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little-jana · 17 days ago

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"Good Girl"

Pairing: postprison!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: steamy, 18+, fluff, no smut

Warnings: kissing, Spencer calling reader a good girl

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Spencer giving Reader a lot of compliments and one of them makes her blush a lot.

Spencer had been different since prison. Not entirely in ways the team would notice—he still rattled off statistics, quoted obscure literature, and beat everyone at chess. But when you’d known someone as deeply as I knew Spencer, even subtle shifts felt monumental. He was sharper now, his edges honed by experiences no one should have endured. But when it was just the two of us, in those quiet, stolen moments, he softened.

That’s why I stayed by his side tonight instead of joining the team for drinks. Spencer had waved off the invitation, saying he needed a quiet night, and when I hesitated to leave him alone, he’d asked me to stay. It wasn’t much—a shared meal and a chess game in his small apartment—but to me, it felt like everything.

“I can’t tell if you’re planning your next move or plotting my demise,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair as he watched me.

“I can do both,” I said lightly, though the truth was, I’d been staring at the board for so long because I had no idea what to do.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m thinking,” I corrected.

“You’ve been ‘thinking’ for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

“Are you timing me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I glanced at the clock when you stopped moving your hand after your last turn.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, my eyes flicking back to the board. “Not all of us have an IQ of 187, you know.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The soft light from the lamp behind him highlighted the sharp planes of his face, and for a second, I forgot what we were talking about.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low.

“Better at chess, or better in general?” I quipped, trying to deflect the heat rising in my cheeks.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his hazel eyes unblinking and intent.

“Both,” he said simply.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to focus. This was just Spencer being Spencer—kind and honest to a fault. It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Finally, I made a move, sliding my bishop into place. I looked up at him triumphantly. “Your turn, genius.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the board, and he moved his queen with a casual grace that made my stomach sink. “Checkmate,” he said softly.

“What?” I leaned forward, scanning the board. He was right. Of course he was right.

“How?” I groaned, sitting back in my chair. “I was so careful!”

“That was a good game,” he said, his tone genuine. “You lasted longer than usual.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Your defense has improved. That last move was smart.”

“Then how did I still lose?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Because I’ve been playing chess since I was four, and you’ve only been playing for—”

“Three months,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, his smile widening. “But you’re learning fast. Good girl.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to fiddle with the edge of the table.

“Something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice higher than usual. “I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I said weakly, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone teasing now.

Desperate to change the subject, I stood and grabbed the empty takeout containers from the coffee table. “I’m going to clean this up.”

Spencer followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I tossed the containers into the trash. His presence was a tangible thing, and I could feel his eyes on me as I wiped down the counter.

“Good,” he said softly.

I turned to face him, confused. “Good what?”

“Good technique,” he said, nodding toward the counter.

My cheeks flamed again. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “I mean it. You’re good at a lot of things, but you never give yourself credit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think you’re overestimating me,” I said quietly.

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “You’re smart, capable, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You’re… amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Spencer…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch was so gentle, so careful, it made my chest ache. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shook my head slightly. “It’s not that… I just don’t see myself the way you do.”

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “You should. Because I’m not wrong.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and for once, I wasn’t afraid to fall.

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.

“Doing what?”

“Doubting yourself,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet kind of sadness.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My cheeks burned, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to.”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. “Spencer…”

“Yes?”

I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. But then his eyes softened, and I knew. I knew he would catch me if I fell.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Spencer's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “You do?”

I nodded, my cheeks flaming. “Is that… okay?”

His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that made my heart race. “It’s more than okay,” he said quietly.

I barely had time to process his words before his hand cupped my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin. He was so close now, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just stood there, suspended in time.

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away.

It started soft, tentative—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips brushed against mine once, twice, each touch careful and reverent. It was everything I hadn’t dared to hope for: tender, consuming, perfect.

But then I leaned in, my fingers clutching at the front of his cardigan, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, and Spencer’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

The softness gave way to something bolder, more urgent. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped me. Spencer stilled for a fraction of a second, as if startled by the sound, but then his grip tightened ever so slightly, and I was lost all over again.

He tasted like peppermint tea and something uniquely Spencer, and I never wanted it to end.

When we finally pulled apart, I was dizzy, my head spinning in the best way possible. Spencer rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice unsteady.

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of his apartment. “Yeah. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Really?” I asked, my heart swelling at the thought.

He nodded, a small, shy smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Spencer,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. “How could I not? You’re… you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to puzzle out my words. “I’m not always good at recognizing when people care about me,” he said quietly.

“Well, I care,” I said firmly, my hand still clutching the front of his cardigan. “A lot.”

He smiled then, a real, unguarded smile that made my chest ache in the best way. “I care about you too,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken promises, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Spencer’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I looked away, flustered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, tugging me closer. “You’re smart, kind, and strong. And you’re a good girl.”

There it was again, the phrase that sent my heart into overdrive. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the shy smile threatening to break free.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” I teased, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t take it. I hid my face in his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his cardigan.

“You’re impossible,” I mumbled against him, though my tone lacked any real heat.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he replied, his voice filled with gentle amusement.

I tilted my head up to look at him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

---

After we settled onto the couch, Spencer pulled a blanket over us, his arm draped around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed so far away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Spencer?” I asked softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“This is real, right?” I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

He glanced down at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Of course it’s real. Why would you think it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “It just feels… too good to be true.”

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “It’s real,” he said firmly. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, focusing instead on the warmth in his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to my forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his words echoing in my heart, I believed him.

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winterarmyy · 7 months ago

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He Hates Me, Doesn't He?

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.7k++

Warnings: angstyyyyyyyyy, but with happy ending because I cannot live in agony. miscommunication galore. 'I want to strangle bucky's girlfriend.' soft reader, cold/mean bucky. bucky should've grovel more. horrible attempt of writing verbal arguments. nothing much but pain.

Inspiration: I remember reading a bucky fic years ago and I like the pain that it caused me to feel. Idk why the pain suddenly came back to me lately. So, this is my take on the same idea. I haven't able to find it. But when I do, I'll reblog it in my another acc!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

y/n had always been a steady presence in the Avengers, known for her gentle demeanour and unwavering support. Her relationship with Bucky Barnes had blossomed from a quiet friendship into something deeper. When they first met, Bucky was reserved and hesitant, still grappling with his past as the Winter Soldier. y/n, with her gentle nature and patient understanding, slowly helped him come out of his shell.

She remembered the sleepless nights they spent together when they were on the run with Steve and Sam. They'd share stories, and sometimes just sit in silence, her quiet company offering solace to Bucky's restless mind. The unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing day. Bucky looked up to her, finding comfort in her presence, and in turn, he became fiercely protective of her. They'd watch each other's backs during missions, their synergy on the battlefield a testament to their deep connection.

And somewhere along the line, she fell for him. She had fallen for Bucky's resilience and vulnerability, though she never expected more, knowing that a relationship was not what he needed right now. At least, that's what she thought. Little did she know, Bucky had always loved her; ever since the day she offered him tea the first night they were on the run to Wakanda. Maybe she was just simply aloof, or maybe Bucky’s flirting skills weren’t translated the way he wanted, but they never crossed the line between friendship and ‘something more’.

Then when Jen came into the picture, it felt like things started to change. Jen was bold and confident, and it wasn't long before she caught Bucky's eye. Their relationship seemed to spring up overnight, and y/n, though hurt, tried to be happy for Bucky. Jen was supportive and caring, or so it seemed, and Bucky deserved happiness.

Now, as planned the team was instructed to moved into the Avenger compound for a few months to train new recruits. It had only been the first month but surely it was jam packed with endless of rigorous training sessions. The original team—y/n, Sam, Bucky, Jen, Clint, and his mentee Kate Bishop—were all assigned to train the new recruits, with additional of few agents from different branches coming in to help out.

y/n was heading to the training room; she knew it was way too early but she thought that if she didn’t get out of bed now, she might not even get up at all. To her surprise, she was not the first one. She saw a few new trainees were already on the way to the training room; some of them greeted her a good morning. She simply smiled at their enthusiasm.

The moment she entered the area, she overheard voices coming from the corner of the room. She paused, recognizing Jen's voice, which was raised and laced with contempt. Curiosity piqued, y/n stepped closer, staying just out of sight behind the white board. In hindsight, it might seem weird that she was sneaking around to eavesdrop on Jen, but she couldn't help it.

Initially, y/n liked Jen. She tried to welcome her into their tight-knit group and even supported her relationship with Bucky. However, as time went on, Jen began acting strange. The things she said about Bucky sometimes sounded condescending. She would make comments like, "It's amazing how well he's adjusted, considering his past," or, "It's great that he's trying so hard to be normal." The way she acted often differed from her words, with Jen giving Bucky disapproving glances or sighing heavily whenever he mentioned something from his troubled past.

She had noticed these discrepancies and started to feel uneasy around Jen. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jen’s support was just a facade. Now, standing behind the whiteboard, she strained to hear the conversation.

"…and honestly, I don’t understand how anyone can trust him," Jen was saying. "I mean, sure, he's got that whole 'reformed hero' thing going on now, but let’s be real. He was Hydra’s pet assassin for decades. The things he’s done? It’s unforgivable."

Her friend, another agent from a different branch, nodded hesitantly. "But you’re dating him, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you trust him?"

Jen laughed, a cold, humourless sound. "Dating him? Please. I’m in it for the fame and the perks. Have you seen the way people look at us? Besides, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But trust him? Never. People like him don’t change. They’re broken. He's a monster, and he always will be. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps again."

y/n felt a surge of anger rise within her. How dare Jen talk about Bucky like that?

Memories flooded her mind, flashing back to Bucky’s nightmare-plagued nights. She remembered the prominent dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that never quite left his face. The silent pain he endured, adjusting to a modern world where he felt like an outsider, magnified when Steve left. She could still see the wary, suspicious glances people cast in his direction, the whispers behind his back when they first ventured out. Before the fame he acquired as he regained his reputation after the Flag-Smasher incident.

She had witnessed his hardships firsthand—the nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, the moments of crippling doubt and self-loathing. But she had also seen his triumphs, the small victories that slowly built his confidence. The first time he laughed freely in her presence, the genuine smile that lit up his face when he finally allowed himself to relax. She cherished those moments, the sunshine that broke through the clouds of his tortured past.

All of this came rushing back, breaking the chains on the Pandora's box inside of her. The fury she felt wasn't just for the disrespect to Bucky; it was for every ounce of pain he had suffered, every moment of joy he had fought so hard to reclaim. Her eyes hardened with resolve as she stepped forward, her voice steady but cold. "Take that back," she demanded, her presence startling both Jen and her friend.

Jen turned slowly, a smirk spreading across her face as she saw y/n. She knew from the beginning about the cute little crush y/n had on Bucky. To be frank, everybody sort of knew about it, except for Bucky somehow.

