#but this is a Lot for a KID who has spent most of her life in her own little world with dog and i don't | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dyaz-stories · 16 days

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don't get cut on my edges || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Gojo is easily bored, you're the latest enigma that's caught his interest. He sets off in trying to figure you out. Lucky for him, you're coming on the week-end trip Shoko's planned for the week-end.

“Was I off script?”

You look up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

word count: 5.4k

genre: college!AU, fluff, slice of life

cw: unresolved sexual and romantic tension, reader has anxiety and is socially awkward, she/her is used for the reader, a little suggestive, overall very sweet and fluffy

a/n: this was fun to write! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy my writing here :)

soundtrack

Gojo knows that people talk, knows that they talk shit, knows that there isn’t a soul on campus that doesn’t have an opinion on him. He can tell that eyes follow him around when he walks into a room, that his presence is enough to shift the atmosphere at a gathering, that some people roll their eyes at him while others try their best to catch his attention. It’s a lot to take in, for just one person.

Fortunately, he’s proved to be incredibly gifted in the art of not giving a fuck.

Then again, he’s incredibly gifted in most areas of life. Truth be told, he thinks people aren’t giving him enough credit for that. Sure, they tend to know that he’s a physics major, but that’s just tangential to what they know about the rest of him. He’s not just kinda good at physics, not some dude that goes to college mostly for the parties and then get a meaningless job at daddy’s company, no, he’s the fucking best, and he works fucking hard to be able to claim that title.

But that doesn’t really fit in with the rest of him, and at the end of the day, who cares? He certainly doesn’t.

With all that, it’s not statistically unlikely for him to catch people talking about him.

Well, he’d have to conduct a detailed study to calculate the exact odds, but with how much alcohol is in his blood at this very moment, it makes sense to him that it would happen.

Still, for people to be talking about him at a party he is at, in front of an open window, you’d think they would have some sense of shame. Not that he has any room to talk, because shame is not part of his vocabulary, but like. Come on.

“Gojo really can’t take not being in the spotlight for more than ten seconds, huh?”

That voice, he’s quick to identify, even if he can’t see her face from where’s he’s standing under the porch, belongs to Mei Mei. Aw. Bummer. They’d spent quite a lot of time around each other, have friends in common, slept— Wait, have they slept together? He can’t say for sure anymore. It seems to have slipped from his mind. Oops. Maybe that’s why he’s getting that treatment. Maybe he deserves it.

There’s a scoff, and really, the acoustic of this place are impressive. It feels like he’s straight in the room with those people.

“What else do you expect from someone who’s always had everything served to him on a silver platter?”

And that would be Noritoshi Kamo. Man. That was one of the few kids in the families his parents insisted on frequenting. They used to be sat next to each other at the kiddie table while the adults talked about the important stuff. They never had much in common — not then, not now. And, after all, maybe Noritoshi has a point, after all. His mother wasn’t a mistress, wasn’t turned into an outcast, and he’s never had to pretend he didn’t hear the loud whispers that tarnished her name. Yeah. Sounds like these two aren’t saying anything new after all. Not that he’s gonna change, y’know, but he already knows who he is, and he is all that.

“That seems like a very mean thing to say about a friend,” a quiet voice comments.

The world freezes.

A silhouette appears to go along with the voice, then a blurry face, then the picture becomes clearer. A figure sitting next to Shoko, giving him sweet, polite smiles when he approaches. Not chatty, kinda shy, pretty cute. Would get quiet when he was near, though, so he hadn’t paid a ton of attention. He’s used to giving it to people who asked for it, who wanted it.

You’d never asked.

But you’re… not wrong. He’s not sure why he hadn’t picked up on it himself. It is a mean thing to say.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mei Mei protests, “I love Gojo, but you know I’m right about this.”

“Yeah, and I’ve known him my whole life,” Kamo adds. “It’s just a fact, we’re not talking shit.”

There’s a silence. Gojo’s invested now.

“I don’t know him that well,” you say. “Like I said. It’s just a mean thing to say about someone you hang out with every day.”

“Come on, don’t act like—”

“I think I’m going to go, actually,” you say. “This feels super shitty.”

“What the fuck was that?” Mei Mei laughs, just a second later — presumably after you’ve left the room.

“She wants to fuck him, I guess,” Kamo says.

Well, you’re making one hell of a headway then, because he’d do you so hard after that.

When he walks back in, you’re chatting with Shoko. You give him your usual, close-lipped smile, don’t quite make eye-contact. If you’re trying to get in his pants, you have a very original way of getting it done.

“Who was your friend again?” he asks Shoko, later that night. She answers without looking up from her phone.

“She doesn’t talk much when there are new people around,” she warns him. “Leave her alone.”

“When have I ever bothered anyone—”

She reaches to smack the back of his head, misses and gets the nape of his neck — that’s the downside about being so tall, there’s just a lot of him to hit.

“Don’t make her uncomfortable. That’s all I’m asking.”

He wasn’t planning on that. He’s just— curious. Intrigued.

It’s unlikely to last, though. He’s been known to get bored easily.

You’re already in the car when he gets in. Well, okay, when he gets shoved inside by Todo, despite his protests that his legs are too long for the backseat. You’ve squeezed yourself in the middle seat, with Shoko on one side, and him on the other now. There’s a bag of snacks in your lap, yet you still try to shift yourself to give him a little more room. It doesn’t help at all, but in your defense, the only thing that could help would be to buy a new car.

“Is everyone ready?” Suguru asks as he adjusts the rearview mirror.

“Sure,” Shoko says.

“Let’s go!” Todo shouts.

“No,” Gojo whines.

“Yeah,” you say, completely drowned out under the rest.

“Good,” Suguru hums as he starts the engine.

Gojo pouts, but he doesn’t insist. Well, he doesn’t make any more of a scene than he already has. Truth be told, he could have taken Todo — dude might be all brute force, but Gojo has brains and brawns, thank you very much.

But he’s curious, still, and he hasn’t been given enough information to quite satiate his curiosity. Everything he’s gathered about you says that you mind your business and keep to your corner.

So why did you say that to Mei Mei and Kamo? It makes no sense, but Gojo’s never met an equation he couldn’t solve.

That’s an overstatement. Obviously there are equations he can’t solve. Yet. He’s sure he’d figure it out eventually. Like he’ll figure you out. See? That metaphor does make sense.

Suguru’s music is playing in the car. The sun is still low in the sky, the day is quickly getting warmer, and the phone says that they’ll be at the beach in two hours.

Satoru closes his eyes. Fun fact about him? He can fall asleep anywhere he wants to.

He wakes up with his face smooshed against the window, a hand tapping his shoulder carefully.

“We’re here,” you say, giving him a smile and then shuffling to leave the car from the other side.

Todo’s already running towards the beach, while Suguru and Shoko are getting the bags out of the trunk. Somehow, Shoko manages to sling a bag over his shoulder, but he takes off before she can stuff the cool box containing all the drinks in his arms.

He then lies to Todo to get him back to the car, so that he can carry the damn thing. Shoko better thank him later for that.

He catches up with you, and he sees your eyes widen a little when he approaches, as you visibly search for something to say. He can’t resist the temptation to shoot you a grin. There’s a light breeze in the air, but he won’t be fooled that easily — with his skin, he’s going to need an insane amount of sunscreen, if he wants to survive the day. Which makes him think, actually—

“Wanna help me apply sunscreen?” he asks.

“Huh?” you say.

He leans towards you, looks into your eyes from over his sunglasses. You appear to be fully frozen in place, only swallowing once as he gets closer. His grin gets wider as he takes in all of you, and he’s once more fascinated by the idea that you had been able to say something to Mei Mei and Kamo but you can barely face him.

His gaze drops to your parted lips.

Then the bottle of sunscreen smashes against his cheek with impressive precision.

“Todo can help you put that on!” Shoko offers as Suguru starts setting up a parasol. “Right, Todo?”

“Of course I will, my brother,” Todo say as he appears, but by then, Satoru has already started running for his life.

“Just kick him in the balls if he pulls something like that again,” Shoko says.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you reply, shaking your head in mild horror. “I just— I don’t— know— how to react sometimes. But he doesn’t bother me.”

That statement has her raising an eyebrow at you, filled with doubt, but she doesn’t insist.

“Play nice,” she does warn Satoru once more, later on. “Don’t push it too much.”

“Aw, Shoko, are you saying you wouldn’t approve of me?”

“Do whatever you want to,” she replies, rolling her eyes, “but give her more space. She’s not used to you being… you.”

Satoru rests his chin on his knee. He’s taking refuge under the parasol for now, and you’re already in the waves with Todo and Suguru. You seem comfortable with Todo, laughing at something he said, less so with Suguru. It all looks like a lot of work, all to satiate his curiosity. He’s all about committing to the bit but— he doesn’t know about that one.

This, too, all this thinking and questioning, is a lot of work, though, so he ends up shrugging it off.

“Are we getting in or what?”

“Absolutely not. No— Gojo— Don’t you fucking dare— Gojo!”

Shoko’s full-on shrieking by the time he throws her in the water. You burst out laughing. She comes out screaming for revenge, and Gojo starts scampering around to try and avoid her.

The sun is high in the sky, there’s a light breeze.

The time is good.

“Satoru!” Suguru calls when the watch on his wrist starts beeping, “it’s been two hours!”

It takes a second for the information to reach his brain, but the second he understands it, Gojo’s sprinting back towards the parasol at full speed. You look up, surprised, from the towel on which you’re lying with a book. Shoko doesn’t even bother with lifting an eyelid to see what’s going on.

“You okay?” you ask.

Ah, so she does speak.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, ruffling through a bag. “Just need to reapply some sunscreen. I’m not trying to look like a lobster.”

“Oh,” you say, “so, did you want me to help you with that?”

His fingers finally close around the bottle, and he stills to look at you. Shit. He’s curious again. Shoko’s words are swirling around in his mind, though, and he has no interest in forcing your hand.

“You didn’t look like you wanted to do that,” he says with uncharacteristic caution.

You roll your lips together, glance away from him, and your hand curls into a fist in the sand.

“No, it’s just— Um, I’m sorry about earlier. You— caught me off guard, I guess. I couldn’t figure out what to answer.”

“I usually just go with whatever appears through my head first,” he shrugs as he comes to crouch in front of you — you in the sun, him in the shade.

You laugh softly, but you avert your eyes, focusing on the sand as you trace patterns in it.

“Yeah, I think that’s the preferred method, but it— doesn’t— really work for me. So I have— I have a script, kind of, for interactions.”

“And I was off script?”

You glance back up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

For a moment, he just looks into your eyes, and you look back without any of that earlier nervousness. Then you shrink back into yourself, and the smile that so rarely leaves your lips reappears, like a shield that comes back up.

“Sorry. I know— I know how silly this sounds. I also wish I didn’t feel the need to do that, I just, um—”

“All good,” he replies with a shrug. “Sure. Help me with that.”

He throws you the bottle and you miss it, and he can feel you eyerolling at his back without needing to turn around, but when he shoots you a grin from over his shoulder, he can see how your breath catches in your throat.

Softly, your hand goes over his back, your touch gentle and cautious. It feels quite nice, actually, especially when your nails brush over his skin.

“It’s not too cold?” you ask.

“All good,” he repeats.

Shit. He’s invested again.

“Okay, we have the tickets, we have the water bottles, we have the hats, we have flat shoes, we have Gojo, we have the car keys—”

“I’m sorry, why was I just in the middle of a list of belongings?”

“We have cellphones and portable batteries… I think we’re good,” Shoko concludes, fully ignoring him.

“You don’t think we’re just a touch overprepared?” Suguru asks.

“You can never overprepare, my brother,” Todo says, grabbing his shoulder firmly. “If you want to triumph in the face of adversity, you need to know everything about the enemy.”

Suguru opens his mouth, closes it again. He knows how to pick his battles.

Gojo doesn’t.

“We’re going to a festival, not trying to breech the Pentagon,” he deadpans, and then, from the corner of his eye, he tries to see if you’re laughing. He delights in how you lower your head and try to keep it discreet.

“You never know what—”

“If I have to hear a second more of this nonsense, I swear to God I’ll kill someone here,” Shoko announces cheerfully. “Let’s move.”

Finally, after a good fifteen minutes by the door of the Airbnb you’ve all spent the night in, you start moving.

The good news is that you don’t have to get in the car, in the smothering heat, to get on the overcrowded streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. The bad news is that you have to walk there, in the smothering heat, near the streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. Suguru’s in charge of the map, which everyone seems happy with. Gojo had offered to do it, too, and there’s not a shred of doubt that he’d be able to read it competently, but Shoko had insisted the risk of him taking everyone to the wrong place ‘just because it would be funny’ was too high.

She’d been right but like, that was still rude.

The march in the heat and the waiting in line, while painful and unpleasant, as Gojo makes sure everyone around him is well aware of, go pretty smooth. Everything is planned and accounted for. There’s a game plan once they make it into the festival, too, because of course there is, but that’s when things start going south. First, Todo tries to go rogue when he spots someone wearing Takada merch. She’s not performing here, but he’s heard rumors that there would be a stand for her, and he lurches towards the woman. He’d get lost in the crowd immediately if not for Gojo’s lightning fast reflexes.

Unfortunately, soon enough it’s Gojo’s turn to get distracted. What can he say, there’s the smell of sugar in the air, and he needs to know where it’s coming from. Suguru’s the one to get him back on track, as they all head towards the main stage. Because that’s what Shoko’s grand plan leads to: sweet, sweet, close-up spots to watch the Sorcerers, headliners for the festival and also unarguably greatest band of all times, with minimum wait before their show.

There are a couple other close calls, but the group manages to get close enough to the stage. There are people here already, but they’re here for other artists mostly, and they’ll no doubt move quite a bit before the start of the real show. From where they are, even you and Shoko will be able to— Wait a minute.

“Huh,” Gojo say. “Hey, Shoko, do you happen to see (y/n) around?”

“If you can’t see her from up there, why would you think I— Fuck.”

“A fallen soldier,” Todo sighs somberly. “Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for—"

“We should go get her,” Shoko interrupts him. She’s biting her lower lip, staring at her phone. She looks quite worried, Gojo notices as he stares at her.

“Why isn’t it enough to just text her?” Gojo asks. It’s not ideal, and it won’t be easy to find the group in the middle of this sea of people, but it’s not impossible.

“I just— I don’t know if she’ll want to deal with all that” she gestures at the crowd “alone. I’m afraid she’ll say she doesn’t mind and then she won’t have a good time.”

Gojo tilts his head. It wouldn’t cross his mind to say something he doesn’t mean. It’s an incredibly weird thought, actually. But Shoko’s better than him at, well, people, and she might have a point. He also doesn’t want you to have a bad time, after all. With one last glance at the stage, he nods at her.

“I’ll go get her.”

“Are you sure?” Suguru asks. “I can go, if you want me to. It’s your band.”

As if it isn’t his, too. But Gojo shrugs. His attention span is fleeting, and he’s got his sights on something else right now.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll make it back.”

“Thanks,” Shoko says sincerely.

He waves vaguely at her before making his way back through the crowd, earning his fair share of nasty glances. He still doesn’t care.

A few minutes later, he receives a text from Shoko with a screengrab where you say you’re getting something to eat. Sure enough, he has no trouble finding you waiting in line. You’re typing on your phone, not paying attention to your surroundings, and he’s grinning already. He lets himself half fall on you, arm wrapping around your body as he drops his chin onto your shoulder. You jump, glancing back bewildered, but you don’t stay tense long once you see it’s him.

Which makes him feel things, actually, but he’ll unpack that later.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, brow furrowing. “I thought you guys would be in front of the stage by now.”

“I came to rescue the princess, obviously,” he says, and you laugh. You laugh a lot when he talks, instead of rolling your eyes like people usually do.

Maybe you’re a bit too good of an audience.

“I don’t need rescuing, Gojo,” you answer, and it’s interesting how calm your voice is. “It’s packed too tight for me in here. I told Shoko but…” You shrug. “It’s not always easy to understand how it is. For me.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t get it at all.”

Your shoulder’s pretty comfortable, though. And you haven’t tried to get him off of you yet.

“Do you want to order something, too?” you ask, pointing at the food stand. They sell waffles, and just the smell has his mouth watering. “Strawberries and whipped cream, right?”

Gojo pauses.

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it. A few times, actually.”

He’s sure he has, but—

“You were listening to that?”

You blink at him. He realizes how close your face is, with his head on your shoulder.

“Of course I was. You were talking.”

“Shoko didn’t tell you? It’s like, rule number one of being around me, don’t listen to the stuff I say. There’s a lot of dumb shit in there.”

You tilt your head, looking kind of confused.

“I still want to hear what you’re saying.”

Something inside him feels warm all of a sudden. Very warm.

“Yeah,” he says, but his throat is tight. “Strawberries and whipped cream.”

When you step forward to they can take your order, he begrudgingly gets off your shoulder, which allows him to swipe his card before you can get to it.

“I had that,” you protest while he bites into the insane amount of whipped cream in his waffle — he asked for more until the guy behind the counter looked like he was going to murder him.

“I had it first,” he says, and then he sticks his tongue out at you. He anticipates your laugh this time, finds himself waiting on it. When it comes, it sounds just like he wanted it to.

For a while, the two of you sit on a fence. You hand him a water bottle, say that he needs to stay hydrated. With no one else around, you don’t seem to have such a hard time speaking. You’re so quiet when everyone’s there and, well, him and Todo take up a lot of space, when it comes to conversation. Neither Suguru nor Shoko struggle with making their voices heard either, and in the middle of all that, you tend to stay silent. Apparently, that doesn’t stop you from listening.

“Shouldn’t you be going back?” you ask, after a while.

Gojo tilts his head as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I’m good. Let’s find some place where you can enjoy the show.”

“You don’t have to—”

A grin, and then he’s jumping from the fence to come stand in front of you. Even like that, he doesn’t have to look up to meet your eyes.

“And how d’you plan on stopping me?”

Your eyes go wide. He can almost hear your heart racing, and he thinks he’s starting to get a little too high on that feeling. It’s just so easy, so fun, so delicious.

“Okay,” you squeak, averting your eyes and jumping down after him, clearly trying to hide your reaction. “Okay, I’m coming.”

When you start walking by his side, grabbing your hand is just too easy not to do it.

“Wouldn’t want you to run away again,” is what he says as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

You still refuse to look at him, but there is no actual discomfort in your reaction, just what he thinks is uncertainty about how you’re supposed to behave now.

“Have I gone off script again?” he practically purrs.

You glance up, a flash of amusement on your face. Lots of fondness, too, and this time he’s the one who gets caught up in it.

“You haven’t been on script once today.”

“Good,” he says, managing to pass off the emotion that just choked him for a second there as impatience. “Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“I’m always on my toes,” you mumble behind him, but you can’t explain to him what anxiety feels like, so you just let him drag you away. His fingers are long, his hand engulfs yours easily. You like the feeling of it more than you should.

Your eyes are on Gojo’s broad back as he pulls you through the crowd, which parts effortlessly for him. You’re enjoying this.

You don’t think it’s going to last.

Gojo doesn’t think about that though, just like he rarely thinks about tomorrows. What he’s thinking about, as he keeps far, far away from the stage, is how to find a place with enough air around for the two of you. It’s easy for him to get a good look at the stage, and he earns his fair share of pissed off glares — “Seriously, it should be illegal to come to an open-air stage when you’re that tall” — but it takes more work to get the perfect space for you. Finally, his eagle eyes figure out some place that’s just perfect, and he beelines for it with you in tow.

“There,” he says, pulling you in front of him and putting his head on top of yours, just to check that the line of sight is good enough.

Ha. He nailed it.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s surprise in your tone.

“Is this a good spot for you?” he checks, but really, he just wants to hear you praise him?

“It is, but— I thought you said you didn’t get it? My—” You gesture vaguely. “—struggle. With all that stuff.”

Oh right. You actually listen to what he says. He needs to keep that in mind for the future.

“Does it matter?” he asks with a shrug.

You stare. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, and then the crowd starts absolutely howling and you spin around to see the Sorcerersget on the stage. Whatever moment there was there, is forgotten right away. He sees you fish in your bag for your phone, then raise it over your head and tiptoe around, trying to get a good photo.

It’s cute, it’s adorable even, but it’s not very efficient.

“Do you want some help here?” he asks, leaning close to your ear so you can hear him over all the noise.

Your body shivers into him, and he files that away for later.

“Um, yeah,” you shout over the noise. “Here, could you—”

But he pays no attention to the way you offer him your cellphone, and instead he’s bending down, and ignoring your surprised protest as he pushes his head between your legs.

He bench presses a hell of a lot more than he looks like he does, for the record.

With a grunt, he manages to get you up on his shoulders, and some people behind him complain loudly, but whatever, they can wait for you to get the perfect picture. You struggle to stabilize yourself for a dangerous second, and then you stop moving around for a second. Your thighs are supple and warm under his hands and around his head.

One more thing to remember.

“I’m good, I’m good, get me down,” you say quickly, just as he’s storing the thought away.

You seem relieved when your feet get back on the ground, and Satoru lets his hands linger on your waist.

“Was it a nice pic?” he asks. He knows he’s all red in the face, but he’s grinning so wide it almost hurts, actually.

“Perfect,” you squeak. “Thank you. Again.”

Aw. He’s going to get used to that word real quick.

A familiar guitar riff comes from the stage, and you turn away from him once more, but his hands are still on your waist. He uses that to pull you against him and this time, you don’t hesitate to let yourself lean back against him as the two of you move in rhythm with the music.

The concert is a blur after that. There’s a lot of singing, a lot of screaming, basically no time to catch a breath, because the Sorcerers are fucking beasts that don’t let up, not even for a second. At some point, you tell him something, but he can’t really hear, so you crane your neck back and he lowers his head. Your lips brush against his neck, an accident really, but it sends such a jolt of electricity through him, he thinks he’ll go into full overdrive.

The only thing that stops him from chasing after your lips immediately after that is Shoko’s voice, going around in his mind. ‘Don’t push it.’ What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You move away, and he still has no clue what you were saying. If after that, his hands hold your hips a little tighter, if he pulls you a little closer, he can’t be blamed. If, during one of the more sulfurous song of the show, as you’re swaying against him, humming along to the song, his lips find your neck, he doesn’t want to hear about it.

When he presses a kiss right by your jaw, you turn to look at him. You’re pretty. He’s always thought you were pretty.

Fuck Shoko, he thinks, and he’s ready to put his mouth on yours, to slide his tongue between your parted lips that have looked so inviting this entire week-end, when the riff of the band’s most popular song starts playing, and he loses you attention once more.

Cock-blocked by his favorite band. Fuck his life.

