#well we got their skin at least
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Come to our circus, we stole your monkeys.
#well we got their skin at least#i have reached the third season of my tma relisten I you couldnât tell#the magnus archives#tma#tma fanart#the magnus archive fanart#nikola orsinov#the circus of the other#the stranger tma#tma season 3
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It sucks when you learn something new which might be the answer to a question you've had for a while but you don't even know where to start to see if it really is the answer.
#liv won't shut up#the context: i am a white & from the us. but i have dark hair eyes & skin. dark enough skin that i get asked a lot if i'm latina. usually#latina (which i think matches my appearance the most) but i've gotten native american pakistani (okay that one makes no sense but whatever)#& a few others. thing is i know a lot of my family history. my family has been in the us for quite a few generations but before that my#ancestors were from england & scandinavia mainly though due to history i can assume i have french & german ancestry as well. & um these#countries arent known for dark complexions. so then ppl are always surprised. convo usually goes like this#person: where are you from?#me: the us#person: & your parents? what is your ancestry?#me: my family has been here for generations but before that they were from england & scandinavia mainly.#person: really? because you don't look like it. you look latina. where did your complexion come from?#me: idk how would i know?#well i recently learned about a group in scandinavia called the sami. they're originally from siberia but many moved to scandinavia#centuries ago. & they have darker complexions. so now i'm wondering if at some point i had ancestors that were sami from scandinavia#& if there genes just kept getting passed down until me#but man i do not have the time to figure that out#like i dont *need* to know i'll be fine. but i've always been curious & it would give me an answer to tell ppl that ask#also btw it isnt just white americans asking if i'm poc. lots of poc ask too. i'm working at a mexican restaurant & i get asked all the tim#there if i'm latina bc âi look like everyone else thereâ#but it would be nice to have an answer besides âidkâ when someone asks why i have my complexion#at least i know what line it comes from. my dad & grandpa look like me too#& also got asked a lot if they were latino. even more than me. my grandpa is from southern arizona. we have a white american as heck last#name so everyone thought his dad was american & his mom mexican (nope). then he moved when he married my grandma to my grandmas#home town so then all of them saw this guy from arizona moving in with darker skin & also assumed he was at the least biracial.#then ppl thought my dad was biracial too bc he's the son of the random arizonan with darker skin#so i know wherever i got this gene comes from came via my grandpa
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Iâm legally obligated to ask about loneliness into loneliness if you post any time of ask aka FACE SMUSHED AGAINST GLASS.
OF COUUUUUURSE
here's a clip from loneliness into loneliness, the ted lasso fic about dani and jamie both being out injured at the same time, staying together at dani's house, and starting a queerplatonic relationship - figuring out what that means, what they want it to mean, how to navigate something neither of them have a roadmap for.
this is from the night where dani is, to put it succinctly, the big spoon for the first time, bc they started sleeping in the same bed so that jamie could help keep him from rolling onto his bad shoulder. now that he's healed enough to have his shoulder brace off, and has noticed jamie is having troubled sleep the last few nights, dani has offered to hold him tonight and see if that helps him sleep. it's also the first time we get into the thing with one of them putting a hand beneath the other's shirt, direct skin contact, etc, which ends up being. A Thing. this scene could be subtitled 'two people try to have a conversation where nobody says a full sentence the entire time and they both want the same thing that they don't have any language for or idea how to talk about'. it's a bit long, so, under the cut it goes:
When Daniâs hand slips under Jamieâs shirt, pressing against his side just above his hip, the feeling of skin against bare skin is electrifying. He twitches, the muscles under the point of contact giving a small, instinctive spasm. Itâs something like a flinch and he feels Dani go still.
âSorry,â Dani murmurs. He starts to pull away, lifting his hand from Jamieâs side while the rest of his body tenses like heâs getting ready to move. âI should have asked before I-â
âNo,â Jamie says. He barely breathes it, really, lower than a whisper. Just as quickly as heâd interrupted Daniâs self-rebuke, he reaches down to grab the retreating hand and keep it there, gripping Daniâs wrist gently but firmly. âNo, itâsâŠâ He swallows hard. Thereâs something strange and uncertain fluttering in his chest, something anxious but hopeful at the same time. âItâs okay. I⊠Itâs fine. I mean, are you⊠What do youâŠâ What do you want? seems accusatory, What are you looking for with this? just sounds weird. Jamie canât figure out how to ask, what heâs even trying to ask.
âNothing. Just this. JustâŠâ Daniâs fingers flex a little where their hands are hovering in an awkward tangle, still caught under the fabric of Jamieâs shirt. âIâm not trying to⊠Just to⊠When you helped with my shoulder, it was- was nice. Thatâs all.â He doesnât seem to have the words for what heâs trying to say and thereâs more hesitation now. His voice sounds embarrassed and it has a nervous edge, and thereâs a tension at the grip Jamie has on his wrist like heâs going to pull back again.
âThatâs okay,â is what Jamie settles on saying. âI donât mind. ThatâsâŠâ He swallows hard, thinking about the press of skin against skin, the warmth of being touched so directly and unflinchingly. The thought of being touched like that, just for the sake of it, the way he had touched Dani when heâd massaged his shoulder after physical therapy, just touch without the expectation of it leading to anything, something more following, is⊠Well, Dani had been right about that. âThatâs nice, actually. I think. Thatâs- yeah. Thatâs okay.â
Even after he says it, Jamie waits for a long, still moment before releasing his grip on Daniâs wrist. He hopes he didnât fuck things up somehow, that his reaction hadnât made it so that Dani didnât want to touch him anymore. The more he thinks about it, the more Jamie wants him to do it. His side aches, feeling oddly cold and prickly.
Thereâs a hovering pause where Daniâs hand stays in place, not quite resting against Jamie but not pulling away either, still there tucked beneath his shirt. Thereâs barely a centimetre between them and it feels like forever that it stays that way. The longer it goes on for, the more Jamie feels cold and exposed and small, and then everything changes.
Then Daniâs hand moves, settling on Jamieâs side. He leaves it there, his thumb moving in slow strokes over the ridge of bone at the bottom of Jamieâs ribcage. There are callouses on his palm that Jamie can feel, slightly rough against his skin. Itâs beyond frightening but he doesnât want it to stop. The chill is gone, and he feels grounded, anchored to this place and this time, here in this bed. Itâs like heâs pinned there, but without the threat that word seems to imply - not pinned. Held. And honestly, Jamie thinks that he might die if it stopped, if that gentle touch was gone and he was left to lay here, cold enough to shiver without it. It doesnât leave. It stays, pressing a little harder after a while, like the way that Jamie has relaxed and leaned back into Daniâs chest, not flinching again since that first time, has given him permission to settle in too.
#this is one of those moments i am the LEAST confident with my characterization and i hope it doesn't show rip#gav gab#gav answers#jamietarttdodododododo#fic: loneliness into loneliness#me writing this fic like we WILL be spending a lot of time thinking about and dealing with Touch and Touching Someone and Being Touched#and direct skin contact has become something of an undercurrent theme in particular#it's in the scene on the couch too#which is after this. this is the first time they try anything like this deliberately#except for the shoulder massage bit which is where dani got the idea#just had this mental image early on writing this of just#them sleeping with dani's arm around jamie#hand on his side under his shirt#and that was the most like#comfortingly intimate mental image imaginable somehow#and i was like#well now that's gotta go in there
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my body doesnât Hate me, per se. It just Loves being an annoying little shit
#my post#i feel a little bad about complaining about it sometimes#because itâs not like i have super serious afflictions#and weâve gotten some handled through this or that#but. iâve just got. such an extensive collection of#ââbodily things that would be fine individually albeit annoying; but iâve got all of them so it makes for a frustrating existenceââ#subacute eczema. the worst of the bunch. only on my hands but very itchy and still eczema#scapular winging or whatever they call it when you can pop out your scapulas at will.#not very bad at all. the least offensive. just aches sometimes and makes me worry#some tinnitus. a tad annoying. i hear it most when itâs quiet or iâm inside. sometimes it flares but not often. tuning it out isnât too har#chronic rhinitis. i got some surgery(?) for this one. lotta nose sprays.#my nose is almost always congested and runny and going anywhere without tissues is dangerous.#dry lips. also not altogether that bad itâs just annoying and it gets cracked and sometimes painful to open my mouth too wide ig.#we manage that one well with whatever lip products my sister gave me. itâs not very bad#dandruff? maybe? is it dandruff or just scalp skin? i got no clue man#and youâre like. ââokay youâre right those are all quite annoying. but is it really that bad?ââ#and iâm like ââNo. but have you Considered that i have to deal with them all at Once?ââ#BUT THAT. ISNâT EVEN IT. âCAUSE ITâD BE ONE THING IF MY BODY WAS JUST BUILT LIKE THAT. BUT MY BRAIN HATES ME TOO.#BOOM. dermatillomania!! i pick at my acne a little. under my nails. the hard skin under my nails.#my scalp! until itâs itchy and thereâs a little bit of blood! i gently pull at my eyelashes a little bit and rub my eyes.#and. get this. dry and flaky bits of skin. GUESS WHERE I HAVE FLAKY BITS OF SKIN. OH THATâS RIGHT: THE SUBACUTE ECZEMA ON MY HANDS.#itâs better now it really is but i have spent hours picking at it after iâm already all set for bed. 2-3 hrs over a trash can picking at it#ââyeah okay thatâs bad. but-ââ BOOM. ADHD or at least fidgeting. i fidget most by picking at idk All of the aforementioned.#ââoof yeah that does actually suck-ââ BOOM. OCD!!! now that one is the REAL kicker that one fucking hates me#just take all of the above and assume i have some vaguely annoying compulsion tied to it.#and it wouldnât be so annoying sometimes if it werenât for the fact that i deal with it all every day kind of#so correction: my body doesn't necessarily hate me itâs just that my body has shaken hands made deals about which exact disorders and bodil#irritations i need to collectively make living incredibly annoying.#thank you for coming to my TED talk. cue the worldâs smallest violin or whatever
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How does one contract scurvy from eating too many homemade pickles? And how many is too many?
