#have i said anything here that others haven't already said before?
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Part Six
Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.
None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.
You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.
The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.
By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.
A colleague. You had a colleague!!!
The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.
It was one of them.
You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.
Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.
A vision.
You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.
"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"
"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"
"Listen," "Bon-"
"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."
"If you just let me make it-"
"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."
"Just give me a chance."
"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”
So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."
"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.
"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”
“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.
There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.
“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”
You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.
Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.
"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.
But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.
No.
If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.
No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.
"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."
"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.
He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.
"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.
His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.
There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.
He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.
He doesn't throw you on the bed.
Not this time.
He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.
But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.
"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.
He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.
"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.
"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.
In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."
You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.
He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.
Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.
With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.
It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.
The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"
"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.
His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.
His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.
"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.
"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.
It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.
You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.
The end.
He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."
You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.
"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."
"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.
He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.
"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.
He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.
His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.
You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.
You needed it to stop.
You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.
I could die like this, Lass.
Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.
He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.
You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.
You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.
You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.
His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.
Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.
"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.
"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.
"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."
You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.
"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.
You weren't too far behind.
He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.
But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.
"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."
He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.
in out in out in out.
Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.
"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.
His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.
His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.
"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."
He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.
"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.
"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."
You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.
Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.
"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.
The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.
Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.
"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."
"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."
"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."
"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"
"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."
"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."
"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.
"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."
"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"
No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.
But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.
You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.
So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.
"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.
"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.
You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.
You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.
Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.
"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"
You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.
Three minutes.
Three minutes.
"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."
You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.
You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.
You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.
"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.
"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."
"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.
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Hellooo, this is a Tokyo Rev ask and I was really interested in the Mikey post u made abt him as a bf realistically since canonically he’s one of the top worst. So i was wondering, what do you think of Keisuke Baji taking number 1 place as best lover? 👀
Hello! Baji is an angel despite his wild personality. I see him as a watchdog, like in that panel in the last timeline when Takemichi meets Mikey and acts like a puppy. He's not interested in a relationship right now, but that doesn't mean he's immune to falling in love or anything.
After doing this, he probably be that guy who stands silently next to his crush in class while blushing, but his scary face makes your subconscious ignore that he's turning red as a tomato. He will probably try 10 times harder to be a good student to impress his crush.
He gets upset with himself when you find out he's in a gang, he thinks it will push you away (it would push me away, but it depends on the person).
He is faithful, either you betray him or one of you stops loving the other, because only then will the love relationship with him end. I feel like he wouldn't want you to get hurt in any way, so he's always tried to hide that he's in a gang to avoid getting in trouble.
Someone like Baji, who despite being aggressive is at the same time affectionate in his own way, and who is willing to do things that many people wouldn't do like suicide is proof that he is not only a good boyfriend, but also a good friend ...actually he's good at everything.
You probably met him thanks to stray animals, or you always fed them or you always went to their pet store. He would probably arrive talking to you about cats and the conversation would flow. Every day you went there to feed the cats and he does that too, not because of you, but because of the cats. But over time it becomes attached to you and ends up appearing there for both you and the cats.
He's the type to behave like an older brother. He doesn't get jealous, he just gets suspicious when someone approaches you. As already stated in the character's book, Baji prefers to resort to violence and before a conversation, this wouldn't change much when you were dating; If he feels like hitting someone who takes up a lot of his time, just prepare your emergency kit to take care of the person he hits later.
I see him declaring himself on an important day like Valentine's Day, Christmas or New Year's, his declaration would have been 100% his and 50% Chifuyu and Ryusei's advice. Baji, like Chifuyu, reads manga, I don't remember if it was here which category he reads, but I'm sure he was inspired by it...
Obviously everything would go wrong. Some delinquent behind him trying to fight, or him simply having brain problems because he forgot what he was going to say. In the end he was only able to declare himself even in serious moments, like moments of near death where he said something like:
"don't give up on me yet, damn it! I haven't even had time to tell you how I feel!"
That alone would be enough for days later for you to talk and resolve the matter and he would simply have to say everything. But that would take years...Baji is a man of steps when it comes to love.
First step would be trust, second would be time, third would be moments together, fourth would be denial of feelings towards you, fifth would be denial and disgust at himself for having these feelings for you, sixth would finally be acceptance of his feelings for you, seventh would be his mental adaptation to all of this, eighth would be gathering courage, and ninth would finally be his declaration. But make no mistake, each stage takes time, in the end only the fourth stage would take a few years.
Baji isn't the physical type either, in fact most Asians aren't very into physical affection. But a hug from him wouldn't bother him, just raise a question in his head.
Him trying hard not to see his mother cry, killing himself for Kazutora is proof that this man would do whatever he could to keep you happy.
He would probably, like Draken, neglect you. the only way to have a perfect relationship with him is to be like him, wild and involved with Toman. Not only would it bring you closer together, but it wouldn't leave you as attention-hungry as our poor Emma.🥺
And these are my thoughts on Baji, if there is anyone with other opinions please let me know, I like talking about it. each person has a different point of view. I was never very close to him, so I only remember a few things...
#tokyo revengers x reader#tokrev x reader#tokyo revengers#baji keisuke#baji x reader#baji x you#tokrev
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Training Part 2
Prompt: Enemies to Lovers type. You and Gibbs never got along, and luckily you never really had to work with each other…until now.
