite you were.

"A lot of people think their greatest strength is their size, which is valid, they are huge, but their real weapon is their mouth." You told Clarisse, ignoring the litter of books by your left that you had brought over for reference.

"They kiss you to death?" She asks suspiciously. You laughed shortly and shook your head. "No, I mean their breath."

She responds with an 'ohh.'

"They're giants, so their mouth is large too, and you can easily tell what they had for breakfast even from their tall height. Their breaths are also known to be so rancid it could kill you, because they don't exactly eat what we eat."

She raises a brow as she stretches her hands upwards. "Isn't that ogres?"

"It's both." You confirmed.

You were about to continue your explanation but halted by instinct as you notice how her mouth keeps pursing together as if unsatisfied, and she has that look on her face that mimicked a confused expression. You're don't think there's anything to be confused of.

"Are you okay?" You asked her worriedly. Clarisse sits up straighter at the question and waved a hand off to assure you she's fine. "Of course, no yeah- I'm fine."

"You seem bored, you're not really interested in what I'm saying are you?” She opens her mouth to counter your words but hesitates to say anything.

"I- well, I like giants-" She attempts, "-no you don't. "

"No. I don't." She admits with a sigh. "But I thought you said you were interested in these kind of stuff?" You questioned her. "Well, yeah, like the general idea of it. I mean, I don't hate it, and I like hearing you talk about it." She answers with a shrug.

"Then why do you look disappointed? If you didn't want to come, you could've just told me. I wouldn't get mad." You told her honestly. It was conflicting for you to see her so confused on what to say, being so picky with the words she chooses.

You figured she's probably reluctant to hurt your feelings. That is a notion you're used to. You'd rather she tell you the truth to your face than to be catered around like a time ticking bomb that everyone's so afraid might explode at any time.

"When you asked me out yesterday, you told me this would be an 'evening to remember." She tells you with such confidence like it was an explanation to her weird behaviour today.

"You don't think this is an evening to remember?" You sincerely inquire.

"No, I do! I just- well, when you said that I didn't think you'd mean we'd be doing this." Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what she means, eyeing her body language closely. “What do you mean? I told you I wanted to hang out.”

A part of you is offended. She was the one who had said she liked hearing you speak, why would she be disappointed that this was your idea of spending time together?

"I don't know, I thought we'd just be doing...something else?"

It didn't matter what she had really meant with that. You felt completely embarrassed once she finished her sentence. Why was it that everyone else had no problem having long conversations with their friends, but when it came to you, it's all too awkward, unnecessary, and odd?

You liked Clarisse, you considered her your friend. Sometimes you wonder if it could ever be more, but you never entertain those thoughts because you don't want to ruin what the two of you already have.

But moments like these resemble a huge slap in the face by the universe.

You couldn't even be good friends with her, how ridiculous of you to think that there could ever be something more.

"Okay, um, maybe we should just go back to our cabin." You decided whilst standing up and picking up the stack of books you're currently borrowing from the library, ready to leave the place without waiting for her.

"Hey, wait." She called out as you walked past her. You spared her a glance, trying your best not to show how upset you are. “We're friends." She says it so much like a question that you weren't sure if she's even sure of the fact herself until she continued speaking. "I like hanging out with you."

Another thing that you weren't sure if she really meant. "Sure." You replied thinking it's the most suitable response.

Before she could say anything else, you turned around and started picking up your pace until you disappeared out of her sight.

—

You have been consistently ignoring Clarisse. Which proved to be harder than expected.

When you pass by her camp or the training ground, you make a mental note to always look down or to your front as to never accidentally cross eyes with her.

And everytime you hear her call out your name, you keep walking like you didn't even hear her, knowing that she wouldn't be bold enough to call for you again. After all, she still had a reputation to uphold.

If ignoring her wasn't hard enough, having to deal with how you felt for her is worse.

You've been avoiding confrontation with yourself for weeks even before you decided to go no contact with her.

And so far, you thought you've been handling it pretty well. Except for days where you don't see her where she's expected to be. You tell yourself that you don't care as you make your way to training in the day and reading in the evening, and yet you still go back on your own words when you asked a passerby Ares kid on where his cabin leader was.

"She's dunking some kid's head into a toilet bowl." Of course she was.

You thanked the dude and went back on your way to your cabin. It's close to dusk, the sky is turning orange and the sun is dipping itself below the earth. You take your time returning to your cabin as you enjoy the way the sun slowly removes itself from anyone's viewing.

You wondered to yourself if things like these are what makes you weird or off-putting to some people.

Was enjoying nature and having niche interests only cute when it's done by girls pretty enough to be cool or if it's only in romance movies or books.

You don't find yourself weird, in fact you think all of your hobbies are pretty common and usual, and yet the way Clarisse had spoken to you at the library last week had made you feel unnatural.

You had wanted to do normal people things with her, but maybe your perception of normal is different to her.

Either way, you are pretty hurt with how she reacted. You loved her still, of course. It's kind of hard to unlike the girl you've been obsessed with since you were 15.

Once you finally reach your cabin, you quickly put down all of your books and your tiny sling back by the side before making it to the shower to refresh yourself before dinner.

You thought it hilarious of how hard you're trying not to care about Clarisse, and yet as you're cleaning yourself up, changing your clothes and attempting to read at least 15 pages of your World's Most Dangerous Beasts book, you could only think of her.

What would it take for her to think that you're cool, what kind of things did she want to do instead of listening to you yap around for 2 hours on what is an equivalent of a boring dinosaur facts, not that you really think dinosaurs are boring.

During dinner, you kept to siblings and had to make yourself finish your plate as your anxiety wrecking thoughts have a way of deriving you of an appetite. You also had to convince yourself to not search for her at the other tables which took more strength than one would expect.

But you succeeded, and you were now sure that the only obstacle left for the day was to try and fall asleep without the thoughts of her keeping you up.

Clarisse is a force, a fierce daughter of Ares, and a cabin leader who had much better things to do then hole up at quiet small places with you.

And just because she was nice enough to mantain a good relationship with you for 4 years, does not mean that you're worth her time. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

That night, you managed to fall asleep after an hour of recalling Harpy facts in repetition. Counting sheeps had never worked on you, so you had to find something much more active to tire out your brain.

You dreamed of Clarisse with her hair down, holding your hand and pulling you closer so she could slip a flower on your ear.

And just as she's looking down at you, moving closer to do what it seemed like to kiss you, you awoke with a jolt, swearing under your breath as if you'd just gotten jumpscared by a ghost.

Someone's palms moved to shut your lips as you're met with a girl, hovering over you in the dark. Clarisse's dark eyes were recognizable, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through your body still.

"Shh." She whispered to your face, hand still keeping your mouth shut. "I'm going to remove my hands now." She whispered again. You nod in understanding and waited for her to pry her hand away from your face.

"What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed as quiet as possible as she helped you sit up.

"I'm sneaking you out." She answers with a wink. "It's 2 in the morning." You waved your hand around at the darkness and sleeping children. "3 in the morning, and yeah, I know. That's why it's called sneaking around." She corrects you with a grin so devilish that if you hadn't known her for a long time, you'd assume she's about to turn you into a new toilet bowl or dumpster boxing victim.

You sighed loudly and glared at her despite your fast beating heart. Her hand remained on top of yours until the minute becomes more awkward and she removes it as if she just remembered that she's been holding your hand.

Without explanation, she climbed out of your bed and tiptoes to the open cabin door. You're still sitting up and looking at her with conflicted feelings.

Only after she turns back to you, cocking her head towards the entrance, do you give into her request and softly leave the comfort of your bed and trail after her.

"Where are we going?" You asked after her as she kept walking. Instead of responding, she asks you another question back, "Can you swim?"

"We're going swimming?" You watch her shrug in return from behind her and became even more distressed.

"So, is this your idea of having fun and hanging out then?" She laughs drily and slowed down so you could catch up. You walked fast enough until you're beside her and waited for her to talk. "You sound surprised, I would've thought that after 4 years of friendship, you'd know by now that I love doing things that includes active movements."

You did know that, it's a bit hard to not notice how much working out, training and running fuels her even more.

"And why are we doing it in the middle of the night?" The walk towards the lake by the back of the forest was short, considering that your cabin is the closest to the location.

You almost tripped and fell over a stick, but Clarisse was quick to scoop you back up by the back of your shirt. "Thanks." You mumbled to her. "And you haven't answered my question."

Clarisse pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground without caring of your presence. You, having more moral obligations than her, twisted your face to your left when she began to pull her trousers off. "Too many people in broad daylight." She tells you.

That is a valid reason, this lake is mostly known as a hook up spot, and true to it's cause, many dating campers have been caught together here during dawn or late evenings.

You braved yourself to turn towards her again slowly and realised that she had already hopped into the water. She had a sports bra on and a boxer.

And though you yourself had a tank top and shorts on, you contemplate the idea of suicide as a better choice than having to strip in front of her.

"Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna gawk at me from there?" You were grateful for the dark being able to hide your flushed face from her, but deep down, you knew that she probably saw it anyways because of the shining bright moonlight.

"I can't swim." You told her.

"That's fine, the water's not very deep." You ransacked your brain for reasons to decline her offer, but at the same time, a small part of you yearned to take this risk that you've been so afraid of for gods knows whatever reason.

Clarisse is there, in the water and under the moonlight. You are only a few steps away from her. And like she said, the water isn't deep, only waist length. She stares back at you with a raised brow like she's challenging you to join her.

"Turn around first." You tell her. She smirked slightly before slowly spinning to the opposite direction. "You know I've seen you naked before right?"