when i first moved out and started cooking for myself i had a very poor diet. i think @lizardho has a picture of my fridge at one point, it was just various kinds of pickled things, and cured meats.
fast forward after like, three or four months of this, and i was at the dentist, getting my teeth cleaned, when the hygenist went ah, babs, your gums are bleeding. u need to floss more.
and i went i floss like, three times a day, and it always bleeds, and im always gentle, and you are lying bastard gum torturers. u can do what u need to, but dont stab my mouth and blame me when it bleeds.
the hygenist took exception to that. we didn't really shout at each other, but it was a tense exchange and i was just much more crabby than normal. eventually he left to get the dentist to sort things out.
cue the dentist coming back. he checked out my gums, gave me a lookover, then said hey. babs. are your joints kind of achey?
and i went yeah, i'm kind of hoping for another growth spurt, i'm 5'11 and it would be nice to finally hit the ol' 6'
and he went yeah, but you're 21, so that's not gonna happen. got any rashes? weird bruises?
and i had some decent bruises, and a weird rash on my leg, and he looked at them and we yeah you are quite vitamin c deficient. thats not easy to do in arizona. how much fresh fruit or vegetables have you had in your diet recently?
and i went does pickled count?
and that was his lightbulb moment. apparently pickling breaks down the vitamin c in things really well. he told me that i should just like, eat one or two raw bell peppers a day for a week and call him if that worked.
it did. my gums stopped bleeding, and my knees stopped hurting at night and my skin just felt smoother and nicer and i got a lot less crabby. no more mouthing off at dental hygenists.
i called him when the week was done, and i was embarrassed that i'd given myself scurvy like it was still the 18th century, and he said naw, not scurvy, but like. noticable deficiency. he said that it was a weird problem, but he'd run into it before - mostly with college students fresh out of the house. people trying to live off peanut butter and ramen for a few months at a time.
i took a multivitamin after that, but i also made an effort to try and eat like a normal human being. i failed occasionally but the effort made me feel a lot better.
my time in cross country gave me this sort of gnostic-feeling about my body. like it was a weak thing that i needed to overcome through will, and not like. me. at least not actually me. i think this was my first big wake up call that no, the body is not my enemy, i am my body, i am a physical object in this world, and if i don't take care of myself i am going to be worse at everything, including moral tasks, like not being a dick to the dental hygenist.
so. yeah. tldr, please don't spend months trying to live off pickles and salami. :/
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cries a lil bit abt how quickly the mini comics lightened the skin of everyone who wasnt #ffffff already
#noctilucent: before dawn#noctlu#like dont get me wrong i think theyre really cute!#i also enjoy the nuc ones#but! delos and dacatt and heigel got lighter. and i feel like their ssrs/skins have already gotten lighter as well#that or just overuse of highlights#like ik theyre not that dark skinned anyways but they are at the very least tan skinned. can we keep it please#i shouldnt be surprised this always happens in games but its sad to see
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bambi
in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while sheâs sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I donât think Iâve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you maâam like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!
You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like heâs got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there.Â
How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you canât say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that.Â
So does the lack of teasing, of beggingâat least, a lack up until this point. Right now, thereâs only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, youâre not usually responsible for.Â
He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. âYou got it. Slowly.â
You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencerâs breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips.Â
âFuckâI said slow.â
You canât think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking youâre doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.
Spencerâs breath is ragged. âDonâtâŠÂ do not move.â
âFuck,â you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. âOh my god.â
âMy lovely girl, please⊠please donât move,â Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. âI need a minute.â
âItâs too much,â you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. âPlease.â You donât know what youâre asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he canât offer you. Maybe more.Â
Spencer is undone by youâthe way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way youâre so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it.Â
âBaby,â he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but itâs the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. âBaby,â he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling.Â
Itâs going wellâfor a moment, before your back is arching.Â
âSpence, I need to move, I canâtââ
âOkay, okay.â He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. Heâs desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. âGo ahead. Move, honey. Please.â
By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencerâs lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut.Â
âFuck,â he groans. âOh, angel, I missed you.â
You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air.Â
âI missed you so much,â you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense itâs a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. âOh, fuck, Spencer.â
Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isnât just about the physical.
âMy girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.â
Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kissâonly to know that you want the contact.Â
âPlease can I go faster?â
Spencer almost doesnât realize youâre speaking to him heâs so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesnât know if he canât take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out.Â
âYeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.â
You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as itâs clearly more sensation than youâd been prepared for.Â
Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional CsĂĄszĂĄr polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spineâanything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating heâd leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch youâ
âOhââ you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. âSpencer, oh my fucking god.â
âI know, baby,â he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now youâre trying to explain it because you want him to be part of itâas if he doesnât know exactly what youâre feeling already. âThat feels good, huh?â
âMmâfâeelsââ you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down thisâll be over too soon.Â
âYouâre so good,â he breathes, âyouâre perfect.âHe hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. âGonna cum?â He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion.Â
Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like youâre going to try and evade the feelingâself-sabotage, you always do thisâand he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it.Â
âYouâre okay, Iâm gonna get you there.â
âFuck!â You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changesâyou get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm.Â
âGood girl,â Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. âShh. Youâre okay. Relax, baby.â
And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until youâre once more slack on top of him.Â
âYouâre incredible,â he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline.Â
So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way youâre still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. âWhat do you need, angel?â
âIâm sâposed to be taking care of you,â you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits.Â
âAccording to who?â
âAccording to⊠I was on topâŠâ
âYeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.â
You whine softly. âNo theyâre not.â
His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles.Â
âNo? No Bambi legs for me this time?â
You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. âSpenceâŠâ
âIâm teasing you, honey,â he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. âYouâre cute.â
âHm.â
âLook at me,â he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweetâeyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. âWow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?â
And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss thatâs worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time.Â
Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest.Â
âIâm sleepy.â
âSo go to sleep,â he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment.Â
âI canât.â
âWhyâs that?â
ââCause you just got home ând I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.â
âWe have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, weâll actually get more time together tomorrow.â
âBut itâs more about, like, how it feelsâhow much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, itâs gonna feel like less time, andâbasically youâre just not understanding my math.â
âWhat math?â He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buckâa very visceral feeling when heâs still inside of you. âWhat? What hurts?â
âYou tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,â you grumble.Â
âTender?â
âMhm.â
âIâm really sorry, angel. Tylenol?â
âMm-mm. Can you kiss me better?â Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself.Â
âYeah?â
âMhm.â
âLie down.â
Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling.Â
âSpencer?â You whisper as he cups the top of your knees.Â
âHm?â
âI love you.â
He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. âI love you. So much.â
âGlad weâre on the same page.â
He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you donât seem to mind.Â
The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlierâfeels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobodyâs ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. Heâll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as youâll let him.Â
Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway.Â
âWas that on purpose?â
âI dâknow what you mean. Iâm so sleepy,â you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact.Â
Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and youâre completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, youâre lacing a hand in his hair.Â
âPlease, SpenceâŠâ you murmur, and he canât argue with that. He especially canât argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs.Â
He hums, trailing more kisses up until heâs setting the softest one yet against your clit. âBeautiful girlâŠâ
The following gasp is so tiny he couldâve missed it if he wasnât so attuned to your noisesâand then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesnât want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance youâre in, either, sensing that if he does youâll fight all over again to stay up.
And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.