Part 1
It was entirely too early in the morning when you walked through the NCIS squad room with Fornell in front of you.
"Woah. Rough night Agent L/N?" DiNozzo jabbed, instantly pressing all the wrong buttons. You decided to bite your tongue this time and ignore him before seeing an opportunity to get back at him. As he handed some papers to McGee, you swiftly stole his seat and leaned back in it exaggeratively, while sipping on your fresh cup of coffee.
"Ha ha Agent L/N. Now get out of my seat."
"Make me Agent DiNozzo." You stared him down as his colleagues and Fornell watched, wondering what was going to happen next. He chuckled to himself and turned around as Gibbs walked in.
"Gibbs. Tell her to get out of my seat," he practically whined, making you snicker.
"Daddy Gibbs isn't going to help you DiNozzo," you ridiculed, catching the eye of said Agent as he took a seat at his desk. Choosing to give up, DiNozzo went to sit on the edge of Agent Bishop's desk. She didn't look too thrilled about it but didn't say anything.
"So you two interrogated Ramos and got a name, right?" Fornell asked, bringing the conversation to work.
"He's not talking. As soon as we brought up our Petty Officer, he closed up tighter than a clam," McGee answered.
"Let me at him. I'll get him talking," you offered, causing DiNozzo to snort.
"Well if we need you to shoot him, you'll be the first to know," he quipped.
You were about to snap on him but Gibbs saved his ass again by inturrupting.
"Fine. Agent L/N, you're with me. Tobias, Abby will fill you in on evidence findings we collected from the crime scene."
You left DiNozzo's chair and waited as Gibbs grabbed his gun and badge from the desk drawer.
"What about us, boss?" DiNozzo bellyached.
"You keep doing what you were doing DiNozzo. We'll be back."
As you passed the tall Agent, you made sure to give him a small shoulder check, silently laughing to yourself as he made a face. Maybe working with NCIS wasn't so bad. It was definitely entertaining.
- - - -
The drive to the bar you knew Ramos to frequent was quiet as neither one of you had anything to say. You turned the radio on to a pop station but it was shut off by Gibbs, making you huff and send him a glare.
Both you and Gibbs walked into the musty smelling bar and you immediately spotted Ramos sitting at a booth, back to you, drinking a pint of beer.
"What is your plan?" Gibbs asked, stopping you.
"Too do the job that your agents failed to do."
He sighed in annoyance as you led the way, sliding in to take a seat right next to Ramos as Gibbs sat across from him. Before he had a chance to leave, you pulled out your badge and showed him discreetly.
"Hey Ramos. I'm with the FBI and I believe you already know Agent Gibbs."
"I don't know what you plan on asking me that you haven't already. I don't know anything, remember?" he spoke confidently while taking a sip of his drink.
You looked over at Gibbs who just sat there, stoic expression on his face. Scooting in closer to Ramos, you leaned in by his ear as he visibly became uncomfortable.
"Oh I haven't interrogated you yet Ramos. See, Gibbs and his lackeys do it all by the book. Bring you in, sit you down in a room and ask a bunch of questions, then let you go. I prefer the simpler way. You come to this bar every Friday around 5pm, after working at the gas station. You play in their little pool tournament every month, and even have your picture posted up on the wall as champion. No, I'm not going to interrogate you. I'm gonna ask one question and if you cant answer said question, I'm gonna let everyone in this bar know that you're an official informant for the FBI. I could probably bet that there are a few questionable individuals here that would hate to hear that information, don't you think?"
A couple second went by as you waited for him to break. He licked his lips nervously, confidence now completely gone and his eyes looked to Gibbs who just shrugged.
"She doesn't work for me. I can't tell her what to do."
Another few seconds went by and you moved to stand up, but Ramos' hand shot out to stop you.
"Alright, alright. What do you want to know?"
You smirked and gave Agent Gibbs an arrogant wink.
"Tell me everything you know about the death of Petty Officer Killbourne. And please, the more details the better."
- - - -
Once you left the bar and got into the car, Gibbs laid into you.
"That's not the way you should've handled it in there."
"Oh yeah? Because your way was getting us soo far."
"We don't threaten people for answers Agent L/N. You can't be so negligent."
If he thought that was being negligent, he was delusional. You didn't do anything wrong and you actually got a lead on your case, something Gibbs couldn't say the same for himself.
"Negligent?! First of all Gibbs, it wasn't a threat. Second of all, my "negligence" got us a very important lead that will now help us continue our investigation and bring down this asshole. You might not like the way I do things but you're just gonna have to suck it up because I'm here until this is done."
He didn't reply back, but just started the car and drove back to the Navy Yard, you practically jumping out of the car once he parked. In the squad room, you didn't bother waiting for him before debriefing the team on your findings and talking with Fornell about arranging a sting operation. The rest of the day, you stayed as far from the silver haired agent as you could, only giving him one worded answers, if any, when he asked you a question.
He seemed to have the same mindset, acting as if you weren't there, never looking you in the eye, just in your direction. The entire team, including Fornell were uneasy but you weren't backing down.
It wasn't until you found out that Gibbs had his team follow a lead without looping you in that you lost it. The next time you saw him, he was getting into the elevator and you made damn sure to get there before it closed.