When the song ends, there’s movement in the crowd as the band gets off the stage and people start chanting for an encore. In Shoko’s fool proof, perfect plan, this is when you’re supposed to start leaving. Gojo doesn’t want to — how is he supposed to do anything about how much he wants his mouth on you once you’re back with the other — but this time you grab his hand and pull him away from the stage and he has even less of a clue of what he’s supposed to do about that.

You get to the meeting point before Shoko, Todo and Suguru, which makes sense, considering you were much further from the stage than them. It’s a specific pole that Shoko had pointed to as you were first getting in, and the urge to push you against it and to taste your lips is strong. Gojo isn’t typically one to ignore that kind of feeling. He just goes for it, doesn’t let his brain get in the way too much. He’s not sure what it is with you and your doe eyes and your sweet smile that makes him act different.

Whatever it is, it makes him ask “Did you have a good time?” instead of kissing you senseless behind the pole while watching to make sure Shoko doesn’t catch him in the act.

“It was amazing,” you say. “I don’t think— I don’t think I’d have gotten that close without you.”

“Did I force your hand?” he asks, frowning.

“No, no, that was great, actually.” And there it comes, his favorite words, and then he’ll kiss you. “Thank—”

“There you guys are!”

You have got to be kidding him. The Gods of timing are so set against him, he must have done something to piss them off badly in another life.

“Okay, we should start heading towards the exit,” Shoko announces.

“Nah, we ‘re staying until the end,” Gojo says, burying his hands, balled into fists, in his pockets. He’s being needlessly belligerent, but whatever, she deserves it, whether she knows it or not.

“Don’t be a dick,” she glares.

He smiles at her. And he doesn’t budge.

“We’ll run,” you say, stepping in. “I’m sure we can still beat the crowd if we run.”

She narrows her eyes at you, then at Gojo.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

So many delicious thoughts coming to him, and he can’t do anything about it. Damn it all.

Of course, it ends with the five of you sprinting on the lawn and all the way back to the house. Of course, he doesn’t catch five seconds with you after that. Of course, your face is on his mind the whole night.

Of course, because it’s just his luck, isn’t it, in the morning, Shoko tells him you had to catch a flight early in the morning.

“I told you, don’t you remember? She’s going back to her family for the summer.”

Of course, he doesn’t.

Ah, whatever. It bothers him for a minute, but then the day continues unfolding, and the sun’s warm, it’s the peak of summer, and he only really knew you for a couple of days. He’ll see how he feels about it when college starts up again in the fall. He’s not known for sticking with things, anyway. He’ll probably forget; you probably won’t capture him again like you did; it was probably a fluke.

That, or these will become famous last words.

sequel

thank you so much for reading! i had a ton of fun writing gojo's pov and i hope you enjoyed it too, even if i'm still finding his voice :) please reblog or comment if you've enjoyed this, i'd love to hear from you! getting readers' feedback on my writing is what keeps me motivated to write so if you'd like to read more from me, that's the way to do it!

tagging the people who expressed interest in this: @elidebrey @xstom @chosospookiebear @xmysticredx

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #my writing #gojo imagine #jjk imagine #jjk x y/n

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boldlyvoid · 1 year

Text

Sweet Nothing

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Penelope made a friend on the internet over covid who just so happens to live in the same town Dr. Reid just got a new job... and playing Cupid is her favourite thing in the world

Warnings: strangers to lovers, meet cute, 40-year-old virgin Spencer, Virgin reader (late 20's/early 30's), picnics, food mention, lots of Taylor Swift references, first times, Spencer is on anti-depressants, oral sex fem receiving, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sweet sex, lots of communication

Word Count: 12.6

Making friends on the internet was never easy… it always came with its own set of unique difficulties. People lie, anyone could be secretly crazy and when actions don’t really have consequences on the web, they can get crazier.

That being said, Y/N has recently made a wonderful friend in a woman named Penelope.

Penelope’s Tumblr page was pretty normal, very pink and vibrant and happy, but normal nonetheless. She’s in her early 40s, an internet veteran, an ex-employee at the FBI and known for creating a brand new, very safe, social media platform for young people. She was very easy to trust, very forward and easy to open up to as well, which made the two of them bond instantly.

And despite the age difference and the long distance, Y/N would consider Penelope to be her best friend.

She knew everything about her from her favourite colour to her hope and dreams and favourite singer… and also the fact she was a virgin well into her adult life and dying to get out there. They’ve spent most of their friendship discussing their equally awful dating lives, would-be lovers and almost hookups. Both women have tried time and time again to find love, however, nothing ever seemed to work out… until the day Penelope got an idea.

“I have a friend…” Penelope leads, something sinister in her eyes. “And he’s single and pretty cute, too…”

“Do you have a crush?” Y/N lights up thinking this is a happy moment for Penelope. “Oh my god, Penny tell me all about him!!”

“Well, no, actually… I want to set you up with him,” she explains further, in a much softer tone. “He’s so soft and sweet and a few years younger than me… and still a virgin.”

Her eyes grow impossibly wide and her jaw drops momentarily, “you’re kidding?”

“Nope.”

“Wow,” she takes a moment to soak it all in. She sits back in her chair and lets her shoulders drop as she thinks about it. And for once, Penelope is quiet too. “How much older than me is he?”

“He’s 41… which I know it’s a lot older than you but he’s what you’re looking for and you’d be so perfect for him. He’s so wonderful and he’s waited for so long to find someone who wouldn’t judge him and I know you’d love everything about him if I told you everything but I want you to meet him and find out for yourself… sorry, that was a lot.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” she actually loved when Penelope went on little rants like that. “I just don’t really have the funds to fly to Virginia right now—

“That’s another reason why he’s perfect for you, he’s moving to Reno next week!!!” Penelope can’t help but shake her hands with excitement while her voice raises at least a pitch if not 3.

“Is this the same friend who’s already from Nevada?” Her eyes light right up like a cat staring at a laser… she’s seen photos on Penelope’s personal Facebook, everything from selfies in new glasses to the parties with friends and throwbacks from working at the FBI… “doctor what’s-his-name?”

“Spencer, yeah oh my god? I can’t believe you remember him?” Penelope asks and she just shrugs, “See, this is why you’re perfect for Spencer, he talks a lot like I do, only about much smarter things but you’d be able to keep up.”

“I’d love that, actually,” she swoons, feeling slightly embarrassed about how the possibility of having a boyfriend makes her so giddy. “I’d love to listen to someone talk about what they love and just sit there and look at them…”

“Perfect, I tell you! Perfect!!” Penelope exaggerates, “he’s moving in a few days but all his things are already there. The department paid for his relocation and everything, I’m so surprised he actually decided to go this time, he’s been thinking about it forever.”

“Ask him if he wants some help unpacking when he does get here and I’d love to give him a hand,” she agrees fully, taking a leap of faith and seeing where this could go without the fear of the unknown weighing her down.

—

She shows up at Spencer's apartment 2 days after he arrives in Reno, a bottle of Welcome to the Neighbourhood sparkling cider and an assortment of muffins in her arms, thinking it would be quick and easy for him to take the muffins to work over the next few days, unlike a flower arrangement he didn’t need taking up space in his downsized apartment.

She takes a deep breath before she knocks, her knuckles are barely off the door when he opens it. She barely has a moment to prepare before she’s smacked with the realization that this man is very handsome and incredibly smart… and so, so intimidating.

“Hi,” he smiles at her. “Is that— you didn’t need to bring anything?”

She looks down at the basket she’s holding and then back up to see those beautiful brown eyes, “I know… sorry, um, Hi, welcome to the neighbourhood,” she hands him the basket with the best smile she can muster, slightly embarrassed to be so flustered by the mere sight of him.

“Thank you, come in,” he steps out of the doorway so she could walk in, he steps away from the door completely and sets the basket on a moving box. “Sorry, it’s a mess, the movers just put the boxes wherever they wanted, so I’ve been reorganizing where they were supposed to go,” Spencer explains, gesturing to the room around them.

“It’s okay, that’s why I’m here,” she’s cheery as she shuts the door and starts to take her coat off. “Can I just leave this over here?”

“Yeah, actually—“ he reaches for the closet door, “I found the box with hangers first so you could hang your coat when you got here.”

“She said you were a genius,” Y/N teases, holding her coat up so he could slip the hanger inside and hang it on the bar. She sets her purse down inside the closet too, just for safekeeping.

“I hope she hasn’t talked me up too much,” he’s honest with his fears. “I’m afraid I’m actually quite average, maybe tilted towards the strange side…”

She gives him another smile, but ultimately shakes her head, “Don’t worry, she didn’t tell me anything really personal. I only really know about you from stories she’s told me about her old job, but nothing in detail… I was just starting to get to know her when you were hospitalized before the pandemic and she was by your side a bunch so she wasn’t online and I was actually worried something happened to her 'cause she’s never that quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, that was awful,” he agrees, pressing his lips together awkwardly while he thinks about it. But then he takes a deep breath and his shoulders drop. “So I was thinking we could start in the kitchen? I’ve found most of the boxes.”

“Yeah, lead the way,” she says, following him through the front room to the living room that was connected to the kitchen by means of an archway. “Oh wow,” she muses aloud, “this is going to be nice to decorate…”

“You think?” He looks a mix of worried and confused, “I have no idea what to do with the place.”

“I’m sure once we start taking out all your things we’ll figure something out,” she knows she can make a room out of anything, it's how she decorates her classroom each September. Just with sheer will and pure hope.

“I had to downsize a lot to come here, I donated most of my books so I wouldn’t cost the department a fortune moving them out, but I still have a lot,” he shares, both proud and a little embarrassed that 50% of his boxes are for books. “I don’t have many personal things or decorations… I honestly wasn’t in my last place enough to make it feel homey.”

“You’ll be here often, though, right?” She asks, selfishly, she can already see them becoming somewhat good friends and she wants to be able to see him regularly.

He nods, “Yeah, I’m going to be working with the sex crimes unit, 9 to 5 every day unless there’s a big case,” he explains. “Like human trafficking or a pedophile ring or something, but I doubt I’ll see an overwhelming number of those right now, it’ll be nice to downsize to just a city instead of dealing with the entirety of The United States.”

“I have 4 different groups of teenagers that I teach, which is like 120 kids alone, I can’t imagine being principal and having a thousand kids to watch out for,” she can relate it back. “I’m sure this will be less stressful for you… still awful sometimes but—

“But I’m good with stress,” he assures her. “Especially this kind of stress. You know, when I first started at the BAU I had a co worker who transferred over from sex crimes in New York, she actually had a great time cause she got to kick some creeps ass every now and then.”

“Oh that’s cool, I guess,” she tries not to be jealous, knowing he’s probably had lots of meaningful relationships with women throughout his life, but that’s not going to stop him from getting to know her.

She grabs a box that says mugs and lifts it to the edge of the counter island instead of dwelling on these bubbling feelings for who is essentially, a stranger. “Which cupboard did you want the mugs to go in?”

“Uh,” he gets nervous then. “I have about 3 boxes of mugs… so wherever they fit?”

“Sounds good,” she can’t help but smile, it was cute. “Do you like to collect them or something?”

“Kinda,” he reaches into his pocket and takes out an exacto-knife, handing it to her so she can open the cardboard box. She pushes the knife out of its plastic sheath and starts to cut along the tape seam.

The first mug she pulls out is a pink octopus, “oh, this is so cute?”

“That’s Mildred,” he can’t help but smile, “I got that from Penelope on her last day at work.”

“Oh,” she holds it to her chest in a sweet hug. “I can’t wait for her to come and visit, I just know she gives amazing hugs.”

“Actually, she hugged me before I left and said that I was supposed to pass it along to you at some point…” he looks at her softly, slightly terrified. “Which is strange 'cause she knows I don’t like touching and we’ve never met before but for some reason, she knew I’d still want to hug you upon meeting you…”

She can’t help but laugh, placing the mug down on the counter, “is that an invitation?”

He nods, opening his arms and allowing her to step into his space. She wraps her arms around his middle and holds him close, feeling his large hands on her shoulder and upper back, his thumb lightly caressing the fabric of her shirt.

She stays there in the hug for a moment and then pulls back, “I’ll be sure to tell her that you passed that along.”

“Good,” he’s smiling like an idiot, bright red and flustered, falling head over heels for her already.

At least, the little voice in her head thinks so. Making her smile back at him with the same giddy hopefulness that she’s longed for most of her life.

—

He feels like the most awkward person in the whole fucking world. Hiding away in the living room to unbox something alone and give himself a moment of anxiety without having to play it cool in front of her any longer.

She’s pretty, she’s nice, she smells like honey and happiness and new beginnings… Penelope raved about her for days when she heard he was moving to Reno and now he can see why.

Y/N is amazing… it’s almost too good to be true.

She’s in his kitchen humming while she unpacks box after box of his dishes, moving around his new space like she was always meant to be here too. Like she’s a ghost or an extra piece of the pre-furnished listing. Like it was hers first.

He can’t quite place what song it is that she’s humming, but it’s nice. He wanders over to the archway and leans against it, watching her in admiration as she slides some more mugs to the back of a shelf. He knows he wants to ask her out for real. Not just as friends, not just for help or convenience but because his aura is drawn to hers and the colour they could make together has never been made before.

When she turns around to grab another mug she’s startled by his presence in the doorway, “gosh,” she gasps and places her hand on her chest to get over the initial shock. “What the heck, Spencer?”

“Sorry, it’s just…” he licks his lips and thinks it over before saying it, “It’s so nice to have you here… it feels right.”

“Oh,” she softens, he can see a weight lift off her shoulders and her eyes glimmer under the lights. “Thank you, thats the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?”

“Would you want to go on a real date, tomorrow?” He can’t help but ask. “I know Penelope was hoping for us to date and I hate that she’s always right but, I would really like to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” she makes her way around the counter and over to be closer to him. “I’d love that, what do you want to do?”

“Um,” he really didn’t think that far ahead… “can I surprise you?”

“Sure,” she gives him the sweetest, most hopeful smile that makes his heart swell.

“Is there anything you don’t like? Or are allergic to? Anything I should avoid?” He can’t help but ask. The last thing he wants is to surprise her with something that makes her distance herself from him. It’s happened too many times before.

She shakes her head, “not that I can think of?”

“Okay,” he smiles at her, stepping into her space more. “I found my Alexa that Penelope got me years ago, did you want me to put on that song you were humming?”

She looks like a dear in the headlights, she clearly forgot he could hear her when she was humming. “Oh, um… no? I don't think you’d like the song.”

“It sounded nice when you were humming?”

“It’s embarrassing…”

“What is it?”

She sighs and gives in, “Taylor Swift has this song that I listen to when I dream about the life I want and it’s been stuck in my head all day cause I’m in your kitchen… and the lyric is outside they’re pushing and shoving but you’re in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was Sweet Nothing…”

“That’s not embarrassing,” his heart swells. “Penelope is a matchmaker, has she ever told you about all the couples she created at the FBI? She’s responsible for 5 marriages and by proxy about 10 babies.”

“Wow,” Y/N’s a bit taken aback by that. “So you’re saying she’s like Cupid?”

He nods, “Or she’s able to see fate's design a lot better than us.”

“One hug? That’s all it took?” She teases him.

“A few mugs?” He teases right back.

“Hey, you can tell a lot about a person by what they hoard,” she bites back, trying not to smile too hard.

He just shakes his head and backs up, headed back to the living room with her in tow. “Hey Alexa, what’s the Taylor Swift song that says you’re in the kitchen humming.”

“That would be Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift on Midnights By Taylor Swift, released October—“ the British man's voice comes booming from the small speaker only to be cut off.

“Hey Alexa play Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift,” he orders with a smirk plastered to his face.

“Okay, here’s Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift on Amazon Music.”

Within the first few notes, he knows this is going to be their song. He extends his hand to her, silently asking her to dance even though he doesn’t really know how… and by design or some exquisite happenstance, she takes it.

With one hand in hers, his other hand lands on her hip while her extra hand is placed ever so gently on his shoulder. Chest to chest, eye to eye, they smile and sway along to the flow of the tune. Her hand squeezes around his own slightly tighter, the tune matches exactly how she was humming in his own kitchen and then he hears the lyric she mentioned.

They said the end is coming,

Everyone's up to something,

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings.

Outside, they're push and shoving,

You're in the kitchen humming,

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.

He spins her around making her laugh as she crashes back into his chest and holds him tighter. She wraps her arm around his middle and rests her chin on his shoulder. The music is loud, but his thoughts are louder. He wants everything this song mentions but with her. Only her. And it’s been only an hour and a bit that he’s known her. He doesn’t even really know her but he craves to.

“Do you write poems?” He asks after the song mentions them.

She shakes her head, “no, but I know you read a lot of them… do you write them too?”

He nods, “Sometimes… maybe I’ll make you one.”

“I’ll probably cry,” she admits.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

She is soft-hearted. She’s sweet and kind and wonderful, too. She tilts her head to the side to rest against his own. Now cheek to cheek, he lets out a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding. She hums along to the song, just soft enough for him to hear, not quite on key, but it’s endearing.

They’re quiet for the rest of the song and keep swaying, knowing it’s going to end soon and they’re going to have to pull away. They don’t want to… luckily the song is on a loop. It starts right back up and so they don’t pull away.

—

His place is still a mess when he gets ready to leave the next morning. After their dance, she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on unpacking and he knew he’d be too tempted to hold her all night long… so she went home. He helped her into her coat, he hugged her goodbye and she left, taking a piece of his heart with her.

He’s not as used to Reno as he was with DC, but one look at the map and he was able to find the grocery store quite easily. He walks there because he opted not to bring his shitty car with him. He sold it with the promise of looking for a new one here in Nevada, but it was actually a lot nicer to walk in a sunny place like this. And on days when it’s not as nice, taxis exist for a reason. He really didn’t need a car, anymore.

He didn’t realize how much he missed Nevada until now.

He spent a lot of last night thinking about what he wanted to do for their date and came up with the splendid idea of a picnic. The first thing he did was call Penelope, it wasn’t too late for her back in DC, so he didn’t feel too bad, but he had to ask her some questions. He wanted everything to be perfect. She talked his ear off and then gave him an extensive list of the things she knows Y/N likes from past conversations, it turns out they’ve spent a bit of time talking about snack foods and it was finally coming in handy.

He comes back to his newly unpacked kitchen with bags of groceries, he prepares sandwiches on croissants and cuts up cheese and puts them on toothpicks with fancy slivers of meat… and he bought some new Tupperware so the meats and cheese can be in one and the fruit he bought can be in another. He bought her favourite drinks and some cute disposable cups to put them in because he didn’t have anything other than coffee mugs, which he was sure she wouldn’t mind, but he did.

He wanted this to be perfect for her.

All while he was packing their picnic basket, he listened to Taylor’s music, thanks to Penelope he had a playlist of her favourites to get himself caught up on them and ended up liking most of them himself. Especially one called Maroon. The lyrics are so powerfully written and wondrously sung, it’s as if a heart-stopping novel was put to music and all told within 3 minutes and 38 seconds. Taylor Swift is a genius, that much her lover got right in sweet nothing. What a mind, indeed.

Just a little past her apartment, there is a little park with a lovely field of flowers beside it. It’s a perfect spot for a picnic, so once he’s finished packing their picnic, he sets off on a walk to her apartment, thinking a walk to the park together would only add to the ambiance of the day.

He makes it to her place a little before 11, like he told her he would, and spends a few seconds in the hallway to catch his breath and fix his hair before he knocks. And when he does knock, it’s 3 times and he hits the wood pretty hard with his knuckles. Inside, it’s pretty quiet and then he hears her call out, “Just a sec!!”

He waits patiently for a minute or two and then she wipes the door open while putting in an earring, “Sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was.”

She’s breathtaking. She’s all dolled up and it’s all for him. He can’t believe it.

“That’s okay,” he manages to breathe out, leaving his mouth hung open as he stares.

She just smirks and reaches out for him, touching his chin and redirecting his jaw closed. “You don’t want to catch flies…”

He blushes, uncontrollably, and bows his head, bashful as ever. “Sorry, you just look beautiful… I’m not used to someone getting all dolled up for me.”

She lets out a huff of breath through her nose, settling all her nerves, her shoulders drop and she stares at him like he’s the only man in the whole world. “You’re so sweet, I almost can’t believe you’re real.”

“That feeling is mutual,” he assures her.

She finally looks down at his hands to see him holding a picnic basket. “Oh my god, are we going to have a picnic?” She lights right up.

He nods, “is that okay?”

“Okay? It’s perfect, Spencer!” She’s so excited and it’s real. She’s not playing it up or anything. She’s genuinely over the moon. “Let me just put on my shoes and grab my purse, you can wait in here.”

“Okay,” he steps inside and closes the door behind himself as she runs off into he bedroom.

It’s a small apartment. Her bedroom and bathroom are separate rooms, but the kitchen, living room and the washer and dryer are all exposed. She has it set up really nicely, it’s warm and inviting and happy and he could see himself making a home on her couch in the upcoming weeks of getting to know her. He couldn’t wait to learn about her favourite shows and movies and books. He wanted to hear all about her family and friends and co-workers, even her favourite students and the ones who irked her. He wanted to hear about it all. He wants to know her favourite colour and how she likes her pizza and her pasta and what her favourite baked good is. There’s an endless amount of personal things that he can learn, and he wants to know it all. He wants to love it all, too.

When she returns, she has her shoes on, her purse over her shoulder and a blanket draped over her forearm. “I don’t want to sit on the grass, and I didn’t think you fit a blanket in there…”

“Oh, shoot,” he looks down at the basket and realizes that was the one thing he forgot. “Yeah, we’re going to need that.”

“Thought so,” she smirks. She walks back over to the door and grabs her keys, “anything else you need?”

“Just you,” he replies without thinking it over.

“Stop being so sweet,” she nudges him, staring up at him like he hung the stars, himself.

“Or else?” He teases. It’s remarkable how easy it is with her. It just flows out of him like the script was already written between them.

She steps even closer into his space, “you get a kiss for every compliment,” she says, standing on her tip-toes, she presses her lips to his cheek for 1, 2, 3 seconds of pure bliss.

She drops back down to her normal height, a smirk plastered to her face, proud of the lipstick stain that’s almost as red as his blushing cheek. She reaches up to wipe it off but he pulls back, “don’t…” he’s adamant. “I want everyone to know you’re mine if you’re going out looking this beautiful beside me.”

“Okay then.”

—

Like a real man, Spencer insists on standing closer to the road as they walk along the sidewalk. A few moments into their walk, he transitions the basket to his right side so that his hand that’s closest to her is free and she notices it right away. She has draped the blanket over her left arm, leaving her right hand free… all but begging him to take it. But he’s shy and quiet and he doesn’t know how to just do it.

So she does.