Your back arches as much as youâre capable of in this state, and he canât help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need themâhe draws it out. For he doesnât know how long.Â
The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ahâs, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now youâre so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe heâs being unfair, but you donât seem to mind.Â
In fact, youâre slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencerâs never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving.Â
You donât know how long itâs been, or how many times heâs made you cum when he finally retreatsâyou half-wake just as heâs finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved.Â
âHi, sleeping beauty,â he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed.Â
You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles.Â
âShaky?â
âStop,â you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. âThatâs not my fault.â
âItâs nobodyâs fault. Itâs sweet,â he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, âSoâdo you think weâve spent enough time together for tonight?â
âNo.â
He sighs good-naturedly.Â
âYouâre gonna wear me out, you know that?â
ââF you⊠canât handle the heatâŠÂ get outta the kitchen.â
When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice.Â
âGo to sleep, Bambi. Letâs see if you can walk in the morning.â
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer Reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic
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â under their noses â chapter one
a series by © luvbabydoll â inspired by @goatgoesmbe
you never intended to start an only fans.
but between nursing school, grueling shifts, and bills that refused to pay themselves, you had to get creative. and what started as a desperate attempt to make ends meet quickly turned into a steady income.
the men on their seemed to like you. they liked your voice, the softness in your tone, the way you spoke like you meant it. you never showed your full face, but that only added to the mystery. you played into itâthe sweet, teasing persona, the gentle praise, the intimacy that kept men coming back for more.
and, completely unknowingly, the entirety of Task Force 141 had fallen for you.
â
it had all started months ago.
one of their missions had gone sidewaysâbad intel, long hours, more bodies than they were expecting. and by the time they got back to base, exhausted and strung out, all they wanted was food, alcohol, and sleep.
but mostly alcohol.
soap was the first to bring it up.
slumped against a crate, half a bottle of whiskey deep, he let out a groan and muttered, âboys, i think iâm in love.â
gaz snorted, kicking his boots up on the table. âoh, yeah? you have some girl we donât know about?â
âangel.â
ghost, who had been silently nursing his drink, stiffened.
gaz raised an eyebrow, âangelâŠ?â
soap pulled out his phone and waved it lazily. âsheâs some onlyfans girl, mate. best thing that i ever stumbled upon. swear to god, she cares about me.â
gaz laughed. âyou are down horrendous, johnny boy.â
âoi, donât judge me âtil youâve heard her. this girl is unreal. always saying the nicest things.â soap sighed dramatically.
gaz rolled his eyes. âyeah, mate. âcause sheâs getting paid to do that.â
âso? it still counts for me.â
gaz held out a hand. âalright alright, lemme see.â
soap hesitated for a moment. â...fine. but donât be weird about it.â
gaz took the phone, tapped through a few of the videos, and went silent.
after a moment, he muttered, âokay, shit. you might be onto something.â
soap smirked miraculously. âtold you.â
ghost, who had been quietly brooding, finally spoke. âyou idiots just now finding out about her?â
they both turned to look at him shocked.
gaz blinked. âw-wait, what?â
ghost took a sip of his whiskey, deadpan. âiâve been subscribed for months.â
soap choked on his drink. âYOU WHAT?â
ghost shrugged carelessly. âfound her first.â
gazâs jaw dropped. ây-you mean to tell me youâsimon âi hate everyoneâ rileyâhas been secretly been subscribed to an onlyfans girl this whole time?â
ghost didnât answer. he just took another sip of his whiskey.
soap stared at him, with a look of betrayal that you see in movies. âand you didnât tell us?â
ghost gave him a flat look. âwhy the fuck would i tell you?â
soap pointed aggressively. âyou gatekeeping bastard.â
gaz shook his head in amusement. âprice is gonna lose his shit when he finds out.â
âFinds out what?â
the three of them turned to see price walking in, looking mildly suspicious.
for a moment, nobody spoke.
and then, without missing a beat, gaz held out the phone. âcap. you gotta see this.â
and thatâs how, in the span of one drunken night, every single one of them became your most loyal subscribers.
â
and then you arrived.
your first day on base was nothing specialâstandard introductions, paperwork, getting settled.
well for you, at least.
but for them? it was a nightmare.
soap noticed it at first.
your voiceâwas way too familiar. too exact. the way you spoke, the soft warmth in your tone. it sent a shiver down his spine.
gaz eventually picked up on the way you movedâthe tilt of your head, the way your fingers ghosted over their skin during check-ups.
ghost, who was normally unreadable, was tense.
and price? price just sighed a lot.
none of them said anything. they couldnât.
because if they were wrongâif this was just some wild coincidenceâthen theyâd look like absolute idiots.
but if they were right?
then their sweet, soft-spoken angel had just walked into their lives, completely unaware that every single one of them had been on their knees for her voice alone.
and fuck, they were not prepared for that.
#luvbabydoll â§âË â
#cod smut#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#ghost cod#simon ghost smut#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon riley x reader smut#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mctavish x you#john price x reader#john price smut#john price x you#john price x y/n#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader
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Old record player spin my beloved <3
#just ignore the odd bumps on my thumb lol#realizing this may be the first time anyone will take notice of it due to how close it is in 4k resolution /j#but yeah honestly not sure why I have them! Just callus from funky drawing habits I guess#and the little brown skin dot too jksjksp#anywho enjoy the small snippet of As Long As You Follow (Fleetwood Mac)#honestly such a pretty song wish it was more well known#Iâm getting back into the classics and assimilating myself into old tech because the fatigue from digital is getting to me#kinda feels different to have renewed fascination with a time period you never got to experience#Nostalgia but the curious sort#plus as much as I adore everything that I experience growing up in 2000âs with the internet and fandom culture it can be a bit much at time#nice to just be away from the screen and listen to physical music ya know? At least thatâs what Iâm trying out for a bit#gives me a push to actually be in reality with it since I typically rely on music for some level of escapism#also maybe Iâm getting too introspective here but itâs nice being able to give personal use to a medium that goes discarded nowadays#Itâs like paying tribute to something that paved the way to where we are now#and giving it a well deserved thank you and extra love#A-ANYWAYS record go brrrrr am I right haha#update#Fleetwood Mac#record player#vinyl#random
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Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel never thought heâd need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (Iâm sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldnât go with a gun.
Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk
Word count: 4.7k
Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2
He shouldâve gotten snipped when he had the chance.
Shouldâve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctorâs offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:
âDonât cum, donât cum, donât cum, donât cum, DONâTââ
Words like those normally worked. With women that werenât you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.
But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didnât. Wouldnât. Couldnât seem to think straight when it came to this fixation heâd developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:
âJ-J-Joelâoh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckâIâm gonna CUM.â
And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.
Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldnât even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.
If he had it his way, he wouldâve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasnât giving him too much trouble.
But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.
With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above youââSweet girl, youâre so fuckinâ good to meââand watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.
Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.
No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.
Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.
Where the FUCK was his cum?
In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simplyâŠcum without noticing. Shit like that just didnât happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when heâd wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.
He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.
âNo, Joel!â you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, âAnother round and Iâm gonna combust, you old perv!â
But Joel wasnât looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldnât see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, âWhat the hell, Joel?!â hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.
You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.
âLast time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,â you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.
Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.
âHold still,â he grunted.
âHow come?â
ââCause I said.â
How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.
âWanna sleep,â you groaned, about to roll your eyes.
But you couldnât deny you liked being doted on by him.
Joelâs touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.
He appeared to be deep in thoughtâa rare sight for anyone whoâd seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time heâd blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.
He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:
âJo-elââ
âCan yaâŠpush, baby?â His eyes flitted up quickly.
âPush?â
âYeah, justâŠâ With a look you couldnât quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, âLike this. Like youâre squeezinâ somethinâ out.â
You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.
Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely wouldâve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.
And twisted even further when you âpushedâ like you did.
At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretchedâno novel concept to you, whoâd spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasnât until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.
You let out a low, tender, âMmphâ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joelâs face turned grave.
He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.
You were youngâtoo young to know better. Too sweet and naĂŻve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore heâd be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear heâd relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was oldâtoo old to be doing this shit.
Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.
âJoel, whatâsââ
âWhenâs the last time youâ youâ uhâŠbled?â
Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasnât talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.
âLike two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?â
Well, fuck.
Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sinkâs edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.
âWhy?â you tried again. Softer this time.
An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.
âYou see this?â Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, âYâknow what it means, right?â
You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.
âYeah. ButâŠyouâre old,â came your answer at length.
Youâre old.
Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasnât quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.
âWhatâs me beinâ old got to do with anything?â A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, ââm sorry, baby, justâ gotta get this out of you.â
You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?
For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.
âMaria says old folks are, uhâŠinfertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,â you said, breaths labored.
Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.
âMenopause,â he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, âis a woman thing.â
What the hell were they teaching in Jacksonâs sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasnât the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasnât exactly the communityâs highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.
He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.
âS-So, youââ You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, âYouâre sayinââŠmen can make babiesâŠwhenever?â
You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicamentâof being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.
Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.
Deeper, Joel, keepâŠpushing inâŠdee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if heâd just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you shouldâve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbingâ
ââwhole lotta problems for us if youâre, uhâŠovulating,â Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadnât heard the first part of that sentence and didnât care to.
âOvulating,â you repeated slowly. Indifferent.
Joel carried on without a hitch.