"What?" You choked out, aghast. "Who do you think changed your clothes for you when you first got to camp." Oh, that.

Your shoulder relaxes as you realize she's talking about the first time you met. "That's was a long time ago." You noted. She hummed im agreement. "Yeah, we've both grown since."

You told her she could turn around once you're inside the water. Forgetting about the heighy difference between you two, the water was high enough to reach your chest, trying your best not to trip underwater the way you always do on dry ground, your hand instinctively reached outnfor her shoulder.

Clarisse held your forearm tightly and drew your closer to her until you're inches away from eachother.

You breathed in sharply and felt the need to fill in the awkward silence. "So, you...like swimming, huh?"

"Yes, evidently so." She answered. "Right right, can't sit still and all that." She actually chuckled at your sarcasm, making you proud of yourself.

"You know, even before I came to camp Half Blood, I use to be a pretty active person, running track, volleyball, sometimes swimming." Your eyes widened in curiosity. "Really?" She nodded.

"The counselor told my mom that I just had so many untapped energy, which I guess is a code for anger issues." Her grip on your forearm moves higher until her palm is over your shoulder. "She told her that it'd be best for me to find a...healthy way, to channel that energy, and for my strong competitiveness. So I joined what I could, and that's how I spent most of my free time there. Besides, I never was that good academically. So, I ought to at least be good at something, right?"

"You are good." You blurted out. Your embarrassment faded away when you saw her smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You assured her. Her other hand had snaked around your waist without you noticing. Only when you moved slightly do you notice her holding you softly.

"The moon is really nice tonight, isn't it?" You said, trying to diffuse the tension. You pointed your finger up to the sky at the singular white orb.

She glanced up and let out a 'huh.'

"I like it when it's bright and whole like this, the moon in all of its glory. You don't even notice the starts around it when it's glowing like that." You could stare at the moom forever, even longer than the way you've been staring at the sun.

You believed in it the way children do with their birthday candle. To you, the moon has always been a symbol of hope or comfort for your future. Your fascination for it existed from when you were a child, the way it'd follow you from behind as you gazed upon it from the back of the car seat whilst your parent drove down the road.

The way it moved above you as you walked home from school, like one of the gods themselves watching over you.

"Nothing compares to the moon." You announced aloud, watching as the clouds around it began to gather over it. "Yeah, It's beautiful." You hear Clarisse speak.

As your head snapped back to her, you found that she had already been facing you.

"I like the moon...but not as much as I like you." She whispered loud enough for your ears only. Her face leans closer to yours, your noses brushing together. "Not as much as I like to hear your voice, when you tell me about your little harpy facts-"

"Oh, I haven't told you about the harpies yet." You cut her off. "I just finished that chapter this morning actually and-"

"-and, you can tell me about it after I'm done talking." You blushed and became silent, letting her speak.

Clarisse exhaled breathily, fanning your face with the subtle warm air. "I like doing things that friends do with you, but I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Oh."

"I want to be more than friends." She elaborated.

"Oh." Oh.

You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, from anxiety or from butterflies is undecided. "You want to be best friends?" You joked, laughing nervously.

Clarisse snorted at your joke, but she was still grinning widely. "Best friends, If that's what you want to call it."

There was a moment of understanding shared between a second of shared gazes before her lips attached themselves to yours. An urgency, approval, meaning that can't be described by words.

Whatever gentleness there was inside of her before had vanished. Clarisse kissed you like a starved woman. Her lips craved yours like it'd be the last time she'll ever know how you taste like.

Your hands clasped on her shoulder and neck for support as she embraced you tighter to her body. You let her tongue slip into your mouth, meeting your own.

And as they danced together, inhaling all there is in your lips, every secret and every confession that have died on the tip ofnyour tongues, you are sure that no heaven nor hell could tear you open to see you back together like this.

You push her back abruptly, letting fresh air fill your empty lungs. "What's wrong?" Clarisse inquired worriedly.

"Last week." You sighed out, chest still heaving as your thoughts clicked together. "You thought I had asked you on a date, that's why you were disappointed."

She winced at the reminder, and for the first time in your life, you had been lucky enough to witness a flustered Clarisse.

"I'm right." Her silence confirmed. "Oh Clarisse, why didn't you just ask me?"

Huffing loudly, she rolls her eyes in irritation. "I thought I was obvious enough. "

Thinking back on it all, it did seem pretty obvious, but gods were you oblivious. The way you intepreted it all so wrongly.

"I've liked you for so long too." You admitted to her. Her scowl was gone at that, replaced by a teasing smile. "And what are you gonna do about it?" Her mouth returned to yours, letting go of all your fears and holding on to Clarisse like she's your anchor, you close the gap between your lips, welcoming the kind of pleasure that you've never tasted before.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #dior goodjohn #wlw

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itsgrimeytime · 7 months ago

Text

i know i got him || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn! reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter

Summary: Ever since you showed up, you've had an effect on Rick. At least, that's what everyone said. Initially, you hadn't recognized it. But after one too many coincidences, it's starting to become a little impossible to ignore.

TWs: flirting, simp behavior, cursing, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Was listening to this song nonstop (so good btw) and my brain went... hmm. Rick is terribly down bad in this. Like eager to do things for you, following you around like a puppy dog, the works. Also this gif????? girl... Enjoy :)))) ]]

You had never really thought about how you affected him. Or how they thought you did, anyway.

"You're being ridiculous," you stated -plainly.

Maggie was trying desperately to convince you that you had one Rick Grimes wrapped around your finger. Rick Grimes? Wrapped around your finger? No way.

"Do you remember yesterday? When he went on a run to find you a pair of shoes?"

"That was not why he went out on a run," you laughed a little, mindlessly bouncing Judith against your side, "-we need more as a community than just-"

"Then, why-" she interjected, "-did he only come back with shoes?"

"He didn't," you countered, "-He had some cans of food, I remember."

"Two," she relented, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, "-he went out on a run for two cans of food?"

"Sometimes you can't find much-"

"Oh my god," Maggie rolled her eyes, "-you are unbelievable. Let me just show ya-"

You pursed your lips, as she walked ahead of you -beelining to Rick. She had quite the pep in her step, pregnant and all, "Show me?"

Before you could call out to her, she was at Rick's side. He seemed to be talking to Deanna, actually, and if he was talking to Deanna, it was probably important. He smiled at her, in a Rick sort of way, until she started motioning to you. You had no idea what she was saying, but his eyes flicked to you instinctively.

Now, you'd never thought about if he smiled differently at you, but it was kind of hard to ignore right now.

Eyes dipping over you and Judith, the bright grin on his face was very different than the one for Maggie previously. And it wasn't even like that one wasn't genuine, you could tell it was, this one was just different.

It was crinkly eyes and shining white teeth. It surprised you that it didn't even seem unfamiliar to you; how long had he been smiling at you like this? And you had just normalized it?

You guessed you didn't have a direct comparison but still-

You smiled back (maybe just as bright, you weren't sure) and gently waved.

Watching him laugh a little and shake his head (like he couldn't believe you were waving at him?), your eyes darted to the ever-so-slight pinks of his ears.

Before you could think about it, Maggie said something to grab his attention (eyes stuck to you before snapping to her), and they were both on the way to your side. Something worried in Rick's eyes, you felt some guilt coil into your stomach; what had Maggie said?

You couldn't ask about it before he was already at your side, hands itching to fuss over you -you could tell. He seemed to let them win.

"Maggie said ya got a headache?"

Right, it was a sort of offhand remark to Maggie. And it was hurting, the sun even stung your eyes a bit. But he left that conversation (obviously very important) because you had a headache?

The gears in your head were turning, and Maggie seemed to watch them -eyes stuck to your face. You couldn't believe it yet, there had to be a reason.

"Rick," you started, "-it's fine. It's minor, had it since I woke up this morning, I can-"

His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes gleamed with concern, hands coming to rest on your arm, "Ya had it since 'is mornin'?"

Shit.

"Yeah," you answered, still trying to fight your case, "-but really, Rick, it's nothing. I can manage-"

"Ya should go rest," he interrupted, taking Judith from your arms, "-least til' it gets a lil' better. 'S hurtin' your eyes, I can tell."

How did he know that?

"Rick, seriously-"

"I'll take ya home," he hummed, carefully, "-and I'll come back in an hour to check on ya-"

"Rick," you tried again.

"-Get some medicine from the doc', and bring it to ya myself," he finished, something in him decided.

You pursed your lips, trying a different angle, "Shouldn't you be getting back to Deanna?"

"She can wait," he responded, simply.

"Well," you frowned, "-it has to be important, I don't want to-"

"'S not as important as you."

The words faltered in your throat, and Maggie looked at you in a way that you could hardly grasp. Mouthing 'I told ya so', you thought on it. Maybe he was just concerned, I mean one thing-

And then, his hand came to rest on your lower back, guiding you home, and your brain promptly turned off.

Ever since that conversation, you'd been trying to reason. Keeping watch on your interactions with Rick (he did always smile at you like that, fyi), you were trying to rationalize it. Give it a reason. Other than what Maggie, and others, said, but it started stacking up.

It was a dreaded day, laundry day. And out of the cycle, it was your turn.

Sometimes, the people of Alexandria would just air dry their clothes for conservation reasons, really. And every time, there was someone assigned the duty. A little like how the meals were made, and someone had to help Carol -not that she'd ask for it. She was a little stubborn like that.

That being said, no one, and you mean no one, liked to do laundry. Specifically, because you had to get up early (to make sure you got all the sun power you could), and it took hours. Especially on your own.

