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daryltwdixon · 4 days ago

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Joel Miller meeting your parents

this is just a stupid little thing from seeing this gif of him in this post ok thank you and goodnight. Been having writers block so if an idea can get this far on docs I’m posting it

|| fluff, little bit nsfw, daddy kink, old man joel, peepaw joel meets your parents, reader's dad is kind of a hard ass, I suck at flirty banter tbh, cracking up at some of the shit I put in here, enjoy ||

“Baby, I’m serious—” Joel said, but his hands betrayed him, gripping at your hips like he couldn’t help himself as you climbed into his lap. Your knees framed his thick thighs, still clad in worn denim, while his green plaid shirt had come untucked and bunched around his waist. A sliver of soft, tanned stomach peeked out as he leaned back against the bed frame.

“I’m serious too,” you murmured, voice thick with want as you pressed your mouth to his neck. Your fingers wove through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. “Need you, Joel. Been thinking about this all day.”

“We’re gonna be late if you keep this up,” he rasped, even as his head tipped back to give you more of his throat, groaning low when your teeth grazed the scruff along his jaw.

“Don’t care,” you breathed, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “They’ll be fine.”

You hiked your skirt higher, rocking down against him, already expecting to feel that familiar ache of him beneath you—but instead, your hips stilled at the softness of his lap. You blinked, confused, pulling back just enough to search his face. But Joel wouldn’t meet your eyes. His gaze darted everywhere else, over your shoulder, to the wall behind you, the damn nightstand—anywhere but you.

“…Joel?”

He still wouldn’t look at you. You moved your hands to his chest, flattening them against the flannel, feeling the heavy thudding of his heart beneath your fingers.

“You okay?” you asked, softer now, studying him. He looked nice tonight with his hair slicked back, beard freshly trimmed, and his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the veins in his forearms.

You cocked your head, more curious than concerned now as you really looked at him. “Are you…” You reached up, cupping his jaw, gently turning his face until his eyes finally met yours. “Joel Miller, are you nervous?”

He let out a long breath, his voice low and a little rough. “Course I’m nervous, baby.”

“Why?” you asked, easing back in his lap. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips, thumbs sweeping slow, steady circles. It was more soothing for him than you now, grounding himself in the feeling of you.

“Any man’d be nervous meetin’ his girl’s parents for the first time,” he muttered, eyes flicking away again. Then, quieter, “Even if they weren’t his own damn age…”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips—gentle, unhurried. He let you, kissing you back with a quiet sigh, the kind that said he was trying not to get pulled under. You hovered close, noses brushing, before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again.

“They’re gonna love you,” you whispered.

Joel gave a dry huff, eyes flicking away. “They’re gonna think I’m a damn pervert.”

“You are a pervert.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, narrowing just a bit, the muscles in his jaw tightening. You didn’t miss the way his brows dipped or how his eyes darkened, heat stirring just beneath the surface.

You bit back a grin, fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

He rolled his eyes, still glaring up at you, and you let your shoulders drop, giving in. “Okay, so you’re older than me, who cares? You’re also respectful. And kind. You’re a good man. You even built my cat a window catio.”

That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, though he still wouldn’t look at you.

“And you didn’t have to say yes to any of this,” you added, quieter now. “But you did.”

He let out a breath, one hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

You leaned in, your nose brushing his. “And if I thought for one second they wouldn’t like you, I wouldn’t be dragging you into this.”

Finally, his eyes flicked to yours, unsure but searching.

You gave him a small smile. “You’ve got nothing to prove. Just… be yourself. Maybe with slightly less scowling.”

His lips twitched into even more of a smile then, and you kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering there a moment. “But if it helps…” you murmured, lips grazing his jaw now, “I can think of something to get your mind off it for a minute.”

Joel let out a slow breath, one he’d been holding in the entirety of your reassurances, his head falling back against your pillows again.

You smiled against his throat, lips curved with mischief. “I mean… if you really want me to stop…” you murmured, pressing your mouth to the spot just under his jaw. “I could get off your lap.”

Your hips shifted like you might, and his grip on you instantly tightened.

“But then…” you went on, voice all innocent and sinful at once, “what should I do about all this?”

You reached down, took his hand in yours, and guided it between your thighs, right over your panties, where the heat of you was unmistakable. His palm pressed flush against the soaked fabric, and you felt his breath catch sharp in his chest.

He hummed low in his throat, something dark and approving, and as your fingers slipped away, his own pressed harder. His touch was firm, possessive, like he’d been dying to do it but holding back until now.

“This’s all for me?” he finally muttered, voice rough as gravel. “Just from sittin’ in daddy’s lap, huh?”

You whimpered, rocking into his hand, desperate for more friction as you nodded. He gave it to you, slow circles with his fingers that had your breath stuttering, your thighs trembling around his. Even with the fabric between you, you could feel his rough calloused pads of his fingers perfectly against the heat of you.

“Joel,” you whined, barely even meaning to say it.

With a grunt, he shifted, and suddenly your back hit the mattress with a soft thud. He was over you in a flash, his body heavy and hot as he settled between your legs, looking at you like he was starving.

“You got me all worked up now,” he muttered, voice thick and low as his hands dragged your skirt higher, exposing more of your thighs. “Can’t let you walk out that door like this.”

He dipped his head to your neck, lips brushing over your pulse point before suckling gently. The scrape of his beard followed, rough and hot, as he worked his way lower, mouthing at the curve of your collarbone. Then down further, pushing your shirt up as he went, lifting it just enough to mouth at the soft skin of your chest.

“Let me take care of you,” he rasped, dragging his tongue over the top of your breast, nipping at it like he couldn’t help himself. “Let me take care of this little problem, huh, baby?”

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Knew I’d get your mind off it, old man.”

His hands were everywhere now—palming your thighs, gripping your hips, pushing your panties aside just enough to slide his fingers back where they belonged in your wet, glistening entrance. His mouth returned to your skin, kissing and suckling until your back arched and your breath hitched in your throat.

Joel finally lifted his head, eyes dark and hungry as he hovered over you.

“You gonna be the one tellin’ your parents why we’re late?” he quirked his eyebrow with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You smirked, hands sliding up his shoulders and onto his neck, tugging at the nape of his hair, “I’ll say I had to help you calm your nerves. Blow off some steam. Pretty sure I’m doing everyone a favor.”

Joel huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at you. “That so?” he murmured, his smile pulling a little wider. “You’re real proud of yourself, huh?”

You grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. “You’re welcome.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest. But then something shifted, his gaze lingering a little longer, smile easing into something softer. His eyes flicked around your face like he was locking it into his memory. The mischief faded, replaced by something deeper, something heavier.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t playful anymore. It was deep and unhurried, messy and slow, full of everything that had led up to this night, where you were finally taking this next step, where things became even more real. One hand braced beside your head, the other deep inside you between your trembling legs, dragging you closer to the edge with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips.

Your breath caught. He pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he murmured, barely audible, like it had slipped out before he could stop it.

“Love you too, big guy,” you whispered, smiling as you pulled him back down to you.

The porch light flickered on above you as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the worn steps. Joel stood just off-center in front of the door, fingers loosely laced, jaw tense, shoulders drawn up like he expected to be called into a principal’s office.

You watched him for a moment, the way his eyes kept scanning the darkening yard, how his foot tapped once, then twice. He was wearing that soft brown light jacket over the green flannel, the one you loved so much. His hair was smoothed back now, but you could still see the faint tousle where your fingers had been tangled in it less than an hour ago. There was something boyish about how nervous he looked.

You stepped in close and laid a hand flat against his chest.

“Hey,” you said gently. “You’re okay.”

His eyes finally met yours, soft and searching, and you offered him a small smile as your fingers smoothed out the front of his shirt, pressing down a wrinkle that wasn’t really there.

“You’re gonna be fine, Joel. It’s just dinner.”

“Do they know that I’m–?” he mumbled.

You leaned up, brushed your lips over his, cutting him off. It wasn’t hungry or rushed, just soft, sweet, and steady.

When you pulled back, your voice was quiet. “Relax. Like I said, they’re gonna love you.”

He exhaled through his nose, a little shaky, and gave a small nod. His hand came up to rest gently on your waist, thumb brushing over your hip like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

Then, behind you, the front door creaked open with a slow, familiar groan. You turned just enough to see the porch light glint off your dad’s glasses.

Joel straightened like he’d been caught doing something criminal. “Sir,” he greeted, stepping forward to shake your dad’s hand.

Your father was stone-faced, giving Joel a single nod as he returned the handshake. He stood in the doorway, quiet and watchful, eyes moving between the two of you without a word.

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“Are they here!?” came a familiar voice from just inside. A second later, your mom popped her head around your dad’s shoulder, her hands clutching his arm. Her eyes lit up the second she saw you.

“There she is!” she squealed, practically barreling into you for a hug.

You let out a soft laugh as she wrapped her arms around you, warm and overwhelming in the best way. She pulled back just enough to hold you at arm’s length, eyes flicking over your face like she was making sure you were really here.

Then her gaze shifted.

“And you must be Joel!” she said brightly, stepping toward him with a big smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied politely.

“Oh, don’t call me that,” she waved him off, offering her name instead.

You caught the twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he repeated it, his voice soft with that drawl you knew so well.

She reached out and placed her hands on his arms, eyes roaming over him with zero subtlety. “Well, aren’t you handsome,” she said with a wink.

“Mom…” you groaned under your breath.

“Come inside, you two. Dinner’s nearly ready.”

Joel glanced at you, his jaw tight but his eyes softer now. There was still a flicker of nerves there, but beneath it was something quieter. Maybe even grateful. Like he couldn’t quite believe he got to be standing here, hand still warm from your dad’s handshake, your mom’s voice ringing with welcome, your hand just a breath away from his.

You offered him a small smile, one he returned without thinking, and the two of you stepped inside together.

You leaned up to kiss your dad’s cheek as you passed, and he returned it gently, one hand settling on your arm in a quiet, welcoming squeeze.

“So,” your dad’s voice carried from the head of the table, “what is it you do, Joe?”

“It’s Joel, dad.”

Your father raised his eyebrows like he hadn’t noticed the correction, even though he absolutely had.

“I own Miller Contractin’,” Joel said, calm and steady. “We build houses, do commercial work, though mostly stick to residential these days. All across the county.”

Your dad nodded, still not looking up from his plate, chewing a little harder than usual. “Miller Contracting… That just you, or you got a crew?”

“My brother and I are partners, we got a good crew of guys.”

“Hmm.”

A long sip of iced tea later, your dad’s voice pipes up again: “What kinda permits you gotta pull for that subdivision on the west side?”

You blinked. “Dad—”

Joel didn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the parcel. New builds gotta go through the county first, then the town for inspection sign-off. If it’s remodels or additions, we skip the land survey.”

Your dad finally looked up, eyes narrowing. “And your license number?”

Joel raised an eyebrow right back. “You wanna write it down?”

That earned a chuckle from your brother across the table, who quickly masked it with a bite of roll.

Your dad gave a grunt that could’ve meant anything, then pointed his fork across the table. “You hunt?”

“Not in a while,” Joel said. “Used to. Mostly just keep a few rifles around now, in case somethin’ needs shootin’.”

Another nod.

Then, after a long pause, your dad took another bite and mumbled around his food, “Built that deck out back myself, y’know. Back in ’98.”

“Yeah, when I was 8 months pregnant and bout ready to burst from stress,” your mom quipped with a little scoff.

Joel, bless him, didn’t so much as smirk. “It’s a good build. Still holdin’ up well.”

Your dad’s fork hovered in the air, then he gave a small, barely-there nod like Joel had just passed some pop quiz of his.

You finally started to relax until he opened his mouth again.

“One last question, Joel,” your dad said casually, sawing through his steak.

Joel’s shoulders tensed slightly. “Yessir.”

Your dad glanced across the table. His eyes flicked to your neck, then to Joel. Then back to you. With his knife, he gestured loosely toward your collarbone.

“That a hickey on my daughter’s neck?”

You nearly choked on your water.

Joel froze, fork halfway to his mouth.

There was a beat of stunned silence before your mom smacked your dad’s arm.

“David.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence, still chewing.

Joel cleared his throat. Loudly. “I—uh—must be… a-a nasty bug bite or somethin’.”

You stared down at your plate, cheeks on fire, absolutely refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Your dad just grinned around another bite, like he’d just scored the winning point in a game no one else knew they were playing.

Later, the two of you ended up shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, trading off dishes and bumping hips as you loaded the dishwasher and tackled the giant roasting pan your mom had insisted was “vintage, not ancient.”

Joel rinsed a plate, set it in the rack, and glanced at you with a sly grin. “You always this bossy with kitchen duty?”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “I’m not bossy. I’m efficient.”

“You barely let me step up to the sink before you were shovin’ the dryin’ rag in my hand.”

“I did not.”

“Reckon ya did, sweetheart. And to think I’m just tryna be a good guest.”

You laughed, nudging him with your hip. “I just know where our strengths and weaknesses lie is all.”

“Uh-huh.” He held up the rag and dish in hand dramatically. “Well, I’m puttin’ it on my résumé.”

“Oh yeah? Skills: contracting, firearm safety, surviving dad interrogation, and above-average dish drying?”

He turned to you, eyes playful. “You forgot exceptional boyfriend.”

You pretended to think about it. “Jury’s still out.”

He gave you a mock glare. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’re gettin’ another one of them hickeys on your neck. Right on the other side. Bet your dad would love that.”

Your eyes widened. “Joel.”

“Symmetry,” he said with a shrug, like it was the most reasonable explanation in the world.

Joel stepped back from the counter, towel still in hand, and playfully flicked it toward your backside. You squealed, swatting at him with your sudsy hand, and nearly bumped into the oven.

You were both laughing when the kitchen door creaked open and your dad leaned inside.

Joel straightened like he’d been caught red-handed again, shoulders stiff.

Your dad gave a long look at the two of you, then cleared his throat. “Joel.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You drink beer?”

Joel blinked. “Sure do.”

Your dad nodded once, like he’d already made the decision before asking. “Come out on the porch. I got a few in the cooler.”

Joel shot you a quick look, like he was trying to read if this was good or bad.

You just smiled and mouthed, go.

He followed your dad out, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he went. You watched him go with a little flutter in your chest.

“Oh,” a sudden thought crossed your mind, “daddy?”

Both men turned.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, honey?”

The silence that followed was crippling.

Joel went stiff as a board, like he’d just realized he’d stepped off a cliff and was waiting for gravity to finish the job. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He looked between you and your dad with eyes wide as saucers, face draining of color.

Your dad was staring at him. Hard.

You turned crimson, choking on air. “I—I was just... I was gonna ask if you wanted some—Mom said there was pie for dessert. Or maybe it was cheesecake? I don’t–I don’t know. Actually, let me go ask her.”

You slapped the sponge onto the counter and bolted, eyes on the floor, muttering something that might’ve been English as you fled the kitchen.

You sat curled into the corner of the couch, a slice of pie balanced on your lap and your second glass of wine halfway gone. The living room was dim, lit mostly by the lamp beside your mom’s armchair and the soft flicker from the TV, playing some home renovation show you weren’t really watching.

Your mom leaned back, swirling her wine. “So… he’s cute.”

You smiled behind your fork. “Mmhm.”

“And polite. Little stiff.”

“He was a little nervous. Bein’...” you shrugged, “You know, same age as you guys and all.”

Your mom raised her eyebrows, taking another sip from her glass. “Please. Age is but a number these days. The amount of older men I dated when I was your age…” she chuckled to herself at the memories.

You snorted, shaking your head as you scooped another bite of pie, the quiet of the house settling in around you like a blanket.

She tilted her head, watching you with that knowing, mom-look. “He seems like a good man, honey.”

“He is,” you said softly, nodding.

Your mom’s gaze softened as she looked at you over the rim of her glass. “I see the way he looks at you. The way you two laugh together. It's nice… seeing you like this.”

You felt your smile pull a little deeper, the warmth in your cheeks not just from the wine. “Yeah,” you murmured. “It feels nice, too.”

The moment settled between you, quiet and soft until your thoughts drifted to the porch. You tried not to let your mind wander, but it crept in anyway. Whatever conversation Joel and your dad were having out there… you hadn’t wanted to hear it. After the fiasco in the kitchen you just hoped he was alive. But then you heard the back door open, the low rumble of Joel’s voice, and your dad laughing about something involving backyard irrigation, you knew whatever happened, it hadn’t gone badly.

Joel and your dad stepped into the living room, their voices trailing off mid-conversation.

“—and I told him if he tried to DIY those stone steps without checking the grading, he was gonna bust his ass in the first rain.”

Your dad huffed a laugh. “You’re not wrong. Maybe I’ll call your company in spring.”

Joel just gave a polite smile, his eyes finding yours immediately.

Your mom rose to her feet and crossed the room to kiss him on the cheek, then turned to wrap her arms around you. “Thank you for comin’ tonight. Come back anytime, you two.”

You smiled, hugging her tight. “We will.”

“You picked a good one,” she whispered in your ear, giving you a little squeeze before she headed toward the hallway, bidding you goodnight.

You turned just in time to see Joel and your dad shaking hands. It looked firm, respectful, less like a test this time and more like an understanding.

You crossed the room and kissed your father goodbye, and while he didn’t say much, his hand on your back lingered for a second longer than usual. That was about as close as you were gonna get to a blessing.

You and Joel walked out to the truck in the cool night air, his hand brushing your lower back, just enough to feel steady.

Once inside the cab, he pulled the door shut and let out a massive exhale, sinking into the seat like he’d just survived a firefight.

You grinned at him, cheeks warm from the wine and your heart even warmer.

“You did good tonight,” you said softly.

He looked at you like you’d just handed him a ribbon at the county fair. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Really good. You survived my dad. Didn’t insult his deck. Kept it very buttoned up.”

He huffed a laugh, “It is a nice deck.”

You leaned your head back against the seat, looking at him through your lashes. “Kinda hot, actually. Watching you all nervous and respectable.”

He gave you a look. “Few times in there I wasn’t so sure. Thought he might shoot me right then and there when he asked about your neck. And don’t get me started on your stunt in the kitchen.”

You groaned and covered your face. “I didn’t meaaaan it.”

Joel chuckled, the sound soft and low as he reached over and gently tugged your hand away from your face. “Still nearly gave both me and your old man a heart attack.”

You grinned at him as he kissed your hand gently, one knuckle at a time, “But you’re my old man.”

He let out a breath, shaking his head as his smile tugged wide and helpless. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”

You leaned in, bumping your nose against his. “Worth it.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us

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snowballseal · 9 months ago

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Pretty Bird

Sylus X Reader

Summary: Sylus is jealous of you giving Mephisto attention. That's it. You tease him when you find out.

Word Count: 2123

Note: Nothing really, hope I did him justice! His dialogue is a little harder for me to nail down.

---

The first time it happens is when you cross to the N109 Zone to accompany Sylus on an “errand”.

The first thing you do when you reach the ornate, empty house - of course - is say hello to your favorite bird.

“Hey there pretty bird.”

Mephisto squawks, bobbing excitedly on his perch as you bound up to him. You grin and give the crow a gentle scratch on his head. He preens under your touch, mechanical feathers fluffing with another quiet, scruffy caw. Adorable.

Despite his unnerving gaze, which you find to be eerily similar to a certain Onychinus leader, you can’t help but love the little bird. For some reason, it always comforts you a little bit to see him perched outside your apartment, or following you around Linkon. He always tries to act like he’s not spying on you, but you know he is, and you know he’s going to report right back to Sylus. Maybe that’s why it’s comforting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to sway his loyalties.”

Speak of the devil.

“As if,” you snicker, giving the bird one final scratch before spinning on your heels to face Sylus. He sits across the room in one of his big armchairs, eyes glued to the gun he’s loading, face carefully blank. As always. You saunter over and pop yourself onto the arm of the chair, bumping his shoulder. “You know Mephisto doesn’t listen to anyone but you. I’m just like the fun mom who gives him things.”

His lips twitch ever so slightly, “Mmm, does that make me your husband in this situation?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks.

You are no stranger to Sylus’ flirty nature. That’s how things have always been between you, though it only really gets to you now. Before, when you kind of hated his guts, it was just annoying. Well, maybe even then-

“You wish,” you retort, but there’s no hiding the blush painting your cheeks.

“Hm, I thought you knew me better than that, sweetie.” In an instant, his hand curls around your wrist, giving it a sharp tug that knocks you off balance. You let out an undignified squeak, tumbling right into his lap. And before you can squirm away, Sylus locks an arm over your legs, keeping you trapped against him. Those red eyes freeze you in place, dark and warm with mischief. “Why would I wish for something I could so easily take?”

You stare at him, eyes blown wide, face completely red now. You can’t even form any words in response, which seems to amuse him even more. A smirk curls his lips, and he gives your hip a playful pinch.

“What? Crow got your tongue, sweetie?”

You sputter, finally finding your voice, “Sylus!”

“Good. Now that you’re focused, we can go handle business.” Sylus sets you on the ground, making sure you’re steady before he stands nonchalantly and tucks his gun in its holster. Like nothing just happened! “We don’t want to be late now, do we?”

Before you can even say anything more, he’s heading for the door. It takes a few seconds to shake yourself from your state of shock, and then you’re quickly following after him.

“Sylus-!”

He cuts you off, that stupid, attractive smirk still on his lips, “And by the way, try not to spoil Mephisto too much, sweetie. He’s grown rather petulant when you’re not around.”

You’re pretty sure your blush sticks around for the entire car ride after.

---

The second time is when you visit on one of your off days.

When you get there, Sylus is still asleep. You take a moment to crouch by his bed, a fond smile adorning your lips as you take in his peaceful face. You remember when he used to sleep sitting up, so he was ready for anything, but now he looks relaxed. Though you still spot the gun tucked under his bed.

Deciding not to bother him, you quietly make your way back out to the living room and grab a book. It’s about the only way to pass time in the N109 Zone, at least, without getting yourself into anything dangerous. As soon as you sit down, Mephisto flaps across the room and lands on your arm, plopping himself down into your lap like a cat.

A giggle escapes you when the crow throws his head back, looking up at the most awkward angle you can imagine. You give his beak a little rub, and he makes a soft clicking sound, beady red eyes falling shut.

“I swear, it’s almost like you’re a crow with cat programming,” you hum, mostly to yourself. Mephisto ruffles his feathers, though, at the word ‘cat’, eyes flashing back open. You snort, easing a hand over his wings, “No worries, pretty bird, no cats. I’m just kidding.”

He settles back down, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, which only makes you want to coddle him more. So cute. If only Sylus would be this cute with you. Heat tinges your cheeks at the thought of the tall man resting against your lap, looking up at you with softly narrowed eyes, humming in content as you pet his ha-

Snapping your book open, you throw yourself into the story in hopes of banishing such rogue thoughts. If Sylus knew what you were imagining, he would tease you for years. You really don’t want to feed his ego even more. Mephisto wedges himself between your arm and your side, happy to just fall asleep as you read, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

It doesn’t take you long to actually get immersed in the storyline, though. So much so that you don’t hear the steps coming up behind you.

“It seems you come here more often to spend time with Mephisto than with me.”