âKids just ainât fit for this world. I know you know that.â
You nodded along, not hearing a word.
âAnd if youâreâ if yâever did consider, maybeâŠâ
Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joelâs fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.
ââŠyâoughta start a family with someone your own ageââ
That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:
âMy own age?â
Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that werenât just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler sourceâyour foot.
You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.
âWhat?â
âWhat?â
Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joelâs shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.
âWhenâs that evâŠever stopped us from doing it before, hm?â you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, âThought you liked sayinâ youâd make me a mama.â
Joelâs face flooded pink at the recollectionâas a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: âThatâs different.â
And it was, to some extent. Joel wasnât blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, youâd loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissedââCan we please go home now, baby?ââthat Joel was certain heâd been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.
This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.
âBaby, hey, hey, noââ Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.
No, no, no. You werenât thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.
Smiling a little, too.
âWhat are youâ no, honey, donâtâ you canât,â Joelâs words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth heâd just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.
âWhat are you doinâ? This ainâtâŠno, baby, it ainâtâŠsafe.â
Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.
âWhatâs wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.â
You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.
âI just told you,â he huffed, âYouâre too youngââ
âIâm plenty old, Joel,â you returned, eyes snapping open, âYouâve shown me that more times than I can count.â
Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.
âBabyâŠâ
To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He wouldâve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.
Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legsâeyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.
You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as theyâd go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.
It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.
Feels nice.
Tastes alright, too.
Youâd licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.
âMaybe I donât want babies with someone my own age.â
Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldnât get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didnât stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.
And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old manâs happy trailâyour favorite onesâyou smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, youâd repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didnât have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.
âDonât you think Iâd look pretty?â You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joelâs cockâof course heâd grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.
Joel cursed under his breath.
ââCourse I doâŠâ he said, voice hoarse, âYâalways lookââ
âI meanâŠwith your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.â
As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again
âYou donâtââ Joel choked out, nearly incensed, ââdonât know what the hell youâre sayinâ, baby. What that means.â
In truth, there wasnât a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by himâa man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.
He communicated as much by moving to pull out.
You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.
âI know more than enough, old manââ Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, ââwho do you think taught me all this?â
Of course, it had been Joel.
Always, always himâthe only one, in fact.
Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:
âMake her full. Make her yours. Tell any man whoâd even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.â
He couldnât.
Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.
But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.
âYou like thisâŠdonât you, Joel?â Your voice was tiny.
âI do.â
In fact, he loved it.
âThen why canât we?â Why shouldnât we?
Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your faceâand out of Joel, all common sense from his brainâleaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.
Idiocy.
âJust once?â Joel croaked.
Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.
âJust one?â you murmured back.
He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joelâs hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.
âOnce,â he repeated, not thinking too deeply.
âOne,â you said, with a world of more purpose.
Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.
âOne?â Joel panted. Confused.
He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joelâs shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.
âOne more of you, I mean.â You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell youâd actually meant it.
Joelâs cheeks flushed again, but he didnât stop, either.
âBabyâŠâ he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an âoâ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheekâmaybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: âOneâa me takes and Iâm givinâ ya fifteen more, yâhear?â
The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldnât have believed it even if youâd said the words yourself. Joelâs thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.
In disbelief, âWanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?â
Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.
âMake your old man a daddy, is that it?â
Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.
To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joelâs brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as sheâd let him in and told him no, thatâs gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, thatâs likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.
âThat is what youâve wanted this whole time, right?â
Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.
Thatâs all heâs ever wanted.
Let the neighbors talk.
Let them say what they wanted to sayâit was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naĂŻve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:
âThat what you want, too, darlinâ?â More serious now.
The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasnât just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.
Something to stick.
âPlease say it, baby.â
Someone to call yours.
âI want it,â you said, sounding desperate.
A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joelâs and begged him for more.
âWant what?â He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.
âWant you,â you breathed, âInside me, Joel, please.â
As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadnât even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.
âGood girl,â he murmured, âRight here?â
âRiâ right there. Right there.â
Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joelâs release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
âHope our baby has your eyes,â you murmured to him.
It shouldnât have had such a strong effectâbut of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.
Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. Heâd clear his whole schedule for it
âThat right?â And now he couldnât stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, âWhat about their nose?â
He kissed the tip of yours.
âHope they get this.â
He kissed either one of your cheeks.
âThese too.â
You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.
The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joelâs spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldnât stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, âAre you sure?â and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldnât be more eager to finish now if he tried.
Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.
There it is.
#IN CONCLUSIONâŠâŠâŠ.WE MAKIN BABIES#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel tlou#the last of us fic
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Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...
The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.
What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasnât surprisingâSpencerâs work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a momentâs notice. Still, you couldnât help but feel a little disappointed. Youâd been looking forward to spending some time together.
Youâd been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldnât blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didnât work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that heâd be back as soon as he could.
He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until heâd be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasnât that you didnât enjoy being at his placeâyou could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasnât quite home yet, at least not without him there.
With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist youâd made for such occasionsâsoft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.
The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.
As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.
Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within armâs reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.
â
Spencerâs signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.
You opened the door with a big smile. âHi, I wasnât expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.â
He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. âYouâre right. I finished the case early, and Iâve been thinking about you all day. I just⊠wanted to see you.â His words came out more nervously than he intended. âI saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.â
âI wasnât asleep. Donât worry,â you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. âAre these for me?â
âThey are,â he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. âYou said you liked lilies.â
âI do, thank you. Theyâre beautiful.â You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.
âIâll put them in water, come in.â
You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencerâs breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you mustâve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck⊠he didnât even know you wore glasses.
He couldnât deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldnât shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.
Spencer wasnât able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.
He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between youâit all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.
You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.
âThanks,â you beamed, and he mumbled a âYouâre welcomeâ, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.
Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberateâhis lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.
âOoh! I was watching this documentary that I think youâll be really into,â you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.
âOh, yeah? Whatâs it about?â He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.
âItâs about space. The universe, really. Itâs fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.â
Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.
âWould you go to space, if NASA invited you?â You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.
âOnly if youâd come with me.â
His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.
âCome here,â he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.
You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.
You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. âI canât properly kiss you with my glasses on,â you explain.
"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.
Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.
âOh, god,â you shuddered in a breath.
âShaking already?â he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.
âNo,â you lied.
âAre you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?â He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.
You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. âYouâre such a dirty tease.â
âI havenât heard any complaints so far,â he smirks, making you roll your eyes.
His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Tenderly, he placed more kisses to your skin, sending shivers through your entire body. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.
âFuck, Spence,â you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rushâhe wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.
You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.
âBeautiful,â he stated.
The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh as his warm hands slipped beneath your shirt. He cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.
âI didnât know you wore glasses.â
You playfully raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. âOh, so thatâs what this is all about, huh?â
âActually, itâs about all of you.â The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.
âCan I take this off?â he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding youâfingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.
A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marksâeach one a reminder that youâd carry with you for the following days.
You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.
âCan you handle more?â His voice husked in desire. You nodded, your body already screaming for more. Goosebumps decorated your skin as his long fingers traced your inner thighs. You squirmed helplessly when his thumb pressed against your covered clit. A moan fell from your lips as you arched against him.
âYouâre always so wet for me, angel.â The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time heâd called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to himâyour soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.
He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.
âFeels good,â you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You werenât used to being teased for this longâSpencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.
âPlease, Spence,â you moaned.
âPlease, what?â he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.
âI need more,â you begged, your voice a whimper.
âYou can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,â he hummed.
A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencerâs breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.
Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.
His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the workâyour legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.
Spencerâs fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfectâhitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldnât help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.
The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.
You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.
Your breathing turned sharp and shallow, as the pressure built low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared your climax.
âBabyâŠâ you breathed, your voice a desperate plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hopingâprayingâhe could see the need in yours.
And then, with a confirming nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.
A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit. You were unable to hold back the cries of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you as the world spun in a blur.
He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencerâs warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.
He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.
âThank you,â he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.
âI should be the one thanking you,â you softly laughed.
He shook his head, smiling. âNo need for that,â he replied, his voice reassuring.
âBut I want to,â you insisted. âThough⊠I think youâll find Iâm better at showing than telling.â You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.
You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.
âFuck,â he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.
He gripped his length firmly, pumping himself a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth. He teased you for the briefest moment before you slowly sank down on him.
A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths youâd never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.
Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their placeâone on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.
âGod, look at you,â he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.
The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.
âYou liked that, huh?â he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.
Spencer pulled you against him, adjusting your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. He wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.
âYouâre doing so good for me, angel,â he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.
As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.
âAre you close again, pretty girl?â he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.
âYes,â you gasped, barely able to form the word. âSpencer⊠fuck, Iâm so close.â
âThen cum around me,â he encouraged. âI know you want it.â
âWill you cum inside of me?â
For a heartbeat, he stilled. âIâŠâ He swallowed. His cheeks flushed as he hesitated on his next words. âI want to cum on your face.â
Your pupils blew wide. His confession causing a smirk to tug at the corner of your lips.