"Or else what, y/n?" she replied with a mocking tone. "You’re quite pathetic aren’t you? You think that I can’t see how you’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all this time? Come on, now. Backing him up would not give you a leeway into his pants, y/n."

y/n’s face went through a range of emotions—shock, embarrassment, and then seething anger. Jen’s words were like poison, each one landing like a punch to the gut.

Jen continued, confidence oozing out of her cocky demeanor, "Besides, we all know that I can easily beat you in a fight, doll"

The use of doll—a nickname Bucky had given y/n from day one, when Steve had quite literally kidnapped Bucky from the government—made y/n blood boil. Hearing it from Jen felt like a personal attack, a deliberate attempt to undermine everything she shared with Bucky.

And it was true that Jen had graduated top of her batch from the Avengers program and had countless successful missions under her belt, but y/n knew this wasn't about accolades or abilities. This was about something deeper, something more personal.

y/n clenched her fists, taking a step closer. "You think this is about who can fight better?" she said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "This is about respect. You don’t get to talk about Bucky like that."

Jen scoffed, a cruel smile on her lips. "Respect? For that monster? You’re delusional. He’s a ticking time bomb, a liability to the team. And deep down, everyone knows it."

y/n’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, she slapped Jen hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Jen stumbled and fell to the ground, shock and anger flashing across her features.

She stalks forward like a predator cornering its prey, "I’m just done with your lies and your insults. Bucky deserves better than you." Jen instinctively crawled backwards towards the centre of the room. Seeing that she got the attention of the few new recruits she regained her composure, smirked again, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "You’re pathetic, y/n," she taunted. "Defending a lost cause." her voice was loud enough for y/n to hear but quiet enough that the others might not be able to decipher her words.

At that moment, Bucky and Sam burst into the room, followed closely behind by a new recruit who alerted them of the incident. Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in the scene—Jen on the ground, y/n standing over her, shaking with rage. "What’s going on here?" His demand was completely ignored as y/n’s mind was hyper-focused on the wrath bubbling within her.

"Get up," y/n demanded, her voice shaking with wrath. Bucky’s momentarily froze as he watched the confrontation escalate before him. y/n, usually so composed, was now a whirlwind of rage, her eyes blazing as she stood over a trembling Jen. Bucky had always known her to be fierce in battle, but this was different—this was raw, unbridled anger. "I'm going to make you regret every word you said. So get on your fucking feet before I rip it off you.."

Jen, still on the ground, looked up at y/n with wide, teary eyes, playing the role of the victim to perfection. "Please, I didn't– I don’t know what you're…," she whimpered, casting a fearful glance at Bucky and Sam, who had just arrived on the scene.

Bucky's mind raced. Why was she doing this? He stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "y/n, hey!" he shouted, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"

Completely ignoring him, "Get up," y/n snarled, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Get up and fight me. I’ll show you who the real monster is." Jen looked up, her hand on her cheek, disbelief mingling with her fury. "You’re crazy," she spat, scrambling to her feet.

Her response was only a furious shout. "I said, get up!"

"y/n, are you crazy?!" Bucky yelled, moving quickly to intervene. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving.

She turned her fierce gaze towards Bucky; her expression momentarily faltering at the hurt in his eyes. "Bucky, you don’t understand, she--" she began, but the words caught in her throat as she saw Jen's smirk flicker for just a second.

"There's nothing to understand," Bucky snapped. "You’re acting insane."

y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and frustration. "Bucky, you have to listen—"

But he cut her off, his expression hard. "I don’t care! You hurt her, y/n. You think I don’t see that bruise on her cheek?!" Bucky shouted, his face contorted with anger. His eyes, usually filled with a gentle warmth when he looked at y/n, were now blazing with fury. "This isn’t like you, y/n. I’ve noticed that you’ve never liked Jen, and I don’t know why. But this? This is just immature and reckless." His metal grip on y/n's wrist was tighter than he intended. She winced, her eyes watering not just from the pain but from the sting of his words.

y/n had never seen Bucky like this. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves. It was like being hit with a physical force, and she felt her heart breaking under the weight of it. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her anger flaring even hotter. "Bucky, you don’t understand," she tried to explain, but the words caught in her throat.

Bucky’s expression remained hard, the force on her wrist tightening painfully. "You need to grow up, y/n," he seethed, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You're always causing drama lately, and it needs to stop. Jen’s been there for me in ways you haven’t, and I won’t tolerate you attacking her like this."

The words cut through her like a knife. Her heart shattered at his harshness, at the realization that Bucky thought so little of her. She yanked her wrist free, feeling the sting of his grip lingering. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Believe what you want."

Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Bucky standing there, torn between confusion and guilt.

A gnawing sense of remorse tugging at him, but he couldn't shake the confusion and anger clouding his mind. "Jen, are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Jen, tucking herself to his side, managed to summon a few tears, looking up at Bucky with a feigned innocence. "I don’t know why she hates me so much," she murmured, playing her part perfectly.

Bucky fingers softly traces on her wounded cheek before his gaze switched to y/n’s retreating form, a knot tightening in his chest. He wasn’t sure why those mean words had spouted out of his lips. Was it because he saw Jen injured on the ground and his protective instincts kicked in? Or was it because Jen had been whispering doubts in his ear about y/n’s loyalty, making him question his longtime friend?

The truth was, Bucky had always relied on y/n’s unwavering support. She had been his rock through the toughest times, and seeing her so furious, so hurt, shook him to his core. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he had lashed out, unable to reconcile the image of Jen crying with the fierce anger that radiated from y/n.

As Bucky comforted Jen, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the image of hurt on her face, nor could he ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

On the side, Sam was only able to watch the scene play out silently, a frown creasing his brow. He had a feeling there was more to this story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

As weeks passed, the rift between Bucky and y/n deepened, fueled by Jen's cunning manipulation. In a private conversation, Jen planted seeds of doubt in Bucky's mind, suggesting that y/n harboured hidden resentments and intentions.

"I hate to say it, Bucky, but maybe she's not who we thought she was," Jen insinuated, her voice dripping with false concern. "Maybe she's been hiding her true feelings all along, waiting for the right moment to strike."

Bucky, already vulnerable and confused after the incident in the training room, absorbed Jen's words like poison, allowing them to fester and take root in his mind. He began to view y/n through a new lens, one tainted by suspicion and distrust. This single conversation, filled with subtle manipulations and insidious suggestions, was all it took to fracture the bond between Bucky and y/n, leaving Bucky cold and distant towards the one person who had always stood by his side.

Most days he would avoid eye contact with her during team meetings, barely acknowledging her presence when they were forced to interact. In training sessions, his instructions to her were curt and clipped, lacking the warmth and camaraderie they once shared. y/n felt each of these interactions like a stab to the heart.

She couldn't understand how quickly Bucky had turned against her, how easily he had accepted Jen's version of events without even giving her a chance to explain. The hurt festered inside her, eating away at her sense of self-worth.

Then one night, as y/n sat alone on the rooftop, staring out into the darkness, Sam found her there. He knew this was where she retreated when she needed space to think, to process her emotions. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her without a word.

"Why aren't you at dinner, y/n?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence. He could see the emptiness in her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing down on her.

She shook her head, her voice hollow. "Lost my appetite," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

Sam gently prodded, knowing there was more to her withdrawal than just a lack of hunger. "Is it because of what happened the other day at the training room?" he asked softly.

Instantly, her demeanor shifted. Anger flared in her eyes, directed not just at Jen and Bucky, but at the entire situation. "I don't want to talk about it, Sam," she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, especially when he knew how much y/n was hurting. "Come on, y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. "You can't keep bottling this up. Talk to me."

Her expression softened slightly at Sam's persistence, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. "Seriously, Sam, please just drop it," she pleaded, her voice wavering with emotion.

Sam could see the cracks forming in her facade, the vulnerability seeping through the tough exterior she usually projected. Without a word, he pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her bury her face against his shoulder.

As she clung to him, her facade finally crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He hates me, doesn't he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbreak. "Bucky hates me."

Sam held her tighter, offering silent comfort as she grappled with the weight of her sorrow. He knew there were no easy answers, no quick fixes to mend the shattered pieces of y/n's heart. But in that moment, all he could do was be there for her, a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

The dim glow of the kitchen's overhead light provided a faint sense of solace in the otherwise silent darkness of the compound. Bucky sat at the wooden table, his tired eyes staring blankly at the cup of untouched tea before him. It was a nightly ritual lately, this dance with sleeplessness and the haunting memories that lurked in the shadows of his mind yet again.

Footsteps broke the stillness, and Bucky's gaze shifted to the entrance of the kitchen. y/n stood hesitantly in the doorway, her presence casting a tentative aura over the room. There was a palpable tension between them, an unspoken weight that hung heavy in the air.

She cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was expecting Bucky to ignore her completely but he didn’t; Bucky simply shrugged nonchalantly, his guard seemed to flatter. "Suit yourself," he muttered.

As she quietly took a seat opposite him, a heavy silence settled between them. Bucky's thoughts churned with a whirlwind of emotions, each one vying for dominance over the others. His guard seemed to falter in the presence of her tentative yet comforting aura. The weight of his own vulnerability loomed large in his mind, drowning out the anger he had harboured towards her.

As the silence stretched between them, she felt a surge of compassion wash over her. She knew why he was awake at this time. She knew that the tea he brewed was to help him sleep. She was the one who planted that habit to him after all.

And despite everything that had transpired between them, she couldn't bear to see Bucky suffer alone. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she decided to reach out to him, to offer what little comfort she could.

Without a word, y/n rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Bucky's chair. He stiffened at her touch, his muscles tense with apprehension. But as her gentle hands began to massage the tension from his neck, a wave of unexpected relief washed over him.

Her touch was soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown accustomed to due to Jen’s unwillingness to acknowledge this side of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to relax, to let go of the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders. For a brief moment, Bucky allowed himself to forget the walls he had built around his heart. In her presence, her voice, and her touch; he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth that he had long since forgotten.

But then, like a sudden gust of wind extinguishing a fragile flame, the weight of Jen's words came crashing back down upon him. Anger flared within him, hot and fierce, directed not only at y/n but at himself for allowing his heart to yearn for her.

He pushed himself away from the table, his movements sharp and abrupt. "I don't need your pity, y/n," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "Just leave me alone."

With that, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving y/n alone in the suffocating silence.The disbelief that clouded her thoughts gave way to a searing agony that twisted in her chest. How could he say such things? How could he push her away so callously, after everything they had shared?

y/n buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. The weight of her shattered dreams pressed down on her, crushing her spirit beneath its merciless grip. She had never felt so alone, so utterly abandoned by the one person she had trusted above all others.

The pain of losing Bucky, of losing the love that had sustained her through the darkest of times, threatened to consume her whole. Each breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled her soul.