You practically jump out of your skin when a strong arm circles your shoulders. Sylus’ voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with sleep. He leans over the back of your chair, and you narrowly miss the way he eyes the bird in your lap with distaste. He looks far too content curled up on your lap.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were sleeping,” you hum, closing the book.

He grumbles, sleepy eyes shifting to bore into you. The smallest pout pulls at his lips, and you have to stifle a giggle as you reach up to smooth down his messy hair. Sylus leans into your touch, much like Mephisto did, his eyes flickering shut. Okay, maybe he is just as cute.

“Are you mad I didn’t come cuddle with you?” You tease. Sleepy Sylus is definitely your favorite Sylus. “I didn’t know the big, bad Onychinus leader likes to snuggle.”

“It’s simply to ensure you don’t cause trouble in the N109 Zone,” he murmurs, still just as quick-witted though he’s half-asleep, “I can’t have my kitten wandering around all by herself, now can I?”

“I was just reading, Sylus. No trouble here.”

“Hmm, then you might as well come read in bed.”

You hesitate, fingers tracing along his jaw lightly, “You sure I won’t disturb your sleep?”

Those dark eyes blink back open lazily, a rare, genuine smile dancing in their depths, “Trust me, kitten, my sleep will be much better with you at my side.”

God, you’re weak for this man. Mephisto squawks his complaints as you lift him from your lap, but takes off to his perch without much fight. Sylus feels a flash of victory as you intertwine your fingers. The sensation of your small hand in his eases the strange tightness in his chest whenever you’re apart. He curls his other arm around you possessively, sending the bird a smug smirk.

You catch it this time, lifting a brow as you glance between him and Mephisto. Your brain stalls. Was he…jealous? No way. There’s no way Sylus would be jealous of you spending time with his bird. He’s more mature than that…or maybe not, you realize as he drags you back to his bed, only to lay himself over you like a large cat, using your lap as his pillow. Exactly as you imagined.

Your heart flutters a little, which you’re sure he hears somehow, because he squeezes your waist teasingly. You pinch his cheek lightly before running your fingers through his snowy hair. It’s always softer than you expect.

“Go to sleep, Sylus,” you murmur, voice far too fond, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums, and you can feel the sound vibrate through his body. Almost like a purr.

God, you don’t even have a chance, do you?

---

The final time is when you visit the N109 Zone to attend another auction with Sylus. And this time, you catch him in it.

“Where’s Mephisto?”

Sylus’ face sours at your question. You bite back a smile.

Ever since the day you spent napping in his room, you haven’t been able to escape that thought swirling in the back of your mind. So you decided to test your theory. Sylus is always messing with you, afterall. It’s only fair you get a bit of revenge.

“I sent him out to gather intel,” Sylus huffs eventually. Why do you always look for that d*** bird first? “That is his purpose, afterall.”

“Oh.” You feign sadness, letting out a long sigh. “That’s too bad! I brought him some treats.”

“Well, you can leave them here. I’m sure he’ll eat them later,” he says, voice dismissive as he fixes the cuffs of his coat.

“Hmm-” You slowly make your way over to him. Those perceptive eyes narrow on you, watching you carefully while you straighten his collar. “Will he be here later? Maybe I can give them to him after the auction. I miss my pretty bird.”

Amusement curls in your chest when you see the man’s brows twitch ever so slightly. He’s really annoyed. Now you understand why he loves pushing your buttons so much.

“No, I’m afraid he’ll be busy all night.” You can practically hear him gritting his teeth. Almost there. You keep your eyes focused on his coat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He’s trying to figure you out and you’re scared that if you look up, the laughter you're holding back will break loose. Instead, you put on an exaggerated pout.

“That’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to see him tonight.”

Sylus growls. Actually growls in annoyance.

“Would you prefer to have Mephisto on your arm tonight instead of me?” His words come out biting and harsh, tinged with unmistakable jealousy.

The air goes silent.

Before you burst into a fit of giggles. Sylus’ eyes widen when you collapse against his chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He freezes, though his confusion quickly gives way to realization.

You were playing with him.

“I suppose this is some form of revenge,” he hums, shaking his head. It’s surprising it took him so long to catch on. With anyone else, he’d be beyond angry, but your laughter is so bright, so infectious, that he can’t stop the small smile that pulls at his lips. When you finally look up at him, tears glint in the corners of your eyes. Who thought this would amuse you so much?

“You’re jealous! The Sylus is jealous of a little bird. His bird.” You bite down on your lip in an attempt to muffle the giggles that keep coming, but it doesn’t do much to help. It’s just too much for you. You never ever thought you’d see Sylus actually jealous of someone, let alone an animal.

Sylus narrows his eyes, though they glow with a certain fondness. “Such a sadist, sweetie, messing with a man’s heart so lightly.”

“Oh, but your reaction was so adorable,” you sing, reaching up to poke his cheek. He playfully bites at your finger, making you draw it back quickly with another laugh. “Just the fact that you could even think I like Mephisto more than you is so silly. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to prove my silly conclusion wrong, won’t you?” His hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to the warmth of his body. You oblige him, stretching your arms up and around his neck to draw him down.

“Of course. I can’t have my pretty bird walking around thinking he’s second best,” you tease, fingers curling through his hair. “Even if he has a jealousy prob-”

“Quiet.”

Anything else you say is muffled as Sylus finally kisses you.

Safe to say, after that, you make sure to give Sylus extra attention, especially when Mephisto is around. (Though you do still sneak him treats when Sylus isn’t looking.)

#lads sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads sylus x reader #love and deepspace reader insert #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus x reader #x reader #reader insert #jealousy #love and deepspace sylus

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neigepomme · 2 months ago

Text

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ mine / caleb x reader

synopsis; your beloved caleb is a deeply, deeply secretive (and dense) man, who somehow refuses to call you his. when you bring it up out of frustration, he ends up giving you more than what you asked for. but who would say no to that?

🍎 pomme's notes - the apple demons took over or something. i love my stupid self deprecating emo king

⋆ 2.1k words / angst-ish (kinda) into suggestive..? caleb is stupid / fem reader / 2nd person

you quickly realize that caleb never refers to you as his.

well, not quite. he'll say "my girlfriend", or "my partner" or maybe even "my pipsqueak". but that's the extent of it. he won't ever say "mine".

after you notice that, you decide to up the ante on your side. if he won't say it unprovoked, surely he'll say it to reciprocate you, right?

and so, you get started on your masterful plan.

leaving lipstick marks on his shirts and going "mine" when he sees them in his bathroom's mirror. tracing a finger down his chest and saying "all mine" with a flirty tone after he's done working out.

hell, you'll even up the PDA when you're out with him and tell a girl that's hitting on him off, simply by grabbing his face and going "mine".

but why the hell won't he call you his?

on the other hand, caleb is going insane from all of the times you called him yours.

the angels blessed him or something, he thinks. his beautiful, stunning, showstopping, gorgeous girlfriend calling him hers. if he wasn't happy about it, he'd be the stupidest man in existence. but thankfully, when it comes to loving you, caleb is the first in the class.

when you get jealous over girls hitting on him and you shoo them off, just by staring them down and calling him yours, he feels like he could melt into the ground and become a big puddle of pipsqueak lovin' caleb.

it makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he could call you his in return. but he quickly chased that thought out of his mind; his love wasn't as pure as yours. you called him yours innocently, with no real strings attached. you didn't entertain thoughts of keeping him away from everyone and everything. of making yourself his entire universe. not like he did.

and so, he refused to call you his, out of fear that he would imprison you in a cage he forged with his own hands. when life clipped his wings, he swore to himself that he'd do anything to make you keep yours forever. his evol would be used to make you float freely, never to chain you to the ground.

well, that was until you confronted him about it.

freshly out of the shower, you walked over to him when he was reviewing some files as he laid in your bed. he smiles when he sees you and sets down the files that previously occupied his attention.

"need me to dry your hair, pips?"

"why won't you call me yours, caleb?"

he chokes at how out of left field that question was and starts coughing. fuck, so you did notice, he thinks.

"am i.. am i not enough? i'll try harder, i promise, but i just. i don't know what i'm missing. it's like you love me, but there's always something missing, and i've been trying to figure it out, but i'm at my wits' end caleb. it's been driving me crazy and i tried so hard to get you to call me yours but it's ju-"

"baby, slow down. you're not missing anything, i can tell you that for sure."

you huff in frustration, dissatisfied with his answer. this is so unfair — you're wearing your damn heart on your sleeve, and yet caleb is not letting you see a sliver of his. you know he loves you, obviously, he's not the kind to fake it all.

but why can't he devote his love entirely to you? why's he so closed off? why does he draw boundaries for you, when all he could do was act on them? you were an adult, you could handle it.

sensing your frustration, he runs a hand through his hair and grabs your wrist, making you sit on the bed next to him. he inhales before explaining himself.

"look, i do love you. you know that, right? i love you more than anything on this damn earth. if you asked me to bring you the moon, i'd get the stars while i'm at it, just to make you happy."

"then why won't you ever call me yours? am i not worthy of being by your side?"

he shakes his head furiously, as if you've offended him by even asking this question.

"pips, you just don't understan-"

"help me understand, caleb! stop shutting me out! i'm capable of hearing it, and i want this — i want us to work! i call you mine, my boyfriend, my love, my best friend, for god's sake, caleb, you're my everything! and i'm just pipsqueak to you? is this some sick joke?"

caleb freezes. what if he comes clean, and you see him in a different light? what if you decide to shut him out, because he's too much? he wouldn't be able to handle it, especially not after he experienced domestic bliss with you.

what is he supposed to say now? bring back how he wishes that he could keep you away from the life you knew, especially when you fought with him to express how you loved living in this world intent on hurting you? how, despite every hurdle life threw at you, you loved living and giving back to those around you? he couldn't do that. not at the risk of driving you away again.

and so he resorts to giving you vague expressions and feelings, in hopes that you'll be satisfied with his usual mystical answers.

"no, no it's not baby. please. i just don't think i can let you know everything yet — you're just so earnest with how you love and my love's nowhere near as kind or pure as yours."

now it's your turn to stare in disbelief. you scoff, taken aback by whatever bullshit your boyfriend just spouted. your love is too pure? what the hell does he think you are, mother theresa? he might just be dumber than what you expected. you inhale sharply, getting ready to unload all the frustration you've been keeping at bay on him. you've loved the guy for your entire life, and somehow, he still thinks that the extent of your love is a PG13 romance movie: cuddling together, and maybe, just maybe, some kissing here and there.

him not taking you seriously and underestimating your love for him somehow angers you more than if you were actually missing something he wanted in a relationship.

"too pure? for fuck's sake caleb, i have needs too! we're not in middle school anymore, are we? i want to have sex with you! i want us to take the next damn step in this relationship! do you not want me like that?"

when he tries to defend himself, you shut him down immediately.

"no, let me finish! i get jealous when you get hit on by other girls! sometimes, i wish i could make it so that i'm the only person you know and talk to, i wish that i could keep you away from others!"

you breathe hard. there are so many thoughts spinning in your head and you just see his purple eyes staring deep at you, as if he's trying to scan how you feel — and that makes you even angrier.

how is it that he didn't take your words at face value right now? why's he trying to read into "the deeper meaning of them" by looking into your eyes, as if they were being more honest than you were being?

caleb, who was the smartest in his class at the DAA, the boy who tutored you through the harder math problems in high school, seemed so damn dense right now.

his mouth opened and closed, as if trying to figure out what to even respond with, but you didn't allow him to do that just yet.

"i love how you're always sweet. i love how you care about me more than you care about yourself. you're so perfect. but i'm so sick of pretending like we're 6th graders in love. do you even know how long i've loved you for? you've been the only one on my mind since we knew each other, caleb. god, even when i thought about dating a guy, i'd always end up looking at those who looked like you. i looked for you in every guy i thought about hitting up."

his jaw tensed at the information. you looked for him in other guys? when this whole time, he was right there, building up the courage to ask you to be more than whatever you were at the time?

he felt like his brain was going to overheat from just how many facts were thrown at him. you wanted to keep him away from the world? fuck, you wanted to have sex with him? he'd dreamt of it, of course he had. when he was back at the DAA and the guys would share their stupid porn recommendations, and he'd never be able to watch anything unless the actress looked a bit like you. even then, he'd felt so guilty.

and you wanted him like that?

and then here you were, sat in front of him. letting all of your frustrations and concerns and feelings out in the open. and caleb felt so guilty — so stupid, really. you were trying so hard to get through to him, dropping hints left and right, and he couldn't even reciprocate that.

so he decided that for once, he'd let go. he'd indulge himself in you, allow himself to take a bite of the apple he forbade himself from ever touching. if you were a trial sent to him by a higher being, then man, was he failing, but if the cost of failure was a taste of you, then he would happily take the loss. again and again and again and again.

you were eurydice and he was orpheus. always looking back, always falling deeper into hell's embrace if it meant one more moment with you.

and if caleb denied himself this — then he'd both be a heartless, cruel man, and an idiot. and he wasn't going to be either of those, not anymore.

so, he did what he does best.

he acted upon it.

"i just feel like i'm not being heard ou- mmph!"

you were on the verge of tears, salty drops lining your lash line when you felt his lips on yours. caleb pounced on you, pinning you down.

devoted, passionate, and a secret third thing.

desperate? who knows. who cares, really. not when he's got you sprawled out under him, reciprocating his kiss. for once, he kissed you like he was hungry for more. like you were his lifeline — not like the soft kisses you were used to.

he groans into your mouth, feeling you grow hotter as you grasp at anything you could hold onto. the sheets, his arms, his neck — and when you settle on clawing at his back during this tempest of a kiss, he thinks he sees the gates of heaven.

breathless, he pulls back and looks at you with a look that could only be defined as hungry.

"i don't love you enough? i'd destroy this damn world in a heartbeat if you asked me to. i'd keep you away from anything that could be dangerous, i'd make you rely on me only — always."

he dives back in, sucking harshly on the side of your neck. littering bites and hickeys on there, caleb could devour you whole. you can't help the sounds that escape you, not when you hear him mutter "mine, all mine. my only one, mine, mine, mine" like a prayer in between kisses.

you gasp, dragging your nails down his back in an attempt to ground yourself as he moves down to your collarbone area. caleb takes a second to breathe, and you hear him speak lowly.

"you are, so, so silly. me, not want you enough? if i were to reveal what i wanted to do to you, you'd be crawling away from this room at all costs. do you know just how much i've held back?"

he kisses your lips again, softer this time, but just as passionate. you're out of breath, mind hazy at the sudden show of possessiveness. caleb is finally, finally fulfilling your wish. who care about work tomorrow and having to hide hickeys? you've only got one thing on your mind, and it's the man latching onto the soft skin of your neck again. he all but growls this time.

"mine. all mine, mine and mine only. is that what you wanted to hear? i'll show you, yeah? neither of us is leaving this room until i make you understand that i want you just as much as you want me — hell, if i don't want you even more, pretty girl."

you nod frantically, feeling like you're on cloud 9.

turns out you were his all along.

he just needed a strongly worded pep talk to understand that.

🍎 pomme's final notes - can i be honest this is so self-indulgent. i want to reach into the screen and beat him up because of how stupid he sounds sometimes like i get it but also you're so sexy and how can you be so dumb like omfg get a GRIP!! STAND UPPPPPPP im pulling my hair out

also maybe one day i'll write smut. i feel like i go insane thinking about caleb and then i cant write for him beyond suggestive stuff so instead i just rock back and forth like a crazy person

#⋆ pomme writes #caleb x reader #caleb #love and deepspace #lads #caleb x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lads caleb #⋆ neigepomme

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hexescore · 4 months ago

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oh and by the way, i love you.

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, sevika, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: first 'i love you's with (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. pre-established relationship (caitlyn, jinx, mel, viktor). friends-to-lovers (ekko, jayce, sevika, vi).

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

It's quiet, the early morning blessing you both with a peaceful silence that allows you two to truly appreciate the sight in front of you— each other. Caitlyn enjoys moments like this, waking up with you, getting to see the way the rising sun filters through her curtains to cast a golden glow across your skin.

Her hand, which is in yours, gives a gentle squeeze. You give her a sleepy smile, and she chuckles as she leans in to press a quick peck to your lips, and then another, and another, before you're both shuffling together, closer. Legs and arms entangled, a slowness in you both knowing that neither of you have to leave anytime soon.

"You know," She whispers, her eyes shut. She had imagined how she'd say this a million times, wondered when it'd be the right time, but Caitlyn quickly realizes that perhaps the right time is the time she makes to say it. So she makes the time. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you pull away to look at her. Her eyes open, and you can see the panic flashing in her eyes- was it too soon? did she get confused? had she-

"I love you, too." Her tense form immediately relaxes again, and she buries her head into your neck, shaking her head as she lets out a breathless laugh. You laugh along with her, both of you feeling nerves and excitement at those words.

"Don't scare me like that," she whines against your skin. Indulging this rare side of Caitlyn, you gently pat her back, cooing at her.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry, won't happen again." You'll definitely respond faster next time!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

EKKO

Ekko had been acting quite strange as of late, and had you been any less keen you'd just assume he was busy- but this was different, he was most definitely avoiding you! Which is why you devised a plan to corner him and get to the bottom of this whole situation.

It was like any other day, except you had been lying in wait. Waiting, and waiting, until he was finally alone. You continued to follow him to a secluded area. "Ekko." He tensed up, but recovered quickly as he turned to glance at you.

"Oh, uh, hey, what's up?" Was he serious? You cross your arms over your chest, giving him a pointed look. Ekko's guilty conscious is clear as day when it comes to you, from the way his Adam's apple bobs to the way his fist clench and unclench. You frown.

"Ekko..." He doesn't say anything. "Alright, I'll ask it. Why have you been avoiding me?" He falters, looking ashamed. He knew it was wrong to avoid you, but when he came to realize how intense his emotions were for you it freaked him out. He hadn't... He didn't mean to... well, fall in love, during such a time.

The silence is heavy, and you debate just leaving, before Ekko clears his throat. "There are things that I've been meaning to tell ya... I'm just having a hard time finding the words..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Like?" You press, needing to know what has been so hard to say that he's been avoiding you.

"Like... I love you?"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

"Jayce? What are you doing?" Jayce, with his hand respectfully on your lower back, guides you away from the boring and artificial conversations of Piltover's finest. He excuses you both, much to your dismay. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere private," He says through a tense smile. You soon find yourself down the hall, away from the party but still able to hear it's chatter. It seems Jayce hadn't prepared for what comes after he got you away from those flirty elites.

"Well?" You ask, head tilted in a questioning way. "Are you going to explain why you so rudely pulled me away? I was about to get some nice funding for your-" Jayce cuts you off, desperation rolling off of him in waves.

"Because I love you," He says, "And I can't stand to see them look at you, touch you-" He stops to take a deep breath before he gets himself too worked up. "Look, I know... I know you probably don't feel the same, and I understand if you don't, but-"

"Jayce," You call once, and like an obedient dog he stops everything he's doing. Instead he waits, hanging on to your words. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you pull him into a kiss. It's needy, filled with want and love and passion. Until you can't breath, you wait until you can't breathe to pull away, and look him in the eyes.

"I love you."

For the first time that night, Jayce's lips curl into a genuine smile. It's so bright and warm you get weak in the knees and butterflies in your stomach.

"Can we ditch the party now?"

"Oh definitely."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JINX

"Wrench!" Jinx calls dramatically, hand stuck out and awaiting her tool- which you promptly hand to her, repeating her words 'wrench.' She giggles as she grasps the wrench and twists a few bolts on her latest invention.

When she finishes, she takes in inhale of breath, ready to shout the next tool she needs, but already in her hand is a can of spray paint. She blinks a few times- how did you know? She grins, looking back at you, before looking at the can of spray paint.

"This is why I love you, ya know that?" She says, not really processing the words until you say them back to her.

"You... You love me?" The shock is evident in your voice. It's not that Jinx hasn't shown her love, her affections, for you, but this is the first time she's vocalized them and it has your heart hammering in your chest. She blinks a few times, lifting her goggles to rest on top her head.

"I did say that, didn't I?" She says, more to herself than to you. She then looks you in the eyes, that sparkle in them has your throat tightening up. "Yeah, I love you." You try to speak, truly, but you can't get a word out. "Jeez, is it that surprising, thought it was obvious?"

"No, it's just-" You finally manage to speak. Actually, you finally manage to get a good look at her. Her cheeks are a little flushed, she's fiddling with her tools, she's nervous- she's vulnerable- and you feel a protective instinct come on. "I love you, too- I really, really love you."

She laughs nervously, turning away from you. That's enough emotional vulnerability she's willing to share today. "Yeah, yeah, let's not get too mushy, 'kay?" You don't push it, instead nodding along. "Uh, anyways... Hand me that wrench again...!"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

MEL MEDARDA

"You don't have to say it back," Mel Medarda has always been diplomatic, even in your relationship. She's also always been rather guarded, keeping all her cards close to her chest- but she allows you from time-to-time to catch a peak behind her walls. "I just wanted to let you know. I... I love you."

Undoubtedly, you love her back. You've loved her from the moment she smiled at you- Mel was hard not to love. Which is why you're having a hard time responding, because how could you even possibly begin to explain just how much you love her?

Mel begins to grow withdrawn, those small anxieties nipping away at her mind. Did you not feel the same way? Had she embarrassed herself with her little display? Did she ruin this relationship in one phrase? She takes a step away from you, wondering if she should take her leave.

Thankfully before than can happen, you've caught her wrist and meet her eyes.

"I love you, too." A breath of relief leaves you both. "Mel, I... I can't even begin to explain, I mean, it's just that you... god, you, you definitely deserve a better response than this mess but, I mean it, truly. I love you. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. I'll always- I'll always love you."

"Darling..." Mel started to feel flustered, your earnest rambling getting her cool and collected persona to crack a little. "I get it."

"Right, sorr-" Before you can apologize for your cute, anxious rambling, Mel shuts you up with a kiss. Something that symbolizes that you both understand just how much you both mean to each other.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SEVIKA

Sevika can't help but crack a smile at your antics sometimes. She's watching you with a close eye as you dance in an exaggerated way, being goofy in a way that's so very rare in the undercity. She shakes her head as you sit in the seat across from her, wiggling your brows. "Dance with me?"

"Not a chance in hell." She snorts, "How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me." Sevika takes a drink, not noticing what she said. You, on the other hand, have gone still. "What's wrong with you now?" She asks, already exasperated.

"You love me?"

"What're you-... Shit." She definitely didn't mean to say that, but now that it's out there, she might as well commit. She downs the rest of her drink, clears her throat, and looks away from you.

"And if I do? Would that be a problem?"

"Not at all- I love you, too!" Your enthusiasm has her taken aback once more. She looks at you incredulously, searching your face for any sign of lying or messing with her. She finds nothing but genuine love. Shit, shit, shit. Sevika was so totally unsure on how to handle this.

"You love me, huh?" When you nod, eagerly, Sevika bites her cheek. Well... She supposes if it's you, she could try and give it a shot. "I guess, yeah, I do love you... so... what're we gonna do about that?"

You had a few ideas.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

"Yes, yes, I understand." Viktor says as he wraps the scarf you gifted him around his neck. "I'll be back tonight for dinner, not to worry." You don't really believe him when he says that, still you help him zip up his winter coat.