That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.
Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencerâs breath hitched at the sight of youâflushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.
âFuck, youâre perfect,â he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic⊠and he was about to ruin you.
It didnât take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger was almost enough to unravel him all over again.
Spencer was unable to leave your side, grabbing his sleeve to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh as you savored the comfortable silence that followed.
His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.
You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. âWhat was that about?â
Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. âI can be late for one day.â
#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds x you#spencer reid
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balm | bucky barnes



bucky barnes x reader â â
â wc 1k
summary: bucky finds out that you got a (minor) bruise and didnât tell him about it
tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of accident and bruise, reader gets a little guilty, bucky gets a little upset
âHey,â you feel Buckyâs hands on your hips, the soft touch of his lips to your cheek. âHey, doll. Did you get lovelier over the weekend?â
You try to ignore the stinging sensation where his hand rests against your waist. You turn around to face him, abandoning your task of chopping the vegetables.
âBucky,â you smile softly, arms going around his neck. He grins and kisses you again. âHi. I missed you.â
âSo did I, pretty girl,â he murmurs, thumbing at the skin underneath the edge of your shirt. Heâs gentle as always, but the pain is almost unbearable. You try not to squirm. âThere were so many times I almost called. But of course, Sam wouldnât let me. You know, strictly classified location and all that.â
Bucky had gone on a mission over the weekend, and had just gotten back a couple hours ago. You let yourself into his apartment as soon as you got a text from him.
Heâd mentioned craving pasta, so you started making some. The only thing you were trying to think about right now was making him feel loved after what must have been an exhausting few days.
You hum understandingly, turning back towards the kitchen platform and picking up the knife. Your shoulders almost sag with relief when Bucky lets go of your hips and stands beside you.
He eases the knife out of your hands, ignoring your protests. âSeriously, doll, itâs okay. I can do this. Why donât you get started on the pasta?â
âFine,â you sigh, moving to make way for your boyfriend to use the chopping board.
Bucky chuckles at your stubbornness. He glances over as you stand on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard above the stove.
One moment, youâre rummaging through the shelf to find pasta, and the next, you feel his strong hands curving around your stomach and pulling you back down.
âBucky ââ
âWhat ââ Bucky interrupts, spinning you around. His hands find your shirt. ââ is that?â He lifts it up, lightly brushing his fingertips over the dark purple lying just above your waistline. You try not to flinch. He notices, his frown deepening.
âItâs a⊠um⊠a bruise.â
âI know itâs a bruise, doll,â Bucky sighs. He crouches to get a better look at it, and you feel your muscles tensing up. From the stress or the pain, youâre not sure. âI mean, how did you â when did you get this? How did this happen?â
You swallow. His concern makes your heart squeeze in awful ways. âI, um⊠I got it today.â
âToday?â his gaze flicks up to yours worriedly as he stands up straight. âHow?â
âWell, so you see,â you suck in a breath, âthere was this other car which crashed into mine from behind ââ
âWhat?!â
âNo! Wait,â you grab his hands desperately, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. âItâs not as bad as you think it is, really. Just let me finish.â
You couldâve sworn he was glaring at you, but he kept his mouth shut.
âSo, nothing major happened ââ you gulp at his deadpan look, ââ really! I just got jerked a little from the impact, and the steering wheel hit me.â
âThis hard?â
You confirm it with a nod.
Bucky exhales, fingers finding the rough patch again as he slips his fingers under your shirt. He presses it gently. You wince. âDid you at least get it cleaned up?â
The guilty expression on your face tells him enough. But you still confirm it with a feeble, âno.â
His eyebrows bunch together. âThat canât be good,â he mutters to himself, tugging on the waistband of your shorts to get a better look. âCan you please come to the toilet with me? I think we should disinfect it.â
Youâre too overwhelmed with shame to do anything but agree. You let Bucky pull you to the washroom, manoeuvre you with his kind hands to sit on the closed toilet seat. He sits below, first aid kit in his lap.
You know heâs upset, even if he doesnât say anything. It doesnât show in the gentle way he wipes a washcloth over the area; the way he rests his chin on your knee as he works.
But it does show when he starts to apply the antiseptic cream. You hiss between clenched teeth, and he seems to have been reminded of the fact that youâre in pain, that you were in pain and you didnât bother telling him.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
You donât reply, opting instead to bite down on your lip. Bucky is quick to reach for your face, gently pulling it free from your assail.
He asks again, softer, like he wasnât kind enough the first time. It makes you feel like a bitch.
âYou just got back, you know,â you mumble. âYouâre probably exhausted, and â and sick of me, andâŠâ
âSick of you?â he interrupts quietly, something akin to confusion on his features. He sounds hurt. âI could never be sick of you, doll. And⊠and I missed you. You know I missed you.â
Once again, you donât know what to say. He doesnât need you to.
âListen,â he murmurs, tugging your shirt back down, âItâs my job to worry about you, okay? I donât want you worrying about me worrying about you. Because I want to.â
âAre you sure ââ
âIâm sure, lovely girl,â he says, getting up on his knees to kiss you. You bend forwards, feeling his affection soothe over you like a balm.
Bucky pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. âPromise not to hide things like these from me again, okay? I want to care about you.â
âYou want to care about me.â
âI do,â he murmurs, smiling slightly at the awe in your tone. âI do, doll. I love you.â He presses a kiss to your nose. âI love you.â
Bucky revels in the beauty of your smile when you say it back, the first real one he got from you all evening. He was glad to be home.
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes fandom#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky x female yn#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#the winter soldier#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier x you#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x y/n#winter soldier fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes
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NASTY DOG. . .á
â«â«â«ă
€male reader, brat taming, size difference, age gap (around 20-40 ig), ass eating, yeahhhh,,, livestock guardian dog x recon cat reader!!!ă
€âȘă
€âââă
€wc: 3k
"Ow, ow, ow!" You yelped, the fingertips digging into your scalp causing whimpers. Face scrunched upâ brows furrowed, lips pulled into a pout. Like a proper hurt brat.Â
Dean meanwhile, had ignored your struggles and continued to drag you through the field, eyes narrowed. The sharp blades of grass (freshly cut) dug into your skin, leaving red lines to mark up your thighs.Â
He had a firm grip on your hair, tugging harshly. Let it fall it out for all he cares. "Tsk. Stop complainin', it's hurting my ears." Dean huffed, pulling your head upwards for a sharp jolt. Relishing in the quick yelp that followed afterwardsâ echoing in the field.Â
With no warning, he dropped you down onto the ground, leaving you to keel, curling up like a worm. Dean crossed his arms, large and meaty, waiting for you to get up. "I already told ya, quit whining' and get up."Â
You huffed and rolled your eyesâ getting up to stand. Dusting off any dirt and grime on your clothes, you crossed your own arms and gazed at him. Eyes narrowed. "What is your problem?" You hissed. "Why'd ya have toâ to drag me back!"Â
Dean rolled his eyes. "This is exactly why. Your attitude won't cut it in this line of work, for cryin' out loud." He pinched his temple, right between his thick brows, the lines on his face more prominent than ever. You did a really good job at making him age by the secondâ and he was already old as is!Â
The old dog was the definition of loyal. Having been working for the ranchers since he was young. And now, with greying hair and decades of experience under his belt, Dean was the perfect mentor in their eyes. The hell were they thinking? The hell was he thinking?Â
"Yeah, sure,'' Dean said. Not paying any mind to the farmer's request. Something about some cat arriving next week. He's trained a couple of their guardians before, whats a recon cat to him? He's the top dog 'round this place, second in command if you may. Any new faces got to deal with him first.Â
Unfortunately, the pretty little cat they took in was far from easy.Â
A hellspawn he'd called you. Not outright of course. Dean still had some decency left in him, no matter how much you tested him. But he did imply it, a more passive aggressive approach. Let you know he was really disappointed with such a brat to deal with. Huffing and puffing like some wolf 'bout to blow the hay.Â
"Yeah well you didn't have to grab me by the hair!" He eyed the finger pointed at him, scoffing. Completely unthreatened. Dean was big, a tank that won't be moved so easily. That dainty little finger you waved around? Laughable. Course, he did stare at it a bit too long for his own comfortâ unsure why thoughts of how easy it would be to just... handle and carry you around like a sack of feathers.Â
"Boy, you're givin' me a damn headache. Recon cats are supposed to beâ what? Agile? Quick? Behaved? Is chasing butterflies your job or what?" Dean raised his voice. You winced at the jab. He frowned, eyes softening the tiniest bit.Â
"C'mon kid. The farmâs still away. We don't wanna get stuck out in the dark." Dean nodded his head to the distance, a faint silhouette of your new home. He trudged forward without waiting for you.Â
You sighed, posture slumping. Yet you followed along anyway, dragging your feet on the ground.Â
"Stupid fuckin' old dog," you murmured, plopping down on your bed. It was small and creaky, put together last minute. Much like your room. Pretty sure it was an old storage closet without the shelfs lining the walls to make room.Â
It was dusty, and cramped. Reeaaal welcoming. Guess they thought a room small as this would be fine, considering you weren't that hunkering anyway. At least Dean gets a proper room.Â
You sneer, feeling your blood boil at the thought of his name. "Who does he think he is? He's not the boss of me." Well... he kinda is. But whatever! It's not like you signed up for this anyway. Some boring countryside life looking out for barn animals and whatnot? Psh. Boooring!Â
"Some big old hunk bossin' me around... hmph." You lay on your back, the mattress was thin and barely did anything to soften the rough wood of your bed frame. Pretty sure your backâs gonna ache quicker than Deans.Â
A small snicker escapes you, lips curling into a smile. The image sends you a rush of amusement. Tiny giggles echo in your roomâ sounding like some maniac locked up in a padded cell with only his ideas to keep him company.Â
Dean stops outside your door. Hand raised midway the air, curled into a fist. He was about to call you out for dinner, escort you to the kitchen so you wouldn't get into any more trouble. But your laughter made him stop dead in his tracks.Â
He was dumbfounded, kinda. You sounded so innocent despite your... behaviour. Huh. It was almost cute. Endearing, even. Dean coughs, shaking his head. An annoyed frown tugged on his lips.