In that moment of crushing despair, she couldn't help but believe that Bucky truly hated her. The thought tore through her like a knife, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that no amount of time or distance could ever hope to heal.

As she sat alone in the suffocating silence of the kitchen, y/n felt the full weight of her heartbreak descend upon her like a tidal wave. She was lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, drowning in the agony of losing someone she had loved so deeply, so completely. And in that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find her way back to the surface again.

Unbeknownst to her, Bucky lingered just out of sight, his heart heavy with guilt. He wanted to go back, to take back his harsh words and hold her close, to chase away the tears that stained her cheeks. But the poison in his mind was too strong, clouding his judgement and trapping him in a cycle of self-destructive despair. And so, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to cry alone in the darkness.

The mission had already been tense enough, but as y/n found herself face to face with Jen in a location she wasn't supposed to be, the atmosphere crackled with an added layer of hostility. It was as if fate had conspired to place them in this confrontation, and her jaw clenched involuntarily as she braced herself for what was to come.

Jen's presence in that spot was no coincidence, and she knew it. Her suspicions were confirmed as Jen turned to face her, a smirk playing on her lips, a gleam of malice in her eyes. y/n's grip tightened on her weapon, her pulse quickening as she prepared for the verbal assault she knew was coming.

"How does it feel, knowing that Bucky hates you now?" Jen's words sliced through the air like a knife, each syllable carrying the weight of y/n’s deepest fears. It was a direct hit, striking at the core of her insecurities, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet.

But she refused to let Jen see her falter. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Jen's gaze head-on, her expression a mask of defiance. She may have been shaken by Jen's words, but she refused to let them break her.

Ignoring the taunts, she focused on the mission at hand, determined to prove her worth despite Jen's attempts to undermine her. But with each passing moment, the weight of Jen's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over y/n’s every move.

It was a battle on two fronts – against the enemy they faced together, and against the doubts that threatened to consume her from within. But she refused to back down, drawing strength from the knowledge that she fought not just for herself, but for the team she believed in with all her heart.

But Jen's relentless barrage of insults made it difficult to concentrate, her words like daggers slicing through y/n’s defenses.

"Aww come on y/n, bet you’re reeling in the loss right now, aren’t you." Jen continued, her voice ice cold. "The Asset’s little lapdog, clinging to him like a lost puppy."

y/n’s temper flared at the insult, her grip tightening on her weapon as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Jen's mocking laughter only fueled the fire burning within her, pushing her to the brink of her patience. "Shut your mouth, Jen," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Or I swear to God, I'll make sure that the team finds your body disassembled in one of these rooms."

Jen simply rolled her eyes, unfazed by her threat. "You love him that much, huh?" y/n had no intention to deny that fact; she does love him, "More than you ever could." her voice was firm and true. Jen’s smirk fell as she scoffed. "Ain't that cute, the Winter Soldier and his little psycho sweetheart."

Before y/n could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, freezing her in place. It was Bucky, his expression dark and stormy as he stepped into view. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in the scene before him.

y/n’s heart sank as she realized that Bucky might have heard everything. She turned around to meet his eyes and his face confirmed her suspicion; he heard it. Bucky had heard everything – every taunt, every insult, every word exchanged between her and Jen; even the confession of her true feelings. She met his gaze; searching for some sign of understanding of his emotions and the little that she saw was: disappointment, betrayal and guilt, mirrored back at her in the depths of his stormy blue eyes.

In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, to pull him away from all the painful memories and hurtful words; so far away that he would forget he had ever been taunted, betrayed, or made to feel less than he was.

Before she could utter a word, let alone take a step towards him, Jen's voice broke through, but it lacked the usual confidence. "Bucky, it's not what you think," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between Bucky and y/n. "I-I was just..."

y/n’s clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin as Jen stumbled over her words, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. She could see the confusion and hurt in Bucky's eyes, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her own heart.

"I-I mean," Jen continued, her voice faltering. "I was...um...just trying to...uh..."

But her feeble attempts to justify her actions only served to further incense Bucky. His brow furrowed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to hear any more lies."

y/n’s heart ached as she watched Bucky's expression darken with anger and disappointment. She wanted to explain, to tell him the truth about Jen's betrayal and her own misguided attempt to defend him. But the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her guilt and regret.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned away, his shoulders slumped with defeat. "Let's just finish the mission," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We'll deal with this later."

As he was about to walk away, y/n noticed a red dot on his chest, the unmistakable mark of a sniper's laser sight. Without thinking twice, she leaped towards him, her body acting as a human shield. Time seemed to slow down as she collided with Bucky, pushing him out of the way.

"y/n, no!" Bucky shouted, his voice filled with panic as her body slumped against his chest.

In the chaos, Jen was nowhere to be seen. She had slipped away, taking shelter and ultimately fleeing the area as she heard multiple footsteps approaching.

Bucky tried to pull up his gun, but it was too late. An array of bullets rained down on them. He felt the searing pain of a few shots piercing his own flesh, but it was nothing compared to the sight of y/n’s body being riddled with bullets. She was hit in the shoulder, wrist, thighs, and other places Bucky couldn't even register.

Rage surged through Bucky like an inferno, obliterating any semblance of restraint. He moved with a deadly precision, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. His movements were swift and unforgiving, every shot finding its mark with brutal accuracy. The enemy fell one by one, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps. The air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder, but Bucky's focus was unyielding.

Within moments, the room was cleared, the enemies wiped out in a flurry of rage-fueled vengeance.

The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving Bucky standing amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. He turned, and his eyes fell on y/n's crumpled form. The sight of her lying in a pool of her own blood shattered his rage, replacing it with a crushing wave of worry and panic.

"Hang in there. Please," Bucky hastily spoke, his voice trembling. He activated his com line, desperation seeping into his tone. "Guys, we need help. y/n... she's... she's been shot. We need to get out of here right now!" Panic coursed through him as he turned his attention back to y/n, frantically trying to stop the bleeding on her stomach. "y/n, doll…please" he pleaded, watching her hazy gaze. "Don't you dare give up on me now. Come on."

"babydoll, stay with me!" Bucky cried, his voice breaking as he cradled her in his arms. Blood soaked through her clothes, staining his hands. "Please, hang on, you can’t leave yet. I haven't told you... I haven't—"

Her eyes fluttered open, her breathing shallow and ragged. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "It's okay. Don't cry." Her shaking hands struggled to move, and with great effort, she managed to cup Bucky's cheek. The gesture was weak but filled with tenderness. "It's okay," she repeated, her fingers trembling against his skin.

"Don't talk like that," Bucky choked out, his own tears mingling with the blood on his face. "You can't.. I haven't told you...please doll..." His voice wavered with the weight of unspoken words and unconfessed feelings. He hadn't told her how much he truly cared for her, how every moment spent away from her felt like an eternity. He hadn't begged for forgiveness for his coldness, his mistakes, and for letting Jen's poison taint his actions. The guilt gnawed at him, each heartbeat a reminder of the words he hadn't said, the emotions he hadn't expressed.

He pressed her hand harder against his cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch anchoring him in the moment.Her hand weakly brushing against his cheek. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know."

Bucky's heart shattered as he clung to her, feeling her life slipping away. "No, no, no," he muttered desperately. "You can't leave me. Please, y/n. Please."

She smiled faintly, her eyes closing. "I'm here, Bucky. I'm right here."

With a final, shuddering breath, y/n’s consciousness slipped away. Bucky felt a surge of panic, but he knew he had to move. He lifted her limp body, cradling her against his chest as he ran towards the quinjet. Each step was agony, his own injuries slowing him down, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting y/n to safety.

"Hang on, y/n," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hang on. I won't let you go."

In the sterile environment of the medical bay, y/n lay unconscious, her body hooked up to various machines that monitored her vital signs. Bucky sat by her bedside, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. Every beep of the monitor seemed to echo through the silence, a haunting reminder of her fragile state. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing her bandaged wrist.

Memories of their time together flooded Bucky's mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. He remembered the gentle touch of her hand, the warmth of her smile that never failed to chase away the darkness.

But amidst the memories, there was also pain – the pain of their last conversation, the words left unsaid and the choices left unmade. Bucky's throat tightened as he recalled the day he had walked away from Jen, the air thick with tension and unspoken truths.

His voice was cold and final. "You almost got her killed, Jen," he had said, his eyes blazing with anger. "Stay away from us. Stay away from me."

Jen's eyes had flashed with anger, her words cutting like knives as she lashed out in frustration. "And what, you think you'll find someone better than me?" she had spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Good luck with that, Bucky. You'll never find anyone who would put up with your baggage."

But Bucky had remained resolute, his decision fueled by a sense of longing and regret that threatened to consume him whole. "Maybe not," he had admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd rather be alone than with someone who doesn't truly care about me."

Now, as Bucky sat by y/n’s bedside, the weight of his decision bore down on him like a crushing weight. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers trembling with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, babydoll," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I never meant for any of this to happen. So, please, wake up. I need you."

But y/n remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and weak as she lay before him. And as Bucky watched over her, his heart heavy with worry and regret, he vowed to do whatever it took to bring her back to him, to keep her safe from harm for all eternity.

For in that moment, Bucky realized that he couldn't bear to lose her – not now, not ever. She was his rock, his anchor in a world of uncertainty and pain. And as he held her hand tightly in his own, he prayed with all his heart that she would find her way back to him, to the love and light that had always guided them through the darkness.

The soft hum of machines filled the air as y/n stirred awake, her senses slowly coming back to her. She blinked, disoriented at first, until her gaze fell upon Bucky, who was sleeping soundly in the chair beside her bed. His hands were clasped tightly around hers, his face peaceful in slumber, but she couldn't help but notice the tear stains on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines etched into his forehead.

"How long has it been since?" she wondered to herself, her heart aching at the sight of Bucky's exhausted form. She carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as she lovingly examined his sleeping face. She couldn't help but smile as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips.

Bucky groaned as his sleep was interrupted, muttering something about Sam needs to leave him be; before he abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Hi there," y/n greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with affection as she watched Bucky's reaction.

For a moment, Bucky seemed unable to comprehend that she was finally awake. His eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. But then the realization hit him, and he threw himself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace as if she were the most precious thing in the world .Despite the pain that shot through her body, she managed to let out a soft chuckle, returning his embrace with equal fervor. The warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering chill of unconsciousness, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"y/n..." Bucky breathed into her neck, his voice trembling with emotion. She hummed in response, her heart swelling for him. "Hmmm?"

Not wanting to let go of her, Bucky called her name once again, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "y/n-..." She paused, her lips curving into a tender smile as she whispered in his ear, "Yes, Bucky?"

Bucky tightened his grip, his breath hitching in his throat as he buried his face in her shoulder. y/n gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "I'm here, sweetheart." The scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth against him—it all felt overwhelming. Emotions churned inside him like a tempest. Relief, guilt, love, and fear battled for dominance, leaving him raw and exposed.