He visibly made a face of annoyance once you joined him and the doors shut behind you.
"Why wasn't I or Fornell informed about your team finding another lead?"
"I told Fornell," he answered presumptuously, not looking at you.
"Yeah, after you had McGee and Torres meet with our suspects dealers. Listen, if this is some pissing match to you-
He leaned over, flicking the emergency stop switch, causing the elevator to abruptly stop and closed in on you.
"This is about a dead Marine, Agent L/N. I'm not here to impress anyone, especially the FBI. If you want in on our investigation and leads, than start acting like a Federal Agent and less like an immature probie."
As he had you cornered, you finally saw the look that everyone talked about. The stare that could get even the hardest of criminals spilling the beans. But in that moment, you weren't scared. No, you were turned on.
You glanced away from his burning blue eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.
"And stop doing that," he warned.
"Doing what?"
He took a step closer, successfully trapping you against the wall and leaned in to growl in your ear.
"You know what you're doing Agent. I could feel how needy you were for me in the training room just like how I can feel it now. Do you do this with every agency you work with?"
Your breath got caught in your throat at his words and couldn't help but egg it on. You looked up at him as you let your fingers trail along his beltline, dangerously close to where you really wanted to touch.
"No, just you, funny enough," you whispered.
He reached up and gently grabbed your chin, brushing his thumb across your slightly open bottom lip. Your heart was racing as the tension continued to build.
"This is completely unprofessional," he stated, making you smirk.
"Than do something about it, Agent Gibbs."
He leaned in closer as if to kiss you but stopped and dropped his hand, backing off and flipping the emergency switch back on. You stood up straighter and took a breath, trying not to look like you weren't about to just get fucked in the elevator as Gibbs shifted his stance.
It did nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his pants and you smiled to yourself. Once the elevator doors opened to the Lab floor, you watched as he made a hard left turn for the bathroom as you continued on to Abby.
"Hey Gibbs- Oh, you're not Gibbs," she said, surprised.
"No, but he's right behind me. A little too much coffee I think," you hinted, making her smile.
"Yeah, that makes sense. Well, until he joins us, I'll just go over the new information I gathered about the murder weapon."
You listened to Abby talk and Gibbs joined a few minutes later, standing a bit closer to you than usual.
#gibbs x reader#leroy jethro gibbs#ncis#ncis fanfiction#agent gibbs#mark harmon#ncis request#jethro gibbs x reader#ncis imagine#jethro gibbs fanfiction
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why sansa will be queen in the north
the main thing that convinces me sansa will end the story ruling from winterfell (other than her show ending) is the way that possession of her has become equated with possession of winterfell. hence, the reason for the tyrells to attempt to marry her to their heir, the lannisters to force her into marriage with one of their own, and littlefinger to steal her for his own purposes.
it doesn't make sense for anyone other than a stark to control winterfell at the end of the story, and as demonstrated by tywin's plotting, sansa's children can be used by her husband's family to attempt to take control of winterfell. so, ending the story with sansa married into another family just sets up the threat of that family trying to use her or her children to steal winterfell in the future. there would be no resolution of an issue which has been a huge part of her storyline so far.
but, more than the "controlling sansa means controlling winterfell" angle, there is the "controlling winterfell means controlling sansa" angle. sansa's entire story begins with her father, lord of winterfell, essentially trading her to robert in exchange for the king's trust. because of the patriarchal nature of this society, the horrible truth is that whoever is head of the stark family essentially owns the rights to sansa's body and its reproductive abilities.
ned transferred those rights to robert, and upon his and ned's death, the lannisters seized control of them. the tyrells attempted to steal control of sansa, and littlefinger successfully did. once sansa is back in the north and her family in control of winterfell again, the right to determine sansa's future will also return to the head of the stark family.
that means that if anyone other than sansa--jon, bran, rickon, even her sister--ends up ruling winterfell, sansa will never gain control over her own body and future. she will have spent the entire story as someone else's pawn, a vessel for others' goals, only to end the same way. of course we would trust her family members to have her best interest at heart...just like her father did at the beginning of the story, right?
even if they promised to allow her to remain single if she wished, there's no guarantee they wouldn't change their mind and ask her to marry for the good of the family at some point. the head of the family would retain that right, no matter what they promised, meaning sansa is not the one in control of her future. similarly, even if they promised her to right to choose her own husband, it would simply be a transfer of ownership, exactly as we saw occur between ned and robert at the beginning of the story. if her husband pre-deceased her, control of her future would either pass to her son (as we saw with catelyn and robb) or back to the head of the family.
no, sansa simply will not end the story as a political pawn of a family member, nor will she end the story as someone's consort. the only possible way that sansa will be free to control her own marriage and reproductive choices is to become the head of the stark family. furthermore, if she is only lady of winterfell, a vassal to the king in the south, she still does not retain that control. her liege could still force her into a marriage she does not want, not unlike how robert used his power as king to pressure ned into accepting the betrothal between sansa and joffrey.
in other words, the only ending where sansa is freed from the possibility of being used as a pawn for political marriage yet again is the ending where she is queen in her own right.