Ain't no way in hell. Never in my life would I...Â
Ah. But he has already fallen for you? Slowly and surely, even if he was unaware. The day you arrived on the farm, all prickly like a cactus. He almost found it cute (he did). But he wasn't sure if the intense feelings that were harbored deep in his chest was a really intense anger or something else entirely.Â
Something Dean had never thought to consider.Â
Affection.Â
Affection? For him? Dean blanched. He stepped back from the door like it burned him.The fucking cat? With his naughty attitude and god-forsaken defiance? Dean couldn't count how many times you stuck your tongue out at him, getting him all riled up. But fuck, maybe he did find it cute. So what? He's just a lonely old man, what's he supposed to do when the heavens throw a feline right into his arms?Â
A feline that'd fit in them all nice and snug, with how small you were compared to him. That's the first thing that came to mind when he laid his eyes on your form.Â
"Are ya tryin' ta kill me? That little thing's our recon?" Dean scoffed that night, complaining his heart out. "I don't know what you were thinkin'â what's he gonna do against coyotes? Wriggle and squirm?"Â
And unfortunately, it had only plagued him more as time went on. When he was introducing himself to youâ albeit begrudgingly. You were just standing there, leaning against the wall. Acting all smug as if Dean didn't dwarf you by a landslide. Like he couldn't just pick ya up if he wanted to, swing you over his shoulders.Â
The thought made him a bit too excited.Â
When he was tourin' you 'round the barn. Walking behind him like some shadow. Even his sharp ears couldn't hear your footstepsâ feel your presence. Light as a feather, indeed. Maybe he doubted you too much.Â
Earlier when he was dragging you on the field. Truth be told, he didn't mean to be so rough. Never in his life has Dean laid his hands on his juniors. But with you? It was an entirely different story. There was something about you that ignited feelings he didn't even know he could feel! It was a whole new area for him.Â
But god. Temptation had been building up, and Dean was only a man who could hold on for so long. He'd lost control, when those sinful thoughts kept him up. Shame welling in his being for every lewd image his mind conjured up in the middle of the night, keeping him from sleeping and getting some shut eye like an old dog should, as you said.Â
Gods, and how many times had you jabbed at his age? He ain't even that old!Â
It only made him feel guiltier. You were a young thingâ all pretty and shiny. Like a brand new chew toy for Dean to maul on. Sink his teeth into your pristine skin, leave red marks that'd prove his territory. (Territory. And this guy has the nerve to act like he doesn't have feelings for you!) What sounds would you make? If he bit deep and hard, licked up the marks afterwards. Dirty dog.Â
"Fuck," Dean snarled, dragging a calloused palm down his face. He stood in the hallway, trying to cancel out your laughter. What was he here for again? Right. Dinner.Â
Well shit, ain't Dean got dinner right here? Beyond that door, laying on the bed...Â
He turned his head away swiftly, ragged breaths leaving his chapped lips. Chest heaving up and down. "No, no... calm down. You ain't feel like thatâ" Dean chuckled. But it sounded more like a pathetic strain. "Not for him."Â
He didn't call you out for dinner, and he didn't eat either. But that hunger would get you both sooner or later.Â
"Just... a little... bit... more...!" You groaned, hand outstretched. Curse these tall cabinets. It's not like giants live here! And what the fuck was up with Dean? He was supposed to call you for dinner!Â
You actually fell asleep but that doesn't matter.Â
What matters now, is the hunger in your stomach driving you crazy. The rumbles could echo in the barn if they got any louder. It was embarrassing enough as it is.Â
Sneaking around, avoiding the creaky floorboards. Ears raised and alert for any and every sound made. What were you? A spy? You live here!Â
"Goddammit, coulda saved me some leftovers. Even a grain would've been nice." You grumbled, sighing and rolling your eyes. Pouting at the thought of the meal you missed. Damn barn animals and their never ending greed. Not even a single scrap was put away for little ol' you.Â
You were so caught up in your actions that you failed to notice a figure entering the kitchen, getting a nice front view of your behind. Huh. Why were you archin' your back like that anyway?Â
Dean froze, mind blue screening temporarily as his eyes registered your ass all puckered out in the dark.Â
He had given in to his hunger, forgetting about dinner after his... ahem, revelations. Curled up in bed, sulking in denial like he was about to be put down. Pathetic really. Since when did Dean get worked up over pretty kitties?Â
Since you, apparently.Â
He thought about it. Since you were their first recon cat, he didn't have much experience with felines. Only knew that they were playful, independent, and incredibly alluring. Dangerously so that when you've fallen for one, oh brother, there is no getting back up.Â
Might as well dig yourself a hole in the ground to live in.Â
Playful, when you gave jokes he wouldn't understand. Quick-witted, aren't you? With a smart little mouth that said all sorts of things. Curiosities and glimpses of your personality past the shallow image of a no-good cat. That twinkle in your eyes every time your soft lips curved into a smile, a triumphant "hmph!". You just loved being right, didn't you?Â
Independent, always going off on your own. No matter how many times Dean reprimanded you, kept you from wandering too far. Curiosity kills the cat, after all. That's what he said, and that was the first time you rolled your eyes at him too. Wonder what it'd look like if he made them roll back for a different reason. Dean could only sigh and expect a headache to form whenever you weren't round the barn. Away from the fence and enjoying the scenery like some tourist.Â
And finally: Alluring.Â
As much as he didn't want to admit it. You had this charm that... well, charmed him. He beat himself up over it. But everytime he promised himself to stopâ the obsession only got more intense. Every time you weren't looking he'd catch a quick glimpse. Admire your features, rake his eyes down your figure in silent appreciation. Whenever he entered a room, Dean found himself looking for you. And when you entered one? He'd feel your presence immediately.Â
It was ridiculous, how downright bad he was.Â
Maybe it was fate. Here, with you oblivious to his presence, arching your back and presenting yourself (unknowingly) to Dean.Â
He stepped closer, silently. A shadow casted over his face.Â
You could only widen your eyes and gasp in shock when two hands placed themselves onto your hips, keeping you in place. "Gah! Dean!?" You yelped, blinking at him curiously. Sweat built up on your temple, heart caught in your throat.Â
"I wasn't doing anything! Just... looking for food, I swear!" You reasoned, still planted on your palms for balance.Â
Dean only hummed, massaging invisible circles into your skin with his thumbs. "That so?" He said. You shivered. What the hell? What was that? Why did he sound so... intense?Â
"What're you doin' up late at night?" He asked, brow raised. Eyes boring into yours. Had the nerve to sound suspicious, too. "You were supposed to call me for dinner, don't act surprised." You huffed, turning away.Â
Dean only tugged you closerâ hips meeting yours. Stupid kitty. Even now you have the nerve to act so high and mighty. Maybe Dean should teach you humbleness, take you from your throne for a little while.Â
"Don't test me," Dean growled, satisfaction creeping in his blood as he watched you tremble. "Mh," he hummed. Yeah. You were tiny.Â
"Test you? What the hell are youâ" Riiip! In an instant, the cold air had latched itself onto your skin. Dean tore apart the seam in your shortsâ right in the cleft of your ass. His tail has begun to wag, eyeing the cute rim staring at him.Â
You were too shocked to make a sound, and even then, before you could react, Dean had dove right in, licking and nibbling at your pucker. "Huh- ah!" Your claws dug onto the wooden counter, leaving scratch marks. Dean slobbered up your hole like a man starved, saliva dripping down your chin.Â
He licked and licked, made you dizzy til' your hole was nice and soft. His tongue was rough and textured, making your cock tingle and come to life. "W-wait, it's dirty down there!"Â
Dean wrapped his hand around the base of your tail, tugging it upwards to bury his face deeper into your behind. Slowly, he breached your insides, licking up at your gummy walls. Your soft whimpers was like music to his ears. Oh, he felt fulfilled.Â
But not quite.Â
"O-oh..." you gasped softly, blush blooming on your cheeks. Dean was massaging your insides with his tongue, desperate and needy. His movements were quick yet deep and stimulatingâ as if he was looking for something.Â
"Hnn!~" Your tongue lolled out, thighs tensing up. Unkowingly, you began to thrust your hips baclwards, meeting Deans licks. His tongue rolled onto a soft bud insideâ a sensitive cluster of nerves that made you weak in the knees. "F-fuck..."Â