She takes his hand in hers and interlocks their fingers, smiling up at him as they keep going forward, “have you ever been to this park?”

He shakes his head, “No… is it nice? The reviews online said it’s clean and there isn’t a lot of illegal activity there.”

She can’t help but laugh, “Yeah, it’s a nice park. Sometimes I hit up the bookstore down here and then I go read in the park. It’s nice in the summer when I have a week off between my regular job at the school and my summer job.”

“Summer job?”

She nods, “Mhm, you know, 'cause I only work at the high school when school is in session and I don’t make enough to take two whole months off so each summer I take a new job. Like last summer I worked at a daycare but the summer before that I was at a ladies' clothing store a few streets over.”

“What are you going to do this summer?” He asks, intrigued.

“I’m not sure yet… I’m still friends with some of the girls at the daycare so I might go back, but honestly, I’m also thinking of putting in my application for summer school and I might tutor some of the kids that need help graduating,” she explains. “Cause I know how hard it is to try your best and still just not get it. They shouldn’t be punished for having a hard time.”

“You sound like a wonderful teacher, I’m sure they’d really like to have you in the summer, too,” Spencer compliments. “I was always closest to the kids that didn’t do very well in school. It’s not that I pitted them or felt like I could improve them, I just liked who they were as people, more.”

“They’re lovely kids, they just get pushed to the side because they either learn differently or they can’t do the work at home for whatever reason. And they shouldn’t be punished for that, it’s not their fault that most kids nowadays have to work to help their families or become a second parent to help their younger siblings. They barely have the time to take care of themselves let alone do 5 hours of homework a night,” she rants, “I genuinely hate how the school system is currently.”

“My nephew is in high school currently and he isn’t having the best time,” Spencer shares. “He calls me for help on his math homework sometimes and it always floors me that even if he got to the right answer, if he didn’t follow the exact formula that the teacher uses then he gets a 0. There are many different ways to solve an equation, and as long as he shows his work it should count.”

“Exactly!” She raises her voice a little and startles a lady passing them. “It’s frustrating to watch them struggle with shit they’ll never use again unless they’re going into a math-dominated field. It’s not fair.”

“More kids need a teacher like you,” Spencer says, giving her hand a little squeeze.

“Why, thank you,” she gleams. “If we weren’t in the middle of the walkway I’d kiss you again…”

“The books store is just up here, you can kiss me in the aisles… if you really want to?” he kids, but not really. She can tell he wants another kiss from her.

So she drags him into the bookstore, they tell the worker that they’re just looking and perusing the store, calling out the titles they know and rating the backs of the ones that seem interesting until they’re in the back aisle. She turns to him with a smirk, “Are you gonna make me stand on my tip-toes every time, bean sprout?”

He smirks and places the picnic basket down on the floor so his hands are free, “I could just kiss you, instead, you know?”

“You wouldn’t be so bold?” She tempts, secretly hoping he will.

He tentatively reaches out, placing his beautifully soft hand on her cheek and caressing her skin with his thumb before he starts to lean in. She closes her eyes in anticipation, just mere seconds before their lips touch and like the big bang, universes were created in the pitch-black darkness behind her eyelids. Colours she’s never seen before, feelings she’s only read on pages that surround them, and a warmth in her chest that seems so foreign… yet so right.

He goes to pull away and she leans back in, dropping the blanket in the process to kiss him again and again until his tongue slips past her lips and it's more than just a kiss. It’s the start of something beautiful. Something more than Penelope ever thought possible when her two friends ended up in the same town at the same time.

They’re brought out of the moment by the sound of a woman clearing her throat, “You actually have to buy something you can’t just make out back here.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The two of them rush out with equally guilty mugs. She grabs the first book she see’s, “We’ll take this.”

“I’ll meet you at the register,” the keeper replies rather snidely and over it as she walks away.

Looking down at the book, it’s a poetry book by an author she’s never heard of before. “You know this one?”

Spencer shakes his head, “surprisingly, no.”

She picks up the blanket again, he grabs the basket and the two of them slowly make their way towards the cash. “Sorry, again,” Y/N says, pressing her lips together awkwardly. “I don’t know where that came from, we really just wanted a book for our picnic.”

“I’ve been in love before, I get it,” she waves it off with a growing smile. “This is a good choice… it’s only 6 dollars as well.”

“I’ve got it,” Spencer steps forward, taking his wallet out of his pocket and handing the woman two 5 dollar bills. “Do you take tips or donations?”

“Always, it keeps the lights on,” she’s happy to take the extra money, exchanging one of the 5’s for 4 1’s and placing them in a jar behind the desk. “Thank you, I hope to see you back here sometime.”

“Definitely, I’d love to have a real look next time,” Spencer teases as Y/N takes the book. He places his hand on her back, “thank you.”

“Have a good rest of your day,” she adds for good measure, following Spencer towards the door.

“You too! And enjoy your picnic!” The lady calls back just before they leave.

“God,” Y/N scolds herself, “I can’t believe that happened.”

“Spencer just laughs, “It’s not that embarrassing… believe me, I’ve walked in on much worse.”

“I can imagine, I mean, Penelope told me about some of your cases,” she says with the roll of her eyes. “I really don’t know how you did it for so long.”

“Honestly, me either,” he agrees with her there. “How much do you know about me? Because she never told me much about you and I’m worried we’re not on even playing grounds…”

“Oh, not much!” She tries to sound as believable as possible. “She basically told me you’re a genius, she loves you like a little brother and some little anecdotes like you were shot in the knee once and were on crutches for months and you wear a lot of purple which I’ve also seen in the Facebook photos she has of you… but nothing super personal.”

“Okay, that’s good then… cause she’s seen me at my worst,” Spencer admits as they make their way toward the park entrance

“She was basically big brother to you guys,” Y/N teases.

Spencer manages to laugh, “Yeah, she was.”

The gates to the park are open, there are children running about cheering with one another while their parents sit on the benches and talk, barely watching on. They pass everyone and head right back to the grassy area behind the playground, past the soccer fields and take cover under a baby Willow tree that still has lots of growing left to do, however, she’s still big enough to cast a good amount of shade on them.

She lays out the blanket perfectly and takes a seat while Spencer gets down on his knees, placing the picnic basket in front of himself. All while they’re still talking about Penelope. He takes out two plastic champagne flutes and hands them to her first, then he sets out the bubbly drink he got, followed by 4 Tupperware containers. “Speaking of which, I called her last night and she told me about your favourite snacks…”

“No way?” She can’t believe it.

He simply nods, a smirk growing, “It would seem you two love food.”

“Well, it’s always late when we call so she’s seen a lot of my nightly snacks,” She admits. “Is that? No way…” She takes one of the containers and opens it up to find little croissant sandwiches. “You want me to fall in love with you? Don’t you?”

He’s startled to hear it and she can’t believe she said it. It was forward and real and incredibly honest. But Spencer nods. Of course, he nods. “Yeah, I do.”

She looks at him like that 'I do' was the big one. The most important one. And to her, it’s almost more important. “Really?”

“I’ve spent most of my life completely alone, I’m tired… and I’m not settling, not at all, no,” he stutters out and worries he’s offended her. “I just mean, I like you, you’re wonderful already and everything I look for in a person and if you loved me I’d be the luckiest man in the world.”

“Wow,” she can’t believe it.

“Sorry—

“No, no,” she reaches out, dropping the container so she could touch his knee instead, “don’t, I’m just shocked, really…”

“Really?”

She nods, “Yeah, not many people have just openly told me that they like me let alone want me to love them?”

“Me either,” Spencer admits. He’s ready to lay his whole heart bare to her. “I really want someone to love me and if that someone was you then I could die happy.”

“Not on my watch,” she manages to smile. “My love means taking care of you. My love includes worrying and obsessing and making you entirely mine… it’s driven people away before we could even start anything real, I don’t want that to happen here.”

“It won’t,” Spencer is quick to reply. “It can’t drive me away, it’s exactly what I want… and I want to love you just the same.”

“You won’t have to try hard,” she teases, smiling up at him. “Come on, get comfortable, grab a sandwich and talk to me. Tell me about yourself and watch it happen.”

“Okay,” he follows her instructions.

He gets comfortable on the blanket, taking off his shoes so he can sit crisscross applesauce and he pours them each a glass of sparkling cider. “I’m sober,” he shares first. “I had some drug problems in my 20’s and I find if I avoid all substances, except coffee, then I won’t slip.”

“Wise man,” she compliments. “I don’t drink either, mostly cause drinking alone is sad and I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

“And I picked this pinky one cause of the line in Paris…” Spencer admits which makes her peak right up. “You know, fake wine makes believe it’s champagne…”

“Oh my god, you listened to Midnights?”

He nods, “I went back to listen to Sweet Nothing and thought why not?”

She can’t help but shake her head and smile, “That’s so cute, you have no idea how cool this is for me. No one I know really likes her, everyone acts too cool for Taylor Swift and then you come in and listen to her on your own accord? That’s— that’s everything to me, Spencer.”

“I think she’s amazing, well, so far, at least,” he admits. “I’ve only listened to the one album but it was a great album, I particularly enjoyed Maroon.”

“Her track 2’s are always my favourite,” Y/N raves. “She saves track 5 for her personal favourites or songs that mean the most to her, like on Red there’s this one called All Too Well and it’s originally 5 minutes but on the new recording of Red it’s 10 minutes and it’s so good. It’s insanely beautiful.”

“I can’t wait to listen to it,” he can’t help but smile. “I love listening to you talk about her, you glow.”

“Here,” she pulls out her phone and headphones from her purse and plugs them in. “We can listen to it now if you want?”

“Okay,” he agrees, taking an earbud and placing it in his ear while she moves closer to share the other.

And for 10 minutes they sit there in silence, she eats her sandwich and he listens to the words with the most admiration. The hurt is palpable, the passion is gut-wrenching… he loves it and she can tell from the look on his face. He’s so focused and enthralled. She feels a warmth in her chest that she hasn’t felt before, something in this moment is what makes her really love him. She isn’t just infatuated, he isn’t just cute and nice… he’s special.

“That was amazing—

“I never want to feel like that,” she whispers, staring at him intently. “don’t break my heart, please.”

“I don’t plan to?”

She lets out a deep breath she didn’t mean to hold, “I’ve never dated anyone before because I can’t go through the heartache. She made it seem so fucking awful I never want to feel it.”

“It’s awful,” he admits, all the hurt he’s experienced comes forth, pooling behind his eyes as tears form. “I was in love only once. She died before I could tell her.”

“Oh, Spencer, I’m so sorry,” she can’t believe it. “When?”

“In 2013.”

“Have you been single for 10 years?”

He nods, “Basically. I tried to date before the pandemic but she wasn’t really my type, it was more convenient so it didn’t last.”

“Oh.”

“This isn’t like that,” he assures. “You’re kind and beautiful and you have a normal job and you make people's lives better… you’ve made Penelope’s life better. You are sunshine—

“Do not call yourself midnight rain I will laugh,” she cuts him off, biting back a smirk.”

“I wasn’t,” he laughs too, “but it works here, too.”

“I’m not always sunny,” she adds, making sure he knows that.

“That’s okay,” he’s fine with it, really. “Even on gloomy days, the sun is just behind the clouds.”

She can’t believe he just said that. It’s so beautiful and kind and about her? It makes her just stare at him, mouth opening to say something but nothing comes out. She doesn’t know what to say. “Oh, man… I’m going to fall in love with you so quickly.”

“Me too,” Spencer smiles, reaching out to hold her hand. He grips it tight and doesn’t break eye contact with her, “and I’m excited about it.”

—

He only lives around the corner from her which means they see each other every day for the next week. They wake up at the same time, they get coffee before work, she drops him off at the police station and then she heads to the high school. After school, she goes and picks up something for dinner and he Ubers right to her apartment to eat. They talk well into the night, they listen to music, they watch documentaries and movies and they cuddle… she knows almost everything about him and he knows almost everything about her. He’s going to meet her family in the summer, hopefully, and she’s going to meet Diana in a few weeks.

Being together is the most fun she’s ever had in her entire life.

And while they’re not going on dates to get to know each other, they are dating and Penelope is happy about it for the most part. She’s just upset she lost her nightly chats with Y/N on Zoom. They barely even text now.

When Penny finally does get Y/N on the phone, however, it’s on a night that Spencer has an intense case in Reno. The BAU are back in town… 3 women have died this week, all online sex workers, they never walked the streets and yet that’s where they’ve ended up. It’s heartbreaking.

“I called him today during his break and he just sounded so defeated, it breaks my heart,” Y/N says with her hand over her chest and pleading eyes, “it’s too bad you’re not working with them again.”

“Their new tech guy is good,” Penelope assures her, “and he’s got JJ and Luke with him so he’s fine… he’s more than fine, he’s Spencer.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “he is fine…”

“You guys really like each other?” Penelope digs, she wasn’t going to pry and press too many questions but she can’t help herself.

Y/N nods, “Yeah… I think I love him.”

“Really?” Penelope lights right up, “Oh my god?”

“I know! It’s been so nice, we were going to go on another date tonight but, you know, duty calls…”

“How many have you had so far?”

“Uh,” Y/N doesn’t really know. “Well, we unpacked boxes last Saturday and then on Sunday we went to the park and I’ve seen him every day this week…”

“I know,” Penelope pretends to be mad about it but she can’t stay fake mad for long. She loves them both too much. “I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you too, I just like cuddles with my boyfriend more…”

“Boyfriend?”

She nods, “Yeah, I think that’s what we are, I mean, we’ve already talked about what we want and he said he wants to fall in love with me so I think that makes us boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Spencer said that? Shy, nervous, Spencer Reid?” Penelope can’t believe it.

She can’t help but laugh, “Yeah, I guess that’s him… I don’t know, he’s a lot less shy with me.”

“Have you—

“No, no, not yet,” she waves her hands in front of the screen and looks panicked. “No. We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“No?”

She shakes her head, “No… I mean, I want to and we’ve had some nice make-out sessions but we haven’t done anything more than kiss.”

“Wow,” Penelope is genuinely shocked. “I thought you would’ve jumped him by now.”

“Hey,” she says with a cheeky smile. “I have self-control… so does he, I guess cause he hasn’t even tried to cop a feel or anything, he’s super reserved.”

“Well yeah he’s spent 40 years being a virgin,” Penelope says without any malice, she’s just stating a fact. “He’s used to things not going there. I think you have to make the move.”

“I was thinking that too,” she doesn’t sound excited about it. “I’m just really scared even though I know I shouldn’t be when it’s Spencer. He’s going to be very sweet and he’s already told me he thinks I’m beautiful and I feel it around him… it’s just so nerve-wracking.”

“I was still a teenager when I had sex the first time and it was so scary, I wish I waited,” she really emphasizes Wish. “I wish I was mature and chose someone good and deserving and I wish he cared about me. But you have all those things right now, it’ll be worth it now.”

“I know,” she tries her hardest to believe her. “I know it’ll be okay… it’s just the anticipation feels more like anxiety.”

“Which is totally normal, but it’ll go away when it happens, believe me.”

“I do.”

—

Spencer's cause goes on another 4 days. She brings him coffee and donuts after work, she meets his friends and ex-collogues and she understands now why he had to get out of it all. Emily is just a few years older than him and fully grey, JJ sneaks out to make phone calls to her family who she doesn’t see as often as she wants and Luke is still single no matter how hard he tries. The job takes things from them.

She gives him a hug before she leaves each time, never a kiss, that would embarrass him in front of his new co-workers and his old ones would never let him live it down. So he gets just a hug. It’s long, they linger and then she goes home.

It’s weird being home without him now that he’s been there often. She misses him dearly, every day. All through the weekend, he works. And then the case ends on a Tuesday at 3 in the morning and stays up just for her. He buys them coffee, he walks to her place and he knocks on her door right at 6:30, 15 minutes after he knows her alarm has gone off.

She opens the door dazed and confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed my best friend.”

“Get in here,” she tugs him inside and makes him put the coffees down so she could have a proper welcome.

She cups his face in her hands and kisses him with so much force and passion, it startles him. But he kisses her back. He wraps her up in a big hug, bringing her in closer, he deepens the kiss with the swipe of his tongue and she pushes him back against her door. It’s as fiery as the first time, it’s better than the kiss in the bookstore, there’s so much more feeling in it now.

His hand roams up the flat of her back, over her shoulders and rests on the nape of her neck. His thumb caresses the skin under her ear, causing her to moan into the kiss and pull away, embarrassed. Her eyes go wide and she stutters on her way to find an excuse but Spencer just smiles, still caressing her, he brings his other hand up to cup her cheek, “It’s okay… you’re so cute.”

Her cheeks heat up and she feels bashful as all hell. “Shut up,” is all she can manage to say. “I’m still half asleep, I mean, you should be lucky I already brushed my teeth before you surprised me.”

“Mm,” Spencer hums, running his tongue over his teeth, “that’s why you’re so minty.”

She just pulls away and reaches for her coffee, “And now I can’t drink this until the minty-ness goes away, so thank you.”

“Should I go awa—

“No,” she rushes out. “No, you can stay. I can drive you home on my way to work.”

“Okay,” he can’t help but giggle a bit as he makes his way closer to her, reaching out for her waist. “You like me…”

“Shush!” She swats him away, “I have to get ready, don’t tempt me.”

“Just one more kiss? Come on, isn’t it the deal that I compliment you and you kiss me?” He begs. “You’re so beautiful and smart and lovely—

She steps closer to him and presses her lips right to his only to pull back just as fast. He cups her face in his hands and stops her from moving away too fast and peppers kisses to her lips. “Spence— Spencer!” She giggles while trying to pull away, “Seriously, I have to go to work!!”

“Fine,” Spencer sighs as he lets her go, only to pull her back in for one last kiss. “Okay, now you can go.”

She just laughs as she pulls away and heads back to her room, “Come on, you can sit in my room while I get ready.”

“Really?” He follows even though he doesn’t believe her.

“Why not?” She doesn’t see why it’s a big deal, “I’m just doing my makeup and then I have to pick an outfit and I’ll change in the bathroom?”

“Okay, yeah, sorry I just thought you meant you’d change in front of me and I didn’t think we were there yet?”

“Oh, no,” she agrees. Taking a seat at her little makeup desk, she turns to him. “When do you think we should be ready for something like that?”

“When do you want to?” He questions her right back.

She shrugs, “I don’t know… this Saturday is 2 weeks of us being together so, I mean, most couples start moving further around then?”

“We’re not most couples,” he reminds her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Spencer hesitates, he looks a little nervous but he sits on the end of her bed anyway. “I’ve never had sex before… I’ve wanted to, I’ve tried.”

“I’ve never even tried,” she’s incredibly honest. “Making out is as far as I’ve gone with anyone.”

“Really?” He almost can’t believe it. “Why?”

She shrugs, “I’m over-emotional and incredibly soft. I can’t do one-night stands and I’ve never trusted anyone enough to experiment before.”

“Oh,” Spencer softens, “you feel safe with me?”

She nods, “Extremely.”

He gets up and wraps his arms around her, resting his cheek against the top of her head. She snuggles into him and holds onto one of his forearms, they both sigh. Completely content with one another.

—

They agreed to try and go further on Friday night. They both have weekends off, so they could spend the whole weekend together if they wanted to.

And when Friday comes, she isn’t nervous. It’s just a Friday.

She placed an order for Chinese food when she got home from work and texted Spencer right after so he could get it on his way over. It was closer to his place and convenient this way and he just liked to get it for them. And while he’s on his way, she takes the time to bring out some comfy blankets to put on the couch for their cuddles later and she lights some candles and turns on her fairy lights. Her whole living room is set in a soft, romantic mood with the hopes that they could do more than just cuddle tonight…

Spencer knocks 3 times to let her know it’s him and then he walks in, “Hey, so they ran out of spring rolls but they gave us egg rolls instead, is that cool?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she doesn’t care, rushing over to the door she takes the bags from him and puts them on the table by the door instead.

He slips out of his shoes and puts them beside hers, then he takes his bag off and places it beside his shoes, next he takes off his coat and hangs it up. He even locks her front door for her, these are all things he’s used to doing after 2 weeks of visiting. She clears her throat when he takes too long to turn back to her, “excuse me, I’m waiting,” she teases.

“Sorry,” he steps closer to her and places his hand on her cheek as he leans in for his welcome home kiss. It’s a new tradition that she loves so much and clearly he does too as she can feel him smile through the kiss. He kisses her once, twice and a 3rd time just because he can, “there, happy?”

She shakes her head and cups both his cheeks, pulling him in for a longer, more passionate kiss. His hands go to her waist, holding her closer to his body, he wraps her up in a hug as well. She pulls back with an audible “mwah,” and a smile on her own face. “Now I’m happy.”

“You’re so cute,” he compliments. “I missed you so much today.”

“I missed you, handsome,” she compliments right back. “Um, I missed you so much I was wondering if maybe you’d want to stay over tonight?”

“Oh?” He’s only slightly surprised, “yeah, I’d like that… I just need to check my bag, hold on.”

“Okay?” She’s a little confused about why he has to, but she doesn’t ask any questions. She just watches him open up his satchel and search the pockets.

“Oh, good,” he says with relief in his voice as he pulls out a bottle of pills and his toothbrush. “I haven’t told you yet, but I’m on antidepressants… I take them every night before bed.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she says without a second thought. “Do they help?”

He nods, putting them back in his bag until later, “Yeah, I like them.”

“Good, now, come on,” she grabs the bag of food and makes her way over to the kitchen so she can start dishing everything out. “Did you check that they had everything?”

“You bet, after they forgot the red sauce last time I’m never not checking the bag again,” he says as he follows her.

They spend a few minutes in the kitchen as they fill their plates with a variety of food. Spencer opts for a fork while she uses the chopsticks provided in the bag and then they move back to the living room. They put their plates on the coffee table and sit down criss-cross apple sauce together on the floor in front of the couch. The remote is on Spencer's side of the table, and the TV is on and ready for them to pick a show, but instead, Spencer asks how her day went.

“Oh, it was okay with my juniors we worked on SAT prep and then with my 3 freshman classes we worked on their independent study unit and I’m now considered the cool teacher cause I let them listen to their music while they read,” she shares with a smile. “And then for my spare I filled in for Miss Tyndall, the arts teacher, so we watched a David Bowie doc while they all worked on different projects.”

“Sounds like a fun day,” Spencer loves to listen to her talk about it all. “You’d be my favourite teacher too.”

“I know,” she can’t help but smile. “How was your day?”

He shrugs, taking a forkful of fried rice, he covers his mouth with his hand while he talks, “It was okay, no one died so that’s a bonus.”