"If you're not," You say, taking a step closer, your lips hovering over his. "I'll personally drag you back here." Your lips meet his and he hums into the kiss, pulling away with a small smile.

"I'll be here." You just hum dismissively. You'll believe when you see it. He rolls his eyes at your sass, opening the door and stepping out. "Alright, I'll see you then. Goodbye, I love you." He closes the door, and just as quickly he's trying to pry it back open.

You're laughing your ass off on the other side of the door whilst Viktor's ears turn red. "Dear, please, open the door, I forgot my keys... and I need to say those words properly..." he groans, his head resting against the door. After a few seconds, the clicks unlock and it opens to reveal you, tears in your eyes from laughing.

"This is not funny."

"It's a little funny." You tease, handing Viktor his keys. "I lov-"

"Wait," He halts you. "Let me... Let me say it properly." His blush moves from his ears to his cheeks. He takes your hand and presses a sweet kiss to it, looking up at you through his lashes. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Viktor."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You're patching her up after a particularly brutal beating. Her job, these missions, can get pretty violent, and it's always up to you to heal her wounds. 'I don't trust any other doctor,' she explains before you inform her that you are not a doctor. Despite that she still finds you after every fight she gets herself in.

You sigh, cleaning a nasty cut on her face. "You've got to be more careful." You tsk, reveling in the way she hisses at the disinfectant. It's what she deserves after scaring you to death all these times.

"Worried 'bout my pretty face?" You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

"More like your brain- I'm afraid you can't afford to lose anymore braincells." She laughs at your snark. She likes that about you, likes everything about you, actually. Her hands find your waist, pulling you closer to her. You huff, pulling back to get a better look at her wounds.

"Hey," Vi calls, and you just hum in response. "I love you." You freeze, before looking down at her with wide eyes.

"Did you actually get brain damage-" She bites back another laugh, shaking her head. "Vi...?"

"I love you. Have for a while, so no, this isn't a brain damage confession." Oh. You falter for a second, hands shaky as you finish placing the band-aid on her cheek.

"If you're messing with me-"

"I'm not." She insists, earnest in her affections. "So... Do you-"

"Yes." You mumble, turning your face to hide it from her. "I... Love you, too, Violet."

#arcane x reader #arcane headcanons #arcane imagines #caitlyn x reader #ekko x reader #jayce x reader #jinx x reader #mel x reader #sevika x reader #viktor x reader #vi x reader #x reader #arcane #arcane x you #arcane fluff #fluff

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thebarneschronicles · 2 months ago

Text

For Science

(A Closer To Home Blurb)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Synopsis: Science demands answers. And when your boyfriend happens to be a genetically enhanced super soldier, well… some questions are simply too intriguing to ignore.

The challenge is set, the air between you electric. Bucky might have super-soldier stamina, but you? You have determination. And there’s only one way to find out who taps out first.

For science, of course. Trigger Warnings: Mild Sexual Themes; Explicit Innuendo; Light Dom/Sub Dynamics; Flirty Banter with a Competitive Edge; References to Trauma (Brief mention of Bucky’s past); BUCKY BARNES BEING A MENACE !!!!

Closer To Home Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is set within the Closer To Home world, but it can be read as a standalone. I wrote it as one of the first things and it's a little spoiler of what's to come for them relationship-wise (*cough cough* labels *cough cough*) but I couldn't resist sharing it. Hope you like it! B x

Curiosity was a funny little thing.

It had a way of sneaking in, settling in the corners of your mind like a cat making itself comfortable on an unoccupied chair. It stretched, yawned, extended its claws, and before you knew it, it dug them in, impossible to ignore. It whispered, nudged, demanded attention, poking at the thoughts you tried to bury beneath layers of logic and restraint.

That’s why dating Bucky Barnes was a problem.

Because he wasn’t just a person. He was a living, breathing, walking contradiction, a story begging to be unraveled. And you? You were a journalist to your core, a person who thrived on understanding the depths of things, the untold truths hiding beneath the surface. You weren’t just curious—you were driven. And Bucky, with his quiet demeanor and storm-filled past, was the ultimate enigma.

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t pry. You respected him, respected the journey he was on. You had read the files, you knew the history, at least the version that had been documented. And yet, there were questions, so many questions, buzzing in your mind like a radio stuck between frequencies.

And tonight, sitting in your apartment with Bucky stretched out on the couch, those questions felt louder than ever.

The domesticity of it all was what really got to you. The contrast between the myth, the legend, the ghost of a soldier who rewrote history, and the man now lying on your couch in grey sweatpants and a fitted black t-shirt, sock-clad feet resting on the armrest. He looked… soft. At ease, even. The glow of the television cast a faint blue hue over his face, his vibranium arm catching the light in fleeting glints as he absentmindedly tapped his fingers against his stomach.

And it made you wonder.

Not about the mission reports or the classified files, but the little things. The gaps in his story that paperwork couldn’t fill. The nuances, the memories, the pieces of him that weren’t written down but were just as real.

You turned a page in your book without really reading it, your fingers skimming the edge absently. Your eyes flickered up, drawn to him like a magnet, lingering just a beat too long.

Bucky must have sensed your distraction because, without looking away from the screen, he spoke. “I can feel you staring.”

There was a hint of amusement in his voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. It was subtle, but you caught it.

You bit your lip, shifting in your seat, debating whether or not to ask what was on your mind. Guilt gnawed at you, but curiosity was louder.

“Can I ask you something?”

He finally glanced at you, smirking. “You just did.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you with a small smile. The teasing was new—subtle, cautious, but there. A part of him he seemed to be rediscovering, piece by piece, the more time he spent with you.

“Smartass.”

His grin widened slightly. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

You hesitated. Just for a second. Then, with a quiet exhale, you shut your book and set it aside, leaning forward. Elbows on your knees, fingers twisting together as you searched for the right words.

“It’s about the serum.”

The change in him was instant. His easy smirk faltered, replaced by something more guarded. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he leaned back. “What, exactly?”

“I don’t want to pry,” you said quickly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just… wondering.”

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing something in his mind. This. This was what got you about him. That even after everything—after decades of being used, after having his agency ripped away—he still gave people a chance. Gave you the benefit of the doubt. He could have shut you down, told you to never bring it up again, and you wouldn’t have blamed him. But he was listening.

Instead of answering right away, you pushed yourself out of your chair and made your way over to the couch. He watched as you settled in beside him, forcing him to shift and sit up, his arm draping across the back of the cushions as he turned to face you head-on.

“Alright,” you started, exhaling slowly.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. His gaze flicked over you, assessing, like he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were working up the nerve to push forward. “This should be good.”

You reached out without thinking, your hands resting on both his thighs, giving a gentle squeeze. A grounding touch—for you or for him, you weren’t sure.

“Alright,” you repeated, tilting your head slightly. “Is there a difference between your serum and Steve’s? Physically, I mean.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked down briefly, noting the way your hands fidgeted against his thighs. His brow twitched—just a little—but he didn’t call you on it. Instead, his lips quirked at the corner, dry amusement flickering in his expression.

“Didn’t know you were so interested in science,” he mused.

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes. “I’m interested in you,” you corrected before you could think better of it.

The words landed heavier than you expected, sinking into the space between you. Bucky breathed in. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched against his knee. A faint flush crept over his cheeks, subtle but unmistakable.

He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his jaw, buying himself a moment. “There are some differences,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Steve’s serum was perfected—the version Erskine meant to create. Mine… wasn’t.” His jaw tightened, his gaze unfocused like he was looking at something far away. “Hydra tried to replicate it, but they never quite got it right. It still made me stronger, faster, but…” He trailed off, lips pressing into a thin line.

You nodded slowly, watching the way his fingers flexed again—muscle memory of something darker.

“How does it feel?” you asked, your voice softer now. “For you, what’s it like? Is it something you can actively feel, or is it just… there?”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment, as if weighing whether to answer at all. His jaw flexed, and his eyes dropped to his metal hand, turning it over as if seeing it for the first time. His fingers curled experimentally before straightening again, the quiet whir of machinery barely audible - a physical manifestation of the power that ran through his veins.

“It’s always there,” he finally said, voice lower now, a little rough. “Like an engine running in the background. You don’t have to think about it, but you know it’s there. The strength, the speed… it’s not something I have to call on. It just is. My body reacts before I do.”

There was something about the way he said it, something that made heat creep up your neck. You swallowed, your curiosity veering sharply away from scientific and into far more dangerous territory.

“Is it just strength and speed?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice a little lighter, a little breathless, a little too casual. “Or are there other… enhancements?”

Bucky’s brow lifted slightly at your tone, and you quickly cleared your throat, eyes stubbornly locked on the center of his chest. It didn’t help.

“Like what?” His voice had dropped just a fraction, enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You forced yourself to keep your composure, though you could feel your pulse picking up. “Reflexes? Body temperature? Sleep? Endurance? What’s the heaviest thing you can lift?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with something caught between amusement and curiosity. “God, you really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea,” you admitted, then immediately winced, your nervous laugh bubbling up before you could stop it.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. His lips curled into something dangerously close to a smirk as he leaned in, just enough to make your breath hitch. “That so?”

Your brain screamed at you to backpedal, but your mouth had other plans. “Mmhmm.” You crossed your arms, attempting a look of nonchalance, which was entirely ruined by the warmth spreading over your skin. “I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone with literal super-soldier genetics. It’s, uh… fascinating.”

“Fascinating, huh?” Bucky’s voice was smoother now, teasing, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” Bucky murmured.

You ignored him, reaching out to press a hand over the smirk he directed at you. “Do you get tired the same way normal people do?”

Bucky tilted his head, considering, flesh hand wrapping around your wrist. “Not really,” he admitted. “I can go for a long time before I feel it.”

Your brows lifted. “How long?”

He shrugged. “Depends. I can run for hours. Fight for hours. I don’t really hit a wall.”

“That’s… something,” you muttered, mind already running in a direction you probably shouldn’t be entertaining.

Bucky chuckled, low and knowing. “Have I impressed you yet?”

“Stop that.” You pinched his thigh, watching as his muscle barely reacted. You chewed your lip, thinking. “So, like. What about sweat?”

He huffed. “I sweat. You know I sweat,” he said, giving you a pointed look.

Oh, you knew. You knew very well.

Images flashed through your mind, beads of sweat sliding down his neck, dampening the strands of hair curling at his temples as he hovered above you. The way his shirt stuck to his chest after a run, or worse—when he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. You had to take a steadying breath before continuing.

“But not as much as normal?”

“No. My body regulates temperature better.”

You hummed. “So you don’t overheat.”

“Not easily.”

“And you don’t cramp up.”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t get sore?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t get drunk?”

Bucky grinned now, a slow, teasing thing. “You’re really working through this, huh?”

“I’m invested,” you shot back, lifting your chin.

Bucky snorted. “No, I don’t really get sore. Muscles repair too fast.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “So… if you work out, do you even get gains?”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

“You know, like, gains.” You gestured vaguely at his chest. “You’re already built, but does lifting even do anything for you?”

For a second, Bucky just stared at you. Then, to your absolute horror, he burst out laughing—a full, genuine laugh that made his shoulders shake.

“Answer the question, James!” you demanded, fighting a grin of your own.

Still grinning, Bucky wiped a hand down his face. “Yes, I can build muscle. I just don’t need to.”

You groaned dramatically and reached up, sliding your hands over his chest and up to his shoulders, fingers squeezing lightly, practically groping him. Oh, who were you kidding, you were groping him. “So you’re just built like that, huh?”

“Pretty much.” His voice had dipped lower, his gaze flickering to where your hands rested against him.

You exhaled, shaking your head, eyes dragging over his body. “I hate you.”

Bucky smirked. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He chuckled, the warmth between you lingering. His smirk softened into something lazier, more playful. “So, what’s the real question you wanna ask, doll?”

The way he said it—low and deliberate—made your brain short-circuit for a second. You fought to keep your voice even, despite the sudden warmth pooling in your stomach.

It took you a moment to gather the courage. “What about… endurance?”

Bucky frowned slightly, confused. “Didn’t we already cover that?”

You shifted, resting your chin on your hand, your eyes twinkling. “Not exactly.”

His brow furrowed as he searched your face. “Then what do you mean?”

You tilted your head, studying him, eyes flickering down. You could practically see the second realization hit—the flicker of intrigue in his eyes, the way his smirk melted, turning into something sharper.

He knew. And he was going to make you say it.

Bastard.

Fine. If he wanted to play this game, you weren’t backing down.

“How long could you keep it up? Keep going?” you asked, voice slow and deliberate. “In bed?”

The words landed between you, thick with unspoken tension. Bucky didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a second. Then, his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, and his fingers flexed slightly around your wrist.

You were definitely blushing now, heat rising to your cheeks like a slow burn, but you refused to look away. “I mean, you said you have insane stamina. How insane? Like, do you even get tired? Is it a position thing? Can you hold out, or can you—” your voice dipped lower, deliberately, teasing “—cum multiple times? How long does it take for you to recover between rounds?”

Bucky exhaled, dark lashes lowering as he regarded you with something wicked and unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped an octave, silk and smoke.

“Jesus Christ… Are you really asking me that right now?”

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. “I’m just being scientific.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Science my ass.”

“Well?” You raised a brow, daring him.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, exhaling sharply before leaning in just slightly—enough that his breath ghosted over your lips. Your breath hitched.

“Like I said,” he murmured, voice curling around the words in a way that made your stomach flip, “I don’t get tired like normal people do. I recover faster. And yeah, I can go multiple times.”

Your pulse stuttered.

His smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed, how your thighs pressed together involuntarily. “As for how long I can last…” He tilted his head, watching your reaction, dragging out the moment just to make you suffer. “Lemme put it this way—you’d tap out before I would.”

Your stomach flipped violently.

Oh, he was enjoying this far too much.

“I—” Your throat was dry. You cleared it quickly, but your voice still came out weaker than you intended. “That’s bold of you to assume. And not specific enough.”

Bucky let out a short, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair as he studied you. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Call it obstinate.” You grinned, emboldened by the slight exasperation in his tone. “Come on, soldier. Tell me.”

“No.” He shook his head, though his grin never wavered.

“Give me a number, Bucky.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know! C’mon, just ballpark it.”

“Why?” he asked again, this time leaning even closer, the question murmured right against the shell of your ear.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of his breath sending another wave of heat rushing through you. “Because you’re my boyfriend. I have the right to know what I’m working with.”

Bucky exhaled dramatically, as if you were truly exhausting him, though the amused glint in his eyes betrayed him. Then, like it was the simplest answer in the world, he shrugged. “Hours.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

He said it so casually, so easily, like it was a simple fact. Like it wasn’t going to rattle around in your head for the rest of eternity.

Your lips parted, but all that came out was an unintelligible noise, somewhere between a breath and a strangled sound of disbelief.

You recovered quickly, though. “One hour?”

Bucky gave you a look.

“Is that low or high?”

His jaw clenched.

“Oh my God, is it low? It is, isn’t it?” Your hand came up to cover your lips. “Does that include foreplay or penetration alone?”

Bucky made a strangled noise and dropped back against the couch. “Doll. I haven’t… tested it out.” he admitted. “But a bit more than that, I’d think. More than two, for sure. Penatration alone.”

You blinked. Oh. Oh.

Cocky bastard.

Your lips parted, a retort already forming, but before you could utter a single word, he was stretching his arms behind his head, casual as ever. As if he hadn’t just sent your entire nervous system into overdrive.

“Y’know,” he mused, his grin lazy, “I do take requests for demonstrations.”

Your jaw dropped. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

He just grinned wider. “You did say you were invested.”

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed, but he saw right through you. You saw the moment he caught it—the slight tremor in your fingers, the way your breath hitched again, the way you had to fight to keep your expression neutral.

Bucky let a smile spread lazily over his lips, looking the perfect picture of temptation as he laid there, an Adonis in the middle of your cozy living room, sending another ripple of heat down your spine straight between your legs.

“Tell you what,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “We could test that theory… if you’re really that curious.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants, fisting it. “And if I am?”

His brow arched, slow and knowing.

You didn’t let yourself hesitate. Instead, you crawled over, grabbed him by the shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you yanked him to his feet with you, backing toward the bedroom. Your smirk was slow, teasing, the kind that promised trouble.

“Come on,” you purred, walking backward, eyes locked on his. Your voice was thick with challenge. “Let’s see if you’re all talk.”

“Right now?”

“What, you need a warm-up?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your lips, then lower. He followed without resistance, though the muscle in his jaw flexed. “You’re gonna regret this,” he warned, but there was no real heat in it—just hunger.

“I won’t,” you murmured, tilting your head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. “But the neighbors might.”

That was all the provocation he needed. Before you could react, he lunged, strong arms hooking around your thighs as he hauled you up and over his shoulder. You let out a startled yelp, squirming, but he only tightened his grip, one hand gripping the back of your thigh while the other landed a sharp slap to your ass.

The crack of it echoed, followed by your sharp gasp. Heat flared in your core, the sting shooting straight between your legs.

“I should tease you more,” you admitted breathlessly, fingers fisting the back of his shirt as he carried you toward the bedroom like you weighed nothing at all.

Bucky chuckled, dark and knowing, his hand smoothing over the place he’d just smacked before squeezing. “Oh, sweetheart,” he mused, voice dripping with promise. “You have no idea what you just started.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader smut #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan

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trashytracktales · 2 months ago

Note

For VDay requests: Lando takes her to a nice dinner and she gets mad at him idk maybe he does something without realizing. And then they come back home and shes still pissed but he looks so good after he changes in his comfy clothes so they end up fucking on the couch or something but that's when she tells him why was she mad at him ❤🥀

Happy Valentine's Day guys xx

Torn on Valentine | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for this request, I actually had so much fun with it. Enjoy your reading and happy Valentine’s, my lovelies!!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

🩷summary ──── Lando notices immediately that his girlfriend is angry with him. However, he has no idea why. But whatever the reason might be, he is determined to remind her exactly why she can't stay mad for long. It's Valentine’s Day, after all.

🩷pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🩷rating ──── explicit

🩷category ──── F/M

🩷warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, descriptive language, swearing, unresolved tension, teasing, jealous!reader, mild dominance, begging, unprotected sex, slight angst-to-smut.

🩷word count ──── 4.4k (4.444 to be exact hehe)

🩷date ──── Feb. 14, 2025

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

VALENTINE’S DAY IS ruined.

Lando had gone all out to make sure that won’t happen, starting the morning by waking her up with muffins in bed, the scent of vanilla still lingering in the sheets as he pressed lazy little kisses to her neck.

They spent the day walking around the city, and shopping, wandering through little boutiques where he insisted on buying her anything and everything she had laid her eyes on.

And then, la pièce de résistance: a fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant, the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A soft melody played from a piano in the corner, setting the perfect atmosphere. The food was great, the wine was good, and every detail screamed romance, from the flickering candle between them to the way Lando’s thumb traced tiny heart shapes on her hand as they talked, his eyes never leaving hers.

All in all, it had been perfect. Until he ruined it.

The moment was burned into her mind, replaying it over and over again, like a broken record. The waiter, a girl who had been a little too friendly with him all night, had leaned in when she refilled his wine at some point, brushing his shoulder with a touch that lingered for too long. And Lando, oblivious as ever, had winked at her.

Winked.

She knew her boyfriend. Knew he was clueless about these things, that his flirty nature wasn’t always intentional. But that didn’t make it sting any less. Because the waiter had noticed. She smirked at him, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and acted like his girlfriend wasn’t literally sitting on the other side of the table.

After that, she had gone silent.

The entire ride home, she stared out the window, with her arms crossed and lips pursed, and her knees facing the opposite way from him. Lando figured something was wrong ever since; he glanced at her between shifts, brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything, probably thinking she was just tired.

Then they got home, and she had barely looked at him as she changed into something more comfortable, still replaying the scene in her head.

Had he done it on purpose? Probably not. But did it matter?

That’s… debatable. It mattered to her.

Deprived by every emotion except irritation, she followed Lando setting up his last surprise of the day — a cozy movie marathon on the couch, complete with fuzzy blankets, sweets and drinks, and a bunch of her favorite Valentine’s-themed movies ready to run.

Now, their apartment is quiet except for the hum of the TV that neither of them is really watching. The tension between them is thick, lingering in the air like a storm that hasn’t broken. Yet.

She breathes heavily, sitting curled up on the opposite side of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, and arms crossed over her chest. Lando, on the other side, is content to let her be.

Until he isn’t.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we playing the guessing game again?” he finally asks, voice edged with concern. He knows that she needs time to process whatever’s bothering her at the moment, but his patience has limits, too.

She doesn’t look at him, just shrugs as she lies, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Lando puffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Right. That’s why you’ve been side-eyeing me like I insulted your entire family ever since we got back. It’s annoying, you know? If you have something to say…” his voice trails off, but he feels a wave of anger building inside, so he decides to let go before making it worse.

Her jaw tightens.

She doesn’t want to give in, mostly because she knows that the reason why she’s mad is, well, kind of absurd. But at the same time, she’s frustrated in a way that isn’t just about her boyfriend winking at other girls. The weight of the week has been pressing down on her shoulders, and she needs something — him — but she’s too stubborn to say it. Especially now. Still, her eyes keep flickering down, lingering on the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lazy way he’s sprawled out, legs spread wide.

He catches her looking, fighting a smile as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. “You wanna sit on it?”

Her head snaps toward him, face heating instantly at his question. “What?”

Lando shrugs, “You keep looking,” he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of pretending you don’t want to.”

She scoffs, but can’t deny it. She does want to. Desperately. But she’s mad at him. So, she says nothing. Just presses her lips together, turning her attention back to the screen like she isn’t thinking about climbing onto his lap and letting him pull her apart, little by little.

On the TV, the main characters are making out, sending her mind spinning relentlessly, fueling her sudden desire. Apparently, that’s enough for her to decide that she has to put an end to it, finally taking Lando’s advice and speak her mind. But he’s faster. His hands are reaching out for her, almost like they appeared out of nowhere, gripping her waist, effortlessly pulling her onto his lap.

A surprised gasp leaves her lips, but she doesn’t fight him, and doesn’t push him away. If anything, she melts just a little, legs instinctively settling on either side of his hips.

He looks up at her, fingers squeezing at her waist. “That’s better, hm?”

She glares, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Lando raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t say I couldn’t either,” he counters, sliding his hands down to grip her thighs, thumbs brushing tiny, teasing circles on her skin. “And you’re not exactly running away.”

She hates how smug he is. Hates how easily he sees through her act. Hates how good he looks right now.

But then his hands slide further up, fingertips ghosting over the curve of her ass, pressing her down against him just enough for her to feel him through the fabric of his sweats. And the feeling is… intense to say the least, since she’s only wearing an oversized t-shirt and her pajama shorts.

Lando watches her closely, aware of the effect he has on her. “Gonna tell me why you’re mad, or do I have to make you forget?”

She shouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But when he shifts beneath her, dragging her forward so deliciously slow, her resolve crumbles.

Her hands grip his shoulders, nails pressing in. “Shut up.”

“And?”

She closes her eyes, exasperated by his attitude, “Shut up and do something.”

Lando grins at her bluntness, fingers tightening on her hips as he rolls her against him again. “Ask nicely.”