Dean continued his assault on your prostate, never once breaking his pace. His eyes were closed shut, as if he was trying to savor the taste and feelingâ keep this memory in his mind forever. His own cock jumped in his jeans, straining to be released.Â
You were so warm... so tight. He couldn't wait to bury his cock to the hilt, make your belly bulge and fill you to the brim. Hump you like a dog in rutâ fuck. "Uh... guh!"Â
Dean parted himself from your ass, panting and heaving. Your rim was shiny with spit, legs trembling and cock leaking pre pathetically.Â
It was silent for a moment. Until you heard a belt buckle, followed by a zipper and the sound of fabric falling to the floor.Â
And then you felt it.Â
Deans cock. Hard and hotâ rubbing against your behind. Fuck. How big was that? It felt huge! You whined softly, fear striking you. But there was excitement as well, you had never done this before, and for someone like Dean to make you experience it...Â
Naughty.Â
You had been nothing but a brat your time here, but you couldn't deny that Dean was a good looking man when you first met. Tall and buff, yet soft. Hair on his arms and chest, a little grey in his hair. Lines around his eyes and lips... you shivered. God. What did his cock look like?Â
What would it feel like, to take him nice and deep?Â
You bit your lip. Dean continued to rub his length between your cheeks for a goodwhile, like he was easing you into the harsh fucking to come. "Fuck, can't wait anymore." Dean groaned, and pushed his tip against your tight vice.Â
He held your hips firmly, keeping you in place as you wriggled. He was big! Your pathetic rim struggled to envelop his tip.Â
Dean's mind raced as his hips rocked up, driving his thick cock deep into your tight hole. The boy was so small, so delicate compared to his large frame. Your slender body bounced with each thrust.Â
"Fuck, boy..." Dean groaned, fingers digging into the cat's hips hard enough to leave marks. "You feel s' good around my cock. So hot 'n tight..."Â
He knew this was wrong. You were his junior, and Dean was supposed to be disciplining you, teachin' you the ways 'round the barn. Not... fucking you senseless. But god, the way your velvety walls clenched around him, the sweet little noises spilling from those plush lipsâ it was too much to resist.Â
Dean's balls slapped against your ass as he pistoned his hips faster, chasing his rapidly approaching climax. "Fuck, fuck," he snarled. "Take it."Â
The lewd squelch of saliva and the slap of skin on skin filled the kitchen. He could feel you shaking apart on his cock, the boy's neglected dick bobbing between their bellies, flushed an angry red and leaking steadily.Â
He reached around to palm your cock, jerking you in time with his erratic thrusts. Huh. For and old dogâ he sure had stamina.Â
Dean's thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the copious precum. You let out a high, keening wail, back arching as his orgasm crashed over him. Pearly ropes of cum painted Dean's fist and splattered across the counter as your hole clamped down around his pistoning length.Â
The pressure sent Dean hurtling over the edge. With a guttural groan, he slammed you back onto his cock, all the way down to the hilt. Bulging your belly. At the same time, he had bit onto your shoulder, breaking skin and leaking blood.Â
Your body twitched, eyes rolled back and unfocused. You leaned forward, finding support on the wooden counter (now littered with scratch marks) as Dean massaged your hips. "Hah.. haahh.."Â
Uncontrollable sighs escaped you, bones melting against Dean. Smaller spurts of semen shooting out of Dean's tip sent shocks down your spine, smaller cock red and spent. With your cum dribbling down onto your tiny balls.Â
Sweat trickled down their skin, breaths heavy. Illuminated in the moons light.Â
Finally, with a groan, Dean pulled out (albeit begrudgingly) of your warm hole.Â
He watched, transfixed, as a string of his cum connected his softening cock to your puffy, well-used hole. The sight made his spent dick twitch with interest. Fuck, he could do this all night.Â
Ah... but you seemed tired. He chuckled, eyeing your spent form. All sweaty and twitchy. Particularly focused on the bite mark that stuck out on your shoulder.Â
"Congratulations, boy. Now yer a true, fully-fledged recon cat.â
this was supposed to be lamb reader but idk,,, let me see how this does first then ill think abt it :3 ALSO WHAT IS IT WITH ME AND CAT READER??? ffuckin cat burglar n heavenly,,, urg. So sorry guys idk. I just love pussy!!
#ăŁÏ=`)ă
€âŻâŻă
€my works...#bottom male reader#bottom reader#sub male reader#uke male reader#male reader smut#x male reader#male reader#oc#mlm
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(poly 141 x recluse reader)
I wrote this in a rush sorry yall đ
The wind howled through the valley, carrying flurries of ice that bit at your skin as you trudged through the knee-deep snow. This high up in the mountains, winter never truly loosened its grip. It had been a quiet season, with little to disturb the peace of your secluded home.
Until tonight, that is.
You first saw the blood, stark against the pristine white. Then the trail- a jagged, uneven path of someone desperate and wounded.
And then him.
A man, half-buried in the snow, shivering and barely conscious. His beard was flecked with frost, tactical gear dark with blood. You crouched beside him, pressing two fingers to his throat. His pulse was weak but steady.
A survivor.
It wasnât the first time the wilderness had delivered a lost soul to your doorstep, but at least it wasnât a dead one. With a sigh, you hoisted his near-dead weight onto your back and carried him home.
It took a week and a half before he finally woke up, time in which you spent tending to him and his injuries.
John awoke to the smell of burning wood and the distant sound of a knife slicing through something firm. His head was still heavy with fever, but the warmth wrapped around him was unlike anything he had felt in what seemed like weeks.
He shifted, and immediately, a voice cut through the quiet.
âDonât.â
His eyes flickered open.
You stood over a table, back turned to him, methodically cutting strips of dried venison. You didnât look at him, but your tone was firm, yet still kind.
âYouâre not strong enough to get up.â
John blinked, sluggishly taking in his surroundings. The cabin was small but sturdy, the stone fireplace crackling with warmth. Fur-lined blankets weighed down his aching body. He had been stripped of his heavy gear, left in a thick knit sweater that was definitely not his. It smelled faintly of vanilla.
He tried to sit up anyway. As a result, sharp pain lanced through his ribs, and he bit back a curse.
âSee?â you said dryly, finally turning to look at him fully. âTold you.â
John exhaled roughly, running a hand over his face. âWhere- ?â
âSomewhere safe.â
That was all you offered.
John studied you in the firelight, his tactical mind still sluggish but observant. You werenât military- your clothes were practical, but not issued. You moved with practiced efficiency, your cabin well-kept, stocked with supplies only someone used to self-sufficiency would have.
A recluse.
He had met people like you before. Ones who chose to live outside the world. And your cabin reminded him of an emergency hut that belonged to Nikolai, though yours was definitely far more lived in.
But what struck him was the quiet steadiness in which you handled him. Not fearful. Not overly kind. Just⊠there.
And that, more than anything, settled something deep in his bones. Warm and deep- and far better than the fever plaguing him at the moment.
Said fever that when broke, the first thing he asked for was his team.
You hesitated, watching him from where you stirred a pot over the fire.
âDid they know where you were?â you asked.
John exhaled through his nose. âThey knew we were in the mountains. We got separated when the things went sideways.â His jaw clenched. âTheyâll be looking.â
You nodded once. âThen theyâll find you- I have a flare gun that can be used.â
And true to your words, they did.
It started with footprints. You noticed them even before John did, your senses tuned to the quiet of the land.
Then the feeling. A weight in the air. Something watching, watching, watching- until they decided you were not a threat.
John was already moving- slower than he would have liked, but determined. He stepped onto the porch, breath misting in the cold. His sharp eyes scanned the tree line.
Then-
âPrice!â
A flash of movement.
The first one to break from the trees was- as he-d later introduce himself- Soap. He moved fast, determined, boots crunching through the snow.
Price barely had time to brace himself before the Scot barreled into him, gripping his shoulders in an almost bruising hold.
âSteaminâ Jesus, Cap,â Soap breathed, eyes scanning over him, searching for injuries. âYou- bloody hell- we thought-â
The others emerged next, more controlled but no less frantic. Gaz exhaled sharply, tension visibly draining from his shoulders. Ghost had an unmistakable tightness in his jaw as he stopped beside them.