She gently rubbed his back, her touch soothing and comforting as she reassured him, "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere.

Bucky's mind raced, images of the past few weeks flashing before his eyes. He remembered the coldness with which he'd treated her, the cruel words that had slipped from his lips, fueled by Jen's poison. He thought of the sleepless nights, the nightmares that had gripped him, and the aching void he'd felt every time he saw y/n’s hurt expression.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "For everything. For not believing you. For pushing you away."

Reluctantly, she pulled away, but not before wiping the tears from Bucky's cheeks and fighting the urge to place a tender kiss on his forehead. As she looked into his eyes, she could see the depth of his love and the pain he had endured for her sake. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home in his arms. Bucky took her hands in his own, his eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to her wounded wrists. "This will never happen again. Ever," he vowed, his voice filled with determination.

Moved by his words, y/n felt her heart flutter with emotion. She realized in that moment that she could never stay angry at him, no matter what had transpired between them. She understood now that they were both at fault, both victims of circumstance and misunderstanding.

With a surge of courage, she reached out and pulled Bucky into a kiss. Her lips met his in a slow, passionate embrace, pouring all of her love and forgiveness into the tender gesture. It was a moment of connection, of healing, of reaffirming their bond despite the trials they had faced.

The taste of Bucky's lips was like a soothing salve to her soul; it was intoxicating. It felt as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them entwined in each other's arms. When they finally broke apart, Bucky whispered those three words that y/n had longed to hear, "I love you."

Her heart soared with joy, and she couldn't help but tease him, "Took you long enough." her teasing words met with a cheeky grin from Bucky. "I love you too, Bucky" she blinked slowly. As he whispered softly under his breath, "Come here," he pulled her back into the kiss, their lips meeting in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, they could weather any storm.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I just needed to let this out lmao. It's been stuck in my head for several weeks. Thank you for spending your time reading this crap... honestly. Love you so much 🤍

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #tfatws!bucky #bucky angst #bucky fluff

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reidrum · 5 months ago

Text

castling | s.r.

A/N: another deeply self indulgent hurt comfort angst who’s surprised…i wrote this kinda fast so if it’s messy and cheesy sorry :/

cw: gn!reader (pls lmk if i missed something that doesn’t make it gn), hurt comfort, mentions of depression, ambiguous sadness, trivialization of chess, inaccurate chess jargon?, spencer is a darling

summary: in which reader finds it hard to open up and communicate their feelings with spencer, so he comes up with an idea to help

wc: 1.4k

not proofread sry

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

_______________________________________________

It started during a game of chess, when Spencer was showing you different special moves.

“It’s called castling, the idea is that you move the king two spaces towards the rook and then switch their places to allow more protection for your king than if it was in the center.”

“Why would you want to move the king towards the outside, that seems counterintuitive.”

“Smart girl, that’s a good question,” he says fondly, “It’s kind of a last ditch effort in a sense, the rook is essentially expendable but the castling moves the king out of the line from key pieces like the other king and queen.”

“So, it’s like a rescue mission.”

He smiles, “Like a rescue mission.”

You smile back and continue with your next move. Spencer watches you in earnest as you deliberate the best plan of attack, even though he knows he’s gonna let you win by the end anyway.

“How was your day today?” He watches your demeanor change quickly, your shoulders sagging slightly and your eyebrows furrowing. He knew the answer, he’s a great observant and even more so when it comes to you.

“It was…fine.”

“Just fine?” he challenges, moving his bishop.

You nod and move your knight. You’re waiting for him to move his next piece when you realize he’s not looking at the board anymore.

Looking up you see hazel eyes staring right back at you, “Sweetheart,”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He sighs, “You know,” he moves his pawn, “this isn't the first time that you’ve had a hard time communicating with me how you feel.”

A deep sigh leaves you now, it had always been a struggle for you to show emotion so openly to those you love, mainly Spencer. You just didn’t want to worry him with the throes of your mind, and while Spencer appreciated the sentiment he reminded you repeatedly that he’s there for you through it all and just really wants you to take advantage of that.

“I just want to help you, angel.” he says softly, “I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong, just that something is wrong.”

Tears well up in your eyes, “I know Spence. I—It’s just, saying out loud that I’m—whatever—makes it real. A—And then you get so worried and I get more anxious—“

“Hey. It’s my job to worry about you. Because I love you,” he places his hands on yours, “But, I was thinking what if we had a code word or something, just a single word, and you can say it or text me or anything and I’ll know that you’re not feeling well.”

Your face softens at his proposal. The irony you face is that your brain has convinced you healing can be done alone, that if you’re the one who fucked up the road you should be the one to repair it. While you know logically healing is more effective when you have support, it doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept the help you need, that Spencer feels you deserve.

“I think…that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” he replies, “Do you want to pick the word?”

You think about it for a few minutes. You don’t want to do a silly word like banana or chicken, you want something that maybe doesn’t sound serious but would still convey the intent of the code word.

“Does castling work?” you offer softly.

Spencer’s face morphs into something you can’t quite decipher, but to him it’s a mix of adoration, love, and pure empathy for you. He’s just so touched by the fact you want to use that word, after just discussing the significance of that move. It’s an honor that you trust him enough to be your protecting rook.

“Yeah, that’s perfect angel.”

You give a small nod, “Check.”

___

You knew he wouldn’t judge you, that’s the whole reason you came up with this system. It felt like an emergency contact, which it was, but in a “How bad is too bad before I call?” type of way.

Laid down in your bed, you stared at the glow of your phone with your messages with Spencer open. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, daring you to make a move.

Nothing even really happened today, it was just one of those periods where you were in a funk. The voices that lingered in your brain fed you disguised truths and cynicism, and it was hard to feel afloat with support when you couldn’t even tell what was pulling you down.

It didn’t matter though, your tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes amongst the disarray of your room which satirically matched the chaos in your mind were proof enough that maybe, you weren’t okay.

In this moment it would be stupidly easy to ignore it all and wallow in your own sorrow—Spencer was away on a case and you didn’t know when he was coming back.

So in a leap of faith, or perhaps a lapse in judgment, your thumbs twiddle a message out and press send.

castling

You toss your phone aside and try to avoid thinking about it. He’s probably busy, they’re on a case so he’s probably drawing out the geographical maps or maybe he’s on a raid or maybe he’s—DING.

Cautiously grabbing your phone, you slide the notification.

I’m on the plane, going to land in about an hour or so. I need to make one stop and then I’ll come straight to you, okay?

You stare through the blurriness of your eyes caused by your tears, the words blending together. Before the guilt of texting him and making him aware of your depressed state sinks in, another text comes through.

I love you. See you soon, angel.

Another choked sob releases from your throat, and you put the phone down before any more emotions try to infiltrate you. At some point you end up falling asleep on the bed, your body curled in on itself from the lack of warmth a nice blanket or Spencer could’ve provided.

You’re only stirred awake when you feel a soothing sensation on your head, long nimble yet intentional fingers sifting through your hair. You attempt to open your eyes through the thin crust it’s formed from crying so much, and you’re squinting for the first few moments of vision before registering the human in front of you.

“Hi honey.” Spencer whispers softly as you come to.

“Spence…when did you…”

“Just a couple minutes ago,” the hand in your hair comes to rest on your jaw, “How are you feeling?”

Tired eyes finally meet his brown ones and find nothing but reassurance and concern.

Oh. You’ve worried him now.

The last string of resolve snaps as your face crumbles in and you mutter out apologies mixed in with sniffles and sobs. Spencer moves from his knelt position in front of you to slide in next to you on the bed. He gingerly gathers you in his arms and tucks you into his side whispering it’s okay and you’re safe and i’m here.

After a few long minutes your breathing evens out. “You came.” you sniffled.

He pulls back to look at you with watered eyes, “You called. I’m so proud of you.”

You mumble under your breath, “I didn’t even do anything.”

Spencer shakes his head and tucks you right back in place, feeling the floppy fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, “I know a version of you that would’ve held it all in by yourself. Thank you for letting me be here for you.”

You turn your head into his chest further, letting the hot tears and snot stain his nice button up. His hands rub trails up and down your back, his head bent down to your ear whispering sweet nothings to you. With Spencer delicately taking your defenses down maybe you can finally admit to yourself that you were just too soft for all of it.

“Where did you have to stop by?” you wonder.

He smiles and readjusts you against his body, “I picked up Thai food,” “And some candy, sour of course. And there may be a Snoopy stuffie as well because it reminded me of you.”

You feel a different weight on your heart, not one that’s constricting but one that’s embracing, comforting. In a life where you’ve rarely felt taken care of, or even being worthy of that care, you know with certainty that Spencer would never let you go a day without knowing how much love and care you deserve.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction

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saintsenara · 9 months ago

Note

Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?” riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort #if wizards had the concept of safeguarding it would be a game changer...

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seduzist · 1 year ago

Text

one more time

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary. a failed marriage couldn’t stop you both to have a fun night, right?

cw. a little angst, smut, g!p! wanda and reader are milfs lol, drinking, smut, dirty talk, degradation, basically porn with plot. i wrote this really sleepy when i wake up i will proofread, sorry.

you liked to think of yourself as a great, great mother, and hardly someone would say the opposite, you only lets your twins eat candy on weekends, always do your best at birthday parties and were the most caring and lovingly as a mother can be without getting weird or overprotective.

but on the last week you felt you really needed some time with adults, not that you didn’t loves with your whole heart every second you spent with your kids, but you really needed to have a casual conversation with someone who doesn’t believe in santa anymore, or that doesn’t ask you how much is 100 plus infinite, or you would lose it.

so, when your coworker asked you to go for a coffee after your shift you thought twice about the idea of call your ex-wife and ask her if she could catch the twins after school and maybe take them to the park for an hour, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? that’s what you did.

kate bishop, the coworker who invited you, was very funny, it was clear that she was very nervous being by your side which you find cute and made you feel confident, but you just couldn’t enjoy the moment more than a little bit, you couldn’t see her as someone who could really make you feel anything, at all.

after all the talk you got back home frustrated, texting wanda if everything was fine.