She huffs annoyed, but so needy it aches. “Lando,” she warns in a low voice.

Lando shakes his head. “No, baby. You know how this works,” he reminds her, lips brushing against her neck as his hands keep guide her movements. “Use your words.”

She breathes lightly, head tipping back as the friction sends heat pooling low in her belly. “Please?”

“See, that’s a good start,” he chuckles, nipping at her jaw and dragging his tongue over the sting, “But I know you can do better.”

Her pride wars with her desperation, but it’s a losing battle. She needs more than that, and she knows he won’t give it to her until she breaks.

Next time she speaks, her voice is a whisper, breathy yet sweet, “I need you, please.”

He smirks as he watches her through his eyelashes, happy with the state he managed to put her in so easily. “There goes my girl.”

Lando can see the shift in her the second he finishes his sentence. It’s in the way frustration morphs into impatience, and how her breath hitches every time he grinds her against him but doesn’t give her what she really wants.

“I know you’re enjoying this, but there’s no reason for you to take your sweet ass time, you know that,” she mutters, her voice edged with irritation.

Lando shrugs. “And you know I like watching you squirm.”

She rolls her eyes, but her body betrays her — again and again. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, while her thighs tense around his waist. With a sharp exhale, she moves on her own now, hands sliding down between them, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. Lando follows her movements, amused, but doesn’t stop her as she pulls them down just enough to free him.

Her breath catches at the sight: he’s already hard, the head flushed deep red, leaking just slightly.

She glances back at him, brows raised, but Lando shrugs again, as if the reason is obvious. “You on my lap, begging? Kinda hard not to get… you know, hard.”

Her stomach clenches at his nonchalance, the way he acts like it’s inevitable. Like, of course he’d be this ready for her. Duh.

Lando exhales excited as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking just enough to make his hips twitch beneath her. His breath gets slightly unsteady after that, but his control remains.

“Getting bold now?” he asks, eyes locked on her as he pushes her shirt up just a little, tracing his fingers along the warm skin of her waist.

The girl doesn’t answer, just bites her lip as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down and letting them catch on the curve of her thighs before she kicks them away. That’s when the teasing glint in Lando’s eyes fades, replaced with something darker. He swallows hard, hands settling firm on her hips as he drinks her in.

“So soft,” he mumbles under his breath, mostly to himself.

She feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being half-naked. It’s like he’s seeing everything, because he knows her so deeply. Like he’s about to ruin her in the best way possible.

And she’s going to let him.

Lando wraps his hand around hers and, together, they pump his cock slowly, his gaze always on her, watching the way her body responds to the sight of it. Then he runs his thumb over the tip, spreading the bead of wetness there while he moves purposely, dragging the length of himself through her folds, groaning at how slick and warm she is.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to hers for a second, while she needs to hold on to him with both hands now. “You’re dripping.”

She whimpers as he does it again, sliding against her, teasing her clit with the thick head before pulling back, drawing out her frustration.

“Lando, don’t…” she whines, shifting against his chest, trying to get more of him.

Lando laughs, low and raspy, but his grip on her isn’t loosening one bit. “Patience, baby.”

“I need—”

“Yeah?” he cuts her off, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance this time, barely pushing in before pulling back out. “What? This what you need?”

Her stomach flips at the feeling, so raw, unable to spit out any words. Instead, she only manages to nod.

To show her that he appreciates her honesty, Lando guides her hips, dragging her along his length, pressing his swollen tip against her clit once more and holding her there. Without moving. She gasps, her whole body shuddering as the pressure sends sparks through her nerves.

Lando groans, feeling how she pulses against him, how her body aches for more. “Well, shit. That’s pretty,” he admits, watching her fall apart in his hands.

She lets a little cry out in protest, trying to push down, but he keeps her there, right on the edge of everything, everything.

“You gonna beg for it again?” he asks in a teasing voice.

She wants to fight him on it, but she can’t. Not when she’s this close to him, when every second of waiting feels like pure, unfiltered torture.

She shakes her head, her little cry turning into a throaty moan.

Lando gets ecstatic at the sound and the way her body shivers — so desperate, so utterly wrecked for him before he’s even inside her. For a split second, he considers giving in completely. But then he remembers she’s mad at him. Or at least, she was. And if she thinks she can get away with that attitude without consequence, she needs to understand that she’s sorely mistaken.

Instead of giving her what she wants, Lando kisses her. Hard. His lips crash into hers, swallowing the whimper of frustration that slips from her throat. He starts guiding her against him, harder now, making her ride the thick length of his cock without ever letting her sink onto it, the friction sweet but never enough. She tries to pull back, gasping against his mouth, but he doesn’t let her. One hand tangles in her hair, holding her close, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

Until her patience snaps and, with a sharp gasp, she bites his lip, just hard enough to make him hiss, her nails digging into his scalp as she pulls at his curls. Lando moans, a low, needy sound that strikes her like lightning. The sting, the fight, the way she’s clawing for a type of control she won’t get — not yet — motivates him to keep teasing her.

Annoyed, she lets her hand slip between them, fingers wrapping around his cock, slick and throbbing, before she finally sinks down onto him. Because, sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to take matters into your own hands.

At that, both of them go silent.

Her body tightens around him instantly, the fullness of him stealing her breath, making her walls flutter as she adjusts to his length.

Lando’s forehead presses against hers, his lips parting with a violent inhale, his hands squeezing her hips.

“Jesus, baby,” he breathes, voice wrecked, “What buttons did I push?”

She doesn’t reply. Doesn’t move. Neither does he.

They just sit like that, their bodies locked together so perfectly it almost feels cruel to even blink. The fight, the frustration, the teasing… it all fades away in one moment, replaced by something more intense. Something profund.

When she shifts just slightly, Lando whines, feeling the way she clenches around him, and how perfectly they fit together. The thought makes him throb inside her, the heat of her making his pulse race.

She presses her forehead harder against his, her breath shaky. “Baby,” she whispers, “Shit, you feel so good.”

Lando opens his eyes, finding hers already on him.

For a second, he’s happy to simply look at her. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lips are swollen from his kisses, the way she’s barely holding herself together — everything about her is perfection. Then, he lifts her up, and the sudden rush of cool air against his cock makes him moan.

She shrieks at the emptiness, at the way her body aches to take him back. “Please, not now,” she pleads.

Before she can continue, he shoves himself back in, agonizingly slow, making her feel every inch of him as he stretches her again. As a result, her head falls forward, a desperate whimper breaking from her throat.

Lando keeps his eyes on her, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks, “Already falling apart, love? I’ve barely even started.”

She whines, arms wrapping around his neck, hips twitching like she wants more. Much more.

“This what you needed, yes?” Lando taunts, rolling his hips just enough to make her lose her mind. “You gonna stop being a brat now?”

She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. Lando smiles, dragging himself out just to push back in, watching her eyes flutter shut.

“No, no. Keep those pretty eyes open,” he instructs, nipping at her jaw, “Come on. I wanna watch you break for me.”

Because he is absolutely evil, Lando keeps it slow. Too slow.

Every roll of his hips is calculated, dragging himself out so she feel his cock slipping away, then pushing back in deep, filling her up so completely it makes her walls pulsate. She can’t do anything but take it, her senses overwhelmed by him — by the rough drag of his hands on her skin, the warmth of his breath against her lips, the filthy sound of their bodies meeting.

Then his hands move, sliding up from her waist, fingers tracing over her ribs before finally cupping her breasts. It makes her gasp, her back arching into his touch as his thumbs sweep over her nipples, teasing a little, then rolling them between his fingers.

“So sensitive, look at that,” says Lando, his voice thick with lust. “Are you shaking, baby?”

She is. Her thighs tremble where they straddle him, her whole body squeezing him with every slow thrust, every lazy swipe of his thumbs against her skin.

His gaze drops between them, and his breath stutters at the image. “Beautiful.”

She doesn’t understand at first, too lost in how slowly he fucks her, but then he guides her chin down, forcing her to look.

And oh, fuck.

She can see everything: the way her body stretches to take him in, the way she’s dripping down his entire length, making a mess on his lap, and the way her thighs are trembling on each side of him.

Lando’s heart starts beating faster, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “See how you’re fucking ruining me?”

She lets out a soft, broken moan, fingers playing absentmindedly with the curls at the back of his head, mostly to anchor herself in the moment.

“Lan…”

“I know, love,” his tongue flicks against her pulse point before he kisses her jaw. “Not so mad at me now, are you?”

Right now? No. She realizes she’s not. She can’t be. Not when he’s touching her like this, fucking into her with such lazy, devastating precision. Not when he’s whispering filth into her ear while looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Her hands move, framing his face, tilting it up so she can kiss him again. But this time, their kiss is different. It’s not angry, not desperate, but tender and loving. A kiss that makes Lando’s grip falter, that steals the breath from his lungs and sends him to a new world that’s only inhabited by them.

She whimpers hungrily against his lips, and that’s what breaks him, because he knows he broke her first.

A guttural moan rumbles from his chest as his fingers dig into her thighs. And then he snaps. “Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers next to her ear, thrusting into her harder. It takes her by surprise, the way he is holding her so tight like he’s trying to fuse them together. “Need you,” he adds.

The sudden change in pace fractures something in her brain to the point she can’t remember anything else except his name.

“It’s okay you’re mad,” Lando assures her. “You can be as mad as you want, yeah? All day, everyday,” he groans, voice wrecked. “I’m still gonna fuck you like this. Gonna give you exactly what you need. Whenever you need me, love.”

Her head falls back, a loud moan spilling from her lips as he loses himself in her, in the heat, the mess, and the way she clings to him.

“Always gonna take care of my girl,” he promises, sealing the words against her skin. “No matter what.”

She can feel his control slipping in the way his thrusts deepen, the rhythm faltering slightly as his breath becomes gradually uneven. He’s still trying to hold back, but she can tell he’s far from behaving. She feels his cock twitching so deliciously inside her, and the way his hands melt with her skin almost painfully on her hips. Every new sensation makes her dizzy, until it’s too much. The pressure building in her chest, the overwhelming feeling of him inside her, the way his hands start roaming over her skin, and his mouth leaving hot trails across her neck — all too much.

With a shaky breath, she collapses forward, her body unable to keep steady, falling against his chest as her hands slide weakly to his sides.

“I can’t,” she gasps, “Can’t hold myself up.”

Lando’s hands move immediately, his hold firm on her back, and voice filled with a deep urgency, “I got you, baby. You know I do.”

And then he flips them, his strength not-so-surprising as he rolls them onto the couch, her body now on her back with him above her. The new angle makes them both moan in unison, the sudden shift in depth making every movement feel sharper, more intense.

Lando’s hands find her thighs, pulling them apart so he can press deeper, pushing into her with a delicious force that makes her stomach tighten and her toes curl. The sound of their bodies slapping together fills the room — wet, sticky, perfect. Her hands reach up, gripping the back of the couch, her nails scratching at the fabric, trying to keep herself grounded as he fucks her harder.

“Fuck, baby,” Lando groans, his face flushed with sweat, his lips parted as he stares down at her, eyes wild with need. “You’re so fucking perfect, can’t get enough of you.”

She can feel him getting closer, the way his movements grow sloppier, more desperate, but there’s no slowing him down. He’s all in — in her, in the moment, and she can barely breathe under the weight of it all.

The sounds of their passion are unrestrained, loud, their breath ragged and frantic. It’s all they hear now: her moans, his grunts, the soft squeak of the couch beneath them. But as the tension starts to crack, she feels herself spiraling as closer to the edge as he is, and she finally feels the last remnants of her jealousy fade away.

She looks up at him, her vision blurry from the pleasure. “You… winked at the waiter.”

Lando freezes for just a moment, his thrusts shallow, and he looks down at her, confusion flickering in his eyes as he forces himself to regain control. “I did?” he breathes out wildly, his lips twitching with a laugh that’s barely contained.

She moans, biting her lip as she writhes under him, “Yes, when she came back with the wine,” she admits, her voice soft, barely a whisper. “It was so stupid, I wanted to throw it in your face.”

Lando finally laughs, a genuine chuckle, his face still flushed with pleasure. “Always so dramatic, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning down to kiss her lips before pulling back. “Wanted to be mad, but you’re too busy getting fucked to even care now, hm?”

She wants to argue, wants to tell him he’s being a cocky bastard, but the words get lost in the sound of her own moans as his rhythm picks up again, faster this time, his cock hitting places inside her that have her seeing stars.

“Oh,” she gasps, her voice full of the tension and the blinding pressure building in her chest, “I’m so... Fuck. I’m close.”

Lando doesn’t ease off. “I know, baby. I feel it.” He pushes her closer, his hands gripping her legs just right, his thrusts brutal and relentless. “Wanna come for me?”

She doesn’t have enough time to process his words. The wave hits her hard, crashing over her like an unstoppable force, and her body goes taut, every nerve lighting up as she cries out, her back arching off the couch as she cums around him.

And Lando isn’t far behind.

He slams into her once more, and then his head falls on her chest with a groan as he releases, the hot pulse of his cum filling her up just as her own orgasm shakes through her. Breathless, they stay like that, bodies joined, both of them tangled in the aftershocks of their release.

“Next time, don’t wink at other girls if you want to keep your eyes,” she finally says, feeling him softening inside her.

“Next time,” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath, “Don’t go non-verbal on me. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She smiles weakly, pressing her lips to his. “You never mean it like that, do you?”

The air between them thickens, leaving behind an almost palpable silence. Affected by her last affirmation, Lando’s hands find home on her skin, the touch light, slightly hesitant, like he’s afraid to disrupt the fragile calm that’s settled between them.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She traces her fingers through his curls, her body feeling like a flame now, flickering gently after being ignited. There’s a warmth spreading from her chest, outwards, a comfort that soothes the storm inside her. But still, her heart races, and the lingering heat from their connection seems to hum through her veins.

Lando shifts, moving to pull her closer, his arms wrapping around her. She nestles into him, feeling the heat of his skin and the sweat against hers, the warmth of him grounding her.

“You okay?” she hears him again.

“Yeah... just needed a moment to catch my breath,” her voice is a soft murmur in his ears.

Lando smiles weakly, his lips curling with that familiar grin. He brushes a lock of hair from her face, fingers skimming her cheek like a whisper, and the gesture is enough to make her chest tighten.

“You’re everything I need, silly. Always.”

She knows that. And luckily, the storm inside her has subsided. “I’m sorry, too. For being stubborn,” she whispers, her voice full of a quiet vulnerability.

Lando chuckles, “Stubborn is an understatement.”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Don’t push it.”

His hands, once firm and assertive, now trace delicate patterns over her skin, mapping every curve, every inch of her as though trying to imprint her into his soul. There is no need for words now, not anymore.

As Lando presses another soft kiss to her lips, she remembers why they will always be able to overcome any childish misunderstanding.

“I love you,” she says, her voice steady.

He smiles, feeling a familiar warmth spreading in his chest. And, instead of saying it back, Lando tilts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a teasing smirk.

Then, he winks at her.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

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urdreamydoodles · 5 months ago

Text

MCU Characters x Reader (Part.1)

How they react when you are angry with them (Part.1)

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker (Tom H.), Stephen Strange & Thor Odinson

I'm back in my MCU era, thanks to Agatha All Along, so expect a lot of MCU headcanons, feel free to request those!

Tony Stark

- When you’re angry with Tony, he’s a little stunned. He’s used to being able to charm his way through things or brush issues off with a joke, but the moment he realizes you’re genuinely upset, he feels the ground shift a little. Tony’s mind races, calculating what he did wrong, and for a second, he considers ignoring the problem—but not with you. You mean too much to him, and he can’t stand the idea of pushing you further away.

- He doesn’t immediately know how to apologize, so he leans into his classic defense mechanism: humor. He’ll try to make you laugh, throwing out quips, hoping you’ll crack a smile. When that doesn’t work, he gets a little awkward, mumbling things like, “This is why I avoid real feelings, you know?” as he fumbles through an apology. He’s not used to admitting fault, but with you, he’s learning to swallow his pride.

- Tony goes all out when he realizes he needs to make it up to you. He’ll throw himself into making amends, maybe even a little too extravagantly. Expect some grand, over-the-top gesture—a private jet to Paris, a limited-edition piece of tech he’s been tinkering on, or a fancy dinner in some exclusive place with an outfit he’s bought just for the occasion. He’s not subtle, and he knows it, but he’ll do anything if it means a smile from you.

- When the big gestures don’t work, he takes a different approach. He shows up at your door, looking strangely vulnerable, with something small and meaningful. Maybe it’s a handwritten letter he’s scribbled out, confessing how much he hates it when things aren’t okay between you two. It’s raw, real, and completely unlike Tony, but he means every word. This time, he wants to show that he’s willing to put the ego aside for you.

- Once you finally let him back in, Tony wraps you in his arms and doesn’t let go. He’ll joke that he’s not letting you get mad at him again, and maybe throw in a flirty quip about “testing his limits,” but there’s something deeper there too. Being loved by you has changed him, and he’s willing to work on himself for the first time in a long time. With you, Tony’s found a softness he didn’t know he had, and he’s not going to risk losing it.

Steve Rogers

- Steve Rogers doesn’t like conflict, especially not with you. When he realizes you’re angry, he immediately wants to address it and resolve it, hoping it won’t escalate. He tries to have a calm, level-headed conversation, but he can see that maybe it’s too soon. Steve’s patient, though; he’ll give you space if you need it, even if it pains him to let go for a while.

- While you’re cooling off, Steve takes time to reflect, replaying the situation in his mind, wondering where he went wrong. He’s his own worst critic and can be hard on himself, especially when it comes to you. He’ll try to see things from your perspective, understanding that sometimes his old-fashioned sense of right and wrong can be rigid. He’s willing to bend if it’s what’s needed to bridge the gap between you.

- When he approaches you again, he’s soft-spoken and earnest, offering a sincere apology. There are no excuses, no justifications—just him, owning up to whatever hurt you. His gaze doesn’t leave yours; he wants you to know he truly means it. And as he speaks, he promises he’ll do better, vowing to always listen to you and consider your feelings.

- To make it up to you, Steve chooses something simple but thoughtful, probably something he knows you love. It could be as quiet as a walk through your favorite park or as gentle as a handwritten note tucked into a book you’re reading. Steve understands that sometimes, it’s the little things that mean the most. He’ll give you the space to talk, letting you vent if you need to, always steady, always attentive.

- Once the air clears, Steve is more affectionate than usual, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, grateful to be back in your good graces. He values trust deeply and doesn’t take your forgiveness for granted. Steve knows relationships take work, and he’s fully committed to making it work with you, one respectful conversation at a time.

Natasha Romanoff

- Natasha doesn’t like it when things are off between you two, but she’s used to people being mad at her. Initially, she tries to shrug it off, acting like she doesn’t care, maybe even trying to ignore it. But you’re different. You’re not just anyone; you’re someone she actually trusts, and seeing you upset with her hits her hard.

- Natasha is far more comfortable dealing with enemies than emotional confrontations, so when she finally comes to you, she does it in a roundabout way. She might casually ask, “Are we good?” as if it’s not a big deal, but the nervous tension in her voice betrays her. She’s not great at apologies, so her attempt is awkward but sincere. It’s clear she’s trying, even if she doesn’t always have the words.

- To make it up to you, Natasha doesn’t go for big gestures but rather something deeply personal. She’ll take you to a place she loves—a quiet spot on a rooftop, a hidden café she discovered, somewhere she can let her guard down. She’s careful, almost shy, as she opens up a little about herself, sharing stories she rarely tells. In her own way, she’s letting you know how much she values you.

- Natasha doesn’t usually do comfort, but she’ll go out of her way to make you feel loved and safe. Maybe she’ll surprise you with breakfast or bring you something she knows you’ve been wanting. She pays attention, after all, even if she doesn’t always show it. Little by little, she’ll find ways to let you know that she’s there, committed to making things right.

- When you finally forgive her, Natasha breathes a sigh of relief, leaning in for a hug that lasts a beat longer than usual. She’s not big on words, but she’ll whisper something soft and sincere, just for you. Natasha’s fiercely protective, and after a falling-out, she’s even more attuned to making sure you feel cared for. She’ll stay close, a steady presence at your side, her quiet way of showing just how much she values you.

Bruce Banner

- When you’re angry with Bruce, he’s instantly anxious, worried he’s done something terribly wrong. Conflict isn’t his strong suit, and he’s painfully aware of his capacity for anger. He’s cautious, almost timid, when he realizes you’re upset, giving you space and time. He doesn’t want to make things worse or risk saying the wrong thing.

- Bruce spends time overthinking the situation, dissecting every detail. He questions himself, often getting caught in a loop of self-blame, wondering if he’s ever really been suited for a relationship. But even though he’s scared of confrontation, he values you too much to leave things unresolved. He wants to show you that he’s willing to work through whatever the issue is.

- When he finally comes to you, Bruce’s apology is soft, heartfelt, and a little self-deprecating. He’ll stumble through his words, not wanting to sound defensive, and there’s an earnestness in his gaze as he tries to convey just how much he wants to make things right. He’s not perfect, but he’s open to listening and doing better.

- To make it up to you, Bruce goes for something intimate and personal. He knows you appreciate small gestures, so he’ll show up with something that reflects his feelings for you—maybe a small book he thinks you’d love, or a little experiment from the lab that made him think of you. He’s shy about it, maybe a little embarrassed, but it’s his way of showing he cares.

- When you finally forgive him, Bruce visibly relaxes, wrapping you in a hug as if he never wants to let go. He’s careful, soft, and almost tentative, savoring the warmth of your embrace. Bruce cherishes the trust you give him and is deeply grateful to have someone willing to weather his insecurities. He might even joke, “You’re way too patient with me,” but the gratitude in his voice is genuine.

Clint Barton

- When Clint realizes you’re angry with him, his first reaction is a mix of regret and a slight laugh. He can’t believe he’s managed to mess things up this badly with you, of all people. He knows he tends to joke around a bit too much, so he tries to laugh it off at first, but when he sees how serious you are, his grin fades. He’ll look a bit awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing he’s got some work to do.

- Clint’s never been one to give big, elaborate apologies. Instead, he’ll pull you aside, speaking quietly and genuinely. He’ll admit that he messed up, explaining that sometimes he forgets to take things seriously or considers others’ feelings the way he should. It’s a simple, heartfelt apology, showing his honest side that not many people get to see.

- Once he’s apologized, Clint is all about making you laugh. He’ll start cracking jokes, doing his best impressions, and even pull some ridiculous faces just to get a reaction out of you. Clint knows humor is his best weapon, and he’s shameless about using it if it means making things right. He’s determined not to let you stay mad at him for long, no matter what it takes.

- When his jokes don’t quite cut it, Clint switches gears and puts effort into something he knows will mean a lot to you. He’s a guy who pays attention to the little things, so he’ll show up with your favorite takeout, a warm blanket, or maybe even a funny book he picked up just for you. He knows that it’s the small gestures that can speak volumes.

- After things settle down, Clint wraps you in a warm, comfortable hug, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, making you feel like everything’s back to normal. He’ll joke about how lucky he is that you put up with him, throwing in a wink, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind his words. Clint doesn’t take his relationships for granted, and he’s grateful you’re in his life, even when he messes up.