You basically crawled out of bed at 4, maybe 5, in the morning. Still in your pajamas, you stalked through the streets of Alexandria -dragging your feet a little, you won't lie. Making your way over to the air drying area, you pulled out all the baskets and placed them along the ground -organized. It was probably the only time you ever really were these days.

Putting your hands on your hips, you let out a big, long sigh.

"Well," you tried to smile, still so asleep that your voice was cracking, "-the sooner I start, the sooner the hell ends."

Before you could even grab a single piece of clothing, a voice interrupted you -low in drawl like maybe he had just woken up.

"Ya need some help?"

Your eyes shot to him and something in your chest fluttered, stirring in your stomach. Rick was still in his pajamas (plaid pants low, and a plain t-shirt), eyes still heavy with sleep like maybe he'd just woken up too, and his hair probably the messiest you'd ever seen. There was a curl hanging in front of his head, you got the urge to fix it.

And maybe it was because you were half awake, but you did. The smile he got on his face after made warmth shoot to your toes -all dopey and sleepy. You kind of just wanted to gather him up in your arms, and maybe fall asleep on his chest (woodsy smell and body warmth). Luckily, that urge didn't come to fruition.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell are you doing up this early?"

Not only was it odd that he was up this early, but like you said no one likes laundry duty. So why was he offering to help at all? If he had duties this early, shouldn't he be going and doing them? Why-

"'Eard it was your turn," he spoke, low and gravelly (you had no idea how to handle that), "- an' wanted to help ya."

You pressed your lips together, mind chiming 'wrapped around your finger'.

No one likes laundry duty.

"Thank you, Rick, but-" you started, "-I can tell you're still tired and I know for a fact you have a lot to do later today, so-"

"Nothin' to do," he hummed, wiping at his eye. Cute.

That had to be a lie.

"Asked Deanna for a break," he clarified, looking at you a certain type of way, "-Needed one anyway, thought I'd help ya."

"You're," you sputtered, a little in disbelief, "-You're taking a break day to help me with laundry? It is so much work-"

"Won't feel like work if I'm wit' ya."

Good god. Was he always this sweet? You couldn't have been that oblivious. Seriously.

"Guess I could use some company," you muttered, a little flattered but you tried to hide it. Rick just smiled at you in a way that made your breath hitch in your chest, you wavered on your feet.

"But, seriously," you added, "-if you need to take a break, on your break day, let me know, I'll-"

"'S long as you're workin'," he smiled, big and bright, "-I'm workin'."

"Is that," you laughed a little, "-Is that your way of making me take a break?"

He smiled differently then, mischievous, "Maybe."

You bit your lip and decidedly turned to the baskets, "Let's get to work then, Grimes, the faster we start, the faster we're done."

He joined your side, close enough to touch, it made your head spin a little. Before speaking, low like maybe a mutter, and maybe even nervous-

"Ya mind if I stick by ya for the day? 'Ve got nothin' else to do, figured I'd just be wit' ya. If 'at's alright?"

Good god.

You swallowed, blinking, but not quite turning to him, "Of course, you... Yeah, of course. I mean, I might have more chores-"

"I don't mind," he hummed, gentle, already hanging up something -not looking at you, "-'s long as it's wit' ya."

You blinked, damp shirt in your hands, just staring at him. Watching as he carefully clipped up the clothes, big hands ever-so-gentle like he didn't just drop probably the sweetest thing you'd ever heard. Genuinely too.

Shit, maybe they're onto something.

You decided to ask around.

"Honest question, Carol," you hummed, thumbing through a few of the ingredients. It was your day to help her, it's probably one of your favorite chores. You really enjoyed her presence, she was a close friend. Long story short, you trusted her judgment.

She hummed, gently grabbing one of the ingredients.

"This may sound so stupid, just know that I'm acknowledging that," you clarified, now looking at her, "-but do you think Rick is into me?"

Carol paused a moment, trying to decide how to react maybe, and you could already see her reaction. She was just a little too polite to say it instantly.

"Shit," you muttered, "-really?"

She pursed her lips, looking at you with a little pity almost, "'Fraid so. It's..."

She fell silent for a second, you just watched -patiently.

"-Everyone knows," she continued, hesitantly (like maybe she didn't want to embarrass you), "-Rick... I think he's been into you since the prison."

"The prison?" you nearly exclaimed, stalling in place. No way, "-what did he-"

"Remember the week 'at you were sick?"

Right, you'd been a little delirious from something. Maybe a little more than a cold? Nothing super serious, you remember Hershel telling you that but you had to rest. He was pretty sturdy on that. Turned out you couldn't have been doing anything, it made you feverish and nearly sleeping all the time-

"Ya ever wondered who took care of you?" she questioned, directly.

"No," you laughed, "-it was Hershel, he was the medic-"

"You sure?" Carol countered, eyes peeking at you -leveling a stare, "-He was feeding you, gettin' ya water? Stayed by your bedside?"

You faltered, something in you twisting, "Carol."

You'd remembered something like Rick feeding you, bites extended forward, and maybe the low timber of his voice. You'd just thought it was you being delirious; you had a thing for him, so you just-

"Carol," you repeated.

"He was there every day," she clarified, turning to the other side of the kitchen, "-as far as I know, he only left to do farmin' and see Carl or Judith. If you seemed to get worse, he got Hershel. But... otherwise..."

"Carol."

"None of us said anythin'," she added, busying her hands, "-because he didn't. 'At was his thing, it wasn't our place."

"For all this time?" you scurried to her side -hanging on to every word she said.

"Well," she sighed, turning to you fully now, "-we kinda figured he'd say something by now."

"God," you groaned, throwing your head into your hands, "-I have to be the dumbest person on the planet."

"To be fair," Carol soothed, "-ya didn't know."

You couldn't look Rick in the eyes for the rest of the day, or maybe you stared at him a lot more. It was all so confusing.

You decided then and there, that you'd try the most trustworthy person. The one who wouldn't lie to you, a little because he respected you too much. It did help that he was most definitely Rick's best friend.

"Hey, Daryl?"

You'd arranged a run with a few newcomers, and frankly made Daryl come because you wanted to have this conversation.

He didn't speak, just sort of grunted. It tracked.

"You're probably the most honest person I know," you cleared your throat, "-and I am pretty desperate at this point for just... honesty."

He turned to you fully then, something like concern in his eyes. The guy was truly a softie at his very core, you probably treasured your friendship the most out of everyone but it was a close call.

"Everythin' alright?"

You pursed your lips, "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. It's a... probably stupid thing actually."

He kept walking forward through the aisles of the store you were in, stashing away some essentials. You were doing the same, well, you were trying to.

"Stupid thin'?" he asked, not looking at you.

"Yes, it's dumb as hell, frankly," you laughed a little, "-but I just... I guess I want to know the extent of it."

Daryl turned to you, eyebrows furrowed together, "What the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Rick," you answered, and he seemed to take a second at the name, "-Is he really into me? Like everyone seems to believe?"

He didn't answer at first, just simply turned back to the canned foods, "Carol tell ya 'bout the prison? When ya were sick?"

"Yes," you swallowed.

"Ya should know the answer to 'at then," he spoke -gruff and straightforward.

"Well," you tried to argue, "-it's hard to understand it. I just... I don't know."

Daryl said nothing, walking forward through the aisle. You followed him, keeping your eye out for more that he hadn't grabbed. And for a moment, you thought he wasn't going to say anything else.

Suddenly, he spoke up, "He can't focus when you're on runs. Deanna 'ates it."

You opened your mouth to ask just how he knew that, but he interrupted you.

"She complains," he clarified, before asking, "-Ya ever wonder why ya barely get put on runs? When everyone else is goin' in a cycle?"

"I..." you paused, mulling it over. When was the last time you were organically on a run? You'd arranged this one-

"Deanna don't put ya on 'em," Daryl explained, turning to you with some canned food in his hand, "-'cause she kno's Rick'll be useless. He'd be waitin' at the damn gate if he could."

You tried to speak, but he continued.

"He always asks someone ya were out wit' to keep an eye on ya. And 'en, when ya come back, asks 'at same person if ya got hurt at all. Scratches, cuts, if ya tripped probably-"

You didn't say a word.

"-I kno' 'cause I've been 'em," he clarified, and you were wordless.

You took a deep breath in, good god.

"So yea'," he answered finally, "-he's into ya."

And then, he moved forward and didn't say another word. He didn't really have to though.

You'd even watched this time, keeping an eye on Daryl and where he went after coming back from the run. And sure enough, Rick waltzed up to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. You imagined you knew the conversation.

Yeah okay, your mind chimed, he has a thing for me.

The thing was, he might've been hesitant but you sure as hell weren't going to be. You might warm him up a little bit though, maybe just for a little fun.

He was wearing a new shirt. Kind of weird for you to notice, but it was the apocalypse, everyone wore the same thing so often that it melded with them in your mind. You could still vividly picture what Rick looked like at the prison and sure, maybe that was for more reason than just that, but still.

You went a little on autopilot. Call it confirming what you already knew, basically. Or, at least, that's what you'd tell yourself.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the collar of his (new) flannel was askew -just a little. Bingo.

You waltzed up to him and Deanna with no particular air of anything. Just normal, you wanted to see it for yourself really (the laundry thing was very telling, but you wanted to see the little things). Rick stuttered to a stop, words halting in his throat when you showed up, and your heart flipped in your chest. Stay focused.

"Hey, sorry," you apologized, genuinely (well, kind of), "-I just gotta-"

Carefully, you straightened out his collar.

You felt his eyes on you the whole time (just staring), it made your heartbeat pick up a little bit but, luckily, he couldn't quite see that.

"-There," you cheered, just a tiny one, and you saw a dopey sort of smile spread across his lips (it made you feel warm down to your toes).