[you]

hey, everything’s fine?

on my way to home rn

[wanda]

yep, we’re at the park 🛝

i’m gonna take them for some pizza 🍕🍕🍕

idk when we’re coming back but i let u know

😉

you laugh at wanda’s need to use so many emojis in every text, but thanked her in your mind to let you have more time for yourself, so when you got home you made sure to make it worth, you took a nice, long and warm bath and served yourself some wine, enjoying the complete absence of sounds of little steps running on the ground and the constant screams of “mom!” followed by a complaining about a toy or about it’s brother.

it was very relaxing and relieving but you thought about how it would be when they got back and started the chaos all over again.

fortunately, that didn’t happen, when wanda got back to your house the twins were dead asleep in the car, she only had time to call you before you open the door and see her carrying both of their unconscious little bodies to inside, each one of them resting their head in one of her shoulders. when she got close enough you helped her, taking carefully Tommy in your arms, making sure none of them would wake up, and guiding her to their room upstairs. when you and wanda done putting them in bed and cover them up with a spider man and a batman blanket, you made your way downstairs silently.

when you turned around to take a look at her, suddenly you felt something that you didn’t know exactly what was it. maybe it was the alcohol running in your system - it’s been so long since you’ve got drunk - maybe it was all the frustrations and thoughts you’ve had about her the entire day, maybe it was your fertility period or the fact you didn’t have any sex for the last three months. but wanda looked so, so hot.

with a slight blue jeans and a black shirt, her casual clothes didn’t have anything special as well as her face, with the makeup she always wears, but there was something really different, it was probably in your eyes.

not that this really mattered, because you didn’t even remember how it started, all you could really memorize is how her lips felt against yours and how her hands felt running all over your body, reminding you of the times you were still together.

reminds you of everything, your first time at the bathroom of her fraternity party, that was inexperienced, desperate and hungry, made you discover a few things about her and about yourself. the first time after your wedding, when she made sure to be the most intimate, romantic and loving night you’ve ever dreamed about before the honeymoon. the make ups after a fight, rough, careless, wild, it used to be the most common in the last months of the marriage.

somehow you felt it all over again when you kissed, not knowing exactly how it started, but just like the first time, you were desperate for more.

wanda’s hands reached the hem of your pajamas’ shirt, the silk was thrown over the floor exposing your breasts, the warm skin being such a sight for her eyes, and she wasted no time in closing her mouth around one of your nipples, with both arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

you could feel your pussy almost dripping, it’s been long since the last time you had anything, but now wanda was right there, and she could give you everything, her mouth on your breast felt good but you craved more.

“i want you, now.” you whispered, putting your hands on her cheeks and gently bringing her up for another kiss, in a desperate attempt to make her understand how much you needed her inside of you, but wanda never failed to that before and the cocky smirk she gave you definitely showed she was not about to let that be the first time.

soon, you were sat naked at the counter of your kitchen with her body between your legs, taking off her black shirt and taking just a second or two to admire her body, perfect just like you remembered, her perky breasts begging to be touched, but both of you were so eager. wanda looked like she didn’t had sex in a while as well as you, she was rock hard without much stimulation and when she put her jeans down along with her boxers, your mouth watered at the sight.

looked a little bit bigger than you remembered and made you feel scared for a moment, you knew that would hurt despite the time without it, but a small part of you wanted the pain.

“i missed you so much, y/n.” wanda said, a little breathless, catching your attention to her face again. her strong hands pulled your legs around her waist and her throbbing cock made contact with your center.

you both moans at the contact, so needy for each other, wanda takes one hand to her cock, jerking it off before positioning at your drenched opening, making sure to look at your face while sliding the head in.

the woman’s eyes lightened up when you opened your mouth and let out a quite loud moan, beating your lashes at her with doe eyes, begging her to fuck you without saying a single word, and that’s what she did.

putting a hand above your mouth to keep you quiet and the other holding your thigh to keep you in place, she started moving her hips, thrusting forward and making you let out moans that she would die to hear but this wasn’t the time. your nails sunk into her back at the painful feeling of being stretched out by her shaft, but still you enjoyed it.

“didn’t you missed it? being stretched out by me, hm?” her husky breathless voice in your ear sounded sinful and dirty and you immediately shaked your head as yes, letting out another moan that was muffled by her palm “you’re so tight, fuck, i forgot how tight you were.”

after her last inch entered you, which you take proud of being able to take without asking her to go slower, she takes her hand out of your mouth, immediately kissing your lips while your pussy adjusted her size, her tongue slipped inside your mouth, you tested like red wine and your hands find its way to flood her breasts, you felt her hard nipples against your palms and wanda had to break the kiss to let out a little moan at that, but soon her mouth were on yours again and her hips were moving.

the sensation of her cock going in and out of you was like heaven, her heavy breath against your lips while she tried to kiss you and swallow your moans was so, so intoxicating, she was all over you and you didn’t want this to end.

“you feel so good, you’re so good– fuck, wanda!” you did your best to whisper these words instead of screaming them at the top of your lungs, but at every thrust of her hips her cock reached deeper inside of you, stretching your insides in a delicious way.

“you missed being my little slut, didn’t you?” she said against your lips, her pupils so dilated to the point the green in her eyes almost disappeared. you agreed with your head, scared that if you tried to say something it would be too loud and wake the twins who still sleeps safe and sound in their room.

when her movements became messy and desperate, she brings one hand to your pussy, stimulating your clit in circles with two fingers and that’s how you knew she was close, you closed your eyes, feeling your own orgasm coming, the knot on your stomach getting tighter as wanda’s fingers became faster, as well as her cock inside you.

“cum for me.” she breathed out against your lips and you happily did.

your back arched and your eyes rolled in your head while your shaking legs pulled wanda even closer, if that was possible, the tight of your pussy around wanda’s cock while you came on her made her almost cum inside you, but she couldn’t and she knew, so she did her best to hold it until you finished.

when the last drop of your cum coated her cock she took it out of you, making you feel empty but the sight of her jerking off and cumming all over your belly while calling your name was enough to please you for now.

both of you panted heavily, unable to speak for two or three minutes, wanda rested her head on your neck, while you caressed her hair slightly and for a moment it didn’t felt like a mistake, it felt like pure love again.

wanda grabbed a napkin across the counter to clean your belly and took you to the couch, sitting comfortably by your side and then was your turn to rest your head on her shoulder. your breaths were still heavy and your legs weak, your sweaty bodies fitted each other perfectly.

“we have to put our clothes on.” wanda said after a while, and you agreed, but none of you moved.

the situation would probably be awkward for a lot of couples, but wasn’t for the two of you, maybe it was the intimacy you get after 8 years of marriage but it sounded just like casual conversation, except that there’s no clothes and no inhibitions between you.

“we’ll never do this again, this was an only time thing.” you said calmly, looking up at her.

“yeah, an only time thing.” she agreed, but if you wasn’t so tired to read her eyes you would know that deep inside she wanted nothing more to be with you again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #marvel #marvel smut #wanda smut #wanda maximoff smut

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kneecapsbelong2me · 2 months ago

Text

Marvel Women x Diabetic!Reader HCs:

When your blood sugar is low

Characters: Kate Bishop, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Wanda Maximoff, Carol Danvers

A/N: this can be read as platonic or romantic! Also, world diabetes day was last week, but here we are.

Kate Bishop:

Before you met, the food scene at Kate’s apartment was dismal

The only things she ever really kept on hand were boxed Mac and cheese, microwave popcorn, and chocolate bars

Now, (in addition to real food and snacks you can eat more regularly) Kate’s apartment is filled with all of your favorite carb-filled, high glycemic index snacks and drinks

When you go low, she’s immediately offering you everything under the sun

If your favorites are from abroad, she WILL order them, shipping costs be damned

If you’re having a super mild hypo, she’ll pop downstairs and grab you a slice of pizza

Kate Bishop is a bit of a hoverer

Constantly checking in to make sure your sugar levels aren’t going down further

She HATES waiting 15 minutes to see if you’re back above 70 mg/dL (3.9 mmol/L)

Lowkey more anxious about it than you sometimes

“Are you sure you’re not going to collapse?”

“Kate, I’m only at 68, and I had a snack. I’m fine.”

“That is not fine!”

Natasha Romanoff:

Natasha is super observant (obviously, she’s a spy)

Seems to know you’re going low before you do

Will tell you to check your blood sugar because she’s noticing you look a little shaky and out of it

Other times will rummage through your bag and hand you a pack of gummies just as you’re about to tell her you feel low

She keeps little hard candies/gels hidden in the most random places for you

Once you were out and she pulled a candy from a pocket in her shirt you didn’t realize was there

Will never force you to do anything, but will give you her hardest stare if you don’t immediately treat your low (especially if you wear a continuous glucose monitor [cgm])

“I don’t even feel shaky, and you know this thing sometimes shows false lows,”

“I can tell you’re about to go low. Here, drink this.”

“Where were you hiding a juice pouch?!”

“I have a lot of things hidden on my body,”

“IS THAT A GRENADE??”

Maria Hill:

When she found out you were diabetic, Maria did a whole bunch of research, including on the signs of hypoglycemia and how to treat it

She has your lows down to a science

If you have a cgm, she definitely has the app on her phone so it tells her when you’re going low

If the cgm says you’re low, but you don’t feel the symptoms, she makes you check with the finger stick

Has things portioned so each serving has exactly 15 grams of carbs

Makes sure you eat a more substantial snack with protein in it once you’re back in range

Keeps a journal of the dates/times you go low and how effectively different treatments work for you

“I think you should start having an afternoon snack. I’ve noticed you have the most hypoglycemic incidents an hour or two before dinner.”

“Hmm, okay. But only if you take a break and have a snack with me.”

“If that’s what it takes, deal.”

Wanda Maximoff:

Wanda is an even bigger worrier than Kate

She’s lost so many people in her life, and she’ll be damned if she lets you die from something she can directly stop

She keeps a closer eye on your blood sugar than you do

Like Maria, if you have a cgm she has the app to track

Wanda makes sure EVERY alarm is turned on and at the highest volume

When you go out, she carries more snacks than you do

If you have glucagon, Wanda keeps a dose with her, even if you also have one on you

The instant she knows you’re low there is a candy in your hand (before you can even access your own stash)

“If that doesn’t do it, I have three juice boxes, two packs of fruit gummies, and about two dozen hard candies in my bag,”

“Geez, Wanda. That sounds heavy. Which one of us is diabetic again?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay!”

“Sorry, I know. Thank you for caring so much about me.”

“Of course.”

Carol Danvers:

You go low while on Carol’s ship once, and she gives you juice from an alien planet and it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever tasted

She finds out how much you like it and goes back to the planet just to buy it for you so she always has some on her ship

Forget a phone app, Carol has low glucose alerts hooked up to all of her tech no matter what technology you use

She somehow managed to get your finger stick connected to her suit and her ship

If she happens to be off-world and she gets an alert about you going low, she stops what she’s doing to text you

But if she’s “close,” no matter where she is on Earth (or near it) when you go low she will use her super speed to get to you, even if you assure her your fine

“Carol, you really didn’t have to leave your meeting with Fury for this. I have my own snacks.”

“I know, but I’m planetside and I have that juice you like.”

“Thanks for always taking care of me.”

“Of course, I’ll always be here when you need me.”

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #maria hill x reader #maria hill #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers #diabetes #headcanon #mcu

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

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The Witch's Bodyguard

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda is in need of a new bodyguard and you are called upon to fill in.