Bucky Barnes

- Bucky’s heart sinks when he sees that you’re angry. He’s used to pushing people away, and now that he’s got you, he’s terrified of losing you over a misunderstanding. Bucky’s first instinct is to retreat, his mind already whispering that maybe he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve you. He’ll avoid confrontation if he can, hoping things might smooth over on their own.

- But when he realizes he needs to talk to you, he’s hesitant, nervous, almost as if he’s bracing himself for rejection. Bucky approaches you carefully, speaking in a low, almost shy voice. He struggles with apologies, but he looks you in the eyes, opening up about how hard he finds it to express his feelings. He’s used to running, and being with you is the first time he’s tried not to.

- Bucky tries to make it up to you in the most low-key, thoughtful way possible. He’s not one for grand gestures, but he’ll do something meaningful and heartfelt, like leaving you a note explaining how much you mean to him or bringing you something that he knows you love. He’s nervous about whether it’ll be enough, hoping you can see the sincerity in his actions.

- When he feels things softening between you, Bucky relaxes just a little, offering his support in any way you need. He’ll stay close, maybe cooking a meal for you or sitting quietly with you, sharing a comfortable silence. He wants you to know that he’s there, without needing to say much, because he’s always believed that actions speak louder than words.

- When you finally forgive him, Bucky is beyond relieved. He’s more open with his affection, drawing you into a tight embrace, his touch lingering as if he’s afraid to let go. He knows he doesn’t have many people he can count on, but he’s grateful that he can count on you. Bucky’s still working on believing he deserves happiness, but having you in his life makes him want to try.

Sam Wilson

- Sam immediately notices when you’re angry, and his first instinct is to find out what’s going on. He’s straightforward and doesn’t like tension hanging in the air, so he’ll ask, “Alright, what did I do?” in his calm, genuine way, hoping you’ll be willing to talk it out. He’s good at reading people, but he wants to hear it from you directly.

- Sam listens intently when you explain what’s bothering you, nodding and giving you his full attention. He’s respectful and thoughtful, making sure you know he understands where you’re coming from. He’s not the type to dodge blame; if he’s at fault, he’ll own up to it right away. There’s no defensiveness, no excuses—just an honest desire to make things right.

- To make it up to you, Sam takes you on a simple, meaningful outing—something where the two of you can connect and have fun. He’s all about shared experiences, so maybe it’s a long walk, a favorite food spot, or even a small adventure he’s planned just for you. He’s careful, attentive, making sure the focus is on you and helping you feel valued.

- When things calm down, Sam offers a mix of humor and reassurance, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and promising to do better. He’ll look you in the eyes and say something like, “I don’t like seeing you mad. Tell me if I mess up again.” He’s genuine and open, showing you he wants to grow from this experience and be a better partner.

- Once everything’s back to normal, Sam goes the extra mile, making sure you’re laughing and relaxed. He’s always there to lift you up, pulling you in for a warm, affectionate hug and giving you his full, unwavering attention. Sam’s presence is solid, reassuring, and he’ll make sure you know just how much he values having you in his life.

Peter Parker (Tom H.)

- Peter’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s young, a little clumsy with emotions, and absolutely hates the idea of upsetting you. His mind starts racing, thinking of everything he could have done wrong. He gets a little panicked, maybe even rambling apologies before he knows what’s going on, hoping you’ll give him a chance to explain.

- When you tell him what’s bothering you, Peter listens carefully, nodding along with wide, earnest eyes. He’s genuinely sorry, his voice soft as he stumbles through an apology. He’s never been great at handling relationship tension, but he’ll try his best to make sure you know how much he cares and how sorry he is for letting you down.

- To make it up to you, Peter goes for something heartfelt, maybe even a bit awkward, but completely sincere. He’ll show up at your window with a little homemade gift, something quirky and thoughtful—perhaps a playlist he made just for you or a funny little gadget he put together in the lab. He’s earnest, a little shy about it, hoping you’ll see how much effort he’s putting in.

- Peter spends extra time trying to lift your spirits, using every ounce of his playful personality to make you laugh. He’ll crack jokes, do silly impressions, or even attempt a bad dance routine just to get you smiling again. He knows he’s a bit of a dork, but he doesn’t mind if it means cheering you up. Peter’s all about making you feel comfortable and loved.

- When you finally forgive him, Peter’s face lights up with relief. He’ll pull you into a warm, enthusiastic hug, holding you close and babbling about how he’s “the luckiest person in the world” to have someone like you. He’s young, optimistic, and just incredibly happy that you’re not mad anymore. To Peter, you’re his world, and he’ll always do whatever it takes to make you feel special.

Stephen Strange

- When Stephen realizes you’re angry with him, he’s a bit taken aback. He’s used to being right and doesn’t often see things from others’ perspectives, so it takes him a moment to understand the weight of the situation. His initial reaction might even be a little defensive, but he quickly catches himself, knowing that with you, he has to try harder to listen and understand.

- Stephen struggles with apologies, often trying to explain away his actions or getting caught up in technicalities. He’s intelligent and analytical, but that doesn’t always work when emotions are involved. Eventually, though, he manages to offer a genuine apology, admitting that he’s not always the easiest person to be with and that he respects you enough to take responsibility.

- To make things right, Stephen will probably use a bit of magic to create something special just for you. It might be a small charm to keep you safe, a little illusion to make you smile, or even a glimpse into some place you’ve always wanted to see. It’s his way of saying he cares, using the one skill he knows best to bring you a little joy.

- As he tries to smooth things over, Stephen is careful, more attentive than usual, and visibly trying to understand your emotions. He may not be great at expressing his own feelings, but he’s willing to try if it means keeping you close. He’ll listen to you, nodding thoughtfully, and maybe even opening up a bit about his past mistakes and how much he values you.

- Once you forgive him, Stephen is visibly relieved, though he keeps it subtle. He gives you a small smile and pulls you close, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms around you. He might even joke, “Guess I need to work on my bedside manner,” but there’s genuine affection behind his words. Stephen knows he’s lucky to have you, and he’s determined to keep learning how to love you better.

Thor Odinson

- Thor is visibly surprised when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s naturally cheerful and doesn’t take most things too seriously, so the idea that he’s done something to upset you takes him off guard. At first, he tries to brush it off with a booming laugh, but when he sees the seriousness in your eyes, his smile fades. He immediately wants to fix things, willing to do whatever it takes to get you to smile again.

- Thor is quick to apologize, his voice earnest as he promises he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s not one to overthink things, but he’s deeply sincere, and his apologies come straight from the heart. He’ll look you in the eyes and tell you he values you and never meant to cause any harm, his words laced with the kind of honesty that only Thor can deliver.

- To make it up to you, Thor goes all out. He’ll sweep you off on a grand adventure, maybe a spontaneous trip to Asgard (or at least what remains of it), or he’ll bring you somewhere beautiful and awe-inspiring. Thor loves to celebrate life and wants to remind you of all the incredible experiences the two of you can share. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he hopes that a bit of excitement will make things right.

- As you spend time together, Thor is extra affectionate, showering you with praise and hugs. He’s genuinely sorry and makes sure you feel loved and appreciated, maybe even telling you tales of his own mistakes and what he’s learned from them. He might tease himself a bit, but it’s all to make you laugh and remind you of his dedication to you.

- When you finally forgive him, Thor’s smile lights up the room. He laughs, pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around. There’s nothing subtle about his relief and joy, and he’s not afraid to show it. Thor values you immensely and will do everything he can to make sure you know how much you mean to him, promising that he’ll try to be a little more mindful in the future.

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rafesangelita · 6 months ago

Text

♡ when farmer’s!daughter!reader’s father goes out of town to visit some family, her and cowboy!rafe can’t keep their hands to themselves any longer.

warnings: reader is a little bit on the shy side, flirty banter, use of petnames, implied age gap (rafe is 7-10 years older), hint of jealous!rafe, reader refers to her father as ‘daddy’, mentions of sneaking around, slowburn (kinda?), lotsss of sexual tension, fluff, mutual pining, oral (f. receiving), fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, cream pie, squirting, multiple orgasms

a/n: based loosely off of the moodboard + headcanons i wrote here <3 saddle up because this is a long one lol

wc: 4.8k

“you gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna help me out here?” rafe grunted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watched you blink away from his form. you looked up from his shirtless figure, his skin glistening with sweat as butterflies fluttered in your chest. “what do you need?” you chirped, blinking rapidly as if to shake away the thoughts of pressing wet kisses to his waistline. “a cold glass of water sounds good right now.” you obliged, rafe watching as you went up the porch stairs in your cute little boots, his eyes falling down to your backside. “fuck.” he muttered to himself.

if he knew he’d have to fight the urge to touch his boss’s pretty daughter, he would’ve hesitated in taking the job. eight months had felt like an eternity when you pranced around the farm in the prettiest dresses and shortest daisy duke shorts he’s ever seen. you came back with a glass of water, taking a sip before handing it to him. expecting rafe to turn the glass around to take a drink from the other side of the rim, your cheeks heated when he placed his mouth on the same spot your lips were on just moments ago. “thanks, sweetheart.” rafe shot you a wink, his charm making you look away shyly.

you plopped down on a nearby tree stump, a pout taking over your features as you looked at the empty driveway. your father had only been gone for a few hours, not nearly making a dent in the five days he’ll be away. “you don’t have to worry about him, y’know? he’s a strong man.” rafe decided he needed a break from being hunched over under the hood of his truck, his chest rising and falling as he took a seat on the bed of fluffy grass next to you. “i know..” you muttered, “it’s just— he’s so much older now, i worry about him.” you looked down at rafe, his eyes already trained on you.

rafe nodded. “that man can survive anything. wasn’t he in his truck when a tornado came and swept him off the ground?” you gasped, a laugh escaping your lips. “he told you that story?!” you squealed excitedly, your reaction making rafe melt into a puddle of nothing. you were too cute. “did he also tell you the part where that didn’t really happen? him and his buddy just got real close to it.” rafe’s face morphed into one of pure shock. “he lied?!” you threw your head back in laughter, a snort following shortly after. it was rafe’s turn to laugh, the sound unfamiliar to his ears.

“oh my god, excuse me. i can’t believe i just did that!” you clasped a hand over your mouth, embarrassment creeping up onto your face. the man next to you waved you off. “why would he lie about that?” rafe leaned back on his hands, giving you a full view of his chiseled abs. sighing dreamily, you shrugged. “he’s a drama queen sometimes, he likes the theatrics.” realizing that you just swooned over his muscles, rafe cleared his throat before getting back to work. he respected your father too much to give in to his filthy desires, or so he hoped.

swallowing the lump of rejection in your throat, you made your way inside where you decided to watch him from your bedroom window instead. your infatuation with this man only grew by the day, and it was becoming really hard to hide your adoration for him. all the times he slipped you a little wink when your father wasn’t looking, the playing of footsies under the table while your father ranted about the economy, the lingering stares and touches.. you weren’t crazy, you had every right to believe this man was interested in you in some way, shape, or form.

apart of you wanted to believe that rafe was trying to maintain in being a gentleman towards you, but there’s nothing you wanted more than for him to hold off all kind of honor and respect for you while he takes you however he wants. you daydreamed about being fucked in a headlock by him, along with being put into twenty other positions. letting out a sigh, you fell back on your bed, fiddling with the ribbon that was tied to the belt loop of your shorts. how on earth were you going to go about these next few days all alone with him?

night time rolled around, and rafe had just come inside for a shower. “are you hungry?” you watched as he rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck to release some pressure of today’s labor. “yeah, but i’ll help myself. don’t worry about it, ‘sugar.” he groaned before shutting the bathroom door behind him. you knew he wouldn’t, days like this always ended in rafe knocking out as soon as he hit his bed, empty stomach or not. the only thing rafe could think about as the hot water pattered against his back, was how you were in the same house as him in nothing but a night dress.

he wondered if you’d let him hike it up your thighs.. if you’d allow him to slip his fingers underneath the soft material. so badly, he wanted to see your face twist in pleasure underneath him, he ached to see that day. rafe let out a shuddering breath, swallowing thickly as lewd images of you ran through his head. he imagined your hands trailing down his torso, those cherry red painted fingers of yours wrapped tightly around his cock. you had this man questioning everything he ever knew about being a gentlman. rafe rubbed the sides of his face, his eyes screwing shut as he attempted to get all inappropriate thoughts about you out of his head.

he remembered seeing you for the first time all those months ago. you were wearing a red gingham dress, your hair styled so pretty and neat. he knew immediately that he was in trouble when you flashed him that million dollar smile when your father introduced you two. it wasn’t long before both of you started flirting with each other, even going as far as touching each other when you didn’t have to. rafe would ‘help’ you up on your horse, his hands planted on the globes of your ass as he hoisted you onto the saddle. he swore he died and came back to life whenever you’d place a hand on him every time he made you laugh.

slowly but surely, you two were getting more bolder with your moves. while rafe was ogling your goodies more often than not, you started leaving your curtains open whenever you’d change, knowing he could see you from the view of his window. pinching the bridge of his nose, rafe quickly hurried up in the shower, feeling the need to relieve himself in his own space where he knew you’d be far away from. after washing away all the dirt and grime, he felt clean as he dried himself off, only for his peace to come crashing down when he realized he didn’t bring an extra change of clothes with him.

with no other choice but to walk out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he tried to sneak pass you in the kitchen and out the back door, but of course he wasn’t so lucky. “i know you said you would make yourself something, but—” you turned around with a loaded dinner plate in your hand, the dish nearly slipping out of your grip when you saw the tall cowboy standing awkwardly with his hands on his hips.

your eyes trailed down his stomach, the sight of his happy trail making you swallow thickly. rafe took note of this, his heart beating in his chest as you averted your gaze elsewhere. “uhm, well i made you this.. i know it’s one of your favorites..” you placed the plate of steak and mashed potatoes on the table, turning around as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. this was absolute torture. “it looks amazing, i’ll just get some clothes on and be right back.” he held onto the towel, jogging to his place where he slipped on a pair of pajama pants and a dingy white t-shirt.

“you didn’t have to do this,” rafe took a seat at the table, his jaw ticking when you bent over the counter to grab a couple of drinking glasses, “thank you.” at this point he didn’t know if he was thanking you for the food, or the perfect view of your ass. “water?” you looked at him from over your shoulder, your cheeks heating when you saw his eyes shoot away from your backside. “a beer please.” you smiled at his answer. you should’ve known he’d pick that out after a full day of work. grabbing a bottle from the fridge, you handed it to him, his fingers brushing yours as you took a seat across from him.

“my dad makes it a lot better than i do, so—” rafe was quick to cut you off, a moan leaving his lips as he chewed. “this is.. damn!” you giggled, shaking your head. “it’s great, darlin’. truly.” he nodded approvingly, flashing you a thumbs up. you smiled that smile of yours before tasting it yourself. despite all the tension between you two, you could always count on each other to talk the other’s ear off. “wait. so you’re telling me that you’re actually from an island? why on earth would you live out in the middle of nowhere when you had the beach in your backyard?” you asked incredulously.

rafe took a swig from his beer, a bittersweet laugh leaving his lips. “i got into a ‘lotta bad shit over there. i was on some bad shit,” he sighed, “being out here brings me peace.. even if i’m breaking my back everyday.” you listened closely, giving him your full attention as he told you more about the place he was from. you learned that he used to be a filthy rich boy with a house bigger than you could ever imagine. rafe smiled softly, a solemn expression taking over his features. “it’s very nice. but i wouldn’t go back.” he leaned back in his chair.

you tilted your head at him, both of your plates empty. “no? how come?” you leaned forward, your cleavage peeking out of your neckline. eyes flickering down to your chest, rafe seemed to get flustered when he felt your foot trail up his leg. “well,” he zeroed in on your lips, “i see myself settling down out here, ‘havin some little ones.” your breath hitched, a smidge of jealousy now residing in your gut. as if he could read your mind, he caught your foot under the table, his thumb stroking your ankle. “old habits seem to die hard, huh?” rafe laughed.

pushing away the jealousy, you nodded, feeling a new profound sense of confidence with the way he was looking at you right now. “yeah, i guess i forgot we’re here all by ourselves.. ‘don’t really have to hide from anyone..” you yawned, your head falling back on your chair as your night gown rode up your thighs. just a few inches higher, and rafe would finally see what he’s been fantasizing about all this time. “yeah..” he crossed his arms, his biceps looking especially good right now. you two stayed quiet, just looking at each other as if everything was threatening to rise to the surface.

do something! you thought to yourself, hoping rafe could magically hear you and grab you from across the table. instead, he looked away, letting go of your foot before scooting out from the table. “dinner was really good, but i better head off to bed, now.” he didn’t let you say anything before he left in a haste. what. the. fuck. you got up, watching him curse to himself from the kitchen window. you couldn’t help but feel defeated. rafe was always the one pulling away from you, no matter how close you two got, he always left you high and dry.

once you cleaned everything up, and you were left lying by yourself in your bed, you decided everything would change. if he pulled away from you, surely you should do the same.

you woke up the next morning to the sound of rafe’s truck engine roaring to life. rubbing your eyes, you shielded your face from the morning sun, deciding to get your day started as soon as possible. within an hour, you were stepping outside, walking over to where rafe was smiling brightly behind the steering wheel. “i got it working, sweetheart! should we go for a ride?” damn him, he knew how much you loved to be passenger princess in his two seater-beater. you cleared your throat, already hating yourself as you said no. “i don’t think so.. i got a lot of stuff to do today.”

rafe watched you go back in the house, his jaw ticking in response. the only thing you had to do today was sit and look pretty. not to mention, for as long as rafe has been here, you never, ever, rejected going on a little drive with him. that’s how he immediately knew something wasn’t right, and he’d bet all of his money that it had something to do with last night. taking the keys out of the ignition, rafe decided that if you weren’t going to go for a ride with him, then he wasn’t going either. considering he did everything he needed to do yesterday, rafe settled for going inside to tidy up his place.

you walked around the house aimlessly, a book in your hand as you kept glancing outside to see if you could spot rafe anywhere. you didn’t. letting out a groan, you looked at the clock on the wall. it was already half past noon. you debated on whether or not you should take him some lunch, your leg bouncing as you tried to weigh out your options here. on one hand, you could bring rafe lunch, try to talk some stuff out, and on the other hand, you could just leave things be like you promised yourself you would. you knew rafe wasn’t stupid, surely he’d catch on to you soon.

just as you decided against bothering him, there was a knock at the front door. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you opened the door to see your childhood best friend, wyatt. “wyatt!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him as he pulled you close to him by your waist. “oh my, lord! when did you come back from the city?!” you welcomed him in, motioning for him to come inside. “i just finished my second semester, so i’ll be in town for a while. i drove out here just last night, ‘decided to surprise my folks.” he smiled, his expression softening once you urged him to take a seat at the kitchen table.

“i didn’t see your old man’s truck out front..” he sat down, taking his hat off and placing it on the table. “oh, yeah.. he’s out of town visiting my aunt.” you leaned back on the counter, your eyes flickering at his hair. he looked so much different now. “wow, you’re uh— you look really good.” you complimented. “yeah, i’m not lanky anymore,” wyatt laughed, “you look gorgeous as always, though.” his gaze ran down your dress, the sight of your bare thighs making him clear his throat. “well, i didn’t just want to come by and say hi, i actually wanted to ask you something—”

rafe barged in before wyatt could finish his sentence.

“who’s this?” he stared between you two, the jealousy in his blue eyes very, very evident. you smiled innocently as wyatt got up, extending a hand for rafe to shake. “hello, sir. i’m an old friend of y/n’s here, ‘was just coming to visit her.” rafe looked down at wyatt’s palm, keeping both of his hands tucked in his pockets. “well, you two might wanna hurry this up, y/n’s father doesn’t know about any visitors coming to his home.” rafe walked around him, opening the fridge for a beer. “daddy isn’t home though, isn’t he?” you spoke up, in which rafe turned around. “what was that?” he asked.

you two were glaring at each other now. “my dad isn’t here,” you repeated, “and besides, he knows wyatt. ‘thinks of him as a son, right?” rafe’s grip on his beer bottle tightened, a smile playing on his lips when he glanced over at your friend. “yeah.” wyatt nodded. rafe was seeing red, he couldn’t stand to look at you and wyatt standing so close to each other any longer. turning around, rafe listened in as wyatt asked to take you out to dinner. “aw, i would love to! what time should i be ready?”rafe shut his eyes momentarily. you said yes to wyatt too fast for his liking. “how does eight o’clock sound?”

you hummed, nodding excitedly as wyatt made his way to the front door. “alright, it’s a date then. see ‘ya!” you waved at him until his truck disappeared down the dirt road. walking back into the kitchen, rafe was staring you down as you acted like you didn’t just agree to go on a date in front of him. “what do you think you’re playing at?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “if you’re acting out because of last night—” you cut him off. “don’t talk about me ‘acting out’ when you’re the one who decided to run back to your little shed when i was giving you an open opportunity.” you cut in.

“an open opportunity to do what?” rafe’s voice was firm as he stepped closer to you, his beer long forgotten on the counter as he gripped your arm. you failed miserably at trying not to look down at his lips. “it doesn’t even matter now. you obviously don’t want it,” you softened, “don’t want me..” rafe couldn’t believe his ears. you were all that this man thought about. he woke up thinking of what pretty outfit you would wear for the day, and went to sleep wishing you were by his side. “don’t want you?” he repeated, loosening his grip on your skin. “you just have no fucking clue.” rafe stepped back.

“you’re the only thing that i want.” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he made his way outside to the back house. you stared at him in shock. all this time you wondered if something was wrong with you because he never made a real move to pursue you, but now all of a sudden after you agree to go on a date he wants to express how he feels? and has the nerve to walk off right after? fuck that. you pushed the back door open, the old wood slamming back against the house as rafe spun around on his heels. “so why do you walk away from me?!” you shouted, both of your chests rising and falling.

“what are you talking about?” you stepped down the stairs, shoving rafe in the chest. “why do you leave every time things start to go somewhere?” his eyes bore into yours, “i’m sick of this game of cat and mouse. have you ever thought that maybe i want you too?” those were the words rafe needed to hear before he cupped your face and dragged you off your feet. his lips were soft against your own, his calloused hands pulling you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. he groaned at the taste of you, his tongue slipping in your mouth before you could process what was happening.

rafe kissed you hard and slow, as if to savor you before he led you two to his place, the door barely shutting before he had you pinned to his neatly made bed. “i’ve wanted you the moment your father introduced us, that’s the truth.” he slotted himself between your thighs, cupping your tits through your dress. you moaned, his hips grinding against your clothed cunt. “why would you wait all this time then?” you whimpered when he started pressing kisses to the curve of your neck, his calloused hands feeling you up as they roamed your soft flesh. “well for starters, i have a lot of respect for your pops..”

you sighed, completely forgetting about the old man. “and?” rafe pulled the straps of your dress down until the material pooled at your waist. leaning back on his heels, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest, your tits looking more perfect than he imagined. “..and right now, all the respect i have is going out the door.” you cried out when he leaned down, his lips wrapping around a sensitive bud while he used his other hand to snake beneath the waistband of your panties. you blinked up at the ceiling, your hips bucking when you felt his rough fingers stroke your clit.