You pat his chest once, feeling his body heat thrum against your hand -eyes connecting to his, "Like the new shirt, by the way."

He looked at you in a way that somehow seemed familiar but you'd never really noticed. You'd been noticing a lot more recently, to be fair.

With one last apology (eyes dashing to Deanna, who in retrospect looked a little annoyed), you politely made your exit.

Finding anywhere to go, you spotted Maggie -who was already looking at you.

Shit.

She approached you before you could go anywhere else, and you readied yourself for the onslaught.

"What was that?" she asked, carefully.

You resumed your step, maybe with a little too much pep, "His collar was messed up. I fixed it."

"No, no," she followed your lead, perfectly in time, "-you... you're doin' somethin', what are you doin'?"

"I'm not," you answered -plainly.

Maggie, frankly, didn't believe you (obviously).

You weren't sure what you were waiting for, maybe for him to realize? You knew you could've just told him yourself, and you really were going to... but every time you tried to walk up to him, your throat just clogged up. He would look at you that way (all dopey and sweet and affectionate) and you just-

God, you were useless.

It was late, way too late for you to be up (you should clarify), but you just couldn't sleep. You weren't entirely sure what it was, but at the same time, you knew exactly what it was.

Every day that you didn't tell him was another day wasted. It was the apocalypse. Every day was numbered, and you could be gone at any moment and there was no time to waste. But, you tried and tried and tried. It just wouldn't come out. You weren't sure why.

You groaned, pulling your pillow over your face for a moment. You had things to do tomorrow, couldn't you just have this crisis later-

And then, there was a knock.

Pausing, you waited a moment just to see if it was even real.

Knock.

It was a strong one too, maybe a little desperate, and fear shot through your spine. Before you could think too hard, you scrambled out of your bed -the chill of the night seeping into your skin. Your mind was in one lane, survival. Someone was probably hurt, something was happening-

With shaky hands, you pulled open your door, words on the edge of your tongue-

"Rick?"

He was standing at your door, hair mussed and in his pajamas (still the low-hanging plaid pants, you noted). You let yourself look at him a moment, taking in the domestic view of Rick you'd only seen once before. Seeing him like this almost made you forget your worry, but it still struck a cord in your chest.

You frantically searched over him (looking for wounds or blood), "Shit, are you alright? Did you g-"

"I'm okay, I'm okay-" he moved his hands to your shoulders, and your mouth snapped shut, "-Everythin's fine, darlin', relax."

"God," you let out a breath, centering yourself, "-you scared the shit out of me."

Rick smiled at you a certain type of way then, sleepy and still with that little glint, and let out a low sort of chuckle. Hair all mussed and eyes half closed, it might've been the cutest thing you'd ever seen.

"Sorry," he smiled at you, something twinkling in his eye, "-didn't mean to scare ya."

You waved it off, before falling a little more serious, "If there's nothing wrong, why are you here, Rick?"

He seemed to take a pause. Eyes flickering all over you, a bit in reverence. It made you either what to throw up or faint, you weren't totally sure which one.

"Are you-" you spoke, carefully, "-Are you emotionally okay? Do you need me to-"

"I need ya."

You faltered, barely digesting, "Need me to what? Whatever-"

"No," he clarified, something in his eyes, "-I just need ya."

"What?" you asked -half awake, and unsure if he was saying what you thought he was.

"Y/N," he started, eyeing your now connected hands, "-I want... Shit, I need ya wit' me."

"Rick," you spoke, softly, "-what are you talking about?"

"I'm tired of not bein' wit' ya-" he spoke, like it took everything in his body to say it -a little like he was pleading with you.

It felt like your breath was knocked out of your lungs, and your heart was coughing up your throat. You felt totally and completely numb, all you could do was look at him.

He continued, eyes turning to match yours and grabbing your hands, "-I'm tired of missin' ya like a limb when you're standin' two feet away, I'm tired of always wishin' ya were closer, I'm tired of not tellin' ya 'at I think you are everythin' to me, I'm... I'm tired of it."

"Rick," your eyes were getting foggy.

"Darlin', I-" he let out a long breath, "-I can't do it anymore. I feel like I can't breathe without ya near me-"

"Rick."

"-Ya gotta understand 'at I-" he looked down (a little like the words were stuck in his throat), "-I... I can't function without ya. 'S like you're a piece of me 'at's just constantly missin' and it don't 'ave to be."

"Rick," you tried again.

"Y/N, I've-" he stuttered a second just looking at you, "-I've never felt 'is way 'bout anybody. An' I don't... I'm not even sure what to do 'bout it- I can't even think straight when you're gone, it... it stops everythin'-"

"Rick," you repeated, but there wasn't a lot of will behind it.

"Because 'ow am I supposed to be me without ya?"

You swallowed, heavily, eyes flickering all over him -maybe a little in reverence too. It felt like this was all a dream, and maybe this was exactly what you wanted him to say. Only one thought was rattling through your head, and you couldn't shake it, you're not sure you wanted to-

You spoke, breathless and maybe a little teary, "Rick, I love you."

Rick smiled at you so brightly that your knees felt a little weak, and your heart stuttered in your chest. God-

"You-" you laughed a little then, hands coming up to brush along his face (touching what you had longed to for so long)"-you're unbelievable. I couldn't even wrap my head around the thought that you could be into me-"

He just watched you, something shiny in his eyes (you couldn't tell if it was feelings or tears).

"-God you should've seen me. I asked like everyone in Alexandria," he laughed a little, and you gleamed, "-And... And I found out about so much that you've done for me. And you took a day off to do laundry with me-"

He laughed again, "Guess 'at made it pretty obvious, huh?"

"That, and-" you smiled at him, pushing some of his curls back out of his face, "-caring for me in the prison-"

He pursed his lips at that, maybe expecting you to never know. It didn't seem like he could stop looking at you though.

"-and you know what, not being able to focus when I'm gone on runs is pretty incriminating-"

He leveled the same look, and you could see his ears go pink. Cute.

"-or maybe," you continued, looking at him in a way that you hoped he understood (you were desperate for him to), "-when you dropped an obviously important conversation because I had a headache."

He just smiled at you, all dopey and affectionate. It made warmth bloom through your chest. Love, love, love-

"If it ain't obvious," he started, just staring, "-I love ya too. More than what I kno' what to do wit'."

You grinned at him, teasing, "Really? 'Couldn't tell."

He rolled his eyes at you, but was smiling so bright you couldn't take it seriously, "Ya gonna be like 'is now?"

"Oh, yeah," you answered, "-now I know just what you've done for me, and for how long. You're toast."

"Ya act like 'at's all I 'ave done," he countered, maybe smirking a little.

"It's not?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"No," he laughed, "-I was desperate for ya. For a long time. I did a lot to just be by your side, not countin' what I did for ya."

"Well," you smiled, moving your hands to curl into his hair, "-you'll just have to tell me sometime."

"Maybe," he hummed at the motion, and grinned at you, "-but the list is only bound to get longer. Might take forever."

"You know what, Grimes," you laughed, but you were genuinely, "-I think I can do forever."

"Me too," he grinned even brighter, eyes dashing along your face, "-as long as it's with ya."

Yeah, you thought to yourself (and maybe kissed the life out of him), I can definitely do forever.

#its griming time #rick grimes #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes twd #i know i got him

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dilfartist · 1 year ago

Text

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

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tarot-bimbo · 6 months ago

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Pick a pileく⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

How does your future spouse flirt?

1. 2. 3.

•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^

Pile 1

I see them being a little toxic but in a good way like more so In a teasing manner. He would like to show off his muscles and pick you up ya know do pushups with you on his back🥴. I can see him being very romantic nothing too much when he kisses you it's really fast and deep. After the first kiss he's working fast to get you in bed I don't think it's that hard tho 🤣 you fall for this persons face they may have a cute little doll face or just be really pretty to you and that's what you like. They like buying you things bracelets and stuff may even get you a necklace with something very special to the both of you on it. They may spy on you? They call that flirting I guess 😜. They like taking you on plenty of dates , anywhere you say you want to go the next day he will surprise you and take you. You may complain about work and he would give you a massage to help you lose stress. They definitely like doing your hair if they do that. They could simply like to cuddle and watch a movie they just like spending time with you doing anything. Your person really likes physical touching so anytime you two are touching they are definitely flirting.

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

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Pile 2

He loves to worship you like anything you want you can have it 2 times. He loves spending large amounts of money on you even if it's dumb shit and you don't need it but simply because you can. I see you might be a little spoiled it's giving daddy's little girl 🫣. He loves to take you on far away trips I am seeing when Aladdin took Jasmine and showed her a whole new world 🌎. They also fix things for you like let's say the cabinet door fell off in 5min it's back up. Believe me this dude wasted no time trying to make you happy . Anything that makes you happy he will get you even if it seems impossible HE WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN honestly he's such a sweet guy🥹.

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^

Pile 3

Your future is very shyyyy 🫣 so I don't see a whole lot of like physical touching. I think you two are like dating online 😂 I see a lot of flirty text. I think you both are very shy and that's why I am barely getting any info 😅. Or they are a very closed off person in General. I do see them really wanting to hold hands tho and like other soft things. I can feel the blush all over my face literally flushed with fever 🥵. I think they find you too beautiful to even touch at times and just want to keep you safe and clean like a porcelain doll. He likes to keep you dolled up all like a princess you both may be into dressing like royalty. Roleplay?