(nb - for those about to question why i don't make the same argument about äryä needing to become a ruler to gain control over her body and future is that political marriage has played a negligible role in her storyline. the two times someone has tried to marry her off, it has had exactly zero effect on her personally. the frey betrothal ends without her ever even knowing it existed, and the fake marriage to ramsey will also likely end with ramsey's death before she even shows back up in the north. besides, she's got nymeria foreshadowing, aka, foreshadowing of leading a group of people off to new lands. she is also foreshadowed to end as a ruler of sorts. it's no more likely that she will end up under a family member's control than that sansa will.)
#have i said anything here that others haven't already said before?#probably not#but i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to post anyway#patriarchal bullshit
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and baby makes three
(the reboot)
bucky barnes x fem reader
words: 11.3k
warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.
a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)
The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…
It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.
And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.
You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.
Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.
Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.
It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.
The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?
...Yearning?
No. Definitely not. Nope.
There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.
Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.
It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.
Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.
You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?
It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.
And god, do you even want a baby?
As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.
Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.
It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.
You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.
This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.
***
You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.
It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.
You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.
“You could knock,” you grouse.
“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.
You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”
He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”
You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.
“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.
Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.
Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.
He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”
You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”
“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.
“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.
“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.
He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.
You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.
Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.
Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”
“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.
Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.
“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”
He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.
Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.
Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.
There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.
“So… You’re serious.”
You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”
He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”
You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”
“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.
You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”
You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.
After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”
“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.
He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.
“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.
“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.
“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.
You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”
“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.
“Absolutely not.”
“Let me see!”
“It’s private!”
“Don’t be a chicken.”
Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.
You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.
“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”
Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.
“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”
“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“What?” he asks innocently.
When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.
“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.
“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”
You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.
“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”
He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.
“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.
You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”
“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”
You frown, not following.
“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.
“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“
“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”
Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.
You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.
For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.
“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”
He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”
He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.
And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.
Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.
“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.
It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.
***
With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.
Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.
You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.
And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.
Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.
“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.
“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”
He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”
Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.
“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.
“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”
He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”
“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”
“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.
“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”
Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”
You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.
***
The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.
Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.
A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.
His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”
“Hi,” you return.
He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”
You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”
Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”
“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”
“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.
“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”
Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”
Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.
“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”
Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.
He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.
This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.
Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.
“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.
A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.
“You okay?” you hear through the door.
“Will you come here, please?” you ask.
He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”
“I did it,” you whisper.
He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.
“Congratulations,” he says softly.
“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.
“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”
He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.
“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”
It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.
Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.
“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.
“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.
“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.
***
Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.
But nothing happens.
All of your tests come back negative.
When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.
Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!
***
The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.
But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.
You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”
Bucky frowns. “Why not?”
“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?
“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”
You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”
“Why not?”
You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”
When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”
You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”
His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.
“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”
“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”
His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”
You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”
“But you haven’t been doing… that.”
“I didn’t think I’d need to.”
Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.
“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”
“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”
“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.
He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.
Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.
Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.
“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.
This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.
Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.
The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.
You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.
Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.
Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.
He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.
When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.
Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.
Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.
That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.
***
You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.
Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.
And wait.
You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.
It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.
The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.
Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.
“What do I do, Bucky?”
At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”
Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.
When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.
“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”
“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.
Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”
“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.
“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”
You frown. “What do you mean?”
He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”
Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.
“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”
“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”
“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”
“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.
His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.
“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”
You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.
Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.
“Okay,” you allow, softly.
Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.
You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)
***
Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.
It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.
You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.
“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.
He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.
“Hey,” he greets.
“Hi.”
You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.
“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”
“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.
“It’s not gonna be weird.”
“Nope.”
His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.
“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.
Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.
“May I?” he asks.
Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.
Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.
The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.
He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.
It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!
When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.
“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.
He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…
He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.
Oh.
Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.
He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.
His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.
He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.
“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.
Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.
Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.
Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.
“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.
“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.
He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—
“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.
He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”
“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”
The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.
He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.
You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.
His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.
“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.
The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.
Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.
He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.
Stop it, you scold yourself.
He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.
“O-Oh,” you whimper.
The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.
“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.
He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.
“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”
You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.
Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.
It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.
“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.
“That was…”
“Mhm,” you mumble.
Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”
You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.
You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.
“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”
He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”
His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.
“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.
Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.
“Right.”
Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.
You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.
Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.
“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”
“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”
He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”
You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.
As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.
***
It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.
Honest.
You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.
Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.
That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.
More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.
You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.
I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.
***
Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.
His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.
“Hey,” you say after a pause.
He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”
You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”
It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.
“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.
You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”
“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.
“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”
He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.
“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.
Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.
***
Another week passes.
Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.
When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.
Positive.
Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.
“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.
You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.
The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.
Every single one of them… Positive.
A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.
He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.
“Did we…?”
Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.
“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”
“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.
He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.
“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.
“What?” you question distractedly.
“I’m in love with you.”
Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.
“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”
You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…
But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.
“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”
He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”
Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.
He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.
When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.
“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.
His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.
“Bucky, please,” you beg.
“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”
You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”
“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”
“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.
Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”
“Oh god,” you mumble.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.
His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.
“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”
He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.
“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”
You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.
He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.
He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.
You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.
He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.
“So good, did so well,” he mutters.
Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.
“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.���
He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”
Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.
“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”
He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”
He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.
“Hi.”
You crack a smile. “Hi.”
“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.
“Interesting,” he muses.
Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.
“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.
You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.
“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”
He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.
“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.
You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”
Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.
“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”
“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.
The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.
“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.
His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.
You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.
“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.
Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”
“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”
His smile goes soft at the edges.
It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.
For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.
***
Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.
“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”
“What about—”
“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.
You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.
Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).
You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.
It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.
Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.
“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.
He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.
“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”
Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.
“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”
Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.
He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”
The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.
#avengers fic#marvel fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x you#i can't remember how to tag bye
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I would love to see more of badass reader x Spencer, but maybe reader gets hurt on a case (like a concussion or something) and only wants Spencer and we get to see more of reader’s soft spot for Spencer. Idk if that made sense or if that’s anything you’d be interested in writing. Love reading whatever you write!💕
thank you for your request and for reading babe!! —your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. fem!reader, 1.1k
Emily's foot tap tap taps hospital linoleum. The nurses are getting worried about you —your CAT scans are fine, but you're lethargic. Mildly concussed with moderate symptoms, you winced at the lights, told Emily to turn them off, and haven't said much since.
She frowns. It's not nice to see someone who's usually so closed-off openly pained. "You okay?" she asks.
"I wanna see Spence," you murmur.
Emily nods slowly. She's had this conversation with you already. You have a spot of amnesia, nothing to worry about, decidedly temporary.
"Why hasn't he come to see me?" you ask. Your voice trips and tumbles, your eyes glowing with a glassy sheen. "I thought he'd come to… make sure I was okay. But he doesn't want to see me."
"Spencer's on the way here. He was an hour away with Hotch, remember? They're on their way."
You twitch like a displeased cat under your sheets and turn away from her, sniffling weakly. Your shoulders heave with slow tears. Emily gets up to rub your back but thinks better of it when you stiffen. She doesn't understand how you function, doesn't know what it is about Spencer alone that you can be vulnerable with him and not the others, but she won't judge you for it. She just wishes there was more she could do.
It's an untold amount of time between your tears and Spencer's awaited arrival. You're worse than lethargic, depressed, hand lax behind your back and unresponsive to the sound of the door.
"She's asleep?" he mouths. His hair is limp either side of his face, flattened by anxious hands.
"Upset," she mouths back through a frown, drawing a tear down her cheek with her pinky finger.
He doesn't give Emily a second glance after that.
"Hey," he says softly, rounding your hospital bed, touching the tips of his fingers to your hip and drawing a gentle line up your side. His head dips down, bending at the waist to see you better in the dim lighting. "Hey, what's wrong?"
You make a small keening sound from the back of your throat. It's so cleaving that Emily wants to leave, so painful that she wants to stay. You're her friend too. Emily cares about you, even when it hurts to do so.
"I don't feel like me," you say.
Spencer doesn't shy away either. His expression is open, reassuring as he pops into a semi squat that can't be comfortable. His hand closes around your arm, thumb feeling the naked skin there sweetly. "It's normal to feel confused after a head injury. I promise it won't last."
"I don't feel well," you say, small, like a scared kid.
"I know."
You reach for him. Emily knows Derek would never believe it, your hands stretched out almost desperately, the pleading noise yanked from between teeth normally gritted. Spencer wraps long arms around you with the ease of someone who's done it before, maybe exactly like this.
"It's okay," he says. He's speaking with pep he doesn't feel. Emily can see he's stressed in the high pinch of his shoulders, but he's putting on a show for you. "You don't have to be scared. It's okay."
The perpetual line carved between Hotch's brows seems deeper as he enters the room. Neither of you look up, your back loosening under the lazy back and forth of Spencer's hand.
"Concerning, right?" Emily asks.
Hotch ignores her, but not for lack of agreement. "What do her observations say?"
"Mild to moderate head injury, post-concussion amnesia, fractured index and middle finger on her left hand."
"Where are her clothes?" he asks.
"They can't check her out until she gets her fingers cast and all she brought in her go bag was slacks."
"I'll get her some pyjamas," Hotch says.
Emily's not sure what's funnier, the idea of you in pyjamas, the image of Hotch choosing a pair, or the word pyjamas in his stoic murmur. He lingers to make sure you're okay, his eyes tracking the tremble of your arms as Spencer talks too low to hear in your ear, having sat down on the bed and curled himself around you protectively.
You moan something sad and Spencer laughs, your hospital gown crinkling as he massages the top of your shoulder. "Why would you say that?" he asks lightly. "You think you know better than me? Really?"
"Of course not," you say. If it were anyone else, you'd have knocked them off the bed already.
"I don't remember you having an eidetic memory," he furthers.
You actually manage to laugh for the first time since your initial injury. "I don't remember anything right now," you say.
Emily leans over to Hotch. "You know, when we first came in, I suggested to the nurse that she might have amnesia because she kept asking me where she was, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, well, good thing you're not a nurse."
Hotch scoffs a laugh. "It's a little surprising even now. Seeing them together, you'd never think it."
"Think what?" Emily asks, fond rather than judgemental. "That she's as emotional as a China teacup?"
"I'll remember for both of us," Spencer murmurs, stroking your face. "Okay? So calm down."
Derek once told you to calm down and felt the cold of your icy attitude for a ragged week. Spencer says it and you take a visible deep breath, your head laying back in your pillows, his hand quick to cup the side of your neck. "Okay," you say quietly.
"It's not just that," Hotch says, failing to explain further.