“that feels so good, ray.” you keened, the weight of his body providing you a sense of safety and comfort. rafe felt like he was under a spell. with your sweet voice in his ear, and his fingers working to get you soaked and ready for him, he couldn’t wait to taste you any longer. pulling away from you, rafe slid your dress and underwears off in one swift motion, a shiver running down your spine when he slowly spread your thighs apart. “you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” he licked his lips, glancing up at your heated face. your heart bloomed in your chest, your hand finding his cheek.

“please. i’ve wanted this for eight months.” you confessed, your words sending rafe into overdrive. without another thought, rafe took your thighs and placed them on his shoulders, delving into your wetness with a groan. instinctively, your back arched up from his bed, your hands flying to rest on top of his own. you squeezed his fingers, a string of babbles falling from your lips as rafe’s tongue flicked against your sensitive bundle of nerves. rafe watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyebrows knitting together as pure bliss etched itself onto your face.

“you okay?” rafe pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, wanting to make sure it wasn’t too much for you before continuing. “mhmm, yes!” you looked down, the image of rafe’s chin, lips, and even the tip of his nose glistening with your slick was now forever ingrained in your brain. smiling to himself, rafe got back to work, but this time with his fingers prodding at your entrance. “might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but i promise it’ll feel so good, baby.” you nodded, putting all your trust in him before you felt the delicious stretch of his digits inside your cunt.

“fuck!” you squealed, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his head. rafe curled his digits, your eyes screwing shut as he continuously pressed that soft spot inside of you. rafe didn’t stop his skillful movements on your clit, an unfamiliar feeling starting to swirl in your core. rafe cursed at the wet sounds emitting from your pussy, his cock hard and aching to get inside of you already. you gasped when he kept suckling on your sensitive bud, your stomach caving in when he pressed a hand to your tummy. before you could think, white hot pleasure blinded your vision, your entire body jolting as the first wave of your orgasm washed over you.

rafe felt the way you pulsed around his digits, wishing so badly that it was his cock instead. eyes flickering up to your face, he groaned when he saw the way your face twisted in pure bliss, your legs shaking as you felt the sudden urge to pull away from him. “rafe, wait!” you cried out, a sob ripping itself from your throat when a stream of wetness suddenly soaked rafe’s chin, your decadence streaming down his neck as he moaned against your cunt. you stared down at him with wide eyes, your mouth parting in suprise when he slipped his digits in his mouth.

“i- i don’t know what that was!” you gasped, cheeks heating in embarrassment. licking a final stripe up your folds, rafe smiled as he shook his head. “you just squirted, baby, get used to it.” his length rested on top of your tummy, hot and heavy, as he threaded his fingers with yours. “gonna fuck you until you’re carrying my baby..” your heart swelled, recalling his words from last night. “were you talking about me? when you said you wanted little ones..” rafe looked into your eyes, the sincerity in his gaze making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “you’re the only woman i envision. future and present.”

cupping his face softly, you brought his lips down to meet your own, the head of his cock slipping into your entrance. you let out a shuddering breath, nodding slowly as he pushed the rest of his length inside your greedy walls. you swore you died and went to heaven when he starting rocking into you, both of you moaning in unison. “rafe?” you whimpered, gazing up at him with teary eyes, “shit— yeah, sweetheart?” the man on top of you thumbed your chin, a concerned expression taking over his features. you could tell rafe was holding back with the way he was hesitating with every thrust.

“harder, please.” you asked sweetly, rafe obliging without another thought. soon, you were a crying mess, your eyes barely staying open as rafe put you in a mating press. he was already reaching new depths in regular missionary, so when he placed your legs over his shoulders and caged you between his arms, you were hysterical as his tip kissed your cervix. “oh, god!” you screamed, your nails digging into rafe’s skin as he fucked you stupid. “can’t..” you shook your head, the feeling of his cock filling you to the hilt was increasingly becoming too much to handle.

"yes you can, sugar. look how good you're taking it all.." rafe cradled your head, making you look down at where you two were connected. you moaned at the sight, his cock shining with your slick. rafe kept his hands beneath your head, kissing you softly as his pubic bone began hitting your clit. “m’gonna make you the prettiest mommy this town has ever seen, just watch.” he chuckled, his forehead falling in the curve of your neck. you ran your fingers across his buzzed scalp, the word ‘promise?’ lingering on your tongue. “is that what you want? ‘want me to breed you until you’re all pretty and round?”

you cried out, rafe’s hips stuttering as he felt his climax creeping up on him. “yes, yes, yes—” you repeated yourself like a broken record, rafe’s name falling from your lips like a mantra. “oh, fuck!” he cursed, teeth grazing your flesh as he spilled into you, your second orgasm making you squeeze around him like a vice. rafe stilled, making sure to keep stroking your clit so he could draw out your high for as long as possible. slipping his thumb in your mouth, you shamelessly sucked on the digit as you trembled beneath him, his hot load filling you up.

you two stayed panting against each other’s mouths until your highs subsided, a light sheen of sweat coating both of your skin’s. pulling out with a grunt, rafe rolled over, pulling you with him so he could spoon you. letting out a sigh, you reveled in the warm sun streaming through his window, the light casting off of your face and illuminating the walls. “that was worth the wait, don’t you think?” if it wasn’t for the feeling of your limbs being jelly, you would’ve turned around and landed a playful smack to his chest. instead, you hummed, your eyes heavy with sleep. “we’re not keeping this from my father, rafe.”

your voice was hoarse as you spoke. “no. no, we’re not.” he kissed your shoulder. “you should probably give that guy wayne a call, ‘tell him you’re not going on that date after all.” you giggled, a shiver going down your spine as his large palm rubbed circles into your back. “wyatt, rafe. his name is wyatt. i only told him yes to rile you up.” you teased. rafe knew that, but it still pissed him off nonetheless. “i’ll cancel in a minute, ‘sir.” you used wyatt’s formalities towards rafe earlier against him, earning you a light pinch to your side. “that asshole. ‘really called me sir as if i’m that old.” he shook his head, waiting for you to disagree.

“well..” you trailed off, bursting into laughter when he attacked you with sloppy kisses.

2K notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 8 months ago

Text

you'll just have to taste me | joel miller

Summary | He knows he's no good, knows it's a bad idea, you're out of bounds and should stay that way, but it's okay to test the waters, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.7K

Warnings | this is literally 1.7k of utter filth, you've been warned, it's nasty, I told you, okay? Unspecified age gap, Joel is your dad's buddy and Sarah is your friend. Joel fights with his morals but the pussy is too good. Explicit smut, JUST THE TIP, unprotected PiV, cumshot, cum eating, spit play, dirty talk, Joel talks you through it. No outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I AM SO INCREDIBLY LATE TO POST THIS, but this is my entry to @hellishjoel's HOT DILF SUMMER CHALLENGE. I know it's September and this was not my original idea, but it came to me and I wrote this in less than an hour. It's filth and it's nasty and I beg you not to judge me okay? Written and edited on my phone so forgive any mistakes.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s going to hell. He’s always known it. Despite the years of his parents putting him in his Sunday best and taking him to church each week with his brother, despite his upbringing and the way he’s always tried to be the perfect southern gentleman, Joel Miller is going to hell, and the evidence in right in front of him.

You. His buddy’s daughter. His own daughter’s friend. The bane of his existence for the whole damn summer, with your short dresses and flirty eyes and the way you make him laugh and the way he’s wanted you since you waltzed back into town, masters degree under arm, with one purpose which seemed to be to turn him on at every possible opportunity.

It’s been bubbling for weeks. You’d caught him in the corridor during movie night with Sarah, whilst she was downstairs microwaving popcorn and he’d had no choice but to kiss you, your lips drenched in something that tasted like mango and made him dizzy. Then, at the annual neighbourhood cookout, when you’d dropped a fork and bent over to pick it up, flashing him those skimpy panties as you did, he’d had no choice then but to drag you upstairs and teach you a lesson, ten sharp slaps on your pert ass and strong words that you needed to stop. He doesn’t doubt you went home that night and shoved three fingers into your cunt and dreamt of him as you came.

But now, it’s all real. Sarah’s gone back to college, your parents back to work, and you have nothing lined up until you start getting invited to interview for positions that you’d applied to with a slew of applications about two weeks ago. It’s why you’re on his bed, it’s why he’s left Tommy on site on his own, and why you’re bare as the day you were born, legs spread obscenely, pussy on display as he stands at the foot of his bed and contemplates whether he really should do this.

“Y’scared, old man?” You tease, one hand trailing down your body, two fingers spreading the swollen lips of your cunt, middle finger dipping inside.

He can see the webbing of slick you drag from yourself, finger slow as it circles your clit. His eyes can’t miss the way your hole flutters as you touch yourself, like it’s begging to be filled, begging to be filled by his throbbing cock that he’s currently fisting in his hand.

“Ain’t scared,” He mutters, “Y’sure you wanna do this?”

You don’t speak in response, just dip two fingers back into your weeping cunt and start fucking yourself with them. He squeezes his cock a little tighter in his hand, feeling the weeping of pre-cum at his tip as he watches.

“Ain’t no comin’ back from this.” He muses, moving forward, knees on the mattress, your legs spreading wider to accommodate the width of his thighs.

“Want you,” Is all he hears from your mouth as his cock rests on your pussy, hot and heavy against your skin, “Want your cock, Joel.”

He thrusts his hips a little at that, dragging his length through the soaking folds of your cunt, head rubbing against the swollen bud of your clit.

“Y’sure?” He asks, continuing the rub of his cock, “It’s all over then, baby,” He coos, “I’ll ruin ya.”

“Good,” You groan out, hips shifting to try and catch his tip at your entrance, to try and get exactly what you want, “I want it, Joel, I want it bad.”

“Y’know what I think?” He asks, looking down at you, stopping his movements and opting to circle your clit with his thumb instead, “I reckon we need t’make sure.”

“I am-” You try and protest, but he’s shushing you.

“I reckon,” He says slowly, bringing the tip of his cock to press to your weeping core, “It don’t count if it’s just the tip,” He pushes his hips forward ever so slightly, not enough to sink inside, but enough that he’s already had a taste of what you’ll feel like around him, “Just the tip baby, and then we’ll know.”

He looks down at you and he can see your wild eyes, the way you nod your head against the mattress. You’re such a good girl for him, taking whatever he’ll give you, so he does just that. With three fingers on the base of his cock, he lets the tip of him push inside you, just enough that the head of his cock is nestled inside you, and he knows he’s fucked.

You’re tight and you’re warm and you’re breathing and whimpering for him, and those perfect walls are clenching around him so right and so good that it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove his cock all the way in and damn you both to hell.

“Jesus girl,” He breathes, one hand clutching at your hip to hold you still, “Fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

You don’t speak back to him, it’s all you can do to lie and try not to writhe too much as he starts his shallow thrusts. The head of his cock popping from your wet cunt and then being sucked back in so perfectly. He’s had his fair share of women since Sarah went to college and he knows he’s a lot to take, knows that he knows what he’s doing too, but when he looks down at you, your eyes tilted back in your skull, cunt squeezing him just right, he can’t help but think this is what he’s been missing.

“That good?” He asks, bringing his thumb back to your clit, swirling wetness across it as he continues the shallow thrusts of his hips.

“Want it all,” You grumble, “Can take it all, Joel.”

“Ain’t got a doubt,” He teases, but doesn’t relent, “But we gotta make sure.”

He wants to lean down, wants to cover your body with his own and suck one of your perfect nipples into his mouth, but he knows the minute he does you’ll beg him so nice and he’ll break, so he resists, swirling his thumb across your clit with more purpose now.

“M’gonna-” You choke out, and he knows, he can feel it, the way you’re fluttering and tightening around the head of his cock so perfectly, “Gonna come, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He asks ruefully, “Gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He smiling down at you as your mouth drops open, your cunt pulling painfully tight around him, “Go on, you can do it,” He babbles, trying to fight the tightening in his own stomach until you’ve come for him, “Come for me, baby.”

And you do, by God you do, and he thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. You whine, a high-pitched kind of thing, eyes clamping shut as you arch your back. There’s more slick around his cock than he’s ever seen before, making it easy for the tip of his cock to ease you through it. The convulsing of your walls around him bring him to his own end, using his last braincell to drag the tip from your cunt and give himself three strokes before the thick ropes of his cum are splashing across your swollen pussy. He watches where they land, painting your skin as his own as his head tips back and breathes a sigh of relief.

He know’s he should stop, but there’s something mesmerising about the mix of his cum and your own, the way he’s dripping down you and onto his sheets. His shuffles down a little and leans forward, using his thumbs to spread your pussy open, before he uses his tongue to gather the mess down there. He’s slurping at you, tasting your cunt through his cum, gathering as much of the two of you as he can in his mouth.

You’re moaning for him when his tongue flicks a few times at your sensitive bud, but then his body is over yours, weight pressed against you as one of his hands takes your chin, squeezing at your jaw to get you to open your mouth, which you do, gladly.

Joel opens his own mouth, letting his cum, your slick and his spit drop from his own into your waiting mouth. He doesn’t give you a minute to swallow anything, his tongue mixing with yours in a kiss that is messy and obscene. He can feel your hips against his own, your hot cunt pressing against him. If he was younger, he’d pin you down and fuck you again, this time for real, but all he can do is pull away.

“Swallow it,” He orders, closing your mouth and watching the bob of your throat as you do what he says, producing your tongue for him, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

He unceremoniously collapses onto the bed next to you, arm over his eyes as he tries to recover some semblance of composure. He can feel your body next to his, shuffling a little closer, and then he can hear you stifling a laugh and then before long, it’s not stifled, it’s full on laughter. He takes his arm from his eyes and looks at you, and can’t help but start laughing himself, until his ribs hurt and you’ve calmed down enough, your body draped across his in the mid-afternoon glow.

“This is bad, huh?” You whisper, fingers dancing through the smattering of hair across his chest.

“Terrible, really.” He responds.

“I’m sure though,” And he holds you a little tighter at that, “Next time, I want the whole thing.”

“Don’t worry baby,” He says quietly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, “You can have whatever you want next time.”

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bradshawed · 4 months ago

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"Cuff him!"

summary — the one in which franco steals more than your grapes

warnings — fem!reader, use of y/n, pinterest images, stolen grapes, and flirty franco!

note — i have the biggest crush on this man, he's so pretty and for what?! so naturally, i couldn't resist writing my first f1 smau about him. please lmk what you think and if you'd like a new year's mini series or a part 2. happy holidays xo

drew's masterlist !

...

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername has anyone seen my grapes?

alexandrasaintmleux amour, who has stolen your grapes? ⤷ yourusername a thief i fear but who needs a man at midnight when i have you! ⤷ alexandrasaintmleux my thoughts exactly ⤷ charles_leclerc 🤨

user1 who cares about the grapes, is that a new tattoo??

user2 more importantly, what's franco doing in the likes ⤷ user3 fr he got here before me ⤷ alexandrasaintmleux and me 🤨 ⤷ charles_leclerc what are you up to francolapinto?? liked by francolapinto

user2 sending franco thoughts and prayers ⤷ aussiegrit he'll need it ⤷ user2 ahahah he's fucked

user4 why is everyone talking about franco on the queen's post?? like happy new year everyone but this is mark webber's daughter we're talking about and you're all talking about a man?? liked by aussiegrit, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri, lilymhe, lewishamilton, landonorris, desireinglander, fernandoalo_oficial, scuderiaferrari, mclaren, and more

user5 not the whole grid being here-

user6 attention seeking bitch user6 blocked by francolapinto, aussiegrit, fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton and more

user7 all i'm asking is for a chance with yourusername liked by francolapinto

...

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and others

francolapinto these yours? yourusername

aussiegrit how can i dislike a post?

user1 oh he bold bold ⤷ aussiegrit no, none of this. i don't like this

user2 an f1 driver that can cook you dinner, bag him yourusername! ⤷ charles_leclerc what's that supposed to mean? ⤷ landonorris yeah, what do you mean by that user2? ⤷ user2 well uh you see.. ⤷ francolapinto stop ganging up on my fans

user3 grape thief, cuff him!! ⤷ yourusername kinky

yourusername so you're the one who's been stealing my grapes? ⤷ francolapinto indeed mi princesa, you want them back? ⤷ yourusername do you come attached? ⤷ francolapinto i can make certain arrangements

user4 i would've folded ⤷ alexandrasainmleux she did

#drew’s catty corner #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x reader #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #franco colapinto imagine

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munsonsmixtapes · 8 months ago

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Flattery Works With Me

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

summary: with a predicament, the boys beg you to ask Eddie to postpone a DnD session because they know he will do anything you ask

part two

The conversations that were happening throughout the cafeteria rang in your ears as you headed to the table that you always sat at. The usual suspects were all there and you were going to take your seat right next to Eddie just like always.

You were nervous to speak to him, not only because you were shy, but also because you had been meaning to ask him if the DnD session for that night could be postponed because you had a lot of homework. But you knew how he felt about that sort of thing so you were dreading it, hoping that he would agree just this once.

Before you could sit, though, you could see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all arguing a little ways away from the table. From the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty heated and there was no way you were getting in the middle of that. You hated hearing people argue, the loud voices always making you feel anxious because you didn’t have control of the situation. And you liked having control, craved it, even.

But as soon as you set your tray down on the table, Lucas waved you over. You didn’t know what he was wanting, but you reluctantly made your way over to the boys, your curiosity piqued. You now had to know what their little spat had to do with you.

“What’s going on?” You asked and Dustin was about to speak before Mike cut him off. That was something that happened often considering that Mike didn’t like how slowly Dustin would take to explain the situation.

“Look,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. “We have a prior commitment and can’t make it to the session tonight.” You just knew that they were only telling you that because they wanted you to ask Eddie.

“Correction: Mike was out late with El last night and got grounded so he can’t go to the session,” Lucas corrected with a roll of his eyes.

“We were wondering if you’d talk to Eddie for us?” Dustin looked at you with hopeful eyes and the smile on his face made you want to pinch his little cheeks.

“Why me?” You knew exactly why, but you wanted confirmation that Eddie did feel how you thought he did. That you weren’t just being delusional. Because that had happened so many times; you having a crush on someone and your feelings not being reciprocated in any way shape or form.

“Are you kidding? The man is in love with you.” You scoffed at the comment, but couldn’t help but feel heat rise to your cheeks. Could it have been possible? You supposed you were going to have to ask, but you just couldn’t get yourself to. Asking him to postpone the session was one thing, but asking if he had feelings for you? Absolutely not.

“Yeah, he’ll do anything you say.” There was some truth to that and if you had more confidence, you would have tested just how far you could get by batting your lashes and putting on a flirty tone. “So will you please ask him?” You were going to ask him anyway, but now there was pressure on you to actually make the move.

“Why don’t you ask him?” You didn’t understand why it had to be you. Surely he would have postponed it for them, right?

Mike rolled his eyes and made a beeline for Eddie and you watched the conversation, barely picking up what they were saying, but Eddie definitely didn’t look happy. He then waved Mike off and the boy gave you a look as if to say “See?”

“I told you, he won’t listen to us. But with you? I think we have a shot.”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. You really didn’t believe them, because why would Eddie have been interested in you? You had barely uttered a full sentence to the man in the few months that you’d known him so there was no possible way that he could have liked you like that.

“Please?” Dustin begged one more time and the three of them jutted out their bottom lips, their eyes pleading. God, you really were a pushover.

“Well, I do have a lot of homework to do tonight.”

“I knew she’d do it,” Mike nodded with a smile and you ignored him, taking a deep breath and heading over to the metal head who was sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie took no time to turn to you, a bright smile appearing on his face. You were so pretty that it was unfair and he kept wondering to himself what he had done to have been so lucky to have you in his life. He thought your shyness was adorable, the way he’d have to lean forward to hear what you were saying because of how soft spoken you were.

And the dresses you always wore nearly killed him. The way they swung when you walked and how everyone would stare at you in the school hallway, he wondered how you didn’t realize just how beautiful you were. Surely you had to have known, but with the way you were always so surprised when he complimented you, it was clear that you had no idea.

“Hi, Eddie,” you greeted him, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him, every time you caught sight of that beautiful brown color, you knew you’d be a goner. They were hypnotizing, so fucking pretty that it should have been a crime.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled, turning fully in his chair to face you. “Take a seat.” If he knew it wouldn’t have made you uncomfortable, he would have offered his lap.

You hesitantly sat in the seat next to him and he could tell you were uneasy, your anxiety palpable. He let his hand inch towards yours underneath the table, letting his pinky stroke yours gently as if asking for permission to take it. Without a word, you wrapped your pinky around his, ignoring his gaze, unpacking your lunch with your free hand.

You felt your anxiety melt away as you felt his pinky squeeze yours gently, as if to tell you that he was right there for you. And he was. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, because at that point, you were his number one priority and he would stop at nothing to help you. He wished it was possible to go into your mind and quiet the voices that were always whispering to you.

“Can I ask you something,” you asked, feeling your hands shake as you realized what you were about to do. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Eddie just leaned forward so he could hear you. His hearing wasn’t that great anyway, but he actually kind of liked that you were so soft spoken so he had an excuse to get closer to you.

“Anything,” he replied, giving your pinky another squeeze and you beckoned him forward. Eddie leaned closer to you with no question and you nervously reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear, cupping your hand around it before leaning in and whispering into it.

“I-I have a lot of homework to do tonight and I was wondering if it’d be okay if we postponed the session tonight?” You asked and felt your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for his answer. You pulled away from him and bit down on your bottom lip and Eddie had to stop himself from staring, wanting to pull your lip from your teeth and kiss you, not giving a single fuck about who was looking.

You were so goddamn adorable that he felt his chest ache. Didn’t you know that he would do anything for you? Just one bat of those eyelashes and he would have even been willing to commit murder if it meant that you would give him even a sliver of a chance.

“Yeah,” he nodded his head furiously. “No problem. You know flattery works with me," he winked, giving you a nudge. He hadn’t even given his decision a second thought as he stood up from the table, his mushy feelings subsiding as he took on his authoritative role.

“Alright, everyone listen up,” he said, his voice a little too loud for your liking. “The session tonight is being postponed until next week because y/n has homework to do.” You turned to the others at the table and they all groaned, digging into their pockets and pulling out money that Dustin was gratefully taking, thanking them all for the cash.

You could hear grumbles from the others, upset that not only was there not going to be a session that night, but also because they now were out five dollars. It was seemingly a lose-lose. You turned to Eddie who was already looking at you, a warm smile playing on his pretty pink lips.

He then leaned down and put his lips right by your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you shudder. His hand fell to your shoulder and the way his hair was fanning around you made your cheeks heat even more.

“I can help you with your homework if you need it.” He pulled away so that your faces were only inches apart, that stupid smirk still evident on his lips.

“I-I’d like that,” you nodded.