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^

Hope you enjoyed your pile♡

#soulmates #twin flame #lovers #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #twin souls #twinsoulflame #love reading #general reading

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year ago

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Hi! Can you make yandere head canons for miguel o'hara? I'm curious what kind of yandere he will be ;-;

Yandere!Miguel O’Hara Hcs

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ What it’s like having Miguel as a Yandere, welcome to the life.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Reminder! This is DARK CONTENT!! Thank you for the request! I may have gotten carried away with it… I also feel like this is more of a little fic than hcs, I’m sorry if it appears that way!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, DARK CONTENT, stalking, toxic relationship, controlling, death, blood, power imbalance, tracking, baby trapping…

Dark content under the cut. MDNI 18+

If you are an employee at his business, Miguel can be/is controlling and delusional.

Controlling people is easy for him, he owns a business, and quite a large one.

So, in the beginning, of course he’s in denial. But he wasn’t going to deny the affection you gave him. You just offered him a drink. He wasn’t going to deny your attention. He collapsed before a meeting.

Because of this, you became more affectionate. In reality, you were just worried about Miguel, you couldn’t sleep at night unless you knew he was taking care of himself, which is why Miguel issued you a watch. Lyla was built into i2t and it gave you access to Miguel whenever.

What you clearly didn’t know was that there was a tracker built into it, and Lyla kept tabs on you as well, per Miguel’s request.

It was all harmless, he just needed to know where you were 24/7. The location of your apartment, friends’ houses, favorite shops or cafes. Everything about you.

But one day, randomly, he thought back to the people he lost. He worked so hard for you, he couldn’t dare lose you.

Slowly, Miguel confined you to work at home. Then came the random visits so he could check up on you, but he was getting a good look at your apartment. Which room is what? Where’s the bathroom? First-aid… Things like that.

Then comes the stalking. The man has all the connections he needs to get what he wants. It’s easy for him to have people watch you, and if they aren’t good enough, then he’ll have to do it himself.

Which is why Spider-Man is always coming around when you’re in trouble, almost like he knows what’s going to happen. You didn’t find it strange, he’s Spider-Man. He should be everywhere and keep everyone safe.

It’s all harmless, it’s not like he’s purposely leading bad guys to you so he can save you, having you believe Spider-Man will always be there for you. Which is an ego boost for him, a very big one.

But your day became hell when Miguel promoted you to his personal assistant. It was from then on that he stayed in his office almost the entire day and you were there with him, running files, altering him of meetings, you had to keep him organized and on schedule. With his stubbornness, it was impossible.

It was like he was purposely giving you the wrong papers which made you look like a fool in front of everyone. Which ruined your reputation within the business. A once proudful, one time, and perfect employee is now screwing up simple numbers.

Which then leads you to talk about it with Miguel, he became your support system.

But being your shoulder to cry on wasn’t enough for him. But having you by his side, tabs on you, knowing your location… It will settle the dust, but not for long.

He’s going to start craving for more and more,

When you get into a relationship with him, he can become violent. But not directly at you, he’ll be punching walls, throwing objects as a way of controlling.

Making you second guess your choices of words. He’s jealous and highly possessive, manipulative and overly affectionate.

There will be days where he’d ignore you then a few hours later, he comes in with your favorite flowers and all doting on you.

“You must understand why I am hard on you, because everything I do, I do it for you.”

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who’s perfect for him and the other way around. So when an insect comes crawling into your life and putting thoughts into your minds, he has no other choice but to get his hands bloody.

He prefers slow and painful rather than quick and harmless. He wants the insect to know the pain of how hard it was to convince you that they were wrong. He might keep torturing them for a couple days before he’s done with them.

Whether it be a stranger, acquaintance, sibling(s), best friend, or parent(s)… Doesn’t matter who they are, they have no right to voice their opinions because his relationship with you is golden, perfect.

Even more when he finds the discarded pregnancy test, all his hard work and he’s finally getting rewarded. A dream he wished for, a family he desired for.

He finally has you where he wants you to be. Alone, scared, and confused. You swear that you were taking your birth control. He switched it out. Even with a plan B he gave. It wasn’t a plan B.

He has you scared, worrying about how you were going to take care of a baby without him, but of course, here comes his facade. He’s comforting you, letting you know that he’s happy with the result, and he knows that you didn’t mean to trap him. He trapped you.

He’s got his wish, and he ain’t letting that go.

Everything is supposed to be.

Yet there always has to be something screwing up his plans.

Even if you do run away and think that there’s no way for him to find you, he’s already at the hotel. Did you forget? How could you?

Like before, Miguel has connections and not only that, he’s Spider-Man. He’s going to convince you that it’s best to return because the baby needs both parents, no matter how shitty the relationship the parents have with each other.

What else should you do? Get married! Better now than later. Invite friends and family, who aren’t dead yet, to come join you and your husband on your happiest day of your life.

Locked down to a man who controls every aspect of your life. A man who will kill anyone who dares to say otherwise because they have no brain, until like him.

He knows what’s best for you, no matter what anyone else says.

#x reader #x female reader #dark content #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spider man across the spider verse #spider man x you #spider man x reader #spiderman x you #spider man 2099 #spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n

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moonxknightx · 3 months ago

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : SILENT STORM : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Wade Wilson x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You, a quiet new recruit at Xavier’s Institute, secretly harbors feelings for the unpredictable Deadpool. When you’re unexpectedly assigned to share a room and a bed with him, the closeness forces both of you to confront your true feelings, leading to the start of a tender romance.

THE X-MANSION WAS NOT EXACTLY WHAT YOU EXPECTED. You had imagined a more rigid atmosphere, where the weight of the world pressed down on every mutant's shoulders. After all, the X-Men were heroes, their deeds legendary in the mutant community. Instead, you found a place brimming with warmth, camaraderie, and a kind of chaotic harmony that felt both welcoming and overwhelming.

Still, despite the friendly faces, you kept to yourself. Old habits died hard. It was easier to observe from the sidelines, where you could process everything without having to jump into the deep end. Besides, you were new here, and everyone already had their circles. You preferred the quiet company of your books and the familiar hum of your thoughts.

But all of that was about to change.

"Hey, new girl!"

You looked up from your spot on the couch in the common room, your book halfway open. The voice belonged to Wade Wilson, or as the rest of the mansion called him—Deadpool. He was a living whirlwind of chaos, energy, and unfiltered comments, all wrapped up in a red-and-black suit. And, if you were honest with yourself, he was the reason you often found yourself sneaking glances when you thought no one was looking.

"Uh, hi," you said, offering a small, somewhat awkward wave.

"What's up, quiet one?" he asked, plopping down beside you, much too close for comfort, but you didn't exactly mind. He had a way of invading personal space that somehow felt...inviting. "What'cha reading?"

You held up the book cover for him to see.

"A classic! A fellow intellectual, I see," he grinned, then leaned closer as if to whisper conspiratorially. "I'm more of a comic book guy myself, but hey, to each their own."

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was impossible not to. His energy was infectious, and even though you tried to keep your distance, he made it difficult. Wade had this knack for drawing people out, whether they wanted to be drawn out or not.

"So, I hear we’re gonna be roomies," he said, his tone teasing.

Your eyes widened. "Roomies?"

"Yup! Turns out the mansion’s a bit crowded. Everyone’s pairing up. And lucky you, you get the one and only Deadpool!" He waggled his eyebrows, clearly finding the situation hilarious. "Don’t worry, I don’t snore...much."

You blinked, processing this new piece of information. Roomed with Wade Wilson? The Wade Wilson? You had barely talked to him beyond these fleeting conversations, and now you were going to share a room with him?

"Uh, are you sure?" you asked, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

"Positive! Just checked with the big guy upstairs," Wade said, pointing a thumb in the vague direction of where you assumed Professor Xavier’s office was. "He said, 'Wade, you’re the perfect mentor for our newest recruit,' and who am I to disagree with the boss, right?"

You weren’t sure if you believed that Professor X had phrased it quite that way, but Wade’s enthusiasm was impossible to deflect.

"Okay," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "I guess that’s...fine."

"Fine? Fine?! Rooming with Wade Wilson is never just 'fine,'" he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "It’s a blessing. A privilege! Think of all the fun we’re gonna have—pillow fights, late-night snack raids, deep philosophical discussions about the meaning of life and why chimichangas are the ultimate food."

You chuckled despite yourself. "I don’t think I’m ready for all that."

Wade grinned, his eyes crinkling behind his mask. "Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine. And hey, maybe you’ll even start talking to me more. I’m very persuasive, you know."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "We’ll see."

Moving your stuff into the shared room was surprisingly uneventful—until you noticed the single bed taking up the middle of the room.

"Uh, Wade?" you asked, pointing at the bed as if it had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

He followed your gaze and then let out a low whistle. "Huh. Well, I guess someone upstairs is shipping us already."

You felt your face heat up. "I-I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s not a big deal."

Wade waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense! This bed is big enough for two. We’ll just build a pillow fort in the middle. You get one side, I get the other. No funny business, I promise. Unless you count my sleep-talking, in which case, you’re in for a treat."

You hesitated, feeling a mix of nervousness and something else—a fluttering in your stomach that you hadn’t quite placed until now. The thought of sharing a bed with Wade, even with a barrier of pillows between you, was both thrilling and terrifying. But you didn’t want to let him see how much it affected you, so you nodded.

"Okay, that works," you agreed, trying to sound nonchalant.

Wade clapped his hands together. "Perfect! This is gonna be like a sleepover. Do you want the side closest to the door or the window?"

"The window," you replied, grateful that he was making this easy.