For the rest of their meal, they share little stories, about their day and things they heard on the news or on TikTok, funny anecdotes and memories from their separate pasts. It’s nice. She could listen to him all day and he felt the same. When their plates are empty, they both lean back against the couch and Spencer turns to stare at her with so much love in his eyes.

“I’m really enjoying my nights with you,” he shares, and in the silence, she feels it. But he says it anyway, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says and a feeling of relief flows out of her in the form of a sigh. Her shoulders drop, and she looks over at him with a sweet smile, silent as they take in the moment. “I love you so much.”

He places his hand on top of hers, both of them are in too much of a food coma to move closer or kiss or anything. They just hold hands and stare at each other.

“I get it now,” she whispers. “I understand what she’s been singing about all these years… this feeling right here. It’s worth the heartbreak, I think.”

“I can’t tell the future, but I know I never want to leave you,” Spencer replies, voice equally as soft. “I want everything with you.”

Her heart starts to beat out of her chest but she knows she has to ask it. “Would you be my first?”

“Only if you’d be mine?”

She nods, tears bubbling behind her eyes, and she squeezes his hand. “I’d love nothing more… but I’m in a food coma right now.”

Spencer breaks out in a burst of historical laughter first, causing her to laugh just as hard and lean into his shoulder.

“Well, then it’s a good thing we have all weekend,” Spencer finally says, he wraps his arm around her and holds her close.

“Even if we don’t do it tonight, do you want to sleep in my bed with me?”

He nods against her, “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about that a lot actually. It’s really hard to leave here in the middle of the night knowing you’re sleeping alone in there when we were just cuddling right here,” he motions to the couch. “I want to wake up with you next to me every morning.”

The warmth that fills her stomach is a mixture of extreme happiness but also anxiety… it’s almost too good to be true. She pulls away and looks up at him with fearful eyes, “is it normal to fall in love this fast?” The words just tumble out of her.

Spencer shrugs, “I mean… I’ve always heard the saying ‘when you know, you know’ and I’ve read a lot about love at first sight and the way we pick our mates based on familiar facial structures that make us feel safe… and I’ve been in love before and I never met her—

“But I understand why you loved her, she was the only person in your life other than your mother to truly take care of you and listen…” Y/N cuts him off, remembering the night he told her all about Maeve.

“Yeah, and from the first day I met you, you’ve done the same,” Spencer reminds her. “You brought me muffins so that I’d have something to eat before work and you wanted to help me unpack and every day since you have cared for me more than anyone I know. Onto of that you’re beautiful and easy to talk to and you’re not only wonderful to me, but to everyone, you know. It wasn’t hard for me to love you, I’m just surprised you love me.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters I’m a 42-year-old man who’s spent the last 20 years of my life hunting serial killers and I had a drug problem and I’ve killed people and I was in prison… you know everything and you still love me?” Spencer really can’t believe it.

“Mhm, I love you because despite all that shit that’s happened to you, you still have a sweet smile and a big heart and the best mind I know,” Y/N confirms everything he needed to know. “I love you because you’re you. There’s no other reason.”

He cups her cheek and looks at her with the softest expression known to man, “I’m going to love you forever.”

“Show me?” she whispers, pleading with her eyes to know just how much he loves her.

“Do we just leave our plates here?” He teases, going to stand up.

“I guess we can put them away,” she agrees, she moves to her knees and gathers up her own plate while Spencer does the same with his.

They meet again in the kitchen, placing both plates in her dishwasher, she turns to the leftovers and starts to pack them away while Spencer moves back over to his bag. He grabs his phone and something else while she’s not looking and he opens up Spotify. He doesn’t have many songs saved to his account, just some classical music and the most important song… Sweet Nothing.

She turns to him within milliseconds, “Spence?”

He places his phone on the counter and hands her a little rock, one he picked up on his walk over to see her before work last week. He never had the time to give it to her between all their kissing and her getting ready for work. “Here… it’s only May but I can get you another rock in July.”

She doesn’t want to speak or she’ll cry, but she manages to say: “okay,” as she takes it from him and steps into his space to dance again. In her kitchen this time…

She rests her head on his shoulder, his arms around her waist, they sway to the sound of the music and hold each other close. And then he kisses her shoulder and the side of her neck up to her ear. He cups her face in his hand and stares into her eyes, “bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” she agrees, taking his hand in hers, she leads him back into her room and turns on just the one table lamp she has beside her bed, “should we light candles and stuff?”

“Do you want to?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know, isn’t that what people do when they have special sex?”

“Special sex?”

“You know, first times, birthday sex, anniversary sex… emotional sex,” she redefines what she meant and surprisingly she isn’t embarrassed.

“Candles would be nice, then,” Spencer agrees with a smile. “Do you have condoms? Are you on the pill?”

She smirks, “I bought some condoms on Tuesday after work.”

He watches her open her bedside table and take out the box of condoms and a lighter, she hands him the condoms, “Here.”

“Thanks,” he reads them over, latex-free, real feel, they’d work perfectly.

While he’s reading over the box, she lights a few candles in her room and he takes a seat on the side of her bed, watching her. When she returns to him, she stands between his legs and rests her hands on his shoulders. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” Spencer smiles up at her and reaches out to hold her hips. He plays with the hem of her shirt, “how do you want to do this?”

“Can we strip down to our underwear and get into bed and kiss for a bit and see where it goes?”

“Of course, yeah, that sounds good,” Spencer agrees, he pushes up her shirt and she lifts her arms to help. Spencer has to stand up to pull it all the way off and then he looks down at her in her bra. “wow…”

“Thanks,” she smirks, shaking her head as she reaches for his shirt to undo the buttons, “they’re just boobs…”

“Just boobs,” he repeats with a small chuckle. “I’ll have you know everything about you is spectacular.” And with a rush of confidence, he cups both breasts with his hands, he runs his thumbs over where her nipples are hidden under the fabric and she has to bite her lip so she doesn’t moan.

“Do you like that?”

She nods and pushes his shirt off his shoulders until it's discarded on the floor. “Yeah. I don’t think you’ve ever noticed but… your hands… I watch them when you talk and when you’re tracing a page as you read really fast and you use two fingers instead of one and I’ve wanted you to touch me from the moment I saw you.”

“Mmm,” he turns her around and motions for her to get on the bed and she moves quickly, she’s resting her head on the pillows when he’s suddenly hovering over her.

He runs his pointer finger from her chin, down her neck and between the crease of her breasts before cupping them both again and places kisses on her exposed chest. She arches into the contact and his hands follow both her arms until his fingers are interlocked with hers. Holding them over her head as he kisses her neck and shoulder.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, “how’d I get so lucky?”

“We have a great mutual friend, remember?” She teases,

He groans “Don’t mention her when I’m about to go down on you…” he says as he nibbles at her skin and it makes her moan, grinding her hips up against him, she wants him so bad but she still has her pants on. He sits on his knees between her spread legs and undoes the button as she lifts her hips, helping him glide them down her legs and off. He tosses them to the floor and goes right back in, gripping her by the hips he leans down and kisses her stomach… something she never thought any man would do.

He wants her just as bad as she wants him and it’s prevalent in the way his eyes are blown out as he looks up at her, pleading with his eyes, all he says is “Can I?” And she nods. He pulls her underwear down and tosses them off only to lift one and kiss from her ankle and all the way up to her knee and then he dips in closer, smothering her inner thigh with kisses and nips and then he sucks a deep purple mark into her skin, lapping over it with his tongue before blowing on it softly.

“Holy fuck,” she moans as he gets closer to her pussy and all she wants is his hands on her.

Almost like he reads her mind, he moves to the other leg and hurries along until he’s kissing right along where her underwear used to meet her thigh. Then, he spreads her pussy and licks a broad stripe along her cunt. He presses a kiss to her clit next as she bucks her hips into the sensation, “Oh my god, Spence?”

“Shh,” he whispers, looking up at her from between her legs like a man starved. “Just enjoy it, I’ve always wanted to do this.”

She’s so turned on from the teasing alone, and then he adds a finger, he gently circles it around her hole before inserting it slowly, seeing how much give she has before he takes it all. The feeling of his tongue on her is unlike anything she’s ever felt before, he’s soft yet rough and sweet yet disgusting with the noises he’s making. She can’t help reaching out and gripping his hair as her hips lift from the bed again. With only one free hand, he pushes her back down against the bed and she whines. When he adds a second finger, the stretch isn’t too much to handle, he’s so much better with his hands than she figured he’d be as he finger fucks her. His tongue on her clit and freehand trails from her hip up to grip her tit as he grinds against the mattress, he’s so into it she’s worried he might not get to really fuck her.

“Spencer,” she pants, “holy fuck Spence, please, oh my god,” she can barely make it through the sentence when his fingers curl and her legs tremble.

“Cum for me,” he growls against her and her body listens as she jolts forward and she feels the rush flow through her bloodstream.

“Oh!” she cups her breast and arches her back, oblivious to how he watches her while still lapping at her clit.

When it gets to be too much for her, she grips his hair tighter and pulls him off, “fuck me, now… please?”

“Is it an order or a suggestion,” he teases as he kisses back up her body with his glistening and wet lips, “well?”

“Please?” She looks at him with the sweetest, most fucked out expression. “That was amazing, baby.”

“Fuck,” he groans and drags himself off the bed so he can push his pants and boxers off in one fell swoop. Now, only in his mismatched socks, he doesn’t really have the time to take them off as he reaches for the abandoned box of condoms at the foot of her bed.

She watches contently as he hastily rips it open and rolls it on before he gets back on the bed. He gets right back to where he was, between her legs, he places his hands on her knees and soothes them down her inner thighs, “you sure?”

She nods, “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” he says with a deep breath, readying himself in the meantime, he grips himself at the base and pushes the head into her, inch by inch, he watches as her mouth opens in a silent gasp.

“My god…” he coos, “it’s like you were fuckin made for me.”

She’s speechless, reading out for more of him, she’s desperate for his touch. Her hands land on his hips, his skin is so soft and warm and then they’re flush together. He bottoms out and stills, he drops down so that they’re chest to chest and she cups his face instead, “Hi…”

“Hi,” he manages to laugh, holding himself up with one arm, his other hand pushes her hair back off her forehead and stays there. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she says as she pulls him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue, he collapses onto her and wraps his arm around her, angling her hips up as he starts to thrust.

The kiss gets hungrier, and they moan into each other as he picks up the pace, really fucking her just like she asked him to. She has no idea where this side of him came from but she can’t explain how much she likes it, the hand that was once in her hair is now pushed into the pillow, bracing himself as he hovers and fucks her deeply.

She absentmindedly runs her hand along his forearm and takes his hands in hers, interlocking their fingers before he holds it over her head again and fucks into her with vigour. Her legs wrap around him, every trust grinds his pubic bone against her clit and she’s still so sensitive, she’s so incredibly close that all she can do is sloppily kiss him and moan into his mouth.

His hips snap faster and faster as he fucks her and she can’t hold back anymore when she tosses her head back and sucks him in more. “Oh my god,” and “Holy fuck,” is all she can say, making him smirk.

He’s trying his hardest to keep his composure, breathing quickly, it’s the best workout he’s ever had trying to keep the pace and please her right. “I might,” he says between pants, “I might last a while… cause my meds—

“I don’t care,” she uses her free hand to cup his cheek again, “I want to stay here forever, holy shit.”

“Yeah?”

She tosses her head back again, “Oh my god, yeah!”

He just laughs and it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever heard. She’s right there at the edge when he retrieves his hand from behind her back and rubs his thumb over her clit, “you can cum, if you want.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she says, running her hand down his chest and looking between them to see what he’s doing, “I want to finish with you.”

His grip on the hand she’s holding gets tighter, he’s sweaty and losing stamina and nowhere close to being done. “Do you want to switch positions?” She asks, “It’s okay?”

“Can we?” He slows to a stop, “you’re okay with that?”

“Spence, I love you,” she reminds him, “It’s fine, it’s better than fine, actually… I’ve heard all my friends talk about dudes who last 5 seconds, this is more than I ever expected.”

“I’m just anxious, you can see why I take them,” he gets all blushy and bashful as he lets go of her hand, pulls out and sits back up on his knees.

She sits up too, taking her bra off in the process. She tosses it to the floor and his jaw drops when he sees her naked chest, “fuck..” He mumbles under his breath.

“Here, you sit up against the headboard,” she suggests, moving out of the way so he can take her place.

Once he’s settled she straddles his hips and takes his cock in her hand, angling it toward her entering as she sits upon it. Once he’s fully inside she drapes her arms around his shoulders and smiles at him, “We can do it this way… now you’ve got a face full of tits.”

His hands soothe down her bare back down to her hips, he licks his lips as he looks at them and helps her glide her body against his. “My god,” he all but moans, watching her boobs jiggle as she starts to really ride him.

“You’re so deep,” she moans, tossing her head back again to free up her neck, he pulls her in and kisses her from her shoulder up to her ear, lighting sucking at her earlobe, he brings his hand up to cup her cheek and ends up gripping her hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her to the side so he can messily smother her in kisses. “No marks, I have teenagers to teach, ‘member? They’re fucking ruthless.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, too into it to really care, his other hand reaches down to thumb at her clit, he’s getting close and she wants to finish with him.

He finally does cup her face with the hand that was just in her hair, he caresses her cheek with his thumb, pulling her back in for a kiss that’s all tongue. She moans into his mouth, running her hands down his chest, she uses his as leverage to keep pushing back before grinding down on him, he’s right against her g-spot and so fucking deep she can feel him everywhere, “Spence,” she whines, pulling back from the kiss, “are you close?”

“Uh-huh,” he pulls her back in, kissing her deeper, he wraps both his arms around her back and lifts her up, laying her back against the bed and slams his hips into hers over and over.

Her back arches again and she opens her mouth in a silent moan, it’s so good she can barely breathe. She reaches out for him, gripping his biceps, he attacks her neck again, covering her in sloppy kisses and hot breath. His pelvic bone grinds against her clit, again and again, bringing her right to the edge again until she finally peaks, moaning, she arches her back as her orgasm rushes through her but he doesn’t stop. He fucks her through it, chasing his own high.

“Fuck, I love you, I love you so much,” he mumbles, through his last few thrusts, and then he stills with a groan, filling the condom, he drops down against her.

they’re a ball of limbs, holding each other so close she doesn’t know where she ends and he begins. He buries his face in her neck, still kissing her, she holds him tighter, “I love you so much, too, Spencer.”

taglist:

@reidsbookclub @samuel-de-champagne-problems @superskittles @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @midnightreids @ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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books · 2 years

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Writer Spotlight: Tamsyn Muir

Tamsyn Muir probably doesn’t need a lot of introduction here on Tumblr, but for those who aren’t yet familiar with her work: Tamsyn Muir is the bestselling author of the Locked Tomb Series. Her fiction has won the Locus and Crawford awards. It has been nominated for the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award, the Shirley Jackson Award, the World Fantasy Award, the Dragon Award, and the Eugie Foster Memorial Award. A Kiwi, she has spent most of her life in Howick, New Zealand, with time living in Waiuku and central Wellington. She currently lives and works in Oxford, in the United Kingdom.

We asked Tamsyn some questions about Nona the Ninth, the next installment of the Locked Tomb series, which comes out on September 13. (Mild spoilers ahead. You have been warned!)

Can you tell us about Nona the Ninth? How would you contextualize it alongside the previous Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth?

The Locked Tomb has always followed a concrete set of rules about whose point of view we’re in—there’s a priority list and a hard if-and-else-if set of codes about who is telling the tale. The priority character is always Gideon Nav herself, but after Gideon the Ninth, in many ways, she gets knocked out of the ring.

Nona is the next rule on the priority list—the next storyteller. Except there are also a bunch of other storytellers popping up in the priority list as she lets her guard down. That’s kind of one curtain I wanted to pull back on The Locked Tomb as a whole. Who’s telling this story? What is the truth as someone else understands it? Which is why, where the last two books have been told very much from the perspectives of the Nine Houses, we’re finally in a setting where the Houses have pulled back, and the truth told is completely different.

You have a knack for approaching the next part of the story from a completely different vantage point, which is deliciously frustrating for the reader. Why do you think this works so well (when really, it sort of shouldn’t)?

Oh, but it does, and it’s been proved to work—just play an RPG! One thing I passionately loved in Final Fantasy IX, my very favourite Final Fantasy at the end of the day, is that one moment you’re with the thief-turned-thespian Zidane and a wonderfully dashing attempt to kidnap a princess in the middle of a theater performance—then you’re with…some very bizarre kid called Vivi…who has lost his ticket and is getting negged by a horrifying rat child. You’re given a completely different lens on a completely different situation in what’s basically a completely different genre. In the same game! There’s a risk of getting too comfortable in someone’s truth—you might want to settle down in a character whom you have learned to understand. But then you have to practice a very radical empathy in settling down in Nona, who just absolutely does not give a shit about swords or empire and, at her worst, can be quite an irritating, materialistic babe in the woods who is WAY too into dogs. Of course it’s alienating. If the experience of being in Gideon’s head was the same as being in Harrow’s as being in Nona’s, there wouldn’t be any point. If different vantage points didn’t work, A Song of Ice and Fire would never have gotten off the ground. Hell, neither would The Iliad. I just sit longer with my vantage point.

After writing foul-mouthed and horny Gideon and acerbic, memory-challenged, and also horny Harrow, how did you approach writing Nona’s character, and what did you enjoy most about the process?

Harrow would hate that you described her as horny. Gideon would be fine with being described as horny. Nona would love to sit you down and talk about all the things that make her horny, at the end of which you are 50% worried that she doesn’t honestly understand ‘horny,’ and 50% worried that she DOES understand ‘horny.’

Nona is my character who doesn’t give a fuck. Gideon and Harrow both give too many. It was fun to write a character who sincerely seeks out love as she understands it, who has a large collection of friends and interests, and has no ambition. And yet what I really enjoyed is that Nona is easily also the most terrifying POV character of the series.

We meet some old friends in a new place in Nona. What aspect of the familiar characters meeting the unfamiliar world was the most fun to write?

Honestly, the fact that they’re in such a different milieu was fun enough. One is a woman completely out of time, trying to find something to live for; two are dyed-in-the-wool Housers forced to re-examine values they’ve always taken for granted and what the next part of life after death is going to look like for them. All three are fish out of water. And then there’s actually the reader meeting the familiar after two long books about the unfamiliar, and all the ways I hope that’s entirely weird and recontextualizing. And then, for Nona, what’s familiar to us is entirely unfamiliar to her. Writing Nona was like one long experiment with jamais vu.

When Lyctorhood goes south or gets experimented with, we get someone’s mind in someone else’s body. What is it that drew you to writing this Cartesian mechanism into the universe of the Nine Houses?

Oh my God, please do not spring words like Cartesian on me, I have not had lunch yet.

My understanding is that Descartes thought mind and matter were two completely different things and then got stuck trying to explain why they don’t feel like two completely different things. So if someone kicks you in the goolies and your mind forms the thought ‘yowch, my goolies,’ how is that mind-matter gulf being bridged? Minds in The Locked Tomb lose to matter nine times out of ten. (This is linked, not coincidentally, to my experience of psychosis.) Gideon’s mind is constantly in danger of being sucked away into the storm drain of Harrow’s matter. Revenants are minds that have temporarily anchored themselves to foreign matter, but over time the matter exerts itself, and the mind starts to fall apart. So when you get a mind that’s big enough not only to resist the matter it’s attached to but actually to start burning that matter up…well, what kind of mind could possibly be so powerful?? (Significant looks at camera.)

You’ve previously headcanoned the often affectionately named “Jod” as Taika Waititi (which offers up the potential for some delightful space-god-gay-pirate crossover fic, thank you). Do you have any casting headcanons for the other characters?

I have recently admitted to loving Erana James as Harrow, except I don’t think Harrowhark is quite that good-looking.

By the way, I wish I had come up with Jod. Whoever did, well done you.

We know you’re not allowed to read fanfic for legal reasons, but who would you find intriguing as a ship proposition and why?

I find all ships intriguing. I’ve spent too long in these mines. No ship is too problematic or cracky for me. My only hope is to out-fandom fandom by presenting them with ships more problematic and crack-filled than they do (I will not; fandom always wins). In these tiresome days where ship wars have been taking on airs, as is my understanding, of virtue versus sin (I don’t even know what Bakudeku is and yet I feel sorry for anyone who ships it; I didn’t ship Reylo because it wasn’t messed-up enough and feel the same), I hope the Locked Tomb fandom is just accepting that all shipping is batshit and every ship is just as bad as the next. Gideon x Harrow is just as bad as Teacher x Crux is as bad as Hot Sauce x Cytherea the First is as bad as Camilla x Juno Zeta is as bad as Silas x Every Asht Brother (actually, I wrote the Asht brothers in an unrelated piece that’ll never see the light of day and imo they’ve suffered enough, but).

I was in the Kingdom Hearts fandom briefly. We shipped people with Goofy. Actually, let’s go with that. Naberius Tern x Goofy. On second thought, please don’t go with that. Goofy had a happy marriage and would know better.

This question has sparked some debate among the editorial team here because we absolutely can’t agree on one. Do you have a favorite character?

Yes. As of twenty seconds ago, it’s Naberius because I can’t enthuse enough over how he and Goofy’s relationship would break down because Babs spends so much money on silk pillowcases to avoid hair frizz. He only needs two, max, but has twenty. I hope Goofy goes on longer and longer adventures with Sora and Donald to try to ignore how his love life is breaking down over Naberius leaving the wedding they were just attending because he saw some other dude wearing the same shirt. Leave him, Goofy!!!

If Nona had a Tumblr, what would it be called, and what would she post?

It would just be a single text post with ‘hi,’ and she didn’t even write it. She dictated to Camilla, then ran out of ideas. Her profile just says ‘nona,’ and it’s a default layout. Nona just wouldn’t see the point of Tumblr, even if you told her there were pictures of dogs: why would you want to see a picture of a dog when you could be near a dog in real life? (I told you Nona was scary.)

Which house would you belong to, and do you see yourself more as an adept or cavalier?

I belong to No House. I’ve never been able to belong to a House. I’ve never been able to sort myself into anything really; I’ve tried, and nothing sticks. I can’t be an adept or a cavalier either, I’m just sitting in the corner glumly eating hot dogs. I guess I’m Hot Dog House.

The Locked Tomb fanart is strong here on Tumblr. Do you have a favorite piece you’ve seen recently?

Every piece I have seen recently is my most favorite piece! I was just in Spain for the Celsius convention, and the most intensely wonderful thing was that I came away with fan art that the fans have done. I don’t know what they’re feeding them there in Spain, but pretty much every fan was just nonchalantly like, ‘I drew this,’ and presented me with the goddamn Sistine Chapel. Someone had, while they were waiting in a queue, just filled a sketchbook with the most incredible work on the fly. Special shout-out to a marvelous flipbook I got where Harrow and Gideon are ducks.