He doesn't have to. Emily knows what he means. You can be snippy, aloof, unfriendly. But it's not just your softening that's surprising, it's Spencer's growing confidence. The ease with which he handles you, hands unabashed in their comforting.
"Want me to find you something to wear?" Spencer asks.
"We got it," Hotch interrupts. "Take it easy, Y/N. Rest."
You nod obediently. He and Emily leave, hearing a last snippet of conversation as the heavy door closes behind them.
"You wanna sign my cast, when they do it?" you ask hopefully.
"Are you kidding? I'd love to. I've always wanted to sign someone's cast, and it's good for your morale."
"Will they be in a cast long, do you think?"
"They should be healed in about six to eight weeks, but you may not regain full strength for another two months afterward. There have actually been studies…"
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Bakugou cries in front of you, and you only.
In the first few months of your relationship he keeps up a hard and cold barrier, of course getting his usual hot-headed self when someone even slightly irritates him, but you calm him down eventually.
It's not like he has no emotions other than anger, he just had difficulty showing them, even if he really really wants to, he can't.
So when he's hurt one of his friends greatly, he slams the door of his bedroom, laying on his back, on his bed. He even locked the door for good measures, but you had a key anyway. It's not like he couldn't keep you out anyway.
It's when his eyes start to water and he can feel a lump stuck in his throat, it's when he messages you. He normally doesn't use punctuation in his texts, but it's when he's upset he does.
'Come here.'
That's all he messages, even if you haven't messaged him back, he knows you've seen it, or you've heard it from someone that he's slammed his door.
In his past he used to cry a lot too, but only at home and when his mum or dad was with him. His mum would comfort him the best she could, after all she did care about him. Even if he was a bit of a jerk to her sometimes.
She would wrap him in her arms and squeeze him tightly, pecking his forehead softly, running a hand through his hair. Her words would be a lot softer than her usual yelling behaviour.
When he burnt his hands from using his quirk too much she would scold him before comforting him, tending to his wounds before sending him off so she can get back to whatever she was doing before.
"Katsuki?" Your voice sounds out into his pitch black room, the hallway light shining underneath the small crack of the door. Knocking quietly, and trying the knob, it didn't move at all.
The doorknob clicks and you can only just see inside of his room, pushing the door open gently, Katsuki was already sitting back down on his bed, looking away from you. The door clicks closed when you push it back. Leaving the room in darkness again.
All you can hear is the small sniffling coming from him, your steps quickly shift to the foot of his bed. Crawling towards him and giving him a hug, bringing his head to your chest and whispering to him.
"What's the matter, what's got you so upset babe?" Your soft words make him settle into your skin instantly, a small patch on your shirt becoming wet with his tears.
His voice was still harsh as he spoke, but his tears and upset state made his speech croaky when he spoke. "I fucked up babe... M' a shit friend."
"Don't talk down to yourself."
Your words were still soft as you lifted his face and squeezed his cheeks, looking into his tear-stained gaze. He hides his face in your neck and lays down on his back. Bringing you with him and you huff a strained groan, rubbing his hair and breathing in his scent.
His body shudders against yours and your heart aches for him, he squeezes you tighter before letting you lay down next to him, wiping his tears and looking up at his ceiling. Still avoiding eye contact with you.
Sitting up and tying your hair back into a low bun. Your legs cross and you stare at him in silence for a good minute or two.
"I said something about Shitty Hair's past. When he told me. I‐" His voice cuts off as he breathes down the lump in his throat. "I told him it was stupid to think like that."
You stay silent, not wanting to say anything that might anger or upset him more, all you did was nod to his words.
His eyes well up again, before rubbing his eyes with his hands and sobbing again, his hands and arms covering his face so you couldn't see him like that. He hated it when you saw him cry anyway, knowing you didn't mind but the embarrassment in the near future got to him.
Sliding next to his head, you run a hand through his hair and stay quiet. He was quiet, which was unusual of him. But this was a different circumstance, on that you have seen before but never really shown.
You knew your words would comfort him but wouldn't help with the situation, so you sit there and let him cry it out.
Even if he would end up sorting it out he probably wouldn't apologise, or at least give a shit apology. He would go back to you and fall asleep in your arms, asking if he fucked up anymore, to which you would reply that time would tell.
God he hated when you did that.
This was completely based off an image I saw on pinterest, its not the best work I've done but I do have more planned in the future (・ε・｀ )
Now officially edited and proofread
Should I make this a story?
#mha headcanons#mha#mha x reader#mha fluff#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha angst#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugou#mha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugo x reader
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Bad Teachings
College Professor AU! Miguel O'Hara x reader
Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Smut (I tried my best, I swear ;w;) Mildly dubious-con. Age gap implied
Hope you like 🥹✨
The last semester felt impossibly harder, nerve wrecking and it was as usual chipping away the little social life you had. Not that you had many friends really, mostly of the people you hung out with, were people that always ended either paired with you or gathered in group works.
Sure you were invited to parties here and there, but nothing too concrete.
But right now, none of it mattered, as you sat before your teacher, Peter B. Parker, at the verge of tears.
"Look, I know it seems like you'll fail, but you still have a chance." He was packing up his things and then looked your way. " I know you care for the other classes, but this one is also important. I just can't help you out this time."
"It was just one assignment! Mr. Parker. One! I had none to drive me out to that place."