"Excellent choice," he said, winking at you. "I’ll take the door side. You know, in case any bad guys break in during the night. I’ll protect you, my fair maiden."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Wade was ridiculous, but he had a way of making everything seem less daunting. Maybe sharing a bed with him wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The first few nights were awkward, to say the least. You kept to your side of the bed, huddled up against the edge as far as you could go without falling off. Wade, true to his word, respected the pillow barrier and even stayed mostly still, aside from the occasional bout of sleep-talking.

But as the days passed, you found yourself growing more comfortable. You started to notice little things about Wade—like how he always made sure the room was warm enough for you at night, or how he would subtly rearrange the pillows to give you more space. He could be loud and obnoxious, but there was a kindness beneath all the bluster that you hadn’t expected.

And then there was your growing crush.

It snuck up on you, as these things often do. At first, you thought it was just admiration—after all, Wade was brave, funny, and fiercely loyal to his friends. But then you started noticing how your heart would race whenever he smiled at you, or how you found yourself looking forward to the end of the day when you’d both be lying in bed, talking about nothing and everything.

You tried to push the feelings aside. Wade was...Wade. He was larger than life, and you were just...you. Quiet, reserved, and maybe a little too intense for someone like him. You doubted he even saw you as anything other than a friend—or worse, a younger sibling in need of protection.

But the feelings wouldn’t go away. They grew stronger with each passing day, and it became harder to keep them hidden. Especially when Wade would casually toss an arm across the pillow fort, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep.

It was torture, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if it made things weird between you? So you stayed silent, your heartache hidden behind a carefully constructed mask of indifference.

It was late one night, the mansion unusually quiet, when you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Wade was beside you, his breathing steady and even. You hadn’t said much that evening, too wrapped up in your own thoughts to engage in the usual banter. Wade had noticed, of course—he always noticed—but he hadn’t pushed you to talk.

But now, as you lay there in the dark, you couldn’t stop thinking about the mission you had completed together earlier that day. It had gone sideways more than once, and Wade had saved your life more than once. You kept replaying the moments in your mind, the way he had shielded you with his body, the way he had looked at you with a mixture of concern and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"Hey," Wade’s voice broke through your thoughts, startling you.

You turned your head to see him lying on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at you. "You okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile.

Wade didn’t buy it. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You’ve been quiet—quieter than usual. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. You wanted to tell him everything, to pour out your heart and let him see just how much he meant to you. But the words caught in your throat, tangled up with fear and uncertainty.

"I’ve just been thinking," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"About what?" he asked, his tone soft and patient.

You hesitated, but something in his eyes urged you to continue. Wade, despite his usual chaotic demeanor, could be incredibly perceptive when it mattered most. He was watching you now with an intensity that made it impossible to deflect or hide behind vague answers.

"About today. About how you saved me," you finally said, your voice trembling just slightly. "I just... I don’t know if I thanked you properly."

Wade’s expression softened, and he shook his head. "You don’t have to thank me. That’s what teammates do, right? We look out for each other."

You nodded, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. It wasn’t just about today’s mission. It was about everything—the way he made you feel seen in a way no one else had, the way he could make you laugh when you wanted to disappear into the shadows, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him even when you knew you should.

"Wade, I—" you started, then hesitated, biting your lip as you struggled to find the right words. "There’s more to it than that."

He stayed quiet, giving you the space to gather your thoughts, his gaze never leaving your face. You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

"I... I’ve been feeling like I don’t really belong here. Like I’m on the outside, looking in," you confessed. "But when I’m with you, it’s different. You make me feel like I fit, like I’m not just some quiet, awkward girl who’s always in the background."

Wade frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. "You’re not just in the background. Not to me."

You felt your breath catch at his words, hope and fear warring within you. "I’ve been trying to keep it to myself, but... I think I have feelings for you, Wade. More than just teammates. More than just friends."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. You stared up at him, terrified of what he might say next.

Wade blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, almost tender. "You do?"

You nodded, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. "I know it’s probably silly. You’re... well, you’re you. And I’m just—"

"Don’t," he interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. "Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re amazing. Seriously. I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but I didn’t want to push you. You’re so quiet sometimes, and I didn’t want to scare you off."

"You... you have?" you asked, barely daring to believe what you were hearing.

He grinned, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I have. I’m crazy about you, you know that? But I didn’t want to mess things up between us. I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could at least stick around and be your annoying, charming roommate."

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relief flooding through you. "Wade, I—"

Before you could finish, he leaned in, his hand still resting gently on your cheek as he closed the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he might disappear if you let go.

The kiss deepened, all the emotions you had been holding back pouring out as you pressed closer to him. It was everything you hadn’t dared to hope for—warmth, safety, belonging—all wrapped up in the man you had been too afraid to love out loud.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Wade’s hand slid from your cheek to your back, pulling you closer as he whispered, "You’re not just someone in the background, okay? Not to me. You’re the reason I’m here. You’re the reason I stick around."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but this time they were tears of happiness, of relief. "Wade, I... I don’t know what to say."

He smiled, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. "You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you, okay? We’ll figure everything else out as we go."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you nestled closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The tension that had been knotting your stomach for weeks melted away, leaving only a sense of peace and contentment.

As you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that this was just the beginning. The start of something new, something real. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. Right here, with him.

Wade shifted slightly, pulling the blankets up over both of you as he settled back down. "You know," he said, his voice drowsy but full of warmth, "this whole 'roommate' thing worked out pretty well, don’t you think?"

You smiled, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Yeah, it really did."

"And just think," he continued, a grin evident in his voice, "we still have plenty of nights to practice this whole 'sharing a bed' thing. I’m thinking we could get really good at it."

You laughed softly, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. "I think so too."

As you drifted off to sleep, your hand resting over his heart, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this strange, chaotic, wonderful man who had somehow found his way into your life—and your heart.

And, as Wade’s arms tightened around you, you knew that whatever came next, you were ready to face it. Together.

🏷️: @stargazingcarol

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! 🫶

#wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #wade wilson fluff #deadpool and wolverine #ryan reynolds #x men x reader

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vivmaek · 1 year ago

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MARS SIGN OBSERVATIONS

♂ Pisces Mars - I think Lennie Small from “Of Mice and Men,” would have this placement. This is a person who is seemingly harmless, and yet they still managed to cause harm and destruction through indirect action. When looking at someone with a Pisces Mars, their innocence and an assumed lack of strength is noticed first. These are kind people. They would rather harm themselves over another person. Their first instinct isn’t to attack, but to defend. When angry, they appear to be caught up within a panic. A Pisces Mars is driven by their big dreams. They might not always know what they want out of life, and their goals and ambitions may change frequently. This does not mean that they are incapable of finding success. If anything, their unwavering belief in themselves and their ability to achieve the impossible is what takes them to great heights. Hope is everything for someone with this placement, it’s what gets them out of bed in the morning.

♂ Aquarius Mars - It's hard to pin someone with this placement down. Their actions don’t make sense to other people. Aquarius does a good job showing its eccentricity through Mars. The rules of society and the opinions of others do not dictate their actions. These types are constantly surprising people, and they like this. The public will often speculate about those with an Aquarius Mars. Theories are formed about them, no one can guess what they’re going to do next. In my opinion, this is the most rebellious Aquarius placement. They live their life in a manner that is truly unconventional. People with this placement are not aggressive, but they are clever. They like outsmarting people. A sense of superiority can sometimes act as a driving force. They go out of their way to make the people around them feel stupid if they’re in a foul mood. Their need for independence will never be forsaken.

♂ Capricorn Mars - Hard work doesn’t scare these people off. They’ll put in whatever energy is needed to complete a project or endeavor. A strong sense of ambition and an excellent sense of focus are traits commonly seen with this placement. They’re quite secure in themselves and exercise self control through all their actions. Discipline motivates them. They take their responsibilities seriously and expect others to do the same. A Capricorn Mars goes above and beyond what is expected of them. They do this through a step-by-step process and practical planning. Cutting corners or taking the easy way out is something you’d never catch them doing. These types want to maintain control over every aspect of their life. They become angry when plans are thrown into a disarray through unexpected events. “Going with the flow,” is not a strong suit of theirs. Their need for security is what motivates them.

♂ Sagittarius Mars - People with this placement are incredibly restless. They lack patience and need many different outlets to pour their energy into. They are easy going but are also quickly overtaken by passion. Crossing their moral beliefs is a good way to get them riled up. They like to believe that their opinions are more intellectual than they are emotional. When angry they like to get up on a soap box to lecture people. When people don’t agree with them, it can sometimes feel like criticism. They also don’t consider how their tendency to dish out brutal honesty may actually be more hurtful than it is impactful. They often act as a spark that ignites fire, in both a positive and a negative way.

♂ Scorpio Mars - The definition of “moving in silence.” Lots of people claim to do this, but a Scorpio Mars wouldn’t be caught making such a claim. They’re smarter than that. They know that hardship and struggle are inevitable. This does not scare them, but they also don’t fight against the natural currents of life. During certain points, their sense of ambition is so relentless that it becomes obsessive. But, this can only last so long. Rest and recuperation is a process they embrace. After acting on an immense level of concentration for a long period of time, they will need to take a step back to reassess goals. Rather than just accepting things for the way they are, a Scorpio Mars would rather make changes. If they feel that a path is ill-suited for them, they’re not afraid to change directions. Starting from zero is not discouraging and it is something that motivates these types. They have the power to turn nothing into something great.

♂ Libra Mars - Mars is uncomfortable being in Libra. People with this placement often struggle with taking action and are as indecisive as they come. They get caught up in what's fair and what isn’t. They have a strong need to strike equality and want every situation to be as balanced as possible. Some might be surprised to know that the ultimate desire for these types is to garner a sense of peace. They might unintentionally stir the pot through their inability to take a strong stance on something. They want to weigh all the options possible and can become stressed trying to do so. Being passive-aggressive is also something that's frequently seen with this placement. These types think they’re being nice when in reality they’re making people uncomfortable through their fear of being direct. They’re sneaky when faced with conflict but also good at leading people into a resolution.