The plan was for Alecto the Ninth to be the third and last book. Here we are with Nona the Ninth and Alecto still set to appear (we are not complaining). How has that process been?

AWFUL!!!!

It took me a long time to let go of the fact that it wasn’t going to be a trilogy; it was four books. I want the story to be done now! For one thing, because I’m really excited about the ending, and for another thing, the longer this goes on, the more of a terrible gremlin I become. The Locked Tomb is very special to me, but also I have five million other stories to write and only so long in a lifetime. I’ve been with this world since 2018, and I am wildly excited to get to all the other places. My editor and I will, I think, shed a sentimental tear on the final page, but also, you haven’t even met Teresa Santos yet, who has kept every gun she has ever loved.

What kind of writer are you? A plotter? A pantser? Do you have any morning rituals that set you up for a day of writing?

Plotter. I envy pantsers and gardeners. This is why Nona being unexpected got to me so much. I don’t actually have any rituals or exercises or anything—it’s important for me to have a specific writing space and a good breakfast. But every book is different. Like, what helped with Harrow was breaking every so often to die in Donkey Kong Country.

Do you have any writing or publishing or life advice for any budding queer sci-fi writers reading this?

I see so many writers—and this may also have something to do with being a queer writer—giving themselves SUCH a goddamned hard time. If I could give any advice to them, it would be to stop beating themselves up so much. I’m really dubious at how there’s this perceived glamorous youthquake to writing— like, that if you haven’t been published by 25 and don’t have BookTok at your feet, you’re a failure—it is so much more important to live your life. I’m so grateful I lived in an era where I could write fanfiction, for instance, and not have the sense that it ought to be my side hustle. You don’t have to have published the world’s most important and meaningful queer SFF story by the time you are 29. You don’t need to have done jack shit.

I do have one piece of practical life advice because if I have any regrets, it is that for a large portion of my early twenties, I used to consume like six cans of Mountain Dew a day. I don’t think this sparked queer joy. I think it stripped away all my tooth enamel. You will LOVE having tooth enamel in your old age, so stop.

The Locked Tomb is seriously good and gloriously queer, and its continued success will hopefully encourage more publishers to publish more queer sci-fi, all of the time. Do you have any queer sci-fi reading recs to tide us over while we await Alecto?

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh is coming soon. It should really be called Problematic Gays I Have Loved (this is why they don’t let me title things).

Thank you so much to Tamsyn for taking the time to answer our questions! We’re so excited to see everyone’s reactions to Nona the Ninth when she arrives on September 13!! In the meantime, head over to the #the locked tomb tag for fan theories, fics, and art (remember to filter for spoilers)!

#writer spotlight #tamsyn muir #nona the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth #you can't spell necromantic without romantic #the locked tomb #writers on tumblr #tlt #lgbtqia+ lit #lgbtqia+ reading recs

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slyscoutess · 9 days

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I'm going to be taking advantage of the trailer for Senna's new miniseries to explain a subject that Brazil has been talking about for years, and that I think is important to share, so as not to have disagreements with the somewhat uncertain future of the script made for the miniseries.

Explaining why many Senna fans don't like Xuxa, a great artist and his most famous ex.

All the information in this was taken and translated from a thread, which was taken from several public interviews and also from stories that we have been told about Senna since we were little, so I may forget some details!

the release of the trailer for the Netflix series “SENNA” has revived the debate about how Senna’s relationship with Xuxa is portrayed in the media. Firstly, it is important to know that they had a public relationship between 1988 and 1990 (we don't know for sure) their relationship was very well regarded by the media and by the pilot's family, after the end the two continued to be “friends” publicly for more 2 years

In 1993 Ayrton began dating Adriane Galisteu, which according to some articles irritated the pilot's family, as in addition to liking Xuxa a lot (who was already famous and rich at that time), they thought that his current girlfriend might have had her eye on his money. Shortly after the beginning of Senna and Galisteu's relationship, there were some interviews with the singer Xuxa, saying that Ayrton had cut off contact with her because of his new girlfriend, clearly with the intention of being welcomed by the public as the “poor thing” in the situation.

[ TRANSLATION: after the funeral, Galisteu's relationship with Xuxa, however, was shaken. The presenter and pilot dated for approximately one year and eight months and continued to meet for more two years after they broke up. Then Senna started dating Galisteu and "cut contacts" ]

After the fateful accident, which unfortunately ended up taking the great Brazilian idol, Senna's family continued to exclude Galisteu and support Xuxa, which led many fans to side with the model since she had just lost her boyfriend and was without any support.

[ TRANSLATION 1: Family members welcomed the queen of little kids with open arms, but they did not hug Galisteu. At the time, one of the last in the procession reported - Xuxa was if the car Adriane was in was in the second car, just behind the car that carried Senna's body. ]

[ TRANSLATION 2: Crying a lot, Galisteu said that the two of them were having a great time in their relationship, that she was very much in love and had no idea what she was going to do with her life. "I think I'm living a nightmare and I'm going to wake up. There are moments when I'm strong, aware of everything, and others when I'm totally out of my mind. And I suddenly find myself completely alone, because I lost my boyfriend", said the model. "I wanted to go back in time two days to do something and stop everything ," she added. "But for me he was untouchable, he always came out well of accidents.” ]

[ TRANSLATION 3: When Adriane arrived at the burial site, there were only two empty chairs left, both next to Xuxa. She sat to the right of the presenter. The two spent two "long" minutes without even looking at each other, until someone offered Xuxa a seat next to Leonardo Senna, the driver's brother. ]

It is also worth mentioning that many of Senna's friends stated that he said that Galisteu was the love of his life and that he wanted to build a family with the model. However, Xuxa continued going after the pilot to try to get back together while he was still with the model.

[ TRANSLATION 1 : Then, according to the report, the presenter got into the family car, accompanied by Ayrton's sister, Viviane Senna, and left with them, while Galisteu had to walk to the exit of the cemetery and board a bus reserved for guests. For the journalists covering the burial, there was a clear impression that Adriane had not received the consideration that the three-time world champion himself had been giving his girlfriend. ]

[ TRANSLATION 2: Journalist Lemyr Martins, author of the book "A Star Called Senna", said, in a BBC documentary, that Galisteu was Senna's great love and "could have been the mother of his children", if it weren't for accident that killed the athlete in Italy. However, there are also theories of that Xuxa and Sena had talked about day before the accident and would have decided to resume the relationship. ]

[ TRANSLATION 3: In 1993, Senna opened up about the relationship that lives with Galisteus: "I'm very happy. [...] Having a life. As we Brazilian (pilots), traveling the world with Formula 1, we deserve, sometimes, to take a little calm and share our life with a special woman", he stated. ]

Okay love, but what's up? Why is there so much antipathy between Xuxa and motorsport fans? The reality is, the reason is that she used a lot of the driver's image to promote herself even after the accident, in addition to trying to force that SHE was the great love of his life, it is worth mentioning that the rumors that they had talked before the race were initiated, and are remembered, by her and her alone, with a video and/or interview talking year after year about a supposed connection they both had, always pretending to be a repentant widow, and Senna had two love affairs before Galisteu, after da Xuxa. Even after 30 years she still continues to share their INTIMATE moments, which in my opinion is totally disrespectful to Ayrton

She is known for wanting to convey the image of an “inconsolable widow” to this day, which is an image that doesn't work very well in Brazil, especially those who follow the interviews with Ayrton's friends, and Adriane herself, who leave It's very clear the pure love they felt for each other, as Adriane was the love of his life, he wanted to form his family with her, and one of Ayrton's biggest dreams was to be a father, so he could understand that he wanted to fulfill this dream about her says a lot about his love for her

apparently the Senna series will show this Xuxa character as a “widow” figure for Ayrton, especially because here we know that Adriane was not called to help in any way regarding her moments with him during the development of the series, to be clearer , she thought the character's name wouldn't be hers, she thought they would make her a fictional character.

Unlike Xuxa, Galisteu's interviews are rarely trying to “get back into the media” using Senna's name, as well as being very elegant when mentioning all of the presenter's “stories”.

“butterfly path, my 405 days alongside Ayrton Senna” by Adriane Galisteu

Adriane received an offer to be a Grid Girl at the 1993 Brazilian Grand Prix. She didn't like the idea, because she didn't care about F1, but she ended up agreeing as it was a good proposal. The first meeting with Senna took place on Saturday, during a social event at the Shell hospitality center, but they did not interact. On race Sunday, during the pitwalk, she was approached near the McLaren pits "I'm Ayrton Senna's private affairs advisor. He asked me to get his phone number." She passed and continued her work. She, who initially didn't like racing, found herself cheering madly for the Brazilian to win the race. And he won!

During the celebration given by Shell, all the grid girls came to him to congratulate him. She congratulated him and he asked her to celebrate with him. She refused. He called her the next day and asked her out. She refused again. He invited her to a party. She got a puncture and didn't go AGAIN hahaha

HE ENDED UP AT HER AGENCY OUT OF NOWHERE, everyone was euphoric.

They met at his house and arranged to go to Angra. They went in a helicopter piloted by Senna himself. She says that those days were extremely happy, she talks about her first kiss and the many walks on the beach and diving with her dog Kinda. Still on that same trip, he invented that there was a problem in the room she was in and took her to another "It's my room. Now it's yours too. Make yourself comfortable", From then on, they never let go!

She was introduced into F1, as his girlfriend, at the Monaco GP. She received a private lesson on all the characteristics of the track and was introduced to Berger, Braguinha, Rubinho, Betise, Galvão. He won the race and said it was for her. Upon returning from that incredible trip he says:

"Please don't ever change. If I had to ask you for something, it would be to be exactly who you are. You just don't need to drink so much Coca-Cola, go to so many McDonald's and, seriously, I think you should study English"

Already in Brazil, Dri was looking for a used car to buy. Then on a date that wouldn't be anything special, he surprises her with a brand new silver Uno. The car was full of flowers. On the plate a special detail: "DRI7770". She still has this car today.

Another cute episode was one time they got into an argument over an interview she gave to a magazine. To apologize later, he surprises her:

"Have you been to the bank yet?”

He gave a beautiful interview about how much he loved her, he even gave images of the two of them to Caras magazine.

"One day, I'm going to marry you. And one day I'm going to race in a Ferrari. Even if the Ferrari car drives as fast as a beetle car, I want to be there at my last start, my last lap, my last checkout - I dreamed. - Ferrari is the mystique of Formula 1"

Many say that this relationship made Senna a happier man. That Galisteus made him much happier and lighter.

Words from one of the most important people in the pilot's life, Braguinha: “Ayrton was sad and she made him happier”

The book tells this and much more.

It was such a cute story that it seems like fanfic. Dri moved on with her life, but she always carries this important part with her. She says that she would never want her story to be disconnected from his, that she has the honor of being Senna's ex.

For those who like these behind-the-scenes things, it's worth reading! There are so many more stories there!

I admire Adriane Galisteu so much

She was so young and had to deal with so much. I saw some interviews that were clearly rude to her and she never lost her class!

April 30, 1994

"I have a lot to tell you. To propose to you. To offer you - he continued. I must be there at 8:30 pm, or so. I want to spend the night awake. Let's talk until dawn. I want to convince you that I am, by the way, the best man of your life"

Sempre Senna.

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blurredcolour · 2 months

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VI. "Trust Me, Doll..."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

War is hell and every time it seems you and Bucky adapt to your new normal, the game is changed yet again. When at last Victory in Europe is achieved, the pair of you can finally focus on forging the way ahead.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Grief, Mentions of Death, Imprisonment, Pregnancy, Childbirth in Retrospect, Child Rearing, Motherhood, Era-Typical Sexism and Marital Expectations, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Sex While Trying Not to Be Overhead] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note(s): This is it! Oh wow, we made it, kids! Thank you to each and every one of you for your incredible engagement with this series it has truly been an inspiration! I love all of you and have more Bucky thoughts brewing!!!

As always, letters/telegrams have image descriptions that can be accessed by clicking the 'ALT' button. Special thanks to Marina @precious-little-scoundrel for helping me untangle numerous plot points in this series. I could not have done this without you, darling! This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7444

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Your sudden return home in mid-February had been decidedly awkward. Without time to send a letter of warning, you had spent a lot of coins on a phone call in a telephone booth at the hospital in New Jersey while you awaited the arrival of a WAC commanding officer to process your discharge.

To say your mother had been surprised to hear your voice over the line was an understatement. Mercifully, your father had already left for work that day and you had only had to break the news to her. Given the frosty welcome you had received from him by the time you managed to reach the steps of your childhood home, you hated to think what his reaction would have been if you had informed him that his unwed daughter was kicked out of the Women’s Army Corps for being pregnant without the softening interference of your mother.

It was truly disorienting to be back somewhere so very familiar when you were so utterly different. The war had left its marks here too, though. A gold star banner hung proudly in the front window, in honor of your brother, and your mother’s garden out back had mostly been turned over to the growing of vegetables, with a huge stockpile of jarred preserves now overflowing the pantry. But the two bedrooms at the top of the stairs belonging to you and your brother, separated by a small hallway that was really no more than a glorified landing, were exactly as you had left them in 1942. As if they were frozen in time. Dusted and cared for, but ready and waiting for you to pick up your old lives.

Only your brother was never coming home, and you had returned home but entirely changed. After the relentless pace you had maintained since enlisting, the thought of remaining at home in idle leisure was too off-putting to even contemplate. You allowed yourself a few days of adjusting to the violent change in time – at least when you had traveled to England you had been afford several days at sea to transition. Flight across the Atlantic had been utterly jarring, and it had taken great discipline to turn your nighttime back into day.

But once you had re-acclimated to the North American clock, you had promptly ventured out to find yourself gainful employment at a nearby grocery store. The owner, Nick, was a friend of the family. A kind man who did not seem interested in asking too many questions about why you were back early, was simply eager for the help around his store. It was most definitely not as mentally taxing as the work you had previously undertaken as a WAC, but it was money, and that was sorely needed as babies were expensive.

Your mother seemed fretful about you working in your ‘delicate condition,’ but the demands of the position paled in comparison to the one you had just left, and you rarely worked more than six hours a day. There was still plenty of time to sit with her, improving your knitting skills as you started on a baby blanket. Your mother was duly impressed you had picked up such a feminine skill abroad and seemed more than happy to pass along helpful hints.

In all truth she did appear to be struggling, dwelling frequently on memories and nostalgia for happier times. It was difficult to say how your father was coping in the wake of your brother’s passing. Any hours when he was not at work, he was spending behind the closed door of your dead sibling’s room, all manner of noises and the odd curse word seeping through the cracks, but neither you nor your mother were quite certain what he was up to.

You had sent a letter to Bucky immediately upon your arrival, as promised, still not divulging the full extent of the situation, but it had been stocked with reassurances and re-direction. It appeared he had not yet received it based on his letter that reached you in mid-April.

Damn that man, but you did love him so. Baby animals – had he guessed the true nature of your discharge then? Gnawing ruthlessly on your lower lip, you found yourself pacing around your room, one hand rubbing at your lower back, sore from standing all day with the growing weight of your swollen abdomen.

‘Or is he simply fishing for more information, unconvinced?’ You wondered to yourself, sighing heavily.

He was simply too intelligent for his own good. Another man would simply have taken your words at face value and left it at that. But there was a reason you had not fallen in love with another man. Had not given yourself to another man.

With another deep sigh, you dug out your writing supplies and drafted a reply that acknowledged his statements but neither confirmed nor denied them. There was no desire on your part to entrap or obligate him into anything. That was the last thing you wanted – to pin a man who so cherished his freedom down against his will. Particularly after enduring his current stay in a prison camp.

As the weather grew ever warmer, it became increasingly difficult to conceal your predicament – no matter how baggy or oversized your dresses were. Your engagement ring only went so far in polite society to protect you from judgemental stares and by the end of April you were forced to quit your job and confine yourself almost entirely to the house. May seemed to drag on, though you certainly managed to knit a wide variety of nearly perfect baby clothes for different stages.

Perhaps the brightest spot came one evening when your father emerged from the room opposite yours and left the door open for the first time since you came home, revealing not the preserved bedroom of your brother, but a fully prepared nursery, complete with an assembled crib, rocking chair, dresser, and change table. As you stood in your doorway in shock, eyes brimming with tears, he shoved his hands into his pockets and gruffly muttered, “baby needs somewhere to sleep after all,” before trudging down the stairs to the bedroom he shared with your mother.

June burst onto the scene with the Allied invasion of France and the good news only continued with the signing of the GI Bill on the 22nd. Your years of service and honorable discharge earned you, and your very active and rapidly growing baby, subsidized medical care. It could not have been timelier as appointments became more and more frequent, your due date looming at the end of July.

Much like her father, Clara Mae had a mind of her own when it came to her time of arrival. She was born in the middle of the night on July 22nd at the local veteran’s hospital – one of the first GI Bill babies, the nurses informed you.

The choice of her name had been rather easy, derived from Bucky’s middle name - Clarence. While you could not give her his family name, or even list him as her father on the birth certificate without his signature, you could at least give her this for now. He had already given her his mischievous eyes and unmistakable ears. Time would tell what other of his features she would share. If the grey-blue of her eyes would settle in the color of the stormy sea like his. If the slight dusting of fuzz of her head would grow into luscious, dark curls.

Sitting there in sore, stunned exhaustion as they carted her off to the nursery, you looked up as your mother sidled over, the broad grin of a recent grandparenthood still splitting her face.

“We have to write Major Egan right away and let him know. Oh he’ll be so thrilled, a sweet little girl to come home to now!”

The force with which your face crumpled, physically unable to bear to weight of all your falsehoods and desperate attempts at inner strength one moment longer, sent your tears scattering down the front of your hospital gown. Your mother snapped her mouth shut, completely taken aback by the abrupt shift in your mood, before she collected a wad of scratchy hospital tissues and tenderly wiped at your eyes.

“There now, I know. It’s been a tremendous effort, and things are very difficult.” She soothed and cradled your head to her breast, rubbing your back softly.

Despite becoming a mother yourself not a full hour ago, it seemed you were still very much in need of one yourself.

“What if he doesn’t want me, mama?” You gulped and looked up to her pathetically as you finally gave voice to perhaps the greatest fear that had been stalking you since the realization that you were pregnant had come crashing down upon you. “We’re not even…it’s not even real…” Your eyes dropped to the false engagement ring that mockingly glinted up at you from your left hand.

She sighed deeply before her hands grasped your face and forced your gaze to meet hers. “Well, pumpkin, I’d say that a man who writes to you despite the difficulties is one of the good ones. And usually it’s the good ones that do the right things.”

You frowned and shook your head slightly, as much as her tight grip would allow. “But I don’t want him to do the right thing. I want him to marry me because he wants to…”

There was another maternal sigh before you were gathered close in her arms once more. “Let’s hope for the best then. I’ll get Felix from down the street to bring his camera. We’ll send a photo of sweet Clara Mae and see if she can’t work her magic on him.”

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The Allied invasion of Western Europe had felt like a gift from above, flooding Bucky’s life with a new sense of purpose, and shattering the grim monotony that had calcified everything around him. The gnawing hunger, the biting cold, the evasiveness in your letters, the constant worry and uncertainty he felt for both himself and you. There was surely only one explanation, at least only one rational, sane explanation for your early discharge. But he’d had far too much time on his hands to postulate and theorize all manner of possibilities and their catastrophic outcomes.

June 6 had brought an abrupt and decisive end to that, a sharp divide to their life in camp, and a need for preparations now that the Commonwealth forces were closing in from one side and the Russians from the other. It was early September when he received your life changing letter, two small photos tucked securely between your folded, scented pages. One of you, looking so very beautiful it made his heart ache fondly. And the second of a very tiny infant with remarkably familiar ears.

He huffed fondly and turned back to the letter to read it properly as you finally confirmed what he had long suspected.

Shaking the envelope once more produced a square of paper with the stamp of his daughter’s – his daughter’s – footprints on it.

Cradling it in one palm, he could not help but gawk at the small scale of her. She must be truly tiny…only 20 inches.

“Your girl finally explain herself?” Buck leaned over his shoulder, and he nodded, holding up Clara’s photo.

His friend barely contained a snort and Bucky scoffed in return. “I know – poor girl’s got my damn Dumbo ears. Couldn’t even deny she’s mine if I wanted to.”

“She’s beautiful anyway, despite your influence.” Buck smirked and handed the photo back carefully. “Congratulations. What’s her name?”

“Clara Mae.” An involuntary grin of pleasure overtook him as he said it, quite enjoying the way it sounded. You had picked well.

“Your girl did an excellent job. Be sure you tell her so.”

“You know I will.” He replied with a firm nod.

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The twelve weeks it took to hear from Bucky were both a blur and an agony. Clara did her utmost to keep the household, and you in particular, thoroughly occupied. You were somewhat relieved that your parents were sleeping on a different floor than her, that it gave you a chance to dart across the hall and mollify her discordant wails with a fresh diaper or a feeding. But on those nights when even you could not seem to sort out what ailed her, your father stepped in and patiently walked her up and down the length of the porch until she melted into the crook of his arm.

Truly, for such a small being, she had the entirety of her grandfather wrapped around her littlest finger. Clara was the first he greeted upon returning home from work and the last he kissed goodnight. None of this would have been possible without his willing arms, nor your mother’s endless wisdom when it came to washing bottles and diapers and Clara’s vast wardrobe of tiny clothing. But in the quiet moments, when she was busily suckling in your arms or just as you were falling asleep, your thoughts would always fly across the Atlantic to barbwire fences and Bucky.

You hoped your letter reached had him. You hoped it had all of its contents still, that none of them had been lost while being reviewed by the censors and whomever else pried into your mail. His reaction? Well you could not even dare to hope what that might be. It would cause your entire body to tense almost painfully and prevent your lungs from filling with air.

Every day you did your best not to look too eagerly as the postman delivered the mail, flipping through the envelopes calmly, hiding your disappointment when his reply was not there. Your agony came to an end, at last, in mid-October. Hearing your soft gasp, your mother offered to take Clara on her morning walk – it was generous to be sure, but you were also more than aware that she enjoyed the attention warranted by pushing the gorgeous girl through the neighborhood in her pram.

Settling down at the kitchen table once they had left, you sliced open the envelope anxiously.

Tears of relief were tracking down your cheeks by the time you reached the end of his letter, making it difficult to read his words clearly. He had replied. He was not angry, nor dismissive. He called himself Clara’s father. And there was an oblique, very Bucky-like proposal in there. Your watery laugh echoed in the empty kitchen before you sniffled in a very unladylike way. God, you missed him so very much. By the time your mother and Clara returned, your tears of relief had been replaced by sobs of longing that had her tiptoeing through the house, deeply concerned his letter had been one of rejection.