“It’s a date,” he said, shooting you a wink before sitting back down in his chair. You lowered your head and began eating your lunch, letting yourself come up with things to do with Eddie because there was no way you were actually going to do your homework.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x shy!reader

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militaryapple · 2 months ago

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MY BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER IS THE ONE FOR ME .ᐟ

synopsis. mc leaves to go to the store and youre left alone with her wildly hot "brother". so what if you both get tipsy? whats the harm in that? its not like she liked him anyways.

cw. fem!reader, you & mc are bff's, virginity loss, cunillingus, oral ( fem recieving ), p in v creamie, pet names, unprotected (PLEASE BE PROTECTED OMG), praise like a lot of it, fingering, use of term "babygirl", biting, teasing (omg i need this man bad.)

add ons. this came to me in a dream. sum like that.

wc. 2.6k

sundays were the best. why? because you spent the entire day with her. your best friend in the entire world, and you meant that. you couldn't do anything without her, not like she'd let you anyway. you'd both had always been with each other. you guys were practically holding hands in the womb. which could probably explain the same brain wave you both share.. nonetheless it doesn't wipe away that Sundays were the best. hanging out with your best friend, playing games and well..

eyeing her super-hot unrelated related brother. okay, fine, you go over her dorm on Sundays to oogle her so-called "brother". what's the harm in that? it's not like you're acting on your feelings. it was just a small crush you've had.. since forever. it's also not like he noticed you anyways, he's always had his eyes set out for her. you don't loathe them for that. its how things have always been. its fine you don't mind, as long as you get to keep your friendship its fine.

a loud slapping noise snapped you back into reality as you look down at the table, the red uno card with a number 6 on it scattered down. fuck. pick up 3. you groan as you watched how happily she hummed. for a hunter, she knows how to play uno really well. you sigh in defeat as you set down the uno cards.

"whatever" you mumble softly. "you probably cheated anyways! hey, actually lets do a rematch! I can win!" you slammed your soda down on the table as she shook her head in disapproval. "nuh-uh! you said if I won 3 times in a row you'd do it!" she slammed her cup down in resilience. you really need to stop making bets you cant win. you fall back on the bed to resign. "fine! I'm not going to the store with you though. that shits like an hour away for one and two I do NOT want to hear you rub in my face on how you won."

she hummed in approval as she eyed you down. "I can take that over not winning any day. you might miss out on some really good in and out though" she said sweetly, you thought about it before huffing out "a slushy and small fry." was all she needed to hear before getting up, and right on cue, he came in. caleb looked down at her, then at you. his face widens in a grin. "what bet did you win today pip-squeak?" he said patting her head and chuckling. she pointed towards you and embarrassment washed in. next thing you know she had taken caleb's key and waved goodbye to the both of you.

knowing her it would take 2 hours to get from the store and back, she gets side tracked too easily. sometimes you worry for your best friend. caleb slumped down on the couch, turning on the tv as he looked at you before calling out. "hey, get over here. you and I both know it'll be a while until she comes back. plus.. she has my keys and car. can't go anywhere now." he scooted over patting next to him on the side of the couch.

you got up and moved next to him, scooting towards the other end of the couch as you both watched the agonizingly boring movie that played. sometimes you didn't get these one on one moments with him. compared with her, he's more quiet around you. sometimes with the occasional flirty friendly banter, he seemed.. more comfortable. you two have known each other for a long time, so it wouldn't hurt to just make a simple conversation with him right? with that thought you scooted closer to him.. then after a while a little closer.. then just pushing your luck just a tad bit closer.

caleb looked down at you, he let out a small laugh before holding his arm out and shifting his position, he pulled you closer now wrapping his arm around you while you leaned on him. you could smell the faint scent of musk, like a woody pine tree. it wasn't a bad smell. "you thought I wouldn't notice?" he said gently. he looked down at you in amusement. he enjoyed this, and it was good for you to know that thankfully you didn't step over any boundaries you thought you two had established.

you huffed as you looked away. "I was just making this more comfortable for us." you waved your hand in his face. "we're stuck together, right?" you hummed looking up at him. his face shifting from calm to surprised, and then smug.

you swore you could see a glint in his eye.

"okay, take a shot if you don't want to answer, or you can answer. there was more to the game but uh, that's more for parties." he said sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. your face waved over with an emotion of shock, or was it amusement? whichever came into your mind first. "I didn't know mr. gentleman here was the party type. caleb we've been friends since we were kids, I want to play the actual game. not some remake you just made up." you snickered, your arms crossing as you leaned back on the couch, caleb sat across from you on the floor, yet he was still eye level with you.

"hey." he snapped back in a hurt tone, "Im not just a party guy. I only do it if you and her aren't here entertaining me or if you guys are done and I have some spare time. I cant always intrude on both of your adventures. and I still am a gentleman." he prided himself. it makes you think, how many times have you and your best friend left caleb while you both went on your little rendezvous? oh whatever, think later win now.

caleb started out first, he flipped the card over and handed It to you. you looked at it. you gave a quick glance at him before you read the card out loud. "okay, how many times have you got off this week.. and what to?" you said shyly, setting down the card gently. fuck that was a weird question. It's a drinking game but, jesus. caleb turned flushed, he coughed before looking away and pouring himself a shot.

"..."

that's okay, you wouldn't answer either, and skipping it would be more embarrassing, you picked up a card and slid it over to caleb. he almost choked. "are you sure-" he said in-between coughs, "you want to play this? I think I have the wrong deck-" he said quickly scrambling to grab the cards before you could stop him.

"its fine" you said happily "I want to play caleb, seriously." with that, he settled down, looking at the card you picked up once more and reading it out loud. "think of a person, and point out the feature you notice the most when you see them." he said, placing down the card. fuck.

you don't want to point out his obviously big dick that you look at everytime you see him, but you don't wanna get tipsy the first couple of rounds. you looked at your body and the clothes you had on, oh fuck it. lets go out with a bang. you slip off your black shirt, your pink bra flawlessly taking the spotlight. caleb couldn't help but stare at what seemed to be the prettiest bra in the entire world to him before he looked away. "great start." he mumbled.

caleb picked up a card and handed it to you, a grin forming on your face as you held the card, "biggest turn on?" you asked amused. staring at him as his face gave a wash of surprise, he let out a small chuckle. "ah, cliche to say pretty girls with pretty undergarments?" he said softly. your grin stiffening while you placed the card down. whatever, two can play that game.

you grabbed a card, moving in and leaning towards Caleb because all of a sudden he was just oh so far. handing him the card he could see just enough of your boobs, was that a part of your nip- no. Caleb shook it off as he looked at the card in his hand. "wildest sex dream you've had?" he asked, putting the card down and taking another shot. was it him or was the room warm?

you would tease him and say "my best friend's boyfriend and I on a couch fucking nastily" but you couldn't muster up the words. so instead you poured yourself a shot and down the hatch it went. you weren't a heavy drinker, and not much of a tolerance, which is why you chose to skip and strip instead of sink and drink. so much for not getting tipsy, let alone drunk.

he gulped, grabbing another card, before sliding it to you. he was nervous, had he ever been this nervous around you? like really really nervous? fuck fuck fuck. so many things were going through his mind. it was driving him nuts. you picked up the card and read it, snorting. "childhood crush?" oh. that was easy for him.

"you."

you looked up blinking, scanning his face for any sort of joke, any sort of shift to tell you "haha I'm joking" but there wasn't. he was serious. you grabbed the bottle of pink Whitney, downing as much as you could in a cup before setting it down. "you're fucking lying caleb. don't think I don't see how you look at her." you snapped at him, which only made him laugh. god you were cute.

"yeah," he nodded "but how do you think she'd feel if i was messing around with her best friend hm? how i think about you in ways I shouldn't, how I crave you." oh shit. he had a point. though you looked at your phone, you two still had some alone time. "caleb.." you whimpered softly.

"don't do that to me baby. please." he almost begged you. he got up moving to the couch and leaning over you. his eyes scanning over your body, then his gaze unwavering from your face. "I've always wanted you. ha, sometimes I go crazy thinking about how many guys have even attempted to touch you." his voice barely above a whisper. his breath tickling your face.

"caleb, please. I fucking need you."

the sounds of sloppy kisses and clothes unraveling filled the air, you both moving from the living room to your room. you knew this was bad, but all the guilt you felt seemed to be swept to the side. you could deal with the emotional luggage later, you didn't want it to ruin the perfectly good scenario playing out, the one you thought about ever since you were in high school.

caleb was gentle with you, his hands placed behind your back as he attempted to undo your bra, clearly lost, you took it off and held on to him. he was sweet but eager yet tender with you and patient.

"this is my first time," you say sheepishly. caleb's eyes lit up, a smile on his face while he planted a kiss on the crown of your forehead. "It's alright baby. It's my first time too, I'm especially happy because it's with you." his hands circled around your stomach before making its way down to your clit. he pressed softly against the fabric of your panties while you let out a small mewl.

you sounded better than he imagined. his fingers circling around your clit, and in response he got to hear your beautiful sounds. he was practically drunk off them. his fingers pushed over your panties, exposing your cunt. caleb got down. his hands spreading your legs wider as his lips pressed small kisses against your lower ones.

he was like a pro, his tongue hitting all of your spots as you grab his hair. the way the vibrations of his groans overstimulated you more and more. "you taste absolutely delicious. where has this pretty cunt been all my life?" he groaned, breaking away from your swollen cunt. he got up and leaned into you, bringing your head up.

"wanna know how you taste?"

he kissed you while undoing his pants. sweats dropping while he pushed you down the bed, bringing his cock out. and jesus was he huge. you pulled him down on the bed with you, pushing him against the wall as you sat up towards him. "'m gonna ride you, okay?" you dropped your head down, positioning yourself before selling down on his cock. he was huge, fuck did it hurt so good. caleb couldn't help but dip his head in the crook of your neck, grabbing your hips as he whined in approval.

"thaaats it babygirl. you got it, you're so sweet, just for me, yeah?" he praised you, planting soft kisses all over, his hands guiding your hips rocking you back and forth and around. you held on him as he held you still, his hips thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. you were cock drunk.

his tip hit every spot, every curve, every corner and inner spot of yours. you were made for his dick. you couldn't help but praise him on how good he was hitting your sweet spots, "you flatter me baby" caleb moaned, biting down on his lower lip.

caleb collected your head pulling it back as he bit down on you, sucking you and licking you. leaving marks showing people that you were his. you were taken, and that would never change. in exchange, you dug your nails in him, and only you would know that they were there, that you were there to place them on him.

caleb flipped you over, pounding into you. one blow after the other. there was no stopping him as he rolled his head back in pure bliss. from this angle he could see all your pretty curves, how your back naturally arches for him. he had fucked you stupid.

caleb growled, "finish with me, please baby" he pleaded, "I wanna feel you cum over my cock again 'n again. you can do that right baby?" he coos. you could feel him reaching deeper in you, stretching you out as his balls slap against your abused cunt.

your body felt like it was on fire. electricity flowing through every vein as you shook your walls gummy and clamping down on him. you're shaking violently as Caleb can't help but get a last few thrusts in. you were squirting.

everywhere.

caleb pulls out and moves back, admiring you, like a piece of artwork. "messy girl" he clicked his tongue before scooping you up and fixing the pillows on your bed, lying you down on one side while he moved to other to lie right next to you. he was sweet. Caleb cuddled and coo'd you, telling you how much of a perfect girl you were, how good you took him and how beautiful you were.

he just stared at you, you looked at him before getting out a small laugh, "yes, I love you too caleb." you say sweetly and he was sure his heart skipped a beat. all he could give back was a smile, kissing the crown of your head.

it was a tender moment before you both were rudely awakened by the door slamming open and loud voice in the back. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

oh shit.

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street-smarts00 · 11 days ago

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Wish You Were Sober

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: The four times you confessed to Spencer while drunk, and the one time you did it sober

WC: 8.0 k

Tags/warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, lot’s of mention of alcohol consumption, regretting things said while drunk, drunk flirty reader, reader is emotionally constipated and doesn’t want to feel her feelings at first

A/N: chat I’ve been sitting on this for MONTHS it’s been marinating in my google docs for a while so hope you enjoy! I lowkey picture this happening in earlier seasons Spence but picture whatever you like ;) Beta read by the lovely @whats-yesterday00

The first time it happened, your feelings were just starting to peek through the surface.

You tried your hardest to shove them back down. Trying to convince yourself that developing the beginnings of a crush was absolutely not happening. But the alcohol opened the door you tried to close.

The whole team went out for drinks on a friday night. After multiple shots with Derek and JJ, plus the drinks you had before that, you were feeling quite a buzz. A buzz that always left you more flirty and courageous than normal.

You were busy dancing amongst the crowd with Penelope and JJ. The music was flowing through you all as it blasted throughout the bar. The movement and crowd caused the temperature to rise exponentially.

You wiped the sweat forming on your forehead and paused your dancing.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.

“I’m melting,” you answered, fanning yourself. “I gotta go sit down.”

Penelope blew you a kiss and said, “be back soon!” as you made your way to the table. You of course blew a kiss back to her.

After weaving through the mass of people, you approached the table housing the rest of your coworkers with a heavy sigh.

“You done partying already, pretty girl?” Derek teased.

“No, not yet. I just need a breather. It feels like 1000 degrees right now.” You sat down across from him and next to Spencer.

Derek’s attention was pulled towards someone behind you. A smirk grew on his face, “Oh Reid look, it’s that girl from earlier she’s back.”

Spencer’s face flushed at Derek’s remark.

“What girl?” you asked intrigued. You hated the taste that question left in your mouth.

“It’s nothing,” Spencer tried to brush off before Derek interrupted.

“She was flirting with him when he went up to the bar.”

“She was not!” Spencer squeaked.

Derek chuckled, “oh yes she was,” his eyes turned back to you. “She was definitely into him. And judging by the fact that she keeps looking over here, I think she wants to talk to him again.”

Spencer hid his face in his hands and quietly groaned.

“Why don’t you go over there? Go talk to her,” you encouraged while silently hoping he doesn’t leave the table.

Spencer lifted his face from his hands. His face was scarlet now.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off. He saw your eyes staring back at him and felt his palms getting sweaty. He swallowed and stuttered on his words. “Because I wouldn’t know what to say. I can’t flirt.”

Derek leaned back in his chair, dissatisfied with his answer. “That’s bull.”

“It’s not bull.” That was probably the closest you came to hearing Spencer curse. “I’d probably make a fool of myself and say something stupid.”

“Spencer, you say a lot of things,” this earned a chuckle from Derek across the table, “But I don’t think you could ever say something stupid.”

Spencer tried to resist the smile spreading on his face from your compliment.

“Still doesn’t change the fact that once I open my mouth, she’ll lose all interest in me.”

A small pout appeared on your lips. “Well, I don’t see how a girl wouldn’t find you endearing.”

“Really?” He didn’t believe you.

“Yes! I thought you were so cute when I first met you,” your eyes brightened. “The day we met, I remember you were rambling about something and I just sat there amazed.”

He swallowed as his ears turned crimson. “You thought I was cute?” his voice cracked at the end of his question.

“Sweetie, I think you’re more than cute,” your voice lowered as you locked eyes with him.

“Morgan calls you pretty boy for a reason,” you continued with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Spencer’s heart damn near stopped. He knew your playful demeanor was from the amount of drinks you’d consumed, but still seeing you so openly attracted to him was making him delirious.

Morgan, of course, found the whole interaction to be the most intriguing thing he’d seen all week. The growing amused smile on his face was telling enough.

“Wow I think that girl from the bar has got some competition,” he teased.

You shrugged in response to his comment. “Maybe,” was all you gave as your answer. You stood up from your chair with Spencer's eyes still beaming at you.

“I’m gonna go dance some more,” you turned to the man next to you. “You wanna come with, pretty boy?”

Spencer struggled to get the words out for a few seconds. “I can’t. I don’t know how to dance.”

You tried to hide the disappointment on your face but the gleam in your eyes had dimmed.

“Maybe next time,” you replied before making your way back to the girls.

Spencer watched you walk away and disappear into the crowd. He then received an extensive amount of teasing and questions as to why he didn’t say yes from Morgan for the next 20 minutes while you were gone.

Over the weekend, the hangxiety set in. You layed in bed staring at the ceiling as the memories from Friday night flooded your mind.

The anxiety followed into Monday as you stood in the elevator. The doors opened to the sixth floor and you reluctantly dragged yourself to the bullpen.

Your hands tightened around your bag as you approached your desk. Spencer’s eyes lingered on you as you set your things down

“Morning,” he greeted with a small smile.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

You fidgeted with your hands and stepped closer to his desk.

“Listen Spence, about Friday night… l’m sorry I was flirty with you.”

His cheeks turned a dusty rose at the memory. “It’s alright.”

This still didn’t ease your worries. “Are you sure? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable around me. Especially because of something I did.”

His eyes softened when he noticed just how nervous you were.

“I don’t, I promise,” he reassured.

“So we’re okay?”

He nodded with a small smile and the weight started to lift off your shoulders.

___________________________________________

The second time it happened was a few weeks later.

It was Derek’s birthday. The whole team went out to dinner followed by a trip to the bar to keep the night going.

Spencer stayed behind at the table, watching you order drinks and chat with Emily at the bar. He also tried to ignore the angry green feeling surfacing as the bartender flirted with you.

“So, are you finally gonna dance with her tonight?” Derek asked the young man as he sat down beside him.

Spencer sighed as he kept his eyes trained on you. “I don’t know.”

His friend patted him on the back, “Come on man. Consider it my birthday present.”

Spencer turned his attention to the man beside him. “I already got you a present.”

“Kid,” Rossi interjected from farther down the table, “in my professional opinion, when a woman asks you to dance, you dance.”

This brought out a smile from Hotch.

“Even if you think you’ll look like a fool,” Rossi continued.

“Like two weeks ago when that woman asked Morgan to dance,” Hotch teased, which brought out an annoyed expression from the man in question.

“Hey! I was not that bad,” Derek defended.

“You looked like a bird doing a mating dance,” Spencer now joined in.

Derek looked appalled from the younger man’s joke.

Soon after you approached the table with Emily. “What’s so funny?” You asked the table.

”Morgan's attempts to woo women,” Rossi joked.

Emily took a sip from her drink and rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh where do I begin?”

Derek stood up from the table shaking his head and smiling. “Well, I’m gonna go dance with people who appreciate my moves.” He then made his way to the open area where Penelope and JJ were.

Back at the table, before you could sit down, the speakers of the bar started to play Maneater by Nelly Furtado. You gasped and a bright smile filled your features.

“I love this song!” You squealed.

You set your half consumed drink down on the table and looked at Spencer, “Do you want to go dance?”

He looked at you surprised. “Me?” He squeaked.

You giggled, finding his reaction cute, “Yes you!”

Spencer started closing in on himself. Before he could come up with the excuse he used last time you said, “I can teach you. It’ll be so much fun!”

You were oblivious to the knowing looks from your other team mates at the table. Your focus was only on Spencer. Staring deep into his golden eyes and finding nothing but comfort.

“Okay,” he agreed with a small smile.

You beamed with excitement, “Yay! Let’s go.” You offered your hand to him. He took it and found you pulling him up from his chair and towards the dance floor.

He followed you through the people in the crowd until you found an open space to settle. You held onto his hands as you swayed to the beat.

Spencer tried to follow you but was still noticeably tense. He was also less focused on his dancing because he was too enamored by your movements. Watching you sway so effortlessly with the rhythm.

“Look at you Spence! You’re getting the hang of it,” you praised.

He appreciated the compliment but cringed, “I feel awkward.”

“That’s not how dancing should feel. You should feel free and loose.” You let go of his hands and spun around.

A real smile spread on his lips, “I’m surprised you’re this coordinated with how many drinks you’ve had.”

“Oh, I guess you missed when I almost stepped on you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “I guess I didn’t.”

The song ended and changed to Don’t Stop The Music by Rihanna. Your jaw dropped and your face filled with excitement.

“You like this song?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.

You grabbed his hands once more and grinned, “Yes!” You resumed dancing with his hands in yours. This time you were mouthing the lyrics of the song.

I gotta get my body moving, shake the stress away you heard from the speakers and shook Spencer's hands.

“You gotta shake the stress baby!” you cheered at him.

He bashfully laughed watching you drunkenly shout. And hearing you call him baby, but that’s beside the point.

As the song played your hips and shoulders moved to the rhythm of the music. He wasn’t as successful as you when it came to swaying his hips but he could move his shoulders and copy you.

Who knew that you’d be up in here lookin’ like you do?

You took a step back and gestured to him as the song said. Spencer shook his head and pulled on your hands to bring you back closer to him.

Do you know what you started? I just came here to party

You took him pulling you back as a way to sneak your arms around his neck.

But now we're rockin’ on the dance floor actin’ naughty

Spencer’s cheeks started to turn red at the closeness.

Your hands around my waist, just let the music play

You retracted your hands to grab his and place them on your waist.

We’re hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we’re face to face

By the time your arms returned wrapped around his neck, his ears were crimson. With your arms around him your shirt raised slightly. His hands met the gap of your skin that was exposed.

Even though he felt like his insides were going to melt, he kept his hands on you and kept dancing. Spencer followed the steps you took, the way you moved back and forth. He was finally starting to let the music flow through him.

You definitely took notice. It only made you more eager to dance with him.

As the song continued into the next verse you grew more confident.

Don’t you feel the passion ready to explode?

Your hands moved to his shoulders. You moved in closer, and with a playful smirk sang along the words so Spencer could hear.

What goes on between us, no one has to know

Just when Spencer thought the fluttering in his stomach couldn’t get worse, you leaned in close to his ear and whispered the next lyric.

This is a private show

The air between you was magnetic. It felt like you were in your own little world. Like the rest of the bar goers were gone. Suddenly, it was just you two on that dance floor.

Spencer’s face was inches away from yours. You were so close you could count the freckles on his pink cheeks.

“You look so cute, all flustered,” you muttered.

He licked his lips nervously, “I’m not used to dancing like this with someone.”

“Are you having fun at least?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly.

“Well then, we should do this more often,” you offered with a sweet smile.

As the song came to an end you leaned up and left a kiss on Spencer’s cheek. You took a step back to fully look at him. His eyes slightly widened and his lips parted from your peck on his cheek.

“I love dancing with you,” you released your hold on his shoulders. The ghost of your touch was still hot on his skin. “Hopefully we can do this again.”

His eyes shined as he looked at you, “I’d like that.”

________________________________________

The third time it happened, Spencer got a phone call at 12:04 am.

He was resting on his couch, nose deep in a book, when he heard his phone buzz. He breathed a sigh of relief at the caller ID revealing it to be you instead of Hotch with a new case.

When he answered, he heard loud music and faint voices in the back.

“Hello?”

You quickly answered back, “Spencer! I didn’t wake you, did I?” Your voice had a higher pitch than normal.

“No, I was just reading. What’s up?”

“I went out to a bar for girls night but…I had one too many drinks,” you whined.

He sat up straighter, “are you alright?”

There was a pause before you spoke again. “The room is spinning. I’m really dizzy and everything is overwhelming,” you mumbled. Hearing you sound so scared and small made his heart hurt.

“I didn’t want to bother the girls because they’re having so much fun and none of them can drive right now.”

Before you could finish your statement, he was already standing up and walking to find his shoes and jacket.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” He knew the answer.

“Please. Can you?” you begged.

Spencer was grabbing his keys and out the door in a heartbeat. “Of course, I’m on my way.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot. He walked inside and looked around the crowded room. A few meters away, a hand rose from a booth and waved him over.

He followed it and found Emily, JJ and Penelope keeping you company at the booth. You rested your head in your arms, which were folded on the table.