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luveline · 7 months ago

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I love your KBD universe, I know that Beth is having a hard time with being the weird kid and I just have to say as a lover of weird things and people I would love to see something where Bethie comes home from school happy to have met someone who LOVES that she’s a little weird!

dad!steve and his weird girls <3 mom!reader, 1k

When you get home from work with the big kids in tow, Steve’s gonna kiss you stupid. With baby Wren gurgling on his tummy and less-baby Dove sitting by his head where he lays on the couch, he’s never been this happy. He’ll be happier when the big girls are home, but for now, he’s snug as a bug, treated by his second youngest to a buffet of affection.

“Love you,” Dove says, kissing his cheek for the tenth time in the last two minutes. He can’t stop laughing.

“I love you, too!” he says, shifting his hand to give Wren some more room.

“Love you, dad,” Dove says.

“I know, baby, I know. Thank you for the kisses, you’re so nice.”

Dove kisses him again. “You’re happy,” she says.

“So happy. Can I get another kiss, you think?”

He turns into her. She’s sitting too high to be cuddled; all Steve can do is take in her sweetness. He can’t believe how quickly her babyhood has passed into toddlerhood, and she’s been sort of a nightmare, but she’s also his little girl. She’s your daughter, her sisters’ sister. She was always going to be lovely, and Steve feels it like a loving punch as she noses at his ear. “Daddy,” she laughs, “you’re too warm.”

“I’m blushing, babe, I’m getting all these nice kisses!” He laughs like an idiot and decides he must hug her, pulling his arm up and scooping her into his chest.

She groans in annoyance before she realises what he’s doing, “Hug!” she says excitedly.

“Hug!” he echoes, wrapping his arm around her. She’s starting to look less like a baby and more like a little tiny kid, which he hates and loves at the same time. “Aw, I love you, Dovey.”

The door clatters open. Wren jumps at the sound, hiding her face in Steve’s neck, to which he gives a good back rubbing. “It’s okay, bubby, it’s just your mommy. Don’t be silly, huh? Just mommy. You’re gonna be happy when she turns the corner.”

“Shoes,” you’re saying from the door, though Steve can’t see you, he can tell you’re smiling. “Shoes, Beth, then you can tell dad.”

“Daddy, we’re home!” Avery shouts.

“I can hear you, babe!” he shouts back, not unkindly.

“Dad, I have something to tell you!” Beth shouts.

Steve hoists himself up into a sitting position, two babies in his arms, knowing you’ll know he’s laid down all day from the mess of his hair alone but not trying to hide it. You can do whatever you want on your vacation days, you’d teased. Just make sure you feed the kids.

“Hi,” you say, appearing in the doorway, two balls of energy at your legs that bolt for Steve the second they see him.

“Girls, I don’t have long enough arms,” he says, trying to cuddle them all, even though it’s impossible.

He finds himself suddenly relieved of the second youngest. Dove might love her father, but she adores her mother, and she hasn’t seen you all day —she slinks down out of his hold and through the mess of her sisters to grab at you, to which you gratefully receive her, pulling her up to station on your hip. “Hi, gorgeous,” Steve hears you say. Avery pushes him back, climbing into his lap with a happy sigh. “Miss me today? I missed you,” you ask sweetly.

“What did you want to tell me, Beth?” Steve asks curiously, grinning as Avery makes herself comfortable on his thigh, her arm wrapping behind his neck. He’s happy to see everybody else so happy, even if it’s hectic.

Beth beams up at him with her brightest smile in weeks. She’s been having such a hard time at school, Steve wondered if he could start homeschooling, coming home upset nearly every other day. It isn’t fair. His relief that she’s had a good day is palpable.

“Dad, there’s a new girl! Her name is Francesca and she’s got the same birthday as me and guess what!”

“What?” he asks.

“She said she likes being weird!” Beth’s eyes glow shiny with joy. “Cos Hilly called me weird, and she said she likes being weird. She said we can be best friends.” Beth hits his knee in her excitement. “She liked me, dad.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you?” he asks, wondering how old he’ll have to be before he stops tearing up at Beth’s good heart. He blinks quickly to dispel any tears before they can gather. “Her name is Francesca? When did she move? Do you think she wants to come for dinner?”

Your laugh is a snort. “Steve.”

“What? Friends come for dinner. Best friends! Did you speak to her mom?” he asks you.

“I didn’t see her.”

“Don’t worry, Beth, I’ll speak to her in the morning. We’ll see if they want to come for dinner or go swimming or something.”

Beth’s smile gets wider, “Really?”

“Yeah, really!” He gives Avery a little shake. “Did you meet Francesca?”

Avery nods. “She’s pale and she has big hair. Curly hair, too.” Her voice is a tad scratched, perhaps from the cold out.

Steve lets his weight fall into the arm, cautious not to squish your baby, a grin on his face to rival Beth’s. She gets the memo and climbs up, claiming that last bit of space under the baby to hug his stomach. He tries to wrap them all up, gurgly Wren, exuberant Beth, and poor cold Avery. “You coming?” he asks you.

There’s dinner to make. You ignore it, crossing the mess of the living room to flop down on the couch next to them all. Steve lifts his face in that way you always recognise, and is pleased as punch when you peck him quickly.

You don’t realise how Steve thinks of you, he’d say. Don’t realise he wants another kiss, then another, that you’re on his mind when you aren’t there, and dominate it when you are. He loves his babies, but he loves you too. He wants another kiss.

“Steve,” you scold lightly, surprised as he presses two kisses to the corner of your mouth.

“Sorry. Beth, tell me more about Francesca. What did she say exactly?”

Beth takes a deep breath.

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gyll-yee-haw · 10 months ago

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Could you write Donnie crushing on the reader and he walks in while she's in the shower or like changing and he acts like it's nothing, he apologizes and leaves so she can get situated and then that's that BUT he CANNOT forgot about it and he goes home being a perv thinking of how beautiful she is and he gets horny

Donnie doesn't know when to stop

Absolutely gross, hottest thing I ever wrote. I love pathetic men <3

Warnings: accidentally perv!Donnie, he's OBSESSED with you, masturbation (m), edging, ruined orgasm, he's so sub! it hurts, pain!kink, virgin!Donnie, unprotected sex

Fucking 3k words, looks like Maria doesn't know when to stop EITHER 😭

---

You had to do a school project together and he was losing his mind about it

Like yeah, you were friends and you used to hang out all the time, but only at school

Now he was going TO YOUR HOUSE

It felt so intimate just being there

It was nothing much, but he was so obsessed with you it made him act that ridiculous

He was so nervous that he just couldn't sit still at home, so he decided to head to your place, even though it was a bit earlier than you expected

He thought he could just hang out in front of your house until the time you were expecting him to come

The problem was that your mom was leaving the house and found him seating there

"Oh, you must be Donnie! Y/N is waiting for you, come in!"

He should have said no, that it was still too early, but your mom said you were waiting... so maybe you were ready? He shouldn't keep you waiting

"I'm going to work right now. She's in her room, upstairs." Your mom told him, before closing the door and leaving

So he went upstairs, obviously

You just got out of the shower, and was pacing around the room, a towel wrapped around your body, looking for a cute outfit to wait for Donnie

Your bedroom door was open, since you thought you were alone at home

Donnie was very shy, walking upstairs without making a sound, just thinking about what should he say to you, rehearsing in his mind what kind of greeting would make him sound... not terrified

He stopped immediately when he saw you

It was so wrong to just stand there and stare, but it was impossible not to

He watched as you placed your clothes on the bed, letting the towel fall at your feet

Felt like his blood abandoned his body

It couldn't be real, he must be dreaming...

But it only lasted a few seconds, until you looked towards the door and saw him

You let out a scream, completely horrified

Then you slammed the door shut

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? SHOULDN'T YOU BE HERE IN AN HOUR?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I swear I didn't... I wasn't trying to... listen." He tried to explain, but he couldn't find the words. He was probably more embarrassed than you. "I think... I think I should go"

"Yeah, you should..." was all you could say, sitting on the floor wondering if you'd ever be brave enough to see his face again

He walked home absolutely heartbroken. He couldn't believe that he had ruined EVERYTHING. Now you thought he was a perv... you'd never talk to him again

He didn't feel anything but shame and sadness until he went to bed that night

I guess that's when the adrenaline rush wore out and he thought about it all

It didn't last more than 15 seconds, but during that time you were completely naked right before his eyes... and so close he could smell the lotion on your body

Maybe he was crazy, but the fact that you were getting ready to see him...

He imagined you applying the lotion to your skin a few minutes before he walked in... you were probably thinking about him while you did so... I mean... you knew he was coming over soon

And as if the thought of you applying the lotion to your body wasn't enough to drive him crazy... now he knew what your body looked like

He shivered as the sight of your tits crossed his mind

His hand slowly traveled to his pants zipper

God, he felt so guilty for doing this, it was so so wrong

But his cock was so so hard :(

Poor baby, was in so much pain

Leaking already!!

But the guilt was eating him alive, you were his friend...

That's why he decided to torture himself a bit, would make it all a little less wrong... if he got some punishment, you know

He started stroking his shaft and he got close so pathetically quick

And then he stopped

His heart raced. He had never edged himself before...