(Strange military callsigns, youâll think to yourself later).
Price huffed, patting Soapâs arm. âIâm alright, Johnny.â
Soap didnât look convinced. Neither did the others, and thatâs when their attention finally shifted- to you, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the reunion silently.
The weight of their collective scrutiny settled heavily, and John noticed the way their stances changed- protective, defensive. And then, realization.
It wasnât just that they had found him. It was where they had found him. With you.
âYou took care of him.â Gaz finally said.
It wasnât quite a question.
You met his gaze, steady and unflinching. âHe was half-dead on my doorstep.â A pause, to give them just enough time to understand that you werenât a threat. âSeemed wasteful to let him die.â
A muscle in Ghostâs jaw twitched. Soap was still looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle, and then coming up empty-handed when he realized there were lost pieces.
Then John chuckled, low and warm, and that shifted the tension. âSheâs got a point.â
Their Captain was alive. That was what mattered.
For now.
You thought they would leave, truthfully.
You had done your part; John was healed. He had his pack again. The logical thing would be for them to disappear back into whatever world they had come from, far away from your life of safe, quiet solitude. The snow would cover their footprints and their presence eventually.
But they didnât.
At first, it was excuses. John still needed time to fully recover. The blizzard made travel dangerous. They needed a place to regroup fully.
Then, it was something else.
John started reinforcing your cabinâs defenses- setting up more tripwires than the ones theyâd ruined in their pursuit of finding John, repositioning the perimeter to make it more secure. âJust in case, lass. Ya can never be too sure.â Heâd said with a grin.
Gaz took to handling supply runs. He was always attentive, always watching. He learned your habits, how you did your things, quicker than you expected, somehow always anticipating what you might need before you asked.
Ghost was quieter, but his presence was constant. He lingered. Observed. You often caught his gaze on you, sharp and unreadable beneath his mask. And then heâd silently picked up the duty of hunting.
And John acted like he had always been here.
He had an ease about him that made it hard to argue. He helped where it was needed, spoke when he had something worth saying, and settled into your space like he belonged. And simultaneously had such command about him that youâd find yourself tongue-tied when youâd truly attempt to argue and kick them out.
It was unsettling.
Because you knew what this was; they werenât just staying.
They were claiming- even if theyâd have to leave for their military job, eventually. Claiming your time, your space, your presence.
You saw it in the way they positioned themselves- between you and the outside world. The way their sharp gazes tracked any movement that wasnât theirs. The way they subtly adjusted to your routines, not forcing their presence, but weaving into your life as if it was inevitable.
You werenât stupid. You knew how wolves like them worked.
John was the leader. Their Captain. And where he went, the others followed.
And now, they had set their sights on you.
#noona.posts#noona.writes#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#john price x reader#poly!141 x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#soap x reader#ghost x you#gaz x reader#poly 141 x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#poly 141#kyle gaz garrick x you#poly!141#soap x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#poly!141 x you#poly 141 x you
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kiss it better
in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you
18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D
âHey,â you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. âPay attention to me.â
Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon heâs abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight.Â
âOkay. What kind of attention would you like?â
You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder.Â
âThis is pretty good.â
âOh, good,â he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose.Â
When he pulls away you canât help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously heâs perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie⊠heâs just⊠heâs just soâŠ
Heâs just so alarmed?
âHoney, your knee.â
âMy knee?â Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. âOh.â
The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance.Â
âWhat did you do?â
You snort.Â
âWhat did you do, Spencer?â
Itâs cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words.Â
âWhat do you mean? I did something?â
âBabe.â
The knot between his brows has not loosened anyâin fact youâre worried heâs going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own.Â
âWhen we got back from Penelopeâs thing, the other night?â
Slowly the understanding seeps into his expressionâsoft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes.Â
âOh.â
God, heâs so cute. He canât hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â
The question comes out too smiley, but you canât help it.Â
âI hurt you,â he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to.â
âI kinda think you did,â you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. âBaby, itâs fine. You didnât hurt me. Donât you ever get mysterious bruises?â
His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again.Â
âNo. My iron levels are optimal.â
Naturally.Â
âOkay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what itâs from because it never hurt. These,â you look down, gesturing to your knee, ânever hurt. Itâs just what happens when your knees hit the floor.â
âWell you shouldnât have been on the floor,â he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. âIâm never letting you touch the floor ever again.â
Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. âOh, so youâre going to carry me everywhere we go?â
âIf thatâs what it takes. I donât like seeing you bruised up.â
âItâs okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.â
At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed.Â
âWhere are you going?â You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube.Â
âGive me your legs,â he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though itâs definitely tender, you avoid wincing. âYou donât have to do that. I can tell it hurts.â
You laugh.Â
âYeah, well, it didnât until you started trying to fix it.â The ointment is pungent and you make a face. âWhat are you rubbing all over me?â
âThis is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.â
âAw. You donât think theyâre pretty on me?â
He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen heâd been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently.Â
âI always think youâre pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.â
âAre you done taking care of me now?â You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks itâs muffled by your shoulder.Â
âNever.â
You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan.Â
âYou could kiss them better.â
Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck.Â
âI might just do that.â
#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x self insert#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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âWhatâs got you so grumpy?â
Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.
He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.
âWhat are you talking about?â He grunts.
He knows exactly what youâre talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enoughâgrumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet whoâs had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: heâs pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)
âYouâre sulking,â you point outâand that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body awayâif anything, itâs the one way to get him less agitated).
âIâm not fucking sulking,â he says. Itâs almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. âI donât sulk.â
âAre you sure?â You raise a disbelieving browâhe clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. âYou look pretty sulky to me.â
âGet your eyes checked.â
âCanât. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldnât want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?â
Itâs his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. âIf you wanna try ân be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.â
âMaybe you need your eyes checked,â you huff, âI was not checking you out.â
âPretty sure you were,â he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, âitâs okay. Donât blame ya for beinâ possessed by my impressive physique.â
âToo bad your personality isnât as dazzling,â you quip back easily.
Itâs meant to be lighthearted, of courseâbut it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.
Thereâs a flash of something in his eyes. Something you donât think youâve ever seen in Sukunaâs faceâdoubt. Itâs a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. Heâs confident, and heâs confident enough that itâs almost to a fault. Heâs cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.
Itâs a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.
âYeah?â He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecatingâenough that it makes you frown. âGood thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?â
âWell, itâs not just your abs,â you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. âYour boobs are pretty great, too.â
To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.
âYou fucking freak,â he mutters.
Something is bothering him. You know you canât directly ask it out of him, otherwise heâll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, heâs pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyoneâs feelings. (Heâs better about yours more than otherâs, but heâs pretty far from good.)
You donât mind. Thereâs something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for youâitâs like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.
Except, this time, itâs not your emotions heâs navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesnât have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows youâre sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows youâre pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows youâre faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.
But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.
But youâre too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.
âHey,â you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, âwhatâs gotten into you? Itâs weird when youâre not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.â
âAnd thatâs supposed to be a good thing?â He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, âwhat are you sittinâ here for if Iâm always pissing you off?â
Oh, you think. So thatâs what it is.
You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like heâs waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where youâre always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesnât have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as youâre okay, so is he.
But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.
âWho cares if you piss me off?â You snort, âI piss you off better. Iâm pretty good at it.â
âYou are,â he agrees instantly.
You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, âyou donât have to agree so fast.â
It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.
âWhat happens when Iâm all old and expiring and my abs are gone?â He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.
âWeâll still be pissing each other off, I bet.â
âThatâs supposed to be good?â He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.
âWhy not?â You shrug, âit always worked for us, hasnât it?â
âYeah,â he scoffs, âthatâs until it doesnât.â He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. Itâs like they taste acrid is mouth and he canât bring himself swallow them down.
You donât say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.
Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.
âWhat are you waiting for?â He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.
You fight back an amused smile. âDoes it piss you off?â
âCourse it does. Kiss me properly or back off my faceââ
âCause you love me right?â You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.
âAnd if I do?â
âYou piss me off too. Because I love you too,â you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.
When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, itâs only because you love him. When heâs brutally honest and doesnât say what you want to hear, youâre only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When heâs stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, youâre only angry because thereâs no one else youâd rather cross the bridge with than him.
He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because itâs him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because itâs you.
Itâs a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. Itâs a seamless, smooth, crackless road.
You donât ever fix something thatâs not broken.
âThat doesnât make sense,â he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.
âThatâs because youâre a bit dim.â
âYeah,â he rolls his eyes, âokay. Anything else?â
âYeah, actually. I love you.â
He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, âme too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.â
âI like to get under your skin like that,â you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, âguess youâll just have to deal with it.â
His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. âGuess so.â
ââââââââ
a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesnât admit it and refuses to acknowledge that heâs aware heâs difficult to love and canât understand why you love him but he also doesnât want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and iâll be talking about it from my grave still. youâll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how heâs a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna fluff#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#euthymiya.writing
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