"What about your friends?"
"Just... Please?, This is my last class, I can't afford another semester here."
Peter was one of the few lax teachers out there that would help out here and there when he was able to. One of your favorites actually, contrary to what people said, he was a good teacher.
"I know, I know, kid. Just let me see what I can do ok? Im not promising anything, but I can try. Mr. O'Hara isn't that bad."
You groaned hopelessly.
"God, Im so dead"
"He's not that bad. He's all bark and no bite, I'm telling you"
"Not to question your decisions, Mr. Parker but from all the teachers you could've picked, why Mr. O'Hara?"
"Not up to me kid, administration's doing. Besides, I'll be gone just a couple of weeks. You'll do fine. I'll speak to him, okay?"
You just nodded, hope hanging on a thread.
-------
You were fucked . In fact, you could already picture your parents' mortified expression upon the news and the student loan could only stretch up so far . Miguel O'Hara was... brutal.
He took no shit from anyone, he had 'zero chill' or so you had heard among the other students that barely passed with him. However, you were learning what you needed and wanted to learn. He was demanding, but a great teacher.
"He's hot." One of your classmates admitted as you were gathered in study groups to do an assignment due in a couple of hours.
"I heard he's married."
"No, he's not. No kids, nothing."
"I heard his daughter died."
"He doesn't like talking about that, Jen."
You subtly glanced at him, so ever stoic, frowning and serious, checking and grading assignments like nothing. He was intimidating overall. Everyone behaved and actually studied when he teached.
Class ended shortly after you finished the study group. However you waited a bit longer when everyone had been out to submit your group's part. And also, probably have a chance to ask about your class status.
The first thing you couldn't help but notice was how snug the button t-shirt was on him, your nose detected a tingle of his cologne, His hair was long yet well kept and silky looking. Hell, he probably had a better hair routine than you. His hands movements were smooth and swift, as if they had memorized a pattern. He stopped and looked up to you. For being a man on his early forties he looked younger.
A chill ran down your spine.
"Leave it there." He went back to scribbling notes and you obeyed.
"Mr. O'Hara?"
"Hm?"
You sighed quietly, fearful he might sense your fear.
"Sorry to bother you, Um... I was wondering if-" you swallowed as he looked back at you with a slight frown in his face
"If Mr. Parker left any extra work for me?"
His brow raised in confusion
"I haven't seen Mr. Parker in months, niña. I was just called two days ago to cover up his spot."
Shit.
"R-Right. Uh, I just asked since he said he would-"
"Help you out? Yeah, that's not happening."
"I know it's just another day for you when students come here and cry-"
"You're not crying, so that's a first."
Your cheeks burned a little at his odd praising, but also you were embarrassed overall. Your favorite teacher had definitely forgot about you.
"Just... hear me out. This is my last class, my last semester's weeks And I truly cannot afford to repeat the class."
"And that is my problem because?"
Your lips tightened and soon your eyes turned glossy, but still you were determined to see it through.
"It's just 5 points I need to keep my score and have my record approved."
"The class ain't over yet. Better keep it up."
"Mr. O'Hara, pl-"
"No."
"I will buy you empanadas?" He snorted
"See you next semester, kid. Close the door when you're out."
His no was pretty much definitive. Sighing you marched away from the classroom and closed the door. You didn't cry. That was something.
----
The following days you spent holed up in the library, roomie to loud and messy to be around as you prepared for the pre evaluation for the finals, occasionally you caught a glimpse of Miguel O'Hara, working as usual in his favorite corner, un bothered.
What truly was pissing you is that some of your teammates hadn't submitted their part of the job, wich was due tomorrow. The whole report was half done and still it was alot left to do. You were trying. And just when you felt anxiety began worming it's way in you, the seat across you was dragged open and no other than Mr. Miguel O'Hara sat before you.
He looked at you with a blank yet curious gaze.
"You look like you're about to have a nervous wreck."
"I am."
"Right, here." He showed you a printed paper, "Meet me there, at 6. Don't make plans."
"What?" you squinted your eyes to read the information
"Thought you wanted help?" Exasperated at your obliviousness he huffed, "Guess not"
"Wait!" you snatched the paper out of his hands, "Sorry. Just.. Thank you" he smirked.
Your eyes lit up upon reading the paper and nodded. If it wasn't for you being so tired, and him being scary, you'd probably hug him.
"Thank you, thank you so much!" You spoke in between whispers.
"Si si, cállate. Look, it's a conference college is organizing, in a week, if you want those five extra, go. I'll be there. Don't make plans."
"Funny you think I have a social life, Mr. O'Hara. But thanks. I really appreciate it."
"At 6. Formal dress code."
"Gotcha." you nodded as you grinned. He left you alone.
----
You'd look like a liar if he saw you, a cocktail in your hand, chatting to a classmate that was nice enough talk to. It was a small celebration for a good score in the past assignment, you could breath a little, feel a bit hopeful.
"Did you saw Mr. O'Hara today? God..." the girl almost moaned in the spot.
"You kidding? He doesn't fuck his students."
"Who knows, I might be the first?"
"In getting reported maybe. Dude is scary. A friend of mine repeated twice with him."
"What about you, (Name)? I saw you in the library chatting with him."
The whole attention suddenly dropped on you.