Looking up at her apprehensive face as she peered through the doorway, you smiled through your pain and nodded. “It’s good news.”

“Oh, well…good.” She gave you a somewhat bewildered smile and found a handkerchief for you to once more clean yourself up before you gathered Clara close.

“Your daddy says he loves you, peanut. What do you think of that?”

Clara’s face stretched into one of her toothless grins that came just as easy as Bucky’s did, and you fought the urge to cry again. “Yeah…me too.”

Your reply to Bucky’s letter was accompanied by a holiday card fingerpainted by Clara, now that you were confident in the mailing time of roughly six-weeks, as well as another set of dry goods for him to share with his friends. Time continued to march on and in an effort to better document Clara’s rapid growth, you purchased a user-friendly camera, having Felix give you some lessons.

Mid-January, Clara received a gift from her father – a stunning ink drawing of him done by one of his roommates apparently. It had been over a year since you had looked upon his face and the breathtaking detail captured by the man who drew it, A. Jefferson based on the signature, inflicted an intense barrage of memories. You promptly went to a five-and-dime store to purchase a frame for it, setting it on the dresser in Clara’s room next to a model of a B17. You made a point of showing it to her every day, telling her stories about her daddy – only the appropriate ones of course, wanting her to know him.

That it was also self-soothing was simply a bonus.

That letter was the last one you received from him. As Clara’s features sharpened into Bucky’s, and his dark curls framed her face, it was his gaze staring up at you from your arms as the weeks ticked by with no word. When the abnormally harsh winter yielded to spring once more, there was still no reply to your January letter. The war was all but won, the Germans quite literally surrounded, the Russians in Germany and yet there was nothing.

It was mid-April when the dreaded Western Union vehicle pulled up in front of the house, your heart leaping into your throat.

‘Please let him be alright.’

Your mother had been in the kitchen, working on lunch, but silently appeared at your elbow, ghosts of her own heartbreak etching her features.

“Deep breaths. Anybody can send a telegram, not just the War Department.” She murmured and knelt down beside Clara on the rug to play with her as you forced your leaden feet to move towards the door.

Accepting the yellow envelope from the infuriatingly neutral-faced boy, you confirmed that it was indeed addressed to you before impatiently tearing into it.

Exhaling shakily you smiled in relief. Major Cleven must have escaped. That he would have spent the money to send a telegram to update you on Bucky, and to share a message from the man himself, was quite moving. You could not help the chuckle that escaped you, however, at the fact that this was twice now that Cleven had terrified you in the process of trying to share good news.

“All is well?” Your mother asked softly from the living room, and you turned quickly with a smile.

“Yes, he’s ok, his friend somehow made it back to England and wanted me to know he’s doing alright.”

The smile she gave you in return contained no small amount of relief.

The Russians were in Berlin by the next time Western Union made its second delivery at the beginning of May.

‘Please, when we are so very close to victory, please.’

Even less patient with this envelope than the last, you felt a swell of elation at just the first word.

And he meant it. It was not entirely as soon as either of you would have liked, given that Victory in Europe happened not a week after that telegram, on May 8, 1945, but Bucky certainly did come to you and Clara as soon as it was possible.

It was a hot afternoon in early July, the wind having abandoned everyone when the sun rose that morning. Clara was in a bit of a mood courtesy of the heat and her desire to move about the house independently. Certainly, she had been crawling for months, terrorizing everything and everyone in her path, but as of late she had been pulling herself to her feet and trying desperately to take those first few wobbly steps towards upright freedom. She certainly could manage it while gripping tightly to your fingers for balance, but today her chubby cheeks and granite eyes were screwed tight in consternation as she swatted your hands away to go it alone.

“Alright peanut, off you go then.” You smiled encouragingly, sitting back on your heels as beads of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

Letting go of the edge of the coffee table, she wavered and wobbled, overcorrecting her round little infant body before landing heavily onto her bottom with a squawk of frustration.

“So close, so–”

The rapping of knuckles against the wooden frame of the screen door cut off your statement and you scooped her up, perching her against your right hip as you rose to your feet.

“Let’s go see if that’s the postman with Grandma’s package, shall we?” You smiled and tickled her soft tummy with your free hand, earning a giggle accompanied by her gap-toothed grin as you headed over to the front door.

The man standing there in uniform was most certainly not the postman, however.

“Bucky…” You whispered in shock as he stood before you, in the flesh, after nearly two years of constant worry and concern.

All that separated you now was a flimsy screen door, which you lurched forward to shove open. His eyes were wide as he stared at the pair of you, Clara peering at him curiously. The movement of your left hand caught his eye and his brow furrowed as his gaze landed on the ring you had been hiding behind since April of last year, making you swallow painfully.

“It’s not real.” You murmured quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression, and stepped back to invite him inside.

The sound of his bag hitting the floor was all the warning you had before he was pulling you tightly against him, burying his face into your hair. Pressing your face against him in return, you clung to the back of his uniform jacket, wondering if he had always smelled this good or if he had bought new cologne since returning stateside. A sudden strangled sound came from his throat, and you straightened quickly to see Clara had a ruthless grip on his tie and a wicked grin on her face.

“Ta.” You said firmly, holding out your hand and she surrendered her stranglehold on the piece of fabric which you carefully tucked back into his jacket.

Bucky smirked down at her slightly, but his eyes were filled with barely concealed wonder. Clara, for her part, did not seem the least bit fazed by him whatsoever. Her chubby little fingers moved to trace the shiny buttons of his jacket before stretching up to brush along the coarse hair on his upper lip.

“You like my mustache, Miss Clara?” He grinned and pretended to devour her finger as it strayed too close to his mouth, sending his daughter into a fit of giggles and making your cheeks ache from smiling so wide.

An involuntary yawn suddenly overtook her, and you glanced at your watch, nodding as the time confirmed your suspicions. “It’s nap time, I’ll just take her upstairs.”

“Can I come?” He asked softly, making no move to release his hold on you and you nodded quickly, pressing your lips to his cheek softly before leading him to the stairwell at the back of the house.

“This place looks exactly how you described it…” He murmured softly, threading his fingers through yours as he followed.

Looking back to him, startled, you swallowed down the swell of emotion that had been threatening since you had first laid eyes on him. “I told you about it once, in that…hotel room in London…almost two years ago.”

“And I’ve imagined it almost every day since.” He assured you easily as you climbed the stairs, making you shake your head in awe.

Glancing through the open door into your room curiously for a moment, he followed you into Clara’s nursery, grinning softly as his eyes landed on the drawing he had sent.

“You gave it to her.”

Setting Clara into her crib, you turned back to him. “We talk about you every day.”

Bucky’s eyes met yours and he smiled gratefully before reaching out for your left hand, his thumb stroking along the band of the ring there.

“You know, this isn’t very believable, doll.” He muttered and you felt yourself tense as you eyed him, suddenly nervous in his presence after all those months apart. You had been separated longer than you had even known one another. “I’d have bought you a much bigger rock.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Laughter, something that felt so foreign to you after its long absence, bubbled up from your chest while tears simultaneously flooded your eyes. His hands cradled your face as his lips met yours at last, the kiss distinctly salty despite the best efforts of his thumbs to swipe your tears away. Laying your hands atop his, it began to sink in that he was really home, he had truly made it back to you. And Clara. There was no more need for constant fretting and pleading mantras. He was here.

“In fact I did.” His statement, a continuation of his discussion about your fake engagement ring, felt disorienting as it interrupted your inner musings, and you watched in confusion as he sunk to one knee right there in Clara’s bedroom, slipping the piece of costume jewellery from your ring finger before tucking it one of his pockets.

It was not until he produced a much shinier ring, with a larger and very real diamond, that you registered just what was happening. He addressed you properly, by your full name, before asking the question.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes of course I will.” You nodded vigorously, watching him clumsily slide the heavier ring onto your finger before his mouth was on yours once more, demanding and possessive.

Pressing against him, you would have completely forgotten yourself if not for the sound of your mother calling your name from the bottom of the stairs, tone laced with confusion and worry – surely from finding the front door open and a piece of strange luggage in the front hall. Bucky pulled his lips back and pressed his forehead to yours, hot puffs of his breath caressing your face.

“Parents’ house…”

You let out a small laugh of chagrin. “Parents’ house.” You confirmed before pulling back and guiding him out, leaving the door slightly cracked so you would hear when Clara awoke.

Miraculously she had slept through the entire exchange, a superpower she had surely inherited from her father. Descending the stairs, introductions were made, and you did not miss the way you mother’s eyes lit up as she took in the new ring on your finger. Your father was slightly more difficult to win over, still smarting from the perceived mistreatment of his little girl. You were more than a little convinced he might be taking Bucky to the toolshed to shoot him when he asked for the man to accompany him out there for a chat after dinner.

Your aggressive scrubbing of the dishes in the sink as you watched anxiously out the window amused your mother to no end.

“He’s just ensuring Major Egan has your best interests in mind.”

“He’s not gonna kill him, is he, mama?” You worried your lip and she laughed, wiping Clara’s sticky fingers clean after her joyful decimation of a bowl of sliced strawberries.

“He will do no such thing.”

By some miracle, the pair of them immerged unscathed twenty minutes later, shaking hands and sharing a laugh. You rediscovered the ability to exhale and prepared Clara for her evening walk, which Bucky insisted on joining. Even though you assured him you had a perfectly good pram, gestured to where it sat on the front porch, he insisted on carrying Clara on his hip, much to her delight.

Not only was the vantage point much better, but she had unfettered access to all the intriguing bits of his uniform to occupy herself with as the pair of you followed the usual route around the neighborhood. While no one had taken it upon themselves to be overtly rude to you, something about seeing all six foot two inches of Major John Egan carrying his carbon-copy daughter with you on his other arm seemed to go a long way to repairing your somewhat tarnished reputation around town.

People who had politely nodded or offered no more than tight-lipped smiles were now openly waving and calling greetings as you passed.

“Sure are popular around here, doll.”

“I assure you, it’s the pair of you.” You smirked at him and Clara who was busily tugging at the flap of his breast pocket. “Everything alright after your visit to the toolshed?” You asked now that you were far enough away from the house that your father would not hear.

He nodded easily. “Your father and I are of like minds. You and I are going to the registrar’s office tomorrow to get a marriage licence and then we’ll get this little one’s birth certificate sorted as well.”

“He wasn’t…too harsh on you?” You asked with more than a little trepidation.

Bucky looked to you softly. “No more than I deserved.”

“You deserved no harshness, we both know full well how this happened…”

“I sure didn’t stop you. Couldn’t have, even if I had been able to think straight.” He smirked and kissed your temple. “So we did it out of order, that’s fine. It’ll all be how it was meant to very soon.”

Sighing fondly you continued your progress until Clara was slumped against his shoulder, barely able to keep her eyes open. By the time you returned to the house, your mother had set up a small camp bed in the nursery for you and moved Bucky’s things to your room for the night – everyone agreed there was no way he could possibly be expected to sleep on the sofa. He was simply too long. Wishing one another good night in the hallway with a lingering kiss, you pressed your lips together as your mother cleared her throat expectantly from the landing below and slipped into the nursery for the night.

It was difficult to say how long you had been asleep when a faint noise, your ears now well trained to listen out for the smallest of disturbances, woke you. It was most definitely still dark when you raised your head, immediately looking to the crib to see Clara sleeping peacefully on her stomach, index and middle fingers of her right hand suckled soothingly by her full lips. Shifting your gaze in the dimly lit room, you jumped slightly to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe, clad in his boxers and undershirt, silently watching her sleep, expression pensive.

Sliding to your feet as gracefully as the low bed and your thin cotton nightgown would allow, you padded over to him quietly to whisper, “everything ok?”

“She’s just so small…” He replied in a hushed voice, gesturing with his hands, eyes still fixed on Clara’s sleeping form, and you smiled fondly.

Reaching out, you gently manipulated the distance between his palms to represent how small she had been as a newborn. “She was only that big a year ago.”

His eyes tore from the crib to study the small gap between his hands before lifting slightly to drink in how little you were wearing, how thin the material was to try and make sleeping in the summer months bearable. His eyes briefly flicked to yours, revealing the rapid dilation of his pupils before his mouth descended onto yours ravenously.

Sliding one arm around his waist, you pressed with the other against the centre of his chest to guide him back across the hall, closing the door to your bedroom behind you as you quickly surrendered and parted your lips for him. He grunted eagerly, pressing his fully hard length against you through the thin barrier of your clothes, making you gasp at the rapidity of his response.

“The damn sheets smell like you, I’ve been hard all night.” He groaned and you quickly smothered his mouth with yours, well aware just how loud he tended to get.

If you were lucky enough to get away with this, you were going to have to be as quiet as possible.

Rucking the hem of your nightgown up over your hips, he pivoted to deposit you onto the edge of the bed, settling between your thighs as you worked one another’s underwear off. Pressing skin to skin, his head fell back, and you quickly slid your palm over his mouth to smother his eager sighs, rocking your folds along the length of him as you gnawed on your lips and swallowed your own keens. Bucky’s eyes bored into yours hungrily as he mirrored your movements, almost daring you to keep quiet as he continued to moan against your hand.

Silence became impossible for you too as the blunt tip of his cock snagged on your entrance and he rocked his hips forward, slowly sinking into your warmth. Falling back onto the mattress, you slapped the hand that had previously been propping you upright over your own mouth to smother your eager groan as your eyelids fluttered in the struggle to remain open. Shifting forward once he had settled fully inside you, Bucky’s face hovered just above yours, eyes still pinning yours as he began the eager push and pull towards ecstasy.

Desperately trying to keep your hands in place over your mouth and his, your back arched at the long forgotten and very heightened sensation of being so very stretched by him, trembling with each brush of his pelvis against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands planted onto the mattress on either side of your head, fisting into the sheets as his hips snapped demandingly into yours, each sharp exhale from his nostrils cascading across your knuckles as you felt the tension building within you.

Sweat glistened on both of your skin, the efforts in the lingering heat of the night only making you both slick as you writhed beneath him, heart hammering inside your ribcage. And still his eyes would not leave yours. The one time you gave into the urge to clench them shut, he sent them flying open once more with a sharp nip to the meat of your palm and you quickly wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer, deeper.

You could feel him clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth, desperately driving into you until your body shattered in release, nearly going limp with the force of it. Bucky nestled his face tighter to your palm as, with two more erratic thrusts, he followed suit with a harsh cry, thankfully still smothered. Slumping forward, utterly spent, you cradled him close a moment before shuffling and maneuvering to rest against the headboard with him properly nuzzled against your neck, and his legs mostly on the bed.

Stroking his hair lovingly, every so often scratching your nails along his scalp, you could not help the fond smile as his harsh breaths evened out and the weight of him grew heavier against you when sleep overtook him. Sighing softly, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to join him in rest.

The next time you opened them you were alone, tucked beneath the sheet, the soft light of dawn filling the room. The distinct sound of Clara’s giggles carried from across the hall, and you sat up, grabbing your summer housecoat and peered into the nursery to find the pair of them perched on the camp bed engaged in a very entertaining game of wooden blocks it seemed. Bucky had retrieved the model of the B17 from the dresser and was frequently swooping it down to destroy whatever Clara’s clumsy little hands built, much to her delight.

“Ah, Mommy’s up.” Bucky’s statement revealed that you had been caught and you smirked, stepping into the room to kneel on the carpet beside them. “Did we wake you?”

Shaking your head softly, you kissed Clara’s head and then Bucky’s cheek. “Did she wake you, though?”

He shrugged. “Probably my turn anyway.”

You smiled tenderly, laughing as Clara clutched at his arm to demonstrate that she had assembled a new construction in need of his attention. Watching fondly, you blinked slightly to see a new addition to the dog tags, crucifix, and medal that he normally wore. Amidst the collection was now the faux engagement ring you had sported for over a year. Reaching out, you traced your finger along it, raising an eyebrow in silent question as his eyes met yours.

“To remind me of that time I was overly reckless.” He murmured and you swallowed painfully, pressing your lips to his firmly.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he pulled you snuggly into his side, continuing to entertain Clara easily.

“We’ll get the licence today but, what kind of wedding would you like, doll?” He asked quietly.

“Just a date at the courthouse is fine.” You assured him with a nod.

“You don’t want a big wedding or anything? Honestly doll, anything you want and it’s yours.” He assured you softly.

You laughed watching your daughter gnaw on the corner of a wooden block. “Seems a bit hypocritical to put me a white gown don’t you think?” You smirked and shook your head when he looked ready to defend your honor. “I don’t need all those fancy things John, I just need you.”

When he finally came up for air, your lips more than a little swollen from his attentions, he huffed a laugh.

“Not sure what I’m going to do with the parachute I smuggled home now, though…”

“Well, Major Cleven’s getting married soon, isn’t he? I’m sure Marge would appreciate it. She seems lovely from the letters we’ve exchanged.”

He turned to you wide-eyed, struck silent, and you could not help but laugh. “Never underestimate the ingenuity of women, John.”

Bucky shook his head in awe. “Trust me, doll…I would never be so foolish as to underestimate you.”

-------------------------

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas, @carpediem1219, @blueberry-ovaries

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan imagine #john egan fic #john egan #john bucky egan #mota fic #masters of the air fanfic

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

Text

part one

———

Nico’s memory is…screwy.

The Lethe warped things, but the body stores memory in strange ways. The only image he has of his mother is the gentle swish of her skirts as Zeus incinerated her, the echo of her fond scoff and curled r’s. Even that memory was shown to him. Most of his childhood memories are from the Lotus Casino, really, running after Bianca through the flashing games and then running away from her, laughing, when she forbid him from driving on the racetrack. His sister is the centre of his memories. He keeps them under lock and key, buried in the same place he keeps Mythomagic stats and his constant string of fear.

(The key is rusted and the lock is loose. He sees her in every mirror, now, in every mirror. She was pretty. Beautiful. He always thought so. She hid herself in too-large sweaters and shapeless skirts, crooked stockings and her floppy green hat. Kept her hand curled around his, turned away from the boys who smiled at her, touched her shoulders. She was his entire world, and he is beginning to realize that he was her world, too, only she had no one to care for her. It makes Nico ache to think about, the tears he sometimes saw welling up in her dark eyes, the creases in her angular, beautiful face. Her pain is as familiar in his reflection as the shape of her nose, identical to his.)

(Gorgeous, Will called him.)

Warped as his memories are, Nico isn’t completely stranded — he has dreams.

His dreams, although rare, are clear. He is a spectator of himself, and voyeur of his own life. He does not remember Venice, does not remember his bedroom, the country side, the kitchen table. But he remembers every dream he has.

Including, embarrassingly, a lecture that had both him and Bianca red-cheeked and scowling.

“You-a smart, bambina,” Maria had said to Bianca, squeezing her chin with flour-covered hands. “Una belladonna giovane, si, Niccolò?”

Nico had snickered into his hands, legs kicking, looking at his sister cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out.

“Bianca è una picchia,” Nico had teased, repeating his mother’s words from the last time she’d been scolded. “Una piantagrane!”

Bianca’s eyes had flashed. “Nico, I’m gonna sell your stupido toys —”

“Sonno worries forra my Bianca,” Maria had interrupted, eyebrows raised. “Ragazzi comma running. But you, Niccolò.” She dragged him back by the cuff of his shirt, cutting off his escape attempts. ““È importante, capisci? Lookame. Niccolò. Lookame.”

He spent a lot of time fidgeting, he remembers. Bouncing off the walls.

His mother was patient.

“You gonna be uno marito, un giorno. Gonna marry a nice-a girl. You gotta sai come fate.”

He wakes up from the dream embarrassed.

He knows why it was brought from the depths of his subconscious. He’s not dense. But he wishes, as he rips the sheets off his sweaty body, that it had stayed in those stupid trenches.

His mother’s raspy, cigarette-smoker voice twists with Will’s smooth rumble: You gonna be uno marito, one day. I’ve had a crush on you for forever.

He buries his burning face in his knees. What is Will’s problem. Who says that?

Nico has had crushes before. Telling Percy made him nauseous for three days. And Will just — said it. Said it!

He rolls onto the floor, refusing to think about it any longer. He has things to do today. Children to humble. He cannot afford — distractions.

Of course, he is distracted anyway.

He hears the kids in his sword fighting class whisper to themselves. They usually do, but there’s an audible difference to it; they sound more like the giggling naiads than nervous kids. Nico spends all three of his classes tense as a rod, stiffer than he usually is a suffering for it.

He dismisses each one of his classes early.

By lunchtime, he’s exhausted. He’s tempted to skip all together, but yesterday he ran out of snacks, and if he skips two days in a row Will’ll come marching, which is the last thing he needs. He lingers in the amphitheatre, biting the inside of his thumb, weighing his options. Eat with a crowd of people, go hungry.

In the end, the choice is made for him.

He startled when his name is called by a group of people, each with similar levels of enthusiasm. Leo, Piper, Jason, and Annabeth — Percy is with his mom this week, Nico recalls — approach him, waving.

“We are flagrantly breaking the rules and eating at Jason’s table,” Piper says, smiling. “Sit with us.”

She says it like an offer, but Nico has a feeling it’s more of a command. He nods, hesitantly falling in step with Annabeth.

(His friendship with her startled him. So many years seething with jealousy, simmering with misplaced hate and pain; only to find out she’s stubborn, like he is, and kinda cagey. She knows what it’s like growing up glancing over your shoulder. They stand the same, shoulders loose but knees locked; and eat the same, like they’ll never see food again. She knows when to let him have his silence. He knows when to let her have her space.)

She nods at him, smiling slightly. Her grey hairs are dyed with pink, today. It clashes horribly with her camp shirt. It suits her.

“Kids do alright today?”

“Yeah.”

“Harley blow anything up?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive, that one.”

Nico smiles. “Yeah.”

They’re the last ones to the dining pavilion. Most tables are already full, conversations rising and lulling, food disappearing from plates. Several people duck close to their friends as they walk by, whispering. Nico pretends not to notice, pretends not to see Annabeth’s frown.

“Nico! Hey! I was just about to come find ya!”

Tripping in his haste to get up from his table — or maybe over his snickering sister’s extended foot — Will bounds up to meet him, hair flopping into his eyes, grin wide and blinding.

Nico’s palms begin to sweat.

“Will,” he acknowledges, after a beat too long.

Will doesn’t seem to notice.

(Everyone else does.)

“Just wanted to let you know that I was up last night digging through the records, and I found a hymn that’ll fix up your face faster. Not that it needs fixing.” He winks, or maybe tries to. What he really does is blink both eyes, beam so bright it forces smile lines. Nico goes bright red. “So just drop by whenever! I’m not on duty today, but it’s cool, just come find me. Better sooner than later, right?”