Word Count:

Warnings: None this is just a set up and establish chapter

A/N: I'm so glad you're all looking forward to this series!

Wanda Maximoff; sure you'd heard the name before. She was one of the top celebrities around. You didn't pay any of it much mind as you worked security at a gala. Your manager had asked you to work there since she'd be there talking about contracts with people. She had other bodyguards under her, but she always favored you.

“Y/N?” You hear your manager, Val, called out as you stand on the balcony making you turn towards her. Next to her was Wanda Maximoff, you'd seen her around talking with a handful of others like Natasha Romanoff and Kate Bishop.

“What's up Val? Everything okay?” You ask immediately going into guard mode. She chuckles a bit, putting a hand on your bicep.

“Calm down. Nothing serious. Miss. Maximoff here was asking about you when she overheard me speaking so highly of you.” You looked over at the ash blonde, you had seen earlier someone playing the trailer for her upcoming movie which explained the blonde instead of her natural brunette.

“Ma'am.” You gave a nice enough smile and held out your hand.

“It is very nice to meet you…” Her voice trailed off, leaving you to fill in.

“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” She smiles and takes your hand. You see her eyes rake over you, assessing if you'd be a good fit. Currently you were wearing black army pants and a tight fitting black short sleeve shirt. As she looked you over, you swear you see her bite her lip.

“You said she's available, right?” Wanda looks away, back to Val, as if you suddenly don't exist anymore.

“Yes she's open right now. We can draw up a contract for you to look over if you'd like?” Val suggests earning a smile from Wanda.

“That would be lovely. Can it be ready tomorrow? My last bodyguard had to take a leave so I am I'm need of one as soon as possible.” You wonder what could have possibly happened for only a moment before your presence is being requested elsewhere through your ear piece.

“It was lovely to meet you Miss. Maximoff, but I'm needed in the main hall concerning a matter.” You take your leave with a smile, getting one back from both women.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You had woken up at 5am, done your workout, showered, and had breakfast before you were being summoned by Val for this new contract. Standing in the at home office with Val, Wanda, and a handful of lawyers and other important people from Wanda's team all gathered. You stood at ease behind Val wearing much the same as you were yesterday. Only difference was an army green shirt today.

“We need your signature Mrs. Y/L/N, can we get your signature?” One of the lawyers asked.

“It's Miss and yes you can.” The lawyer looked at the paperwork and Val then went back to you. “I told you to fix that, Val.” you hissed as you signed and initial on the lines indicated. You were used to this by now. You'd been through dozens of contracts with Val. You knew every word in the contract by now.

Your eyes flicked up to Wanda, feeling her eyes on you as you signed. It felt like she wanted to say something, but decided against it as you finished your signatures, pushing the papers back to the lawyer.

When everything was said and done most of Wanda's team left leaving just Wanda, Val, her manager Agatha, and yourself. There was small talk mostly of what it would entail. One of them being you'd be a live-in bodyguard for her. Sure Wanda had other guards, but you would be her personal bodyguard and she needed you at all times of the day.

You couldn't complain really. Leaving the old stuffy apartment you'd wanted to leave behind for a while now would be good. You didn't have to pay rent or anything. Food would be provided and you'd still be getting a paycheck each week. It was probably the best possible outcome you could have asked for.

“Well hire some movers to get all your belongings and bring them here.” Wanda spoke as you followed her down the hallway, her heels clicking on the hardwood. You took in the different pieces of artwork she kept around the house. Her home is mostly filled with white, gray, and blacks. The only splashes of color are scarlet hues every so often mixed into things such as a blanket or an accent rug. “This will be your room here.”

She opens a door to show off a rather blank room at the moment, but it's bigger than your whole apartment had been and it even has its own bathroom. You were a little in shock. This was a first for you being 24/7 for someone so you'd never stayed in any other celebrity's houses.

“Once we get your stuff here anything else you might need we can go get or order whichever you prefer.” You honestly weren't sure what to say.

“Oh thank you Miss. Maximoff, but once we get my things here I should be fine. I don't need much, honestly if I didn't have anything besides clothes this room alone would be enough for me.” She let's out a bubbly laugh at your statement.

“A minimalist. I like that.” She responds and you turn to fully face her.

“I did four tours in Afghanistan ma'am you learn to live minimally.” You tell her. She pauses a moment as if unsure what to say as she just looks at you.

“Straight out of high school?” She finally asks, but you have the feeling it wasn't what she really wanted to say.

“Yes ma'am. Did four tours and then met Val through a martial art class. I was trying to blow off steam in a healthy manner after coming back. We got to talking and she asked if I wanted to work for her. The rest is history.” You explain without giving away too much. You didn't like any one person knowing everything. She simply nods.

“Well if you need to grab anything we can go do that. Clothes, essentials, all the big stuff we can worry about tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Yes. You're supposed to stay close to me and if you need to grab your things then I'm going with you.” She says with a smile. Guess you were stuck with her now. At least she's nice. You've had to work with some people who aren't and you couldn't stand being around them.

“We can go whenever you're ready.” she tells you, starting to leave the room as you follow close behind.

“Ready when you are ma'am.”

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld @snoozingredpanda @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

#ley speaks #ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #actress!wanda #beefy!fem!reader #bodyguard!reader #bodyguard au #The Witch's Bodyguard #TWB

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scarlethexelove · 2 months ago

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Do You Hate Me

Pairing: Drummer!Kate Bishop x Fan!Reader

Word Count: 2335

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/comfort, Smut, Daddy kink, P in V, Cum strap, StoneTop!Kate, PleasureDom!Kate, Hints to breeding, Um not sure there is much more.

Pt 1

A/n: I must always give thanks for the help from @wandamaximoffsbadgirl on writing this one. This turned from idea's about Drummer!Kate into an impromptu fic. It was done before Kinktober and just needed edited up and finished. So that is what I did. Sorry that I didn't get the last fic of Kinktober done I just couldn't bring myself to write the last one cause I didn't really know what to do with it. Maybe one day but I'm not to sure. So to make up for it here is more Drummer!Kate.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Your fingers slowly trail down Kate’s body. You want to be able to touch your girlfriend, giving her the same pleasure that she gives you. You’re shocked when her hands grab your wrist and stop you. Her grip is tight, tighter than she has ever held you. “Katie that hurts.”

Kate quickly lets your hands go. “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to. Just please don’t touch me like that.” Her tone is harsh. She is acting in a way that you have never seen her before.

“Kate why can’t I-” Kate cuts you off.

“I said don’t.” It’s like you can see an internal battle going on within Kate. Her eyes showed a different emotion than her expression. “Just don’t touch me please.”

You’re so confused and hurt by your girlfriend's outburst. “Fine!” Your words are louder than you had intended them to be but you don’t really care. You get up and walk out of the room. You don’t know where you are going but you just put on your shoes and walk out the door.

It’s only a few minutes later before Kate gets up and goes looking for you knowing that she needs to explain to you why she stopped you. But panic takes over when she realizes you're not there anymore. Your shoes and keys are gone from beside the door. She quickly throws on her boots and runs out the door.

It’s dark out and the air is damp as you walk along the eerily quiet streets. You don’t know how you walk but the hurt doesn’t seem to leave you. You never thought you were good enough for Kate and this just solidifies your spiraling thoughts. That you will never be good enough for her.

Your face scrunches when you feel cold water drop down on your face. You look up as the sky fills with little droplets of water. The rain starts to fall down steadily making you let out a groan. You already feel terrible and now this. You accept your fate as you sit down on the bench a few steps behind you. Letting the cold rain soak into your skin as your fight with Kate swirls in your mind. You dropped everything to be with Kate and now she doesn’t want you. You’re alone and cold.

Kate begins to panic more when the rain begins to fall. The storm clouds above let's all the held water fall down. She doesn’t know where you went and now it’s raining. All she wants is for you to be back in her arms, to explain everything. She wants you to understand just how much she loves you and that will never change in her eyes. So she runs looking wherever she can to find you. How could you have gone so far in so little time.

You don’t know how long you sit there for, until you hear your name being called while Kate is running up to you. She pulls you up and hugs you tightly. She pulls you back a little to look you over. “I was so worried.” Kate has tears in her eyes.

“What does it matter, Kathrine.” It stung when you used her full name.

“Oh Y/n/n, come on, don't be like that, please. Just come back with me, we can have a bath together and I'll explain myself.” Kate tries and you want to say no but she's giving puppy eyes.

Kate tries to hold your hand, but you pull it back and cross your arms. You follow behind her, still hurt and salty. You're both dripping wet when you both get inside.

Kate starts the bath and goes to help you undress. “I can do it myself.” You snap. Kate pulls back, mumbling out an okay before turning away to undress herself. When you're done pulling off your wet clothes, you step into the warm bath. Sinking into it, you let out a moan as the warmth elopes you. Kate stands there bouncing on the balls of her feet unsure now if she should join you.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” You ask feeling awkward now that Kate was second guessing if she should join you. She cautiously steps into the bath in front of you. Sinking down and sitting in front of you.

Kate looks down and plays with her fingers. “I'm sorry.” She mumbles. You've never seen her so reserved which makes you feel bad for being so mad.

You chew on your lip, taking in a deep breath. “I just... did I do something wrong? Do...do you not want me, Kate? I just...I wanna make you feel just as good as you make me feel.”

Kate reaches out, brushing your tears away. “Baby, it absolutely is not that. You do make me feel good, better than I've ever felt.” Kate cups your cheek, a soft smile on her face.

You look into her eyes, tears still shining. “Then why?”

Kate takes a deep breath trying to gather her thoughts. “Princess I get off just from watching you. I don't need it and I don't particularly like it either. It's nothing to do with you. I am more than satisfied.”

You look at her mulling over her words. “S-so you're um what's it called.”

Kate smiles. “Stone top. Yes.”

“Ohhhhh.” You think for a moment, brow furrowing. “S-so you don't like hate me? Or think I'm disgusting? Or–” Kate cuts you off, pulling you into a deep kiss. You whimper into it before melting into her.

“I think you are the most amazing girl in the whole world.” Kate beatles against your lips.

You lean your body into hers. “I don't deserve you.” You mumble.

“Don't ever say that princess. I don't know what I would do without you. The day I saw you my life changed for the better.” You want to touch her, but you hesitate. Your hands hovering, almost ghosting over her skin. “Go ahead, princess.” Your head shoots up, eyes meeting hers.

You lean more into her and lay your head on her chest as you let yourself lazily draw patterns on her chest, letting your fingers drift down slowly.