JJ carefully tapped your arm, “hey, your ride is here.”

You slowly lifted your head up and beamed at the sight of him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said softly.

“They found me,” you said pointing to your friends. “They said they would babysit me until you showed up.”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed your shoulder, “You okay? You think you can walk to the car?”

You nodded and slowly stood up.

“Text one of us when you get home safe,” Penelope announced.

You gave a lazy thumbs up in her direction and turned to Spencer, “Can you remind me to do that?”

The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Of course. Come on, let's get you home,” he nodded towards the door.

You waved and said goodbye to the girls before Spencer led you through the crowd with his hand in yours. You grasped his hand like it was an anchor in the over-stimulating environment.

When you stepped outside, the cool breeze caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. The fresh air and dulled sounds were already starting to help you feel better.

Unfortunately, your balance was still screwed and you managed to trip over air. Before you could fall to the ground, Spencer swiftly reached out and caught you. He helped you stand back up and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“I got you, you’re okay,” he muttered close to your ears.

Him being so sweet was going to make your stomach twist.

The rest of the walk to the car he kept his arm around you. Your body instinctively leaned into him and used his frame to keep you upright.

When you reached his car, he opened the passenger door and let go of his hold on you. You almost whined at the loss of contact.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you spoke quietly as he helped guide you into the car.

Before he closed the door and headed to the driver's seat he offered a kind, “You’re welcome.”

The beginning of the car ride was quite aside from the hushed music on the radio. You leaned back, slouching in the car seat.

You watched Spencer’s hands on the wheel instead of the rapidly changing view of the windshield. Your fuzzy mind was trying to focus on anything that wasn't the dizzy spinning feeling that couldn't go away.

Of course your thoughts were jumbled with images of the man next to you.

“You’re so nice,” you said with a fond look.

He looked at you with brief confusion over your random declaration. “Thanks,” he returned his eyes to the road.

You shuffled in your seat to face him.

“No you’re really nice,” you huffed, frustrated he somehow didn’t understand the full scope of what your drunk brain meant. “You’re so kind and sweet to everyone. I love it.”

An amused smile grew on his face. “I try to be,” he returned.

“You are.”

He quickly glanced over to see your figure leaning against the seat. Or more like the seat holding you up. Your eyes occasionally felt heavy, leading to your eyelids fluttering every so often.

“You look half asleep,” he teased.

“I feel half asleep.”

“Then why are you so chatty all of a sudden?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, just feel like talking.”

You forced your eyes open to get a better look at him. “I like talking with you.”

Spencer tried not to think about how your voice was much more soft and melodious than normal.

“I like talking with you too,” he affirmed.

He suddenly went down a mental rabbit hole of your previous conversations with him. How often you conversed over coffee early in the morning. All those plane rides home where you both had to stifle your laughter so as to not bother the others. Or the dozens of times he rambled to you about endless topics.

“I’m surprised I haven't bored you yet with how much I talk.”

“Oh sweetie, I could never get bored of you.”

His ears started to turn red at the flirtatious tone in your voice.

“I could listen to you talk for hours. Even about things I don’t understand. I’ll always listen to you,” you continued.

“Really?” He muttered with a slight voice crack. His heart rate was steadily growing.

“Uh huh,” you confirmed sweetly.

His eyes darted to yours for a fleeting moment. You looked completely and utterly enraptured by him.

“Your voice sounds like honey.”

Spencer's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He kept his gaze trained on the road ahead.

“We’re almost at your apartment,” he deflected.

Your smile fell slightly.

The air in the car was growing stale by the seconds. Neither of you spoke until he pulled up to your building.

As you reached for the door handle, he whispered for you to “wait one second.” You complied. He got out of the car and walked to your side. He opened the passenger door and held out a hand for you.

“What a gentleman,” you said with a smug grin.

He chuckled and made sure you didn’t stumble as you stepped out of the car.

“I try,” he replied.

“You succeed.”

As you walked together to your apartment, neither of you let go of the other's hand. At your door, you fumbled with your keys. Spencer tried to offer to open the door himself but you shooed away his hand and mumbled, “I got it, I got it.”

After fighting with the lock, you stepped inside and practically threw your bag on the couch. You were seconds away from falling on the couch yourself before Spencer calmly grabbed your shoulders.

“Come on, let's get you to bed.”

You whined but didn’t object. He guided you down the hall to your room. In the dark, he reached for your lamp and turned it on. You plopped down on your bed and yawned.

“Where are your makeup wipes?” He asked, looking around the room.

You pointed towards the dresser, “In the top left drawer.” He followed your directions and returned to your bed, handing the pack to you.

“See I told you. You’re so nice,” you complimented while lazily cleaning your hours old makeup off.

“Why because I got you your makeup wipes?” He joked with a playful tone.

You giggled in response. The sound made Spencer feel like he was the intoxicated one. He would never get used to the way you laughed.

“No silly, not just that. The fact that you’re still here.”

You tried and failed at getting your lipstick and eyeliner off. Instead you smeared the deep colors around your face.

Spencer’s lips formed a thin line, trying not to smile at you smearing your makeup. He grabbed a fresh wipe and kneeled down in front of you. “Here let me help,” he mumbled. With careful hands, he pressed the damp wipe to your face to finish the job.

“Of course I was going to stay with you,” he acknowledged your previous comment. “I’m not going to just drop you off. I wanted to make sure you were safe and feeling okay.”

You tried not to smile because his hand was so close to your mouth. Your brain was going to short circuit at the closeness. His face mere inches away. His hand and the skin of your face are only separated by a tiny piece of cloth.

You watched intently as he used his thumb to wipe off the last bit of lipstick. His movements were desperately slow as he handled you with care. Like you were a fragile statue he couldn’t let break.

The action made your chest tighten and your heart race. If you had consumed another drink or two back at the bar, you would’ve jumped at the chance to kiss him.

But instead, you stared deeply into his eyes as he checked your face for any more makeup residue. His pupils were wide. You assumed it was from the dim lighting of the room.

You may not have been drunk enough to kiss him, but you were drunk enough to joke about it.

“What if I just kissed you right now?”

His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock. “What has gotten into you?” he questioned in a lighthearted tone.

“What? it’s not just me! You’re also staring at my lips!” you put your hands up in defense with a mischievous grin. “Just say you wanna kiss me.”

He chuckled at your antics. “Because I’m taking off your makeup. And what about you staring at my eyes?”

A grin spread on your face. “I can’t help it. They’re beautiful. Nice to look at.”

“They’re not that nice.”

“I beg to differ gorgeous,” you returned with a wink. “I could look at them all day.”

Spencer smiled as his cheeks turned pink. He looked between your eyes and your lips before his expression faltered for a moment. Like he was mentally stuck on something.

However, because of your dizzy mind and vision, you didn’t pick up on it.

He stood back up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You think you’ll be okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks again for … everything.”

“You’re welcome.” He started walking towards your bedroom door but before he left the room, he paused. “Don’t forget to let the girls know you got home safe.”

Your jaw went slack and a hand flew to your forehead, “oh my god you’re right.”

He fought back a grin from your reaction. “Goodnight,” he offered before he left.

You waved and said goodnight as his frame left your bedroom. The sound of the front door shutting soon followed.

Before you passed out for the night you texted penelope you got home safe. But you didn’t see her reply until the morning.

Penelope: yay!

Penelope: hope you feel better my sweets <3

Thanks :) I have a raging migraine so I better feel better soon

Penelope: :(

Penelope: oh btw, how’d it go with boy genius???

Ugh

I flirted with him AGAIN

Penelope: you’re kidding!

Penelope: What did you say?

I can’t remember all of it but at some point I said his voice sounds like honey

Penelope: OMG

Oh no it gets worse

He helped me take off my makeup and I said I wanted to kiss him. And THEN I pointed out how he stared at my lips and I said “just say you wanna kiss me”

Penelope: oh girlie

Penelope: I think you have to throw in the towel

Penelope: you love him

You stared at the words on the screen before your hands could even type a reply. Mentally fighting with yourself about the subject.

No way

I can’t be in love with him

He’s my friend I can’t do that

Penelope: I don’t think you have much of a choice

You sighed and turned off your phone. As you reached for the aspirin bottle, you prayed you wouldn’t do something stupid like this ever again

You were wrong.

______________________________________

By the fourth time it happened, almost a month had passed since you asked him to pick you up.

To celebrate the success of a case, his coworkers and friends wanted to go out for some down time. He thanked them for the invitation but kindly rejected it saying he had previous plans to attend some film festival. In reality, he had been on the fence about attending the film festival and ended up spending the evening at home.

As much as he wanted an excuse to spend time with you, he couldn’t go through another evening of you flirting with him.

Normally, it’d be his dream to have you flirt with him and call him sweet names. To hear how much you liked his voice, his eyes, and the way his brilliant mind worked. But the more it occurred, the more confused he felt.

At first, he assumed you were just a flirtatious drunk and there was no meaning behind your advances. But as time went on, he saw your actions and affectionate words had so much desire, so much longing that he started to suspect they were based on real feelings.

Yet, it was only reserved for the version of you that had multiple drinks running through your system.

He’d almost given up on asking you how you felt. Almost.

Something that gave him a glimmer of hope was a voicemail he received.

In an effort to actually get some sleep, he took a late night shower. When he returned to his bedroom, he found his cell phone had received a voicemail. He checked and saw he missed a call from the very person he was anxiously avoiding.

With new clean pajamas on, he grabbed his phone and sat down on his bed ready for the possible plea for him to pick you up. He clicked the message and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hi Spence! I wanted to talk but it looks like you’re busy,” your voice sounded sweet and bubbly. He deduced you might have already gone home at this point given the fact that this time there was no loud background music or voices.

“I missed you tonight. I wish you came with us. I know that isn’t always your favorite place to be, but I still kinda had hope. I love spending time with you. I don’t care if it’s at work or off the clock, it makes me so happy to see you.”

His heart felt warm from the way you talked about him. Your voice sounded giddy and occasionally you would slur your words.

“It’s kinda silly but when we don’t have work or plans, I will literally count down the days until I get to see you again. Isn’t that silly? I spend like five or six days of my week with you and when I don’t see you, I’m thinking about when I’ll see you again.”

Spencer found familiarity in what you were saying. For the last few weeks he found his thoughts were constantly revolving back to you. Whether intentionally or not.

“I pretty much think about you all the time. It’s becoming a bit of a problem. I don’t mean you’re a problem! The problem is how much I like you. I’ve never liked someone as much as I like you.”

There was a brief pause in your message. He almost thought the voicemail was over until your voice returned softer than before.

“I’m probably falling in love with you.”

“And that’s really scary to think about because I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. You’re different Spence, when I’m around you I feel-“

You were cut off by the time limit of the voicemail. Spencer stared at his phone screen with wide eyes. His heart was beating so fast it could’ve jumped out of his chest.

He finally got an answer to the question that plagued his mind. You loved him back.

You loved him.

His whole body was filled with adrenaline. He almost grabbed his keys and drove over to you at that moment. But he knew he had to wait. He couldn’t have this conversation with you while you were still intoxicated and would probably fall asleep by the time he got there.

Spencer on the other hand, could barely sleep. He was too busy on cloud 9 to come back down and let sleep overtake him.

The next morning he was practically buzzing with excitement. He got up earlier than normal for work so he could stop by your apartment.

He nervously knocked on your door. He kept fidgeting by fixing his tie and cardigan while he waited for you.

When you did open the door he saw you were still in the process of getting ready. You had on dress pants and an old college t-shirt.

You looked surprised to see him of course since he didn’t announce he was going to come over. “Spencer? What are you doing here?”

Suspicion started to creep its way into his mind. For now he ignored it and pushed on.

“I thought we could commute to work together. I figured you would be hungover and not in the best mood to drive.”

Your eyebrows raised and lips turned up. “That is so sweet of you,” you beamed. You opened the door wider, suggesting he was welcome. He followed and walked inside your apartment

“You’re absolutely right by the way. I feel like shit,” you groaned. “My head is killing me, I’m exhausted and I have this massive bruise on my leg.” You waved your hand over your right thigh indicating where the injury was.

“I have no clue how I got it. I probably fell but I'm not sure. Most of last night is fuzzy, I barely even remember how I got home,” you joked with a chuckle.

The suspicion Spencer felt turned into a pit in his stomach. With furrowed brows he asked the million dollar question. “Do you remember calling me last night?”

You stared at the ground as you tried to shuffle through the vague images of the night before. “No I don’t. What did we talk about?” you asked innocently.

His grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. “We didn’t. Talk. I couldn’t pick up the phone and didn’t realize you had called me until this morning. That’s why I wanted to stop by. To make sure you were okay.” He topped off his lie with a flat smile.

”Thanks for checking up on me,” you sweetly replied, not yet aware of the internal mess he was experiencing.

“It’s no problem,” his voice almost cracked.

“I need to finish getting dressed and brush my teeth but I’ll be ready to leave in like five minutes.” You speed walked back to your bedroom.

It wasn’t until he heard the door close that he finally let the storm of emotions rip through him. His chest was getting tighter by the second. It felt like he was suffocating.

You don’t remember.

You told him you loved him and you don’t remember it at all. The best news he’d heard in months was a blip in your memory. Was late night drunk babbling.

He felt so foolish. So stupid for thinking you might really reciprocate his feelings.

One part of himself that was still holding onto hope tried to remember that “drunk words are sober thoughts.” But that’s not always true.

He knew studies have shown intoxication can lead to someone misinterpreting their own thoughts or feelings. Leading to them impulsively expressing things that they don’t really believe.

Unfortunately, the factual and heartbroken part of his brain was overwhelming compared to the sliver of hope he had left.

“Alright, I’m good to go,” you snuck back into the living room. Your voice brought him back to the present.

You grabbed your purse off the couch and walked towards the front door. As you put on your jacket you noticed the sudden change in Spencer’s demeanor.

“Spence, you okay?”

”Yeah, I’m fine,” he nodded and answered with a light voice. But you could see right through it. His eyes gave it away. They looked so full of hurt.

”Spencer-“

”I promise, I’m fine,” he interrupted. He offered you a fake smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked to your door and tightly held his bag. “We should go before we hit traffic.”

You observed him for a few seconds longer than he liked. The profiler side of you wanted to pry but you knew it was a bad idea to push your friend.

The drive to work was agonizingly quiet. It was odd for you two to barely speak when in close quarters. Instead, you both let the tension hang in the air, ignored and untouched.

Spencer sat with his feelings for most of the drive. He didn’t want to be hopeful anymore. He didn’t want to be confused if it was real anymore. At this point, he just wanted to give up.

Now, he’d have to keep a tight lid on his feelings for you. Leave it to fester and wear away at his heart.

Like that would do any good though. He couldn’t stop loving you no matter how hard he tried.

____________________________________

The following days felt like a dream to you. But not in a good way.

It felt like one of those dreams where you know something is off, but can’t tell what it is.

Spencer had been closed off ever since he picked you up for work. You couldn't wrap your head around why. He seemed so happy and eager when he arrived at your apartment that morning.

That was the last time you saw him act normal around you. Now there was an underlying bitterness in the words he spoke. Everytime you tried to ask him if he was okay, whatever excuse he gave you left a sour taste in his mouth.

You weren’t the only one to notice either. Everyone could sense the air go stale when you entered a room he was in. How his eyes no longer lingered on you. Or how it almost pained him to even look at you.

His sudden change in behavior was starting to drive you insane. You were overthinking and overanalyzing every single interaction you had with him, leading up to that day in your apartment. Every move you made around him was calculated. You were terrified one wrong word or move would make him hate you.

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Penelope swung around in her chair to face you. “I think it’s impossible for him to hate you.”

You shook your head, “but still he won’t talk to me Pen. He’s always been so open with me and the last few days he’s been shutting me out. He hasn’t been weird around you guys at all.”

She twirled a sparkly purple pen in her hands as she watched you sulk. “You said it started on Thursday last week?”

“Yeah, the day after our last case.”

Penelope sat back in her chair thinking. “Do you think the case bothered him? Could that be why he went home instead of going out with us?”

“No, I don't think so. The next morning when he showed up at my apartment he was in a good mood. A great mood even,” you folded your arms in frustration. “But when I left the room and came back he looked like a sad puppy.”

Penelope tapped her pen against her chin. “Why was he at your apartment before work?”

“Apparently, I called him the night before but he didn’t pick up so he stopped by to check up on me and assumed I’d be hungover.”

“Awe, that’s sweet,” she cooed before her confusion crossed her features. “Wait, you apparently called him? You’re not sure?”

You cringed as you explained, “I don’t remember calling him. I was really drunk.”

She tried to hide the amusement on her face but failed. “Why did you call him?”

You stared at the floor trying to piece together what happened after you got home that night. “I remember missing him. I wanted to talk to him, but I’m not sure what about.”

“It’d pay good money to hear whatever voicemail you must’ve left him,” she chuckled with a cheeky grin.

“Right!” You started to chuckle with her until vague memories of talking on the phone came to light. Your face fell as your drunk declarations were pulled out of your long term memory.

“Oh god,” you said barely above a whisper.

Penelope filled with concern, “sweetie what’s wrong?”

“I did leave him a voicemail. He must have listened to it while I was changing,” your eyes widened and anxiety started flowing through your veins.

Before she could ask what you said in the message, you interrupted. “I have to go,” you alerted as you remembered Spencer already left the office. “I’ll text you later!”

You practically ran back to the bullpen to grab your things and tell Hotch you were leaving for the night.

The car ride to his apartment was agonizing. You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white.

This was all your fault. He couldn’t stand to be around you and talk to you anymore because you drunkenly told him you loved him.

You ruined your friendship.

The least you could do was go to his apartment to try to make things right. Try to fix whatever you have broken.

You couldn’t lose him. Not Spencer. Not the first man you ever actually truly wholeheartedly loved. Even if he didn’t love you back the same way. You’d rather live with the soul crushing pain of unrequited feelings, than lose one of the most important people in your life.

The walk to his apartment was even worse than the drive to his building. With every step you took, your heart grew heavier. By the time you weakly knocked on his door, your eyes had started to water.

When Spencer opened the door, his face fell with concern.

“I remember,” you whispered before he could ask what was wrong.

A look of realization dawned on him. He stepped to the side and opened the door wider, “come in.”

You followed and stood awkwardly in his living room. You’d been here hundreds of times before. But now it feels different. Even though you were welcomed inside it still felt like he was miles away.

“Spencer, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” He already knows what you’re talking about, you can see it in his eyes.

“The voicemail.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re sorry for sending it?”

“Yes, no!” you stuttered fidgeting with your rings. “I meant what I said. Every bit of it. I just uh- I wish I had told you all of that when I was sober. Maybe I could’ve phrased it better. Not come off so strong.”

“Why didn’t you?” he inquired, a hint of desperation in his voice.

He took a single step closer to you. “You could’ve told me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at him, “wait, you’re not mad about what I said?”

He mirrored your confusion, “what do you mean?”

“All week you’ve been acting weird. I thought you were mad or uncomfortable with me because I said I love you.”

Spencer raised his hand to his face as he realized. “I would never be mad at you for that.” His voice raised slightly in frustration, almost a wine, as he continued, “I was upset because by the time you sobered up, you forgot about it.”

“Oh,” you whispered —if you could even call it that— under your breath.

He lied. He listened to the message before he showed up, was going to ask about it, and you forgot like an idiot.

“You only flirt with me or show interest in me when you're drunk. I couldn’t tell what was real or not,” his expression showed more pain as he spoke.

“Spencer, I promise I really do have feelings for you.”

His lips formed a flat line as he stared back at you. “Then why did you only show it when you were drunk?”

“Because I was scared!” your voice raised. You spoke with your hands as you got louder. “How do you tell your best friend you fell in love with them? You can’t! It just doesn't work. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

You deadpanned at him, “Spencer, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he said louder than you.

The weight of his confession finally settled. Time stood still. The world stopped turning. The hands on the clock stopped ticking.

His voice was quieter this time when he said it. He spoke in the gentlest tone you’d ever heard from him. Like the words dripped right from his arteries, carrying them away from his heart and to you.

“I love you.”

“You do?”

You don’t know why you asked that. It seemed to be the only thing that could leave your mouth. How could you not believe him when he said those three words like that. Like it was his purpose. That he was put on this earth to love you and only you.

The realization of what his confession meant started to dawn on you.

“That’s why you were at my apartment. So you could tell me. And I-“

You stared at the floor with wide guilty eyes and sat (more like fell) on his couch. The guilt started to creep into your blood. It started to crush your bones.

“Oh I screwed up everything,” you buried your face in your hands.

He sat down next to you, “no you didn’t.”

“Yes I did. You have every right to be mad at me.”

”I'm not,” his hand landed on your back, his thumb slowly caressing you.

You looked up at him, “really?”

“Yes.”

You stared back at him, looking unconvinced.

He surrendered and shrugged, “okay I was kind of crushed about it. But I know now that you really did mean it.”

“I still hurt you,” you returned meekly. The tears started to return back to your eyes and you blinked them away.

“I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

His thumb stopped its movements on your back. With the same hand, he pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face. He looked into your eyes like he wanted to see all of you. See every little crack and crevice of your soul you tried to hide from him in fear of judgment, in fear of him running away.

He could never run away from you.

“Tell me everything you wished you could say when you were sober.”

You sat up straighter and turned to fully face him. After taking a slow deep breath, you said what you’d wanted to say to him for months.

No liquid courage. Just the pure, raw, unadulterated you.

“Spencer, I’m in love with you. I couldn’t tell you when I was sober because I was afraid. I was in denial for so long. I tried to convince myself I wasn’t falling for you. And it’s not because I don’t want to have feelings for you. It’s the opposite. I love you so much it scares me.”

You started to play with your rings again. “I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never said it and been sure that I really meant it.”

“I mean it when I say it to you. I know I mean it because I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s sitting quietly next to each other on the jet or dancing in a crowded bar. I know I mean it because I’d do anything for you. I’d listen to anything you want to ramble about. I’d drive you anywhere you wanted to go because I know you’re not the biggest fan of driving.”

You swallowed down the lump you didn’t realize formed in your throat.

“I always find myself crawling back to you when you’re not near.”

It was only now you really noticed Spencer's expression. His eyes were soft and dilated so much there was barely any brown left in them. His waterline threatened to spill with tears.

Before you could even dare to say anything else, he reached to the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His lips mixed with yours in a long awaited dance.

The kiss wasn’t overwhelmed with passion. But also not too slow and careful. The only way you could describe it was perfect.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

Every aching moment of yearning and longing leading up to this.

After kissing for what felt like forever —although you’re pretty sure you could kiss him for forever— you laid down on the couch with your head on his chest. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as if he could disappear at any moment. His one arm wrapped around your waist while the other was playing with your hair.

“You can stay the night if you want,” he nonchalantly tried to offer without explicitly asking if you would stay over.

“Do you think we’ll have time in the morning to stop by my apartment to get me fresh clothes?”

“If not, you could borrow one of my sweaters.”

You chuckled, “Imagine their faces when we show up to work together and with me very clearly wearing your clothes.”

He smiled at the thought of you wearing his clothes to work. The image of you proudly showing off that he was yours. “Yeah I can imagine it.”

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