He doesn’t wait for Nico’s response, already half turned away by the end of his sentence. “See ya!” he shouts, too loud for the limited size of the dining pavilion, already stumbling back to his table, halfway through a new conversation with Austin. He watches him, amused, indulging.

“So,” says a teasing voice, dragging out the vowel, gleeful. Nico turns to find four identical smirks. “He sounded eager.”

“Nope,” Nico says immediately, turning back the way he came. His face continues to grow exponentially more red, which at this point must be some kind of hazard. “Food is overrated. I’m gonna —”

“Oh, no you don’t,” and then there’s a hand clenched in the back of his jacket, pulling, and four echoing cackles, and he’s dragged over to Jason’s table kicking and hissing. “Time for you to spill.”

———

part three

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hinakazino · 1 year

Text

The Uchiha Princess || Uchiha Family/Child!Reader

Summary: The third born child of the head of the Uchiha Clan, younger sister of Sasuke and Itachi Uchiha. You're the known princess of the Uchiha Clan! (That everyone may or may not have a protective side of.)

Warnings: None! Just Fluff!

mikoto

It was no secret really, Mikoto had really been hoping for a girl! So she was really happy to have you, her little princess.

Literally loves you, gives you the best of care.

Enjoys dressing you up or doing your hair (you look so cute and small in all those mini garments!!)

Honestly worried for awhile how you'd get along with your brothers or the clan, as it was mostly men.

Worries were quickly blown away though, who would dare hurt you?

fugaku

Super nervous dad, he was used to the two boys, yes. But a girl? He was already worrying himself over how things would work.

Secretly you’re his favorite, literally held you so softly like you were the most precious baby ever.

You were his precious girl, and he admits he may have spoiled you a bit more than he should've.

Doesn’t like the idea of boys, nope he isn’t agreeing to ANY arranged marriages!!

He also doesn't like admitting it, although he hopes you become a great strong kunoichi. The idea of sending you, of all people into the battle field frightens even him.

obito

The funny cousin, always comes over with treats just for you.

He just can’t stop poking at your chubby cheeks and practically squealed when he saw your stubby legs as you ran up to him.

Always makes sure to scoop you up and tell you plenty of his awful jokes. You love it anyway though! He loves hearing your giggle.

Enjoys closing his eyes as you trace over his scars in awe.

Heart throbs as you pecked his scarred cheek asking him whether he was okay and that you’d make the pain go away.

Literally the sweetest cousin ever, knows exactly what you like and spoils you whenever he is back from a mission.

shisui

The cousin you tell all your secrets to. (Who may or may not be secretly reporting to Itachi about it.)

Loves carrying you on his back, gives him sweet flashbacks of mini Itachi.

Is super dramatic with you, you both are like each others twins. He loves it whenever Sasuke and Itachi walk in completely bewildered at the play you guys have been acting.

You two are also pranksters, who have lots of fun pulling stuff on Sasuke, Itachi, and occasionally best of all, Obito.

Second most at poking at your cheek besides Obito too, vowed to protected you from evil at all costs.

itachi

Your big brother, who greatly inspires and motivates you. He is such a sweetheart!

He honestly has the same fear as his father because his life as a ninja hasn't been a walk in a rosy garden.

Can't describe it, he just loves you. Every time he is with you, he feels at peace.

Has been there for all of your tantrums, he is basically your comfort.

Knows best out of everyone how to take care of you. You're injured? Distract you with food, something you like, etc, to get rid of the pain as he treats you.

Sobbing cause you can't have something? He'll get it for you-- wait no his parents said no so he'll tell you maybe next time to make you forget.

sasuke

Was the most nervous out of everyone.

But greatly adores you because you look up to him, he feels noticed and appreciated whenever he is around you.

You love Sasuke because he understands you the most as you're both similar in age.

Playtime is always fun, and mainly with him. He always tries to bring new games, not just to entertain you both but also to keep you active. He shows his care in different ways!

When he got older he still made time for you, there was always a reserved soft spot for his little sister.

madara

You're his favorite Uchiha kid, and he isn't afraid to admit it.

He lets you play with his hair, he surprisingly didn't mind it. Honestly he loves your awe with it.

You spent a chunk of your time with him anyways since most of your other family members were busy so it wasn't before long you both developed a strong bond.

Out of everyone he deeply hopes you never experience war in your lifetime. He knows from personal experience, and it warms his heart that you're so innocent.

He teaches you a lot of things, madara knows a lot! From weapons and combat, all the way to gardening and game tactics. He's got to spend a lot of time having fun being the retired Uchiha.

#naruto #Uchiha clan #uchihas x reader #uchihas w/sister!reader #Sasuke x reader #Itachi x reader #Madara x reader #Shisui x reader #Obito x reader #mikoto uchiha #Uchiha family #fugaku uchiha

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kwanisms · 1 year

Text

Kinkuary 20 Jeongin — cnc/dubcon // table/counter sex

➥ dom!Jeongin × sub!Reader

summary: Y/N’s biggest fantasy has always been to be forcefully taken advantage of, something she never shared until she started dating Jeongin who seems more than willing to help bring her fantasy to life.

wc: 2.5k

warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): fingering, rough unprotected sex (use protection!), Jeongin pins the reader down and forces himself on her (it's consensual! It's part of the con noncon thing!), reader asks him to stop and says no but it's part of her fantasy, sex on a table (they make a mess of their dining room lol oops), dirty talk and degrading names, Jeongin comes off as a little mean but it's all part of the fantasy. I think I got them all but let me know if I missed any!

a/n: TW: THEMES OF CONSENSUAL NON CONSENSUAL SEX. ALSO CALLED CON NONCON OR CONSENSUAL R@PE. THE READER HAS AGREED TO THIS PREVIOUSLY. If this topic bothers you, DO NOT READ!!! When she says no and asks him to stop, it's part of her fantasy and Jeongin makes sure to check in and give Y/N the opportunity to use their safe word to make sure she's still good to go. Consent is sexy and the most important thing between partners. Thank you for reading this installment of Kinkuary! If you like it, pls reblog as it helps with getting more people to see my work and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon

Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan

Stray Kids taglist: @niktwazny303 @g4megirl @rapmonie2047 @indigo35 @witherednotes @cixrosie @fay-ebrahim

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

Join the taglist!

════════════════════════════════

You pushed at Jeongin’s chest, trying to push him off you but it was no use, not when your boyfriend was definitely stronger than you and for good reason. He’d spent most of his free time in the gym with Chris and Changbin.

And it was beginning to show how easily he overpowered you.

“Stop fighting me, Y/N,” Jeongin purred, caging your ur body between his arms and pressing you against the wall. “No,” you whimpered, gripping the front of his sweatshirt. “Let me go!”

When you first explained you fantasy to you boyfriend, he took the time to sit you down and have you walk him through every aspect. He was intrigued by the idea of consensual non consensual sex and even more impressed that you trusted him enough.

By no means, did Jeongin ever fantasize about taking advantage of you but when you assured him it was something you fantasized about a lot, he was willing to give it a try and came to find that he absolutely loved it.

He loved the control and power it gave him to over power you, but more than anything, he loved how you trusted and loved him enough to let him into this secret world of yours.

He’d fulfilled this fantasy of yours more than once and somehow he managed to keep it new and exciting each time.

You’d sent a text to Jeongin, one of your usual to communicate that you wanted him to come home and take advantage of you.

You: you wanna play with me tonight?

Innie🦊: tonight? You sure?

You: yes. Today was so stressful at work. Pls Innie?

Innie🦊: of course baby. Whatever you want 💕 what do you wanna play?

You: thank you Innie 🥰 how about obsessed stalker?

Innie🦊: i think I’m a little out of practice with that one. How about jealous estranged boyfriend comes home after a fight? I think i can pull that off on short notice 😉

You: perfect ♥️

Innie🦊: safe word?

You: cherries 🍒

You’d gone about your day like normal, making dinner, cleaning up the apartment, and putting away clean laundry. You were finishing filling the dishwasher when the doorbell rang.

You curiously walked over and peered through the peephole to see Jeongin standing outside the door. You sent him a quick text.

You: what do you want?

Innie🦊: let me in.

You: no. You left for a reason, Jeongin

Innie🦊: please baby. Let’s talk this out.

You: I don’t have the energy to argue anymore, Jeongin.

Innie🦊: no arguing. No fighting. I promise.

You forced the smile off your face before unlocking the door and pulling it open, but only as far as the chain lock would allow.

Jeongin turned to look through the gap.

“Baby,” he said, smiling at you.

He noticed the chain. “What’s with the chain?” He asked, smile almost falling instantly. You shook your head. “You wanted to talk?” You asked, noticing the way the smile on his face fell completely.

“Let me in, please, Y/N. I don’t want to talk this out through the door.”

You hesitated, eyeing him as he stood on the other side of the door, looking equal parts sad and pathetic. You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“Fine! But you’ve got five minutes,” you said as you closed the door, undoing the chain and letting it open, allowing Jeongin inside. Once he was inside, he shut the door, locking it and advanced on you, taking your face in his hands. “I missed you so much,” he said softly, pulling you into a kiss which you tried to shy away from.

You weren’t going to let him get it that easily.

“You wanted to talk,” you said, trying to keep your voice even but the excitement of what Jeongin was about to do was evident.

You moved to the kitchen island and waited for Jeongin to make his move.

“I’m so sorry baby,” Jeongin said, taking your hand in his, caressing the back of it absentmindedly. “I was such a jerk the last time we spoke. I said some things I knew would hurt you and I never should have said them,” he said softly.

The look on his face was genuine and for a split second you forgot he was acting, as were you. He’d just gotten so good at it.

“What’s said is done, Jeongin,” you replied, pulling your hand from his. “Let’s just forget it and move on,” you added.

“Of course. I’d like nothing more than to move on with you,” Jeongin replied, getting to his feet as you moved to put space between you.

“Jeongin,” you warned. “When I said move on, I meant move on alone,” you continued. “We need to end things. This isn’t good for either of us.”

Jeongin’s expression shifted from confusion to anger. “Are you breaking up with me?” He demanded, sounding every bit outraged as he would, were this real.

You nodded slowly. “It’s for the best,” you said softly, moving out of his grasp and towards the door, hoping to urge him out into the hall. “Baby, please don’t do this,” Jeongin pleaded. “Give me another chance,” he added.

“I’m sorry, Jeongin. I just can’t,” you said, reaching for the doorknob. You felt his hand close around your wrist. “Is there someone else?” He demanded. You shook your head, trying to pull from his grip. “No! There isn’t someone else!”

His eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying you weren’t all buddy-buddy with Seungmin the other day?” He growled, eyes flashing darkly. For a moment you thought he was being serious. That he actually thought you were messing around with one of his friends. You pulled from his grip, turning to grab the doorknob.

“You need to leave.” You twisted the handle, pulling the door open only for Jeongin to force it shut. This was exactly what you were hoping for.

-last warning. con noncon from this point on-

“Did you really think it would be that easy to get rid of me?” He asked in a much lower and darker tone. You looked up at him, eyes wide. In all the times you’d acted out this fantasy, his voice had never once sounded like that.

It sent a chill up your spine as he grabbed your wrist and turned you, pushing your back against the wall and pressing himself against you, keeping you pinned to the wall. “What’re you—” you started but stopped when he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You melted for a moment before remembering the act.

“Get off me,” you hissed, pushing him off you only for him to cage you against the wall, leaning in to whisper four words that would be your undoing.

“Stop fighting me Y/N.”

The next few steps happened so quickly it took your brain a moment to catch up. Jeongin grabbed your wrists, pinning them against the wall on either side of your head, leaning in to brush his lips against yours as you whimpered out a no.

“I know you want this,” he purred, a devilish grin on his face because he was right. You did want this. You did ask for this. It was the delivery of his words that had your heart racing. “Let me go,” you whined, struggling against his grip.

Jeongin let out a chuckle. “It’s so cute how you fight back, knowing you could never escape me,” he retorted, his tone low. “I promise you’ll love it,” he added and before you had a chance to respond, he’d grabbed you by your hair, guiding you over to your dining room table.

“What are you doing?” You cried as he knocked everything off the table, turning you to face away before bending you over the wooden surface, keeping you pinned against it with one hand and undoing his pants with the other.

“Stop!” You cried out, struggling against him as he grabbed your shorts and panties and pulled them down your thighs with one hand. “Jeongin!” You whimpered as he kept you pinned down, one hand disappearing between your thighs to find your center already soaked.

“Fuck,” he groaned, fingers finding your clit and teasing it briefly before moving up to your slit. “I knew you’d enjoy this,” he continued, pushing two fingers into your cunt. “So wet already for me.” You shook your head, eyes burning with tears.

“S-stop,” you whimpered, walls clenching around his fingers. “But you’re responding so well,” he chuckled. “Squeezing around my fingers like you want more,” he added, pulling his fingers from your pussy and rubbing the tip of his now freed cock against you.

“Jeongin please,” you sobbed. “Stop!” ‘Don’t stop!’

He sighed, leaning forward, resting his forearm across your back and ducked his head closer to your ear. “Do you really want me to stop? You know what to say,” he whispered, the teasing tone absent from his voice. He was giving you a chance to use your safe word but this is what you wanted.

You shook your head quickly, letting him know you weren’t calling it quits.

“Then shut up and stop crying,” he said, the darker tone back in his voice.

“Just stay there and take it.”

You let out a moan, hands balling into fists as he pushed the tip of his cock into your cunt, your walls pulling him in as he bottomed out, a groan leaving his lips as he stilled, buried balls deep inside you.

“Fuuuuck me,” he growled, his momentary lapse in focus allowing you to try and push yourself up. He was quick to regain control, pushing you back down, grabbing both your wrists and pulling them behind your back to hold with one hand. “I told you to stay there,” he ordered.

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” You hissed, struggling against his hold. You felt his fingers dig into your hair. “I already told you once,” he grunted, giving you a sharp thrust. “Stop.” thrust “Fucking.” thrust “Fighting me!” thrust.

You cried out with each sharp hit of his hips against your ass. “Jeongin please stop!” You sobbed again, tears burning the corners of your eyes and blurring your vision. “Stop bitching,” he growled, his grip on your wrist tightening.

“Just lay there and take it like a good girl,” he scoffed. “I know I’m not the only one you’ve been fucking,” he added. “W-what?” You asked incredulously, trying to focus on the dialogue. “You’ve been fucking my friends behind my back, haven’t you?”

You shook your head. “No I haven’t!” Jeongin ignored your protests.

“You think just because I left the apartment the other day that you can go off and fuck anyone?” He asked, the force of his thrusts causing the table to scrape against the floor. “N-no!” You cried out. “I haven’t been fucking anyone!”

Jeongin scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh,” he growled. “I’m not an idiot, Y/N.” He let out a chuckle. “It doesn’t matter how many guys you fuck after me. You’re mine,” he added. “You. Are. Mine.”

Your walls clenched around his cock at his words as if agreeing and solidifying his claim over you.

“This pussy is mine,” he continued, giving a few measured, sharp thrusts before resuming the same relentless pace from before. “That pretty mouth is mine,” he added, releasing your wrists and leaning over your back, pinning you to the table as his hips continued their assault.

His hand came up around your mouth, cutting off your protests and your screams as he pounded into you. “That’s it, baby,” he said softly. “Scream for me. No one can hear you.” Your walls tightened around him, your thighs trembling as your orgasm crashed over you quickly.

“Oh that was fast,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’m not done yet.”

You tried to pry his hand off your mouth but he was too strong for you. His free arm wrapped around your chest. “If you don’t want me to tie your hands, stop fighting me and just take it,” he groaned, hips moving erratically, thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own high.

You moaned, the sound muffled by his hand as his own orgasm washed over him, his hips stuttering to a halt as he buried his cock deep inside you as he came, emptying his load into your cunt. “Fuck!” He swore loudly, giving you a couple more thrusts before letting go of you and pushing himself up.

You fell limp against the table, panting heavily. “Y/N?” Jeongin said, his voice back to normal. “You alright baby?” He asked. You nodded feebly.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses against your cheek. You shook your head. “No,” you said hoarsely. “It was perfect.”

Jeongin pressed a couple kisses to your head before finally pulling out of you, wincing from sensitivity as you whined at the loss of his cock inside you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, pulling your shorts and underwear back up. “I’ll pick up later,” he added as he helped you stand up straight, your legs shaking as he supported your weight.

“Do you need me to carry you?” He asked, all semblance of the act from before gone. He was just your loving, sweet, and caring boyfriend again. You shook your head but let out a little yelp when he scooped you up anyway.

“Jeongin!” You whined in embarrassment as he carried you through your apartment towards the bathroom. He silenced you with a kiss before setting you on your feet and guiding you to sit on the closed toilet lid.

“Shower first, then bed,” he said as he turned to start the water. “Bed?” You asked, looking up at him. “It’s only—” you tried to protest but he silenced you yet again with another kiss, this time longer than the last.

“Yes. Bed. I want you to rest. Then we’ll have dinner and then makeup sex,” he added. “But—” he pressed a finger to your lips. “No buts,” he answered.

“I’m gonna cuddle you, feed you, and spend the rest of the night making it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for! Jeongin, I asked for that. I wanted it!”

He shook his head as he tested the water. “You didn’t ask for that part with Minnie. I’m sorry about that,” he replied. “I don’t think you’d ever sleep with my friends by the way.” You nodded. “I know Innie,” you said as he knelt before you.

“It was just part of the act. I know that,” you said, caressing his cheek. He took your hand in his, placing a kiss to the back of it and caressing your skin with his thumb. “I love you,” he said softly, looking up at you.

You smiled at his admission. “I know that, too,” he playfully smacked the back of your hand. “Yah! Say it back!” You rolled your eyes, sliding from your seat and onto his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck before your lips descended onto his.

“I love you too, you dork.”

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #jeongin scenarios #jeongin imagines #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #tw: cnc #tw: con noncon #cw: cnc #cw: con noncon #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

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the-ace-with-spades · 9 months

Text

Goose and Carole were both Catholics - Goose, a good church boy from a small town in Tennessee, and Carole, a foster kid who spent half her foster years in nun-run group homes.

After Goose dies, Carole loses most of her faith. She no longer attends church every Sunday, no longer spends her Saturdays in the church committee with all the other ladies, no longer lets Bradley roam the church with all the other kids as said ladies attend rosary devotions in October, no longer prays to St. Joseph of Cupertino.

Goose's funeral ceremony is the last time she steps inside the church for years.

And then Mav starts dating Ice - or starts something with Ice, they never call it dating or being together or put a label on it, but Carole knows. Ice becomes a part of their life, too, going from absolutely shy around Bradley to bumping up to Bradley's favorite uncle (which Mav resents) and she can see Mav is happy, is trying to be happy again, and Ice is helping.

So, when one day she asks them to dinner on Sunday, and Mav arrives alone, she asks, "Where is your better half?"

Mav doesn't even deny the wording and just says, "In church, I think. He goes from time to time, he should be here before dinner."

When Ice does show up, she asks him about it when Mav is busy playing hide-and-seek with Bradley, and he tells her - he goes to a small Polish Catholic church from time to time, mostly because the mass there reminds him of the church his mama used to take him to and he can be anonymous enough there that he doesn't feel guilty for not being as religious as his childhood had been.

Carole asks him if she can go with him sometime.

So they start going together - the service is mostly in Polish and most of the people there talk in Polish so she's a bit clueless at the beginning but that makes it easier, makes the bitterness she feels about God easier, makes the anger simmer down. The people are friendly even though a lot of them can't speak English very well and Ice has to translate here or there.

The first time they take Bradley there, for rosary devotions for kids, he keeps on asking a million questions, mostly to Ice because he doesn't understand. In the end, Ice takes him on his lap and whispers explanations in his ears the whole time. The ladies that are sitting in the paw next to them keep smiling at them, not even minding the disturbance.

They stay behind after, mingling with everyone, and Bradley starts talking to a few kids despite the mix of Polish and English floating around - kids are like that, she supposes.

Ice talks to the priest, in Polish, and the priest calls him Tomek, as usual, but this time whatever they're talking about makes Ice's face bright red.

He comes back to her side and she grabs him by the elbow, holding his arm as they wait for Bradley to be finished coloring this week's rosary scene, and asks, "What was that about?"

Ice is avoiding meeting her eyes, focused on Bradley instead. "Everyone thinks you're my wife. Priest Rafal thinks it's admirable that my wife and--and son attend church with me despite the language barrier."

Carole blinks, taking in Ice's embarrassed face, and bumps her forehead on his shoulder, snorting into his arm. "Your wife is making us lemon chicken piccata as we speak."

Because every time Ice and Carole went to church, Mav would stay with Bradley and cook some absolutely delicious dinner for them to come back to. Today, it was Ice's favorite type of chicken piccata.

She feels Ice's arm shake under her hands as he chuckles. "True."

"I don't mind being your church wife, though," she tells him, pressing closer into his side, smiling.

#carole bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #top gun #feeling catholic guilt again so here you have it in a headcanon #Polish Tom Iceman Kazansky #implied italian mav obviously #op #charlie writes #italian mav #polish ice

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lizziesblueberries · 9 months

Text

Relax

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,598

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Mommy!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, but wait Top!Reader, praise kink, smut, yandere Wanda, possessive Wanda, possessive reader, maybe the dynamic switches, maybe it doesn’t, g!p reader, drinking breast milk, blowjob???, hehehe, maybe some rough sex, fluff, service Wanda, dom reader? Idk depends how you see it, |minors DNI, 18+

Summary: Fifth and final part to the series. The boys are finally here! And you and Wanda deserve some much needed time to yourselves.

Notes: Hello! I know its been so long since I last wrote, a whole year! And quite the year it has been. I just want to say thank you all for liking and commenting my stories. It means a lot and I’ve been so excited to write more for all of you! (and more importanlty, myself 😏) I do have more stories in plan and this will be the last fic for this series, so I hope it satisfies you all. Honestly, I cant wait to post the next story for you guys, this next one is definitely a bit more intense and dare I say, violent, duh duh dun! Anywho, enjoy my thirsty fan club!

Part 4

——

It’s been about 10 months since you first discovered you were pregnant, ten months since you and Wanda visited that quaint little Sokovian town and saw Strange. Ten months since you woke up with Wanda’s cum filling you completely and then having it ooze out of you when Wanda slowly pulled out. And its been one month since you gave birth to two beautiful little boys named Tommy and Billy.