Kate let's out a soft noise. Softer than you've ever heard out of your girlfriend. You lay your head on her chest, taking a deep breathing, letting your hand fall, brushing past her nipple. You feel as her breath quickens slightly at the sensation. You trace your fingers around her nipple waiting to see if she stops you. She lets out a shuttered breath. You smile, letting your thumb brush across her now hardened nipple

“Is this ok baby?” You ask, actually stopping what you're doing. She lets out a soft moan. You look up at her and you pull her down to kiss her. You still tease her nipple as you swallow her whimpers. You keep teasing, seeing how far you can push her as you roll her pebbled nipple between your fingers. She finally grabs your wrist, pulling both behind your back.

“You're playing a dangerous game, princess.” Kate husks against the shell of your ear.

You gasp. “What are you going to do Daddy? Hmmm, punish me.” You tease her knowing that you hadn't actually done anything to warrant one but just want to press her buttons a little.

Kate is quick to stand lifting you up with her. Not caring about leaving a wet trail behind you both.

“I'm not going to punish you princess but I'm going to make sure you can't walk tomorrow.”

Shivering at her words.You cling tight to her. “Oh will you Daddy?” You try to sound tough, but you know that she knows.

Kate tosses you on the bed, making you squeak before crawling to hover over you. “Oh princess, I'm going to use my biggest strap. You know that new one special one we just got. I'm going to slit that pretty little pussy open.” She growls and kisses you harshly.

You feel your body heat up at the mention of the new strap. A thick purple one that was cum filled. A whimper leaving you. “Please Daddy I've been wanting to get to use it!' You started begging already forgetting about what happened earlier.

Kate chuckles at your neediness. “Look at you begging Daddy to fuck you. You want me to stretch that pretty little pussy around my big strap hmm.”

You whine at the thought. “Please.” Kate leans down, giving you a kiss before leaving to go grab the strap. Coming out, and the moment you see her, you clench around nothing. “Fuck...Daddy…” She smirks as she gets closer to you.

“Tell Daddy exactly what you want, Princess.” Kate is cocky knowing she has you right where she wants you.

You squirm as you look at the large size. “Wa-want Daddy to fuck me.”

Kate gives you a faux pout. “Princess, you need to tell me how. You want Daddy to shove that pretty face into the pillows as I fuck you from behind.” You clench at the thought and nod. “Words princess.” She reminds you.

A whine coming out of your throat. “Please Daddy want you to fuck me from behind and push me into the pillows. Want to scream so loud for you the pillows don't muffle it. Please.” You see her eyes dilate at your words. Light blues become dark like a storm.

You watch as Kate’s calm demeanor turns to feral. “Hands and knees princess.” She growls out. You barely have time to get into the position before Kate is behind you. “Fuck I can't wait to ruin you.” Her hands caress your hips. You instantly want to fall apart for her. Do exactly as she asks. Your pleasure is hers and hers is yours. You feel her slowly push through your folds, getting herself all slicked up before you feel the tip at your entrance. You shiver and whimper.

“Please Daddy...please…” Kate slowly pushes her hips forward. Your walls stretch to accommodate her large size. Though the stretch is slightly painful, it feels so good. Your arms are already wobbly the further she pushes in. You're already panting from it all. Already so overwhelming. Her hand goes on the back of your head, grabbing your hair as she starts thrusting, setting a brutal pace that has your head spinning.

“Fuck you always feel so good taking my cock like a good little slut. You're Daddy's slut, aren't you?” Kate grunts with every thrust of her hips.

You moan loudly as words fail you. Your brain instantly turning to mush as she fucks you.

When you don't answer Kate stops. She wraps her hand around your throat and pulls you back against her chest and whispers in your ear. “Daddy asked you a question princess. Are you Daddy's slut?” You whimper.

“Mmm I-I Da-Daddy's little sl-slut.” Kate lets go of your neck and pushes your face down into the pillow.

“Good girl.” Kate grunts as she picks the pace back up.

You moan loudly, what else are you supposed to do because words aren't an option. “Ah...ah...ah…” It's the only thing coming out, but you're practically screaming as she hits your spot just right.

Kate is panting above you as your walls suck her in. She reaches down between your legs, finding your clit and circling her fingers around. You can't help the scream that escapes your lips. Your body is trembling under her as you're so close to falling over the edge.

“Ah...Daddy...fuck fuck please...I'm gonna...gonna cum!” You hear the chuckle the rumbles out of her.

“You want to cum all over Daddy's cock? Hm?” Kate asks and suddenly you're shy again. Just like always though Kate secretly hoped you'd never stop being like this with her.

“Please Daddy let me cum on your cock.” Kate lets out a satisfied hum before pulling you up against her and whispering in your ear.

“Do you want Daddy to fill you up princess?” Kate’s thrusts are still hitting you perfectly deep inside that your legs are trembling. You're so close to falling over the edge.

You whine and nod so desperately. “Pl-please daddy want your cum.” It comes out as a whimper, but your words satisfy the drummer.

“Cum on my cock princess, Daddy's going to fill you nice and full.” That's all it takes as your eyes roll back in your head and you cum harder than you ever have in your life. Your walls desperately sucking Kate’s cock further in as she continues to pound into you.

As you ride out your high, Kate's powerful thrusts down slow as she finally releases the cum deep inside of you. The added feeling of being filled causes another smaller orgasm to rip through you. “A-Ah fuck Daddy.” Your moans are loud, bouncing off the walls.

You think Kate will slow down now that she has filled you up but she doesn’t. You let out a small whine and Kate shushes you softly. “Daddy hasn’t cum yet and Daddy promised you princess that you won’t be walking when I’m through with you.” She nibbles on your ear causing you to gasp. “I’m going to keep filling this pretty little pussy till you're dripping with my sweet sweet cum.”

By the end of the night you have lost count on how many times that you have cum and Kate has even lost count of how many times she has. Your bodies now in a tangled mess of limbs as your body lays on top of your girlfriends. Kate insists that the strap stays buried deep inside you. A promise to wake you up close to another orgasm. You’re slowly drifting off to sleep when you feel lips pressed to your head and a whispered I love you from Kate. You’re so exhausted that you slur out an unfinished I love you to Kate as sleep takes over.

#syd speaks #kate bishop fic #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop smut #kate bishop fanfic #kate x reader #kate x y/n #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader smut #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x reader #drummer!kate #fan!reader

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florencebirdsong · 17 days ago

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The Only Gift I Need Is (The Smell Of) You

Kate Bishop x Reader

summary: what better present to give to your horny girlfriend then fulfilling a kink of hers

or, kate loves the smell of your cunt

tags: scent kink, masturbation, fingering, praise kink, light degradation, top reader, bottom Kate

authors note: short kate bishop fic for kate bishop season :) 🎄❄️

reader is wearing Kate’s boxers

ao3 | masterlist

“Kate!” you call out from the comfortable spot against the headboard.

“Yeah?” she walks in curiously.

“It’s time for your present,” you say.

She looks around the bed eagerly but can’t find a wrapped gift. Until her eyes land on your hips and she realises you’re wearing a pair of her purple boxers.

“Is it a sex thing?” she asks eagerly as she climbs onto the bed.

“It is a sex thing,” you don’t try to hide your amusement. You stop her from climbing on top of you. “No. Just watch.”

“Okay,” Kate says, curiosity, nervousness and excitement all wrapped up into one.

She settles between your ankles and her eyes fall immediately to your clothed cunt. Instead of teasing her like you normally do, you trace a hand down your chest. Her eyes immediately latch onto the movement and she raises slightly on her knees. You make a warning noise and pull your hand away. She immediately settles down again.

“Watch,” you remind her.

She nods hurriedly. You trail your hand over the waistband of your stolen boxers and then down. The cool, silky fabric causes no friction as you rub your clit over it. The way Kate watches you has you heating up faster than you usually do and you have to stifle a whimper. You start with gentle circles and Kate can’t help leaning a little closer. You press more firmly when you’d normally move on to a different tease and Kate turns wide eyes on you when she realises what you’re planning. She quickly looks back down when you spread your fingers out to press the fabric tightly down to show off your hard clit, a wet patch starting to form below it.

“Watch,” you warn as her hand travels down her own waistband.

She whimpers but doesn’t risk disobeying, wrapping her hands tightly around her thighs instead. You watch the way her long fingers curl around her own flesh and turn white. You picture them deep inside of you. A whimper finally escapes you and Kate jerks like she just stopped herself from moving.

“Good girl,” you gasp and she whines. The desperate sound goes right to your clit. “Fuck, baby. You’re such a good girl. You’re gonna make me come. Gonna watch me come like a good girl-”

Pleasure crashes over you and your words turn into moans. Lightning flows through you as you watch Kate barely control herself as she watches you soak your underwear.

You pull your hand away from your sensitive clit and she licks her lips. Her hands finally touch you as she grabs your legs, planning to pull you down the bed towards her.

“Wait,” you say and she whines, “you’re going to miss the rest of your present.”

You don’t give her time to ask. You pull off the boxers and throw them at her face. She gives you an incredulous, hopeful look and you nod. She buries her nose in them and whimpers, a hand diving into her shorts. The rough, jerky movement of her wrist tells you she’s already fucking herself.

“You really are a perv,” you say just to watch the way she curls. You know the exact way she would tighten around you if you were the one inside of her. “You’ve definitely done this before.”

“I haven’t,” she gasps.

“No?” you watch the way she grinds down on her own fingers, how her pace never wavers and the cloth never falls from her nose. “You’re huffing it like you have.” You can practically see the way the shame curls around her, and how it makes her drip. “I bet you’ve been through my dirty laundry.”

Her head jerks up and she looks up at you with wide eyes. Which tells you she has been. Her fingers have yet to stop so you latch onto it. “Yeah? You’ve gone through my dirty laundry?” She nods hesitantly and your heart races. “You must have been so desperate to go scrounging around in there. Did you even find anything with my cum on it?”

She nods pathetically, still buried in your arousal-soaked boxers. You thread your fingers through her hair and pull her head back. You grip her wrist and pull the boxers away from her face.

“Maybe you don’t deserve this. If you’ve already been stealing it.”

“No, no, no. Please?” she pulls her puppy-eyes and you bite your lip to stop yourself from giving in immediately.

Or biting her.

“How close are you?” you breathe.

“Close,” she whimpers, her eyes shining in the way they always do when she’s desperate.

Releasing her hair, you twist her around and shove her onto her back. You pull her hand out of her pants and replace it with your own. She’s soaked and you relish the way her heat wraps around your fingers.

She stares up at you with wide eyes, mouth open in a silent moan.

“You have until you come,” you tell her.

Confusion turns into shock turns into desperation. It’s almost comical how quickly she shoves the boxers back to her nose. You hate them a little, for hiding so much of her face, but you can still see her eyes. And the way she arches as you curl your fingers. She comes pathetically fast and loud, like she’s on her third orgasm and not her first. You make gentle circles around her clit to help her through it. You enjoy the way her muscles jump under her skin.

When she finally relaxes back onto the bed, you rip the boxers out of her hand and throw them across the room. She gapes at you and you can’t help smiling.

“I said until you came,” you reminded her.