He waited for it to fade, before starting again. And then stopping again as he got closer

It was quite addictive... he started to let it go further each time, stroking himself fast and getting impossibly closer to release, then stopping

His cock was leaking so much that it all sounded like a wet mess, masking his ridiculous moans

He started to imagine you there, doing it, punishing him

"Gonna teach you not to spy on naked girls, you fucking perv"

And he would moan "please, Y/N, I'm so sorry..."

I mean, Donnie has an incredible imagination, it was so convincing that he even cried

All while denying his release over and over and over again

Until he couldn't hold it anymore

It was an accident </3

But his orgasm hit him out of nowhere

He cried out "no no no!" as ropes of cum shot out of his cock

He immediately stopped stroking himself and placed his hand on the base of his cock, squeezing it hard enough to hurt

He ruined his own orgasm :/

And he just laid down there looking like a pathetic mess. Tears on his face, his hand and clothes full of cum but his balls still hurt so much from not finishing it

But now he was so so overstimulated he couldn't even dream about touching himself any time soon

Eventually, he passed out from exhaustion

When he woke up the next day, he felt absolutely sick

How the hell was he supposed to see your face at school

Let's be honest, that wasn't the first time he masturbated thinking about you (number was closest to 100th tbh)

And he could always look you in the eye as if nothing happened afterwards

But it felt different now that... he had seen you for real and you knew that

Oh god... were you mad at him? You probably HATED him

He thought about calling in sick

But some force was dragging him out of that bed

He didn't understand it, but the truth was that his obsession with you grew considerably and he just needed to see you, even if you never spoke a word to him again

And part of him... enjoyed it? The idea of you punishing him like that

So yeah, he went to school that day

But he avoided you like the plague

If he saw you in a corridor, he would run in the opposite direction

Spend so much time hiding from you in the bathroom

But he couldn't hide forever

You sneaked behind him when he was looking for something on his locker

"Donnie?" You called, making him drop everything inside the locker, making a terribly loud noise, everyone looked at him

You bursted into laughter, helping him pick some things up

"Thanks." He said, completely unable to look you in the eyes.

"I think we should talk." You said calmly, after seeing how nervous he was

"Yes. Y/N, please, I can't tell you how fucking sorry I am..." he closed his eyes, cursing himself mentally for being so stupid

"It's okay, Donnie" you placed a hand securely on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. I knew you were coming over, I should have been more careful."

He held his breath as soon as your hand landed on his shoulder. It was like your touch reactivated his memories. Then he was stupid enough to look at you

You were giving him such a sweet, sincere smile

God, you were SO beautiful he felt like dropping to his knees right there

"What if you walked me home today? Then you can stay and we'll work on the project. Forget anything that happened, we need to finish it this week." You asked

"That's... that's a great idea." He nodded, even though he would rather die than go to your house anytime soon

But as soon as he saw how okay you were with everything, he calmed down a little. So your friendship wasn't ruined...

You two caught the bus and talked all the way to your neighborhood, like you always did, nothing seemed to change

Then you walked to your house and he started go get tense again

You noticed and you held his hand as you led him through the house

And it wasn't anything new, you always held his hand when he was nervous

Aww a couple of besties <3

Soon enough, he was in your bedroom, where it all happened the day before

You sat on your bed, grabbing all the books you would need, taking to yourself (cause he wasn't listening) about the ideas you had

While Donnie sat on the floor hallucinating about how that was the exact same spot you left your towel fall the day before

If it was right now, it would fall directly on his lap

Like, he didn't even dare to imagine actually touching you, but he would kill someone to have that towel

He would hump on it like a beast

Again, Donnie's imagination is so good and Donnie doesn't know when to stop

That's the source of 99% of his problems

He felt himself getting hard

"Hey, can I use your bathroom really quick?" He asked, before he started sweating in front of you

You nodded and gave him the directions

He walked in, locked the door and splashed water to his face

How the hell was he supposed to get any work done with a fucking boner on

Maybe he should just take care of it quickly in there

In your bathroom, fuck

The amount of times those walls had witnessed your naked body...

He wondered if you had ever touched yourself in there

Yeah, my boy lost his mind

Started stroking himself fast, he couldn't wait to finish and just get everything done so he could go home

But then..... he had the worst idea ever

Cause after what he discovered last night, he didn't want to finish so fast anymore

He just needed to relieve a bit of the pressure, then he would feel better

His dick would probably soften anyway, then he would do something about it back home

He stroked himself until he was on the edge of spilling... then stopped, shoving his dick inside his pants again and going back to your room

Did I mention it was the worst idea ever?

Cause he walked into the room to find you laying in bed on your belly, uniform skirt barely covering your ass

You were focused on whatever you were reading, pen in your mouth

"Come here." You called, without looking at him

He walked back to where he was sitting before, on the floor, but stopped when you said: "no, come sit on the bed, I wanna show you something"

He wanted to say 'oh no, I'm more comfortable on the floor :)' but who the fuck would buy that

He swallowed hard and sat at the very edge of the bed

He didn't want to look, but he could see your pretty little baby blue panties from that angle

And he felt like crying

"I think I have to use the bathroom again." He blurted out loud

"Donnie." You sighed, sitting down next to him. "Are you okay? You've been acting so weird today..."

He knew it wasn't a great opportunity, but it was... an opportunity. One he never had before

"No, I'm not." He admitted. "I have the biggest fucking crush in the world on you. Always had. Since we first met."

"Oh Donnie, you're so silly." You chuckled. "I know that, I asked you what's wrong with you today."

"What do you mean you know that?" His eyes widened.

"It's as obvious as that boner you're trying to cover with your hands" you shrugged

My boy was absolutely flabbergasted

He went through all shades of red the human eye can catch

"You know..." you sat a little closer to him, taking his hands in yours. "Yesterday I was so excited that you were coming over... I wanted to dress up all cute. Picked up a time we would be here alone... thought that maybe, by the end of the afternoon, I'd get you to take my clothes off. I just didn't expect you to catch me without them already... that's why I was so upset, I wanted to take things slow, you know."

He was pretty sure it was all still part of his hallucinations, there was no way you were saying that

You looked down to his pants and you could literally see his cock throbbing

And he caught the way you squeezed your tights at that

"Can I kiss you? Please..." he murmured

"Yes, Donnie." You smiled, leaning close to his lips

It was the sweetest kiss in the world

Until your hand 'accidentally' bumped into his boner :(

And he moaned against your mouth

God, that made you feral

"Donnie, baby, let me help you, you look like you're in so much pain..."

His heart raced... it was like you KNEW

Like you knew exactly what he was into

But let's be honest, he was so horny he was into absolutely everything at the moment

"You don't- you don't have to" he smiled shyly

The most beautiful smile in the world, how could you not want to??

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" You said as you slowly unbuttoned his jeans

When his cock jumped free before your eyes, both of you could have cried. Him, from relief. You from the most absolute desire

"Tell me what you like, baby" You began stroking him slowly

"Huh?" He got all nervous. Everyone already thought he was a freak, he didn't need you to think the same. "I-I like you..."

"Yeah?" You smiled at him. "I like you too. You're so sweet, Donnie, can I ask you something?"

He nodded, bitting him lips to prevent loud moans to escape.

"Has anyone ever sat on this pretty cock?" You asked, giving him your best doe eyes

"No..." he admitted, a little embarrassed

Before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand, screaming "stop, please, stop..."

You stopped everything, putting both hands in the air and looking at him wide eyed

"I'm so sorry, Donnie... fuck, you didn't want this? You should have told me, baby, you don't ever have to..."

"No... I wanted this. I wanted this for so long... I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you..." He said. "I just... I was about to cum."

"Well..." you laughed at him. "Isn't that kind of the point?"

Shit.

"Tell me what's on your mind, baby, I wanna help." You offered, seeing how his cock was rock hard and extremely unsatisfied

"It's just that... I like to... hold it sometimes, you know? Feels really good." He admitted, absolutely ashamed of himself

Those words, on that shy tone of his, sent a shiver down your entire body

"Donnie..." you basically moaned his name. "You're so perfect... I can't express how badly I want you, fuck..."

He smiled widely. You kissed that shit out of that gorgeous smile

When you realized, you were already straddling him

"Can I sit on your cock, please? I swear I won't let you cum until you beg me, okay?" You asked

He never agreed to anything that fast, my boy was in HEAVEN

You removed your panties and he helped you slowly sink on his cock

You don't remember ever being that wet before, but it still hurt a bit, because he was so big :)

He was so horny he felt like he might pass out

And then you started moving up and down, up and down

Oh sweet baby boy cried again :(

I mean... all that was happening would be enough to get him desperate, but let's not forget how last night all he got was half of the worst orgasm ever

My boy was starving

"Please, please, stop, I..." he said, and you immediately stopped everything

"Oh baby..." you brought a hand to his face, wiping his tears. "Stop torturing yourself... three times in a row? Let go for me, baby, come on... can I make you cum? Please?"

Yeah, you said you were gonna make him beg, but you were the one who did it, i know

It's just that... Donnie is just a little baby who doesn't know when to stop :(

Of course he said yes, you asked so politely

You removed his cock from you, cause letting him cum inside would be too much for the first time

Considering the state he was in, it could send him to a coma lol

You stroked him so good, prasing him the entire time

"You look so pretty right now, baby, all fucked up for me"

"Come on, I want you go let go for me, you can do it, baby, you deserve it..."

Fuck, he never came that fucking hard in his life

You kept stroking and he kept shooting him load, all over your school uniform :/

He cried out so beautifully and you swore he wasn't coming down ever, he came so muchhh <333

And he just likes the pain of you still stroking his sensitive cock after it was over

Yeah, Donnie doesn't know when to stop :(

#donnie darko #donnie darko fanfic #donnie darko x reader #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic

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