A whole month has gone by, and it has been the most emotional and exhausting and best month of your life. You and Wanda gave birth in the cabin, Wanda having done a ton of research to prepare yourselves for when the boys came. And Wanda was the prefect partner. You on the other hand, well, Wanda wouldn’t say it out loud otherwise, for her sake. You had been going through emotional mood swings and cravings and body changes, and poor Wanda had to take the brunt of it all. Honestly, the amount of times you cried, threw up, or just threw a pillow at Wanda’s head, was countless. Wanda being Wanda, excepted it all and waited patiently for you to either calm down or rapidly change from angry to needy or some other mood that didn’t involve you wanting to aim something at her head.

Don’t get her wrong, there were some moments where she needed to take some deep breaths, but she knew you were going through something you couldn’t exactly control. And you were the one who was bearing her kids, so, it was the least she could do not to get frustrated or mad at you. You of course always appreciated her patience after, you were weirded out at first from the feeling of little bodies growing inside you, but you soon learned to love their little kicks and Wanda loved sensing their life as well. She spent the majority of your pregnancy being over joyed and over protective. If you so much as even suggested leaving the house for a walk, Wanda would immediately say no and try to distract you with other things. One of those things being sex. You honestly never thought you would ever turn Wanda down from any of her advances, but pregnancy seemed to prove you wrong. When you were in the mood for something it would stay that way until you got it. You would ask to go for a short walk outside, and her eyes would flash with panic, quickly coming up with another suggestion and press kisses against your throat.

“Why don’t we stay inside my love? Where it’s safe and warm, and perhaps reenact another magical moment together?” Wanda would say, doing her best to turn your mind somewhere else, but you were also stubborn. And while you may think you were the simp here, it was in fact Wanda who was the simp.

“No, I’m not in the mood Wanda I want some air and to look at some fucking trees for once, I need to stretch my legs.” You would say, and Wanda, the ever respectful lover, would back off and agree to you. Of course part of the agreement to go outside would involve you staying within a ten foot perimeter around the house and Wanda by your side at all times searching for any danger. It was cute though, to see Wanda so protective and vigilant for you and the boys, so you couldn’t really complain, you got to go outside anyways.

It seemed Wanda got even softer as you grew bigger, her jade eyes always on you, concerned, loving, or just gleeful to see you. Her protectiveness and possessiveness was still there, but there was something else. Your relationship turned into something more equal, she valued what you had to say and what to do, and you seemed to have understood her better than anyone. Loving each other in a more natural and at home kind of way and not just passion.

When the day finally did come, boy was Wanda the least calm you had ever seen her. She could feel your pain and wanted everything to go ok, laying you down and preparing for when the boys would come. Her magic surrounding everything she needed and almost pulsing in worry with her. You weren’t as worried at that point like she was, probably because you felt like your insides were tearing apart at that moment, honestly, who thought it was a good idea for women to give birth this way? That thought left your mind though as soon as you finally got a look at Tommy. Calm for a baby who just entered the world, but then again this was Wanda’s son. You nearly cried at the sight of him, then Billy was on the way and you definitely cried from having to go through the pain again.

It became a blur after that, but one thing you definitely remember seeing, was your two beautiful boys, and your beautiful wife, holding them. Wanda looked radiant, her eyes glistened and her smile was something only held for her boys and you. She gave you Billy soon after she checked for your health, using her magic and spells to make sure you were ok and not in pain anymore. And when you held Billy in your arms, you knew he was going to be a mamas boy, empathetic and sweet for his moms and brother. Wanda sat next to you on the freshly cleaned bed and you looked at Tommy adoringly. He was definitely going to be the one to drag Billy into all sorts of trouble, and from what you heard from Wanda’s stories of them, you would be very right.That night you and Wanda fell asleep with the boys held cradled into your chests (a spell was cast to not hurt them in your sleep of course) and you laid in bed as a new family.

A month has passed since then, and while you would never regret having the twins, they were honestly too adorable, your lack of sleep was weighing on you. The boys were little balls of energy and consumed everything they ate, crying for attention and waking you and Wanda up almost every two-three hours. Being pregnant and already developing milk, you and Wanda decided to breast feed them. This was not as fun as you would think, the whole, ‘babies drinking from their mother will increase the bond’ was not exactly true, those boys would suck everything dry, regardless of where it came from, and you were starting to think breastfeeding was not the grandest idea. Your breasts were sore and you couldn’t really produce enough milk for two growing baby boys, one of them being a speedster mind you.

And this ends our little summary of the past few months up until now. You, having just put the boys to sleep, and for once, the boys are not hungry. So now, you’re tired, AND sore with milk and you just wanted to have a nice relaxing night for once. You quietly walk out of the room downstairs to the kitchen, where Wanda is leaning against the counter sipping tea. Her eyes are slightly glazed from sleep, and she’s wearing a red robe like you are. You walk up to her and just fall into her front, head going into her neck and leaning all your weight into her. Wanda grunts from the surprise weight and sets her mug to the side to wrap her arms around you and hold you to her. You sigh into her and she just rests her head against yours.

“What is it detka? Tired?” Wanda quietly says, moving to softly rub her hands along your back soothingly. You just nod your head and let out a little hum. She chuckles at this and squeezes you to her, only instead of a happy sigh like she thought she would get from you, she gets a hiss of pain and immediately pulls back to look at you in worry. “What was that? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing Wanda I’m just sore because the boys didn’t feed, I think I’m going to get the pump out.” You say tiredly, not really bothered anymore, just wanting to get rid of the ache and milk and just head to bed. You turn and start to walk away, heading towards the cabinet to get the pump, but Wanda tugs on your hand, so you turn back to her in confusion. She looks you up and down, thoughtful and concerned, and maybe it’s the sleep talking but you think you also see a dark glint in her eye.

“What if I helped you out with that darling?” Wanda asks, and you just turn back around not really getting what she’s trying to say.

“That’s ok Wanda, I mean, unless you want to turn it on and watch, there’s not much to really help with the pump.” You walk away, across the kitchen and are about to grab the pump, but scarlet magic suddenly stops you, keeping you in place. “Wanda what-“

“I’m sorry baby, I don’t think you quite understood my question. I’m not asking to use the pump, I’m asking, if you would like my help with getting rid of some of what I’m sure is very warm and delectable milk.” Wanda slowly turns you around with her magic as she asks this. Her walk slow and seductive towards you, and its then you realize what she’s really asking.

“Oh,”

“Oh, indeed.” Wanda says amused. She’s in front of you now and she’s looking at you like she’s going to eat you whole. Her magic holding you still, she slowly waves her fingers and moves your hands behind your back. “So? Is that a yes? Would you like my help with that ache of yours babygirl?” Your eyes widen a bit at Wanda’s sudden pet name and bold choice of words, heat flushes to your face from the question.

“I’ve never- we’ve never done that before, I didn’t think you would ever want to. Are you sure?” You ask unsure. The thought has come to you on occasion, but very fleeting. Sleep and the boys have taken up most of your time, and its been a while since you’ve been in the mood for anything sexual. Your pregnancy didn’t exactly make you want to have sex all the time. You felt a little bad, since you knew Wanda was always wanting your body, but she was so caring and never forced herself or tried to make you do anything you didn’t want. In fact she let you initiate most of it. So to say you both had been blue balled was an understatement. An image of Wanda’s mouth on you flashed through your mind and you suddenly realized how badly you missed her and needed her. You looked into Wanda’s eyes and saw her looking right back at you, and you realized she needed it too. She nodded and all you could do was say, “please.”

After that, Wanda couldn’t hold back anymore. It had been weeks since she last got to have you, and now she could finally taste a new part of you. With a flick of her wrist, her magic pressed you against the wall, your arms held behind your back, pressing your chest up more to her. All she could do was look at your breasts, bigger than usual from being full, and she licked her lips slightly at the sight. You still couldn’t move, not that you were complaining, although it would be nice to touch her after so long, you just watched her instead and waited for her to get closer to you.

She finally pressed her body against yours and you both sighed at the feeling, Wanda moved her mouth to your neck and placed small feather light kisses along your throat. You shivered and wanted so much more, but it was nice, the softness and intimacy you could feel coming from her. She wanted to treasure you. Wanda moved her hands to your waist, her hands slid along your sides slowly, up closer to your chest on your ribs, your breathing was increasing and Wanda basked in feeling your breathing quicken and your ribs expand. She could hear your pants against her ear as she kissed down your throat and she enjoyed having you at her mercy, unable to move or leave her hold.

“Wanda please.” You begged. Already impatient and not interested in any teasing. Wanda pulled back to look at you, dark eyes glimmered as they took in your appearance and smirked. She moved into you again until her mouth was pressed against your collarbone and slowly mouthed down to your chest, pausing to place a reverent kiss against the red tattoo there, and then continued to the opening of your robe. Her hands finally put themselves where they belonged and cupped your breasts as she kissed between them. You arched into her, letting out a moan as you felt her start to lightly massage them. Your breasts were tender, and as Wanda kept gently massaging them, milk started to ease out of your nipples. Wet spots started to form where your robe covered them, and Wanda watched with fascination as the spots grew darker and bigger the more she touched you.

“My poor baby. So tender and aching. You’ve been doing so much lately. Pregnancy, giving birth, taking care of the twins, not getting enough sleep, and having to feed them. I should be taking better care of you, cook you nice nutritious meals, take on more work with the boys so you can sleep, help alleviate your sore breasts.” As Wanda said this, she emphasized her words with the action of gripping your breasts more firmly, squeezing them a bit harder, and you nearly went on your toes to try and ease her grip. But you couldn’t, so you just stood there and whimpered in half pain and pleasure.

“Mommy please!” You finally said, and that seemed to move Wanda into motion. Her teasing smirk and gleaming eyes turned feral and dark, and her expression dropped into one with a women on a mission. With a wave of her hand, your robe practically tore in half as she parted it with her magic, she waved her hand again and soon after your hands were raised above your head and held to the wall. Your chest pushed out more and her gaze fixated on your freed breasts, they were so soft looking, so suckable to her, your milk was dripping down your stomach at this point and she couldn’t wait to lick it all up.

She took a step into you and cupped your breasts again, listening to you whimper, she moved her mouth closer and you held your breath. But instead of what you wanted, she lowered her head and went to your stomach, licking a trail up to your breast cleaning up every trace of milk that fell. Your stomach clenched and you jolted from the surprise, and Wanda adored the part of you that was a bit ticklish and made you more sensitive. As she cleaned every trace of milk, she looked you in the eye as she went to its source and finally placed her lips around your nipple.

“Oh god.” You groaned. You could feel as Wanda smirked against your nipple, her warm mouth wrapped around it as she pushed herself more into you. Her body completely molded itself against yours and her magic held you even tighter. Her lips became more firm, and a hot tongue soon came out to press against your nipple. She pressed the tip under it and gave a nice suck, and soon after milk was flowing into her mouth.

Groaning at tasting this new part of you, Wanda squeezed you tighter to her and continued to suck on your nipple. Her knee moved to between your legs and you arched into her, feeling warm liquid leave you and pleasure envelope your sensitive body. It felt so nice having Wanda drink from you, tasting you. And a more possessive side was rearing its head at finally having Wanda take this part of you and make it a part of her. You wanted her to drink this new essence of you and have it in her, to taste you and become addicted to it. It felt like this was the equivalent of having her drink your own cum, as perverted as it sounded, it made you all the more hot as she drank your milk, it made it all the more pleasurable.

Wanda was drinking from you like a woman starved, one hand was holding your breasts to her mouth and the other was trailing down your body to your hip. Her pinkie caressed the panties under it and soon that pinkie was sliding under the cloth and inching closer to your center. You were watching Wanda as she was attached to your chest and you were watching her when her eyes opened suddenly and they glowed from sea foam green to a burning red. Then your hands were released from her hold, but not your body, that didn’t stop you though from dropping your arms down to wrap them around her neck and tangle your fingers through her auburn hair. Pulling her even closer as if she wasn’t already as close as she could be, you pressed her more firmly against your breast and moaned when she rewarded you with a finger pressing against your clit.

“Babygirl you taste so good.” Wanda moaned against you. Wanda could almost feel how pleasurable it was for you, how your thoughts and feelings all gathered into one lovely erotic moment for you both. She could sense your desperation for her and more importantly, she was desperate for you, and for what has felt like the longest time, she could finally act on her need for you. Each time Wanda took a drink from you, she circled your clit. The pulses connecting between your nipple and the deep tug from your breasts as well as the the matching rhythm against your clit, was driving you wild, and soon you could feel yourself coming. Your body lost control of itself and started moving on its own. Wanda watched as you pressed your chest more into her and your hips stuttered against her hand. Your body was shaking and you closed your eyes with a silent scream and came so hard, even Wanda was bit taken aback, but didn’t hesitate to hold you and slowly ease you from your orgasm.

As you came down from wherever Wanda took you, you started to calm your breathing and realized your nails were gripping tightly into Wanda’s neck and back. With a sheepish smile you eased your hold and gently rubbed her new marks from you. Wanda merely smiled and kissed you sweetly.

“Did that hurt Wanda?” You asked.

“Not nearly enough darling.” Wanda said with a chuckle and smirked at your sweet, concerned face.

“Well if that’s the case.” Your face turned darker as you said this and Wanda was once again taken aback by your expression and was even more bamboozled when she was suddenly turned around and you were pinning her to the wall. Honestly, if you weren’t so turned on by her you would have laughed at her stunned face, but you had no time for that and went straight to just kissing her deeply, making an ‘mphm’ come out of Wanda’s captured mouth.

Your breasts were less sore now and you had no problem pressing your body against hers to keep her pinned against the wall. Wanda didn’t know what had come over you, she was so used to her always taking the lead or dominating, now it seems the roles were reversed. Wanda took this time to peek into your mind and was very intrigued by were you wanted to go with this, but more importantly, you seemed to need it, and that made Wanda need it too.

You’d gripped Wanda’s waist to control her body movement, and broke the kiss with a gasp, “Take off your clothes Wanda” you said. Wanda looked at you with a curious face, studying everything you were showing her. You face way determined and almost stern, no, more like you knew you were going to get what you wanted. Your voice was deep and breathless and honestly Wanda was really turned on by how aggressive you were being right now. Still looking at you, Wanda waved her hand and both your clothes were fully removed with a red flash. You breathed in deeply and took a good look at your wife. You may not of had an official wedding, but she was yours, and five months into your pregnancy, Wanda had made a ring for you both and you’d never taken it off. You looked at your wife and fully appreciated what was right in front of you. Wanda’s hips that you were gripping were full and soft, her red hair was in pretty waves going down her shoulders and her breasts, god her breasts were the most beautiful things you’d ever wanted to put in your mouth. They were what you fell asleep on every night and Wanda’s jade eyes were what you woke up to every morning. Wanda’s eyes were staring into yours when you were done appraising her, she was staying nice and still for you and you loved it. You didn’t know what was going on with you, but you felt a deep need to just take her. Everything in you was screaming to just take Wanda. Look at her, her lips were swollen from drinking your breast milk, from your kiss. Her pupils were blown wide and her eyes were saying ‘do what you want with me’ and so you did.

“I think you know what I want Wanda.” You said with a rasp in your voice. Wanda’s eyes flashed red from pure arousal alone. They way you were looking and speaking to her was making her lose it, and she didn’t need to read your mind to know what you were asking for. With a shaky nod from her and a wave of her hand, red magic covered between your legs and soon you felt a new appendage there. Wanda sunk to her knees and you stood there while she looked up at you and waited for you to tell her what to do. You felt a rush run through you and you wanted to feel more of it. Wanda was being such a good little thing submitting for you without you having to even tell her.

Wanda watched the way your eyes grew darker and your expression became pleased, she watched as you sorted through your emotions and waited for you to decide what you wanted next. She wouldn’t lie if you asked her if she liked this. She loved it. She loved being your mommy, but she finally understood why you loved submitting to her as well. The feeling she got when she sank to her knees for you, was something she felt deep in her chest. She could feel your satisfaction from her actions and it made her almost want to cum. This new feeling was beyond her, but she wanted to feel more.

As you looked at your darling wife, you could feel your cock pulse for her. “Be my good wife and milk me some more darling.” You growled, you waited for Wanda to listen and nearly buckled at the knee when Wanda took her hand, gently took hold of your strap, and placed her lips on the tip. Wanda kept eye contact as she tasted you like this for the first time. Her fucking beautiful mouth slowly wrapped around your cock and as she held it with her hand, put her other hand against your thigh to lift more up on her knees so she could lean more into you and support herself.

You let out a guttural moan as you looked down at her, her warm mouth and hot, wet tongue slid itself along your strap and for gods sake it was the hottest sight and hottest feeling. It was just as pleasurable as it was for your pussy, just different, and that different feeling elevated everything that was happening. To feel Wanda surround herself like this around you was making you feral and goddammit you couldn’t handle it anymore, you needed more, you needed to do something.

That something was to tangle your fingers in those red luscious locks and trust your hips against her while you held her still. Wanda took it with grace, opening her mouth wider and sliding her mouth along your cock until it touched the back of her throat. She gagged a little but was fine after that when you just kept thrusting. Wanda breathed through her nose and watched your face as you lost yourself in her. This was almost just as pleasurable for her as it was for you. She soon grew to love this side of you, love this feeling of taking another part of you in her mouth, and now she wanted to taste another form of cum from you.

You were getting close, you looked down at Wanda and groaned at the site of her on her knees, her cheeks hollowed for your cock, and drool dripping down from her chin with how much she was getting into sucking you. She was doing all the right things and even though you knew she was struggling to catch her breath, that made it all the better and the more perverted side of you loved it. You gripped her head tighter and thrusted faster as Wanda knelt there and let you use her. You needed something, one last thing, you just didn’t know what that was, until Wanda, sensing you were close, meaning she could taste your cum sooner, moaned against your cock and the rest was left for hell to deal with.

The sound you made as you came was blush worthy and the slapping came to a halt, and you made one last thrust as shoved your cock as far as you could down her throat and came. Wanda gripped your hips and pressed closer against you, doing her best to make sure every last drop of cum would go down her throat. You felt her throat and tongue move against your cock and actually heard her gulp a little as she drank everything from you. You didn’t realize it, but do to the heightened feelings and how long its been since Wanda got to last taste you, when the first drop of cum hit her throat and she heard you cum, she came with you. Her pussy clenched around nothing but she didn’t need anything, your pleasure and taste was all she needed and she came with clenched eyes and a long moan around you.

“There’s a good girl, god Wanda you feel so good.” You whispered as you slowly caressed her hair and you both calmed down. You were both finished so you gently pulled back and Wanda could finally relax her jaw and take some deep breaths. She hunched over a bit and this made you worried as you knew you were rough with her and may have hurt her. You knelt down with her and held her face to have her look at you. “Darling? Are you alright?” You sounded so concerned.

“Im alright baby.” Wanda said as she looked up and smiled at you. You felt yourself relax a bit and rubbed your thumbs along her beautiful cheeks, remembering how hollow they looked with her mouth around you… you shook your head a bit and checked her over.

“You’re not hurt anywhere? Did I go to hard, could you not breathe?” You asked. Wanda simply smiled again and kissed you to settle your concerns. When she pulled back she looked you in the eyes so you knew she was being honest and reassured you again that she was perfectly fine.

“I quite enjoyed that darling, you were a good mix of rough but not too much.” She said.

“Okay good, I’m glad, that would have been not fun if that were the case, I don’t ever want to actually hurt you.” You said. Wanda looked happy and so were you. That made you even more happy considering this new dynamic between you had been both pleasurable and you hadn’t hurt her. Knowing she enjoyed this too made you excited for future scenarios, and that excitement made you remember you could physically show that excitement and looked down. “Um, so I know that I’m kinda hard right now, but I’m also really exhausted, but I also really want to make sure you’re satisfied too, so tell me what you need Wanda and i’ll do my best to help.” You nervously said.

Wanda chuckled and kissed you sweetly on the nose, she pulled back and pleasantly surprised you with her next words. “Actually, dear I already came with you, just when you did as a matter of fact.” Wanda smirked at you.

“Really?! That’s so exciting and I didn’t even know that could happen Wanda! God I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even realize. Was it alright? Do you want my help with another one?” You stuttered out. You were amazed at this and Wanda could tell you were also nervous a bit with the new things you had tried with her.

“Calm down my darling, I’m quite satisfied at the moment. Hearing you cum, feeling it, tasting it, that was all I needed and I’m pretty sure I came just as hard as you. Now, why don’t we get up and take ourselves to bed. I think were both exhausted after the boys and this lovely night was just what we needed.” Wanda waved her hand and suddenly you were both clean and clothed and you specifically were appendage free. Thank you magic.

“I think that sounds lovely Wanda, thank you for doing this with me and trusting me to have the control like this.” You both got up as you said this and you felt so good and relaxed. You looked at Wanda and pulled her gently to you. Your arms circled her waist and she wrapped her arms around your neck, you both stood there and leaned into each other, just breathing each other in. “I love you Wanda” you whispered against her lips.

“I love you darling” Wanda whispered back and softly kissed you. Amongst all that had happened, it seemed it was you two whispering that finally woke the two twin boys that you both had been blissfully having a break from. Crying was heard from up the stairs and you both laughed a little at the timing. Wanda grabbed your hand and started walking, pulling you along with her as you both walked up the stairs. You watched behind her as you both went up and into the boys room. The twins room was decorated with a mix of blue and greens and in the middle were two cradles holding both your precious treasures. You both went to a separate bed and picked up your sons. You had Billy and Wanda held Tommy.

“Shhh, mommy’s here Billy, and so is momma.” Wanda delicately whispered as she rubbed Billy’s back, you did the same for Tommy. You both gravitated towards each other, and it seemed that calmed down the boys, as their crying calmed and Tommy looked at you. He was the cutest thing, his brown eyes looking at you with curiosity and familiarity. It soothed your soul knowing these precious boys were yours and Wanda’s. You could see so much of her in him. You held him close to you as his eyes started to droop, then you looked at Billy. Him doing the same only fighting a little harder to stay awake and watch Wanda. You couldn’t blame him as you looked at her next. She was the most beautiful person you would ever see and you guess Billy thought the same. He was definitely going to be a momma’s boy. You smirked, you were already mommy’s girl. She looked at Billy with so much wonder and you knew you were right were you needed to be. With your family, that you’d made with the woman you loved, and your boys were happy and safe and together again.

Wanda looked at you and stepped closer, her smile so gentle and at peace, you would never get enough of seeing it. God you loved her. She swayed into you and you both adjusted to hold each other and the boys as they fell asleep safe in both of your arms. You didn’t know it yet, but this would be just one of many moments between you and your family. Wanda had done something she never imagined. She’d found you and made her family whole again. All that suffering. All the pain and fighting to get her loved ones back. And yet, all she needed was you and it all fell perfectly into place. You were at first just hers. What had started as her in your mind, became her having your heart, and then she became yours. You belonged to each other and were equal, partners through everything and you both could finally just, relax.

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