She pouts but you avoid its power by laying on top of her and snuggling into her shoulder.

“Remind me to come in my underwear more often,” you say.

You definitely want to see her like that again.

“I will,” she says and surprises a snort out of you.

“I’ll have to put a lock on the laundry basket. Can’t have you stealing treats when you’ve been bad.”

“Okay,” she says smugly.

“And steal your lock picks.”

You can feel her pouting again and muffle a laugh in her neck.

#birdsong writes #birdsong sings #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate x you #kate x reader #x reader #marvel x reader #kate bishop fanfic #kate bishop fanfiction #kate fanfic #kate fanfiction #mcu x reader #reader insert #gender nuetral reader #x female reader #kate bishop #kate bishop smut #kate b.

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tylerssblurry · 6 months ago

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“im gay” “im straight” whatever;

I am trapped.

Stuck in a cycle I have never been able to break.

I want to believe this is the last time, but I don't know for sure.

I'll start with what I do know. I am a citizen of an old city.

Well, they say it's old, but there's just no proof.

I can feel my friends rolling their eyes.

I'll keep it simple. I am a citizen of Dema, a circular cement city in the lower portion of an otherwise wild and green continent, Trench.

We aren't allowed to go out there.

Most haven't even seen it. But I have.

I am an escapee.

Getting better at it with every attempt. But they always find me. Well, he does. Nico.

Or, Blurryface is what he calls himself. He's the leader of the nine Bishops who govern the city.

Their authority comes from two things: a miraculous power and a hijacked religion.

One feeds the other. A cycle.

It's called Vialism. And all you really need to know is that it teaches that self-destruction is the only way to paradise. It also conveniently allows you to become an available vessel for the Bishops to use.

And that's where the miracle comes in. We call it seizing. The rules are that you can only seize, or control, a dead body and only for a short while.

Also, they, the Bishops, are the only ones who can do it.

I am a citizen. I am an escapee. And I am an exception to the rule.

Okay, this is what happened recently.

I tricked Nico into taking me outside the walls. I created a fiery diversion. I escaped. I wandered, grew weak, and was tracked down.

But this drag path was different. I saw them. They watched me. The Banditos.

Legends, only stories of a group that lived out here. Shortly after being back inside the walls my new people got me out.

They needed me for something. They brought me in, taught me their colors.

But the cycle was too strong. I was recaptured. Back inside. I guess word got around, I became known in Dema.

The Bishops did not like this, but decided to use it to their advantage.

They made me entertain the people. Lie to them. They made me perform for them. Then Nico was betrayed. And I escaped. Again.

This time I found myself at a new place, washed up on an island. And there, I was given a gift, thought to be extinct.

I now had the same exact, miraculous power they wielded from their towers.

I am a citizen. I am an escapee. I am an exception. I am returning to Trench.

#twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #josh dun #tøp #clancy #skeleton clique #blurryface #scaled and icy #clique #vessel #trench #i am clancy #funny memes #meme #i needed to do this

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xuchiya · 30 days ago

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"taste it from my lips" || kang yeosang || ice on my teeth (+18 mafia) ||

| genre: mafia! yeosang x partner! reader | mentions: cursing. creampie. wine drinking. angry yeosang[not to reader]. 5 years age gap. reader is 5 years older to Yeosang. unprotected (tap it up!)

You were not the type of person to drink cocktails, beer, or wine. It simply wasn’t in your system or personality to indulge in such beverages, even during occasions like weddings or birthdays. You preferred keeping yourself clean from those habits, maintaining a healthy life of drinking citrus juice or water instead.

But the moment you met Yeosang, a man of poise and challenge yet such a soft person towards you the moment he laid his eyes on your exquisite form, your steadfast aversion to drinking faced its first real challenge. It started innocently enough during a lively occasion. Amidst the chatter of friends by the bar of the hotel of a birthday of a friend you were attending, Yeosang handed you a cup filled with beer, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. You politely declined, offering him a gentle smile.

“I don’t drink,” you said simply.

His surprise was evident, his brows lifting for a moment before his lips curled into a soft, understanding smile. He took the cup back without hesitation, handing it off to Wooyoung, who eagerly accepted. Yeosang’s reaction made you feel safe, like your choices were valid and respected.

Despite you being older than him, yet he made you feel that everything you feel is alright and valid.

"Very well, my dear." His voice was slur yet cool as he took a seat next to you.

The second time, however, was a little different. It was just you and Yeosang, sharing a quiet evening on the night of your anniversary. The warm glow of candles lit the room, casting a soft, intimate light over the table. Yeosang walked in carrying a bottle of fine red wine, its deep ruby color glinting invitingly.

"Dear, I bought wine!" He paused in his tracks as soon as he realized—perhaps he had forgotten—that you didn’t drink. His eyebrows furrowed and the way his eyes close tight shut is enough to know he had totally forgotten as he set the bottle down on the table, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Before he could say anything, you stepped forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay, Yeo~ You can have it while we watch,” you said warmly, your words brushing away his discomfort.

Yeosang’s expression softened, his shoulders relaxing as he gave you a grateful smile. “Are you sure? I can put it away if you’re not comfortable.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. Besides, I think I’m curious.”

That caught him off guard. His eyes widened slightly, curiosity of his own surfacing as he watched you glance at the bottle. You rarely, if ever, showed interest in alcohol, and yet here you were, eyeing the wine with an almost childlike wonder.

As the evening unfolded, the two of you settled on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. Yeosang poured himself a glass of wine, sipping it occasionally as he relaxed beside you. You, on the other hand, found your eyes drifting toward the glass every so often.

It was until your movie night was cut off by a call from his slacks that he changes into his usual sweatpants. With a heavy sigh and sympathy look you gave him as he walks towards his clothes, ruffling through the pockets and answered with a stone-cold tone.

"Better be valid or I'll have you drink your own blood." Despite it being a whisper, it sent chills down your spine upon remembering who you are dating.

Yeosang, is what they all call the 'Bishop chess piece', his long-range attacks. His skills in technology made him go beyond the firewall and can check and capture major delicate so easily.

Of course, with the help of his longtime partner in crime, Wooyoung.

As he speaks on the phone, your eyes drift from the wine glass he is holding on the other hand. He swirls it easily as he took a sip and speaks once again.

It intrigues you on how he is easily balancing his life as being the hacker-tech of ateez and being a lovely soft boyfriend towards you. You sigh softly as curiosity was a powerful thing, and tonight, it seemed to have you firmly in its grasp.

You have heard various rumors whenever you mention Yeosang's name and many of them are from women that he "used" to be with when in reality, they were just woman in their delusion era.

How his cock had hit each spots that sent every woman squirting, his rough hands smacking leaving prints to your skin. And that peak your curiosity as Yeosang has always been the gentle type towards you.

When Yeosang had ended the call and sat down beside you, not before taking a huge sip on his wine and set his glass down on the table. Suprising Yeosang, you leaned forward, your brow furrowing slightly as you picked it up. The scent of the wine wafted toward you, rich and complex. You hesitated for a moment before sniffing it, trying to decipher its layers.

Yeosang noticed your curiosity and chuckled softly. “You can always try it, sweetheart,” he said, his tone reassuring. “Only if you want to, though.”

You glanced at him, your expression thoughtful. “What does it taste like?”

Yeosang’s lips pursed slightly, a familiar look of concentration taking over his face. It was the same look he had when he was trying to solve a puzzle or decide on a dessert. “This one’s a few hundred years old,” he said at last. “They say the older the wine, the sweeter it is.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “Like how we have a five-year gap?”

Yeosang’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and he immediately began waving his hands in protest. “I-I meant the wine!” he stammered, his voice tinged with panic. “Not us—well, I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, but—”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, your teasing remark having achieved its intended effect. His flustered state was endearing, and you leaned back against the couch, your laughter gradually fading into a soft chuckle.

“I’m just messing with you, Yeo~ Calm down,” you said, patting his knee affectionately.

Yeosang pouted, crossing his arms but unable to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the warmth in his voice betrayed his amusement.

"Well... it's sweet with a hint of bitterness, but since it’s aged, the sweetness outweighs the bitter notes," he explained thoughtfully. "You’ll notice the sweetness more in the aftertaste. It’s not too bitter, and it doesn’t linger for long."

You nodded, intrigued, and swirled the drink gently before handing the glass back to him. "So it is sweet?" He nodded. Yeosang took it from your hands and drank the remaining wine whilst your next move was he was not expecting.

Seizing the moment, you cupped the back of Yeosang's neck, pulling him closer until your lips collided with his. His eyes widened in surprise as you parted his lips slightly, and the wine he hadn’t yet swallowed trickled onto your lips, some of it dripping down both your chins in a messy, intoxicating mix of sweetness and heat.

As the wine touched your tongue, you were taken aback by its flavor—just as Yeosang had described, sweet with only the faintest trace of bitterness. You pulled back with a soft hum, licking your lips as you murmured, “It does taste sweet.”

Yeosang blinked rapidly, still stunned, his mind trying to process what had just happened. A flush crept up his neck, spreading across his face as he watched you chuckle and look away. His body, now uncomfortably warm, felt an unfamiliar tension building within him—an urge for more of the intimacy you’d just shared.

Wordlessly, he reached out, his thumb brushing along your chin to wipe away the stray drops of wine before his hand lingered near your lips. His gaze darkened slightly as he watched you, utterly captivated, as your tongue darted out to swipe against his thumb.

A low, almost involuntary hum escaped him before he finally pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of shyness and a smoldering desire he couldn’t quite suppress.

"In my room and strip. Don't make me wait."

“O-Oh fuck … Yeosang .. baby slow down.” Your eyes had rolled back from pure ecstasy as he locked his fingers around your jawline as he slammed his hips back to yours aggressively, hitting from the back, on that same spot time and time. The sound of skin to skin echoes the chamber of your room, the change of temperature from your ragged breath and warm bodies had moist most of the windows inside— such spacious apartment yet every room and floor has marked by you and Yeosang fucking everywhere and every chances he gets.

Yeosang let out a dark chuckle as he leaned in close to your ear, “Don’t think about a single drop.” It wasn’t long Yeosang let a gasp-cry left his lips as he is nearing his climax; pulling out as quickly as before he slams back in after switching positions with you as Yeosang places both of your legs on one side of his shoulders.

Gripping your thighs tightly in his warm palm as his head throws back as his hips stills, the tip of his cock hitting the spongy spot as he spurts his cum all over your walls. Biting your lips as you grip your tits in your hand and the other on his thigh as you also come down from your high.

When Yeosang pulls out, he grabs each of your legs and lets them wrap around his waist before plunging back in. The overstimulation made you cry, tightly gripping on his muscle thighs, “Oh fuck!” He chuckles, leaning forward as he places his lips on your lips for a brief second before pulling away, “That’s my good mommy. Can Yeosangie have another round?”

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