"Ah, yeah he told me he'd see me next semester"
"Shut up. You're failing too?"
"Yeah. I mean, sure he's hot and stuff, but... yeah. I don't know how to tell my parents actually. Add me to the chat group, by the way"
Before the conversation turned into how half female college students wanted him, your classmate took you to another private spot. Mike Aguilar was his name, someone that like you, avoided unnecessary attention. What you didn't expect was that he stole a kiss from you. Between cocktails and making out with Mike for a long time, the loud music, it felt good. Felt good to experience the other side of broke colege student.
You ended up being taken to your room, railed up but Mike was gentleman enough to not indulge since you both were drunk. How long had been since someone actually indulged you? Even more so, that you had indulged yourself? You removed your pants.
You were alone, but locked up the door, and grabbed your phone. Looking up in the group chat you looked for Mike's contact and typed.
"Hey Miky"
He replied almost instantly
"Sup, hlt stuff?" He didn't care for the typos
"Wanna see aumthin?"
"*Something"
You giggled as he send a "🥴" emoji.
Biting your lip, you put the phone in a pillow and began recording. Hands trailing on your clothed breasts as you sat down and spreaded your legs. One of your hands dipped inside your panties as the other one uncovered your breast to then squeeze and toy with one.
Your mouth had shaped in an 'o' as you bucked your hips to ride slowly your own hand. Your moans were needy and they turned more wanton as you kept toying with your nipples and clit, soon gasping for air, coming undone.
You then brought your slicked fingers to your mouth and licked them clean with a groan. You then giggled and stopped recording. The alcohol buzzed fully in your system, not only clouding your judgment, but also firing up a dirty mind.
"For your eyes only"
You uploaded the video and pressed send.
Tossing the phone on your nightstand, you went back to keep indulging in yourself before your roomie could get back. But this time, you had in mind a very specific scary teacher to think about.
----
The constant beeping in your phone bolted you awake. You turned off the alarm and saw your phone. Your eyes went wide awake as dread crept up to you.
"So... What was that you wanted to show me?"
Oh no.
Panic surged through your body as seeing Mr. O'Hara's chat open with a 'video' description. Shaky fingers opened it up, only to reveal the 'seen' mark in the chat.
OH NO.
-----
Against all odds and what could go wrong, you showed up in class. Sure, sending a porn video of yourself to your scary teacher was a major fuck up. But failing class would be even a bigger fuck up of all times, You had one foot outside of it all. Once out of college you wouldn't see Mr. O'Hara, and eventually he'd forget it all. Besides, you were pretty sure that he'd receive that kind of messages on a daily basis.
Sighing, you entered the classroom and as quietly as you could you sat in the very back of it. Class went as normal as you could, but the feeling of being watched was always present. Thankfully class was over and just as you snuck to get in, you snuck out.
You couldn't look at him in the face, not after what you had done in that video. Another reason of why you didn't drink often. But now a new problem laid ahead. How would you face him on Saturday?
Talking about, you didn't even know what to wear. Maybe the universe was conspiring against you, but you were grateful enough that he didn't bring it up, maybe he didn't pay much attention. There were so many scenarios running your mind.
----
In the end, you wrote an apology. It was easier to just apologize without seeing his face, and maybe things would be buried and forgotten as days passed.
But no. He had requested to see you after class.
As you approached you squeezed the written apologize and sighed once you were before his desk, across him.
"I need you to sign here, to confirm your assistance tomorrow."
You gulped and took the pen, after sliding the letter to him. He cocked an eyebrow to you as you signed.
"What's this?" He took the crumpled paper and opened it up. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see, amusement in them. A knowing look seizing you.
"I'm so so sorry. The... The video I mean. It wasn't for you, I swear! But I was-"
"Drunk and stupid? Yeah. Noted." He tossed the letter in the trashbin and stood with his arms on his waist, "I thought you were better than that, (Name)"
Your eyes glossed over the disappointment in his tone.
"Has anyone else seen it?"
You shook your head.
His eyes glinted with something dark, something you couldn't actually pinpoint and to be honest you were too embarrassed to ask.
"Good. Anyway, 6 pm. Austen's Auditorium"
"T-That far?"
"Have a problem?"
"Uh, no. I'll be there. I'll call an Uber."
"I'll drive you."
"What? No! I mean, no. I'm uncomfortable enough as it is. Don't wanna make this even more awkward."
"Trust me, nothing that I haven't seen before, unfortunately."
"Yeah, no. I'll call an Uber. I'm financially fucked anyways. Thanks" His pupils dilated so ever softly at the way your lips muttered the word fucked. His face remained steely as usual, but his eyes gave away so much.
"Whatever. Meet me in the last row, second seat, then."
------
You showed up, high waisted, tight, black, upper knee length skirt with a small slit on the side, a cream colored blouse with matching bra and a black blazer with nude heels. It was the standar, and the only truly formal wear you had in your closet. Uber drove you to the venue and soon, you met Miguel and sat next to him. You could recognize some other students along some other teachers from other areas. Conference was about the new ways of teaching and learning, nothing too groundbreaking as you had originally thought.
The conference was two hours long and at the end, you signed up a paper sheet and was told to wait on the entrance as Miguel greeted and signed out.
"Let's go."
Miguel guided you by placing a hand on your lower back, and gave a gentle push for you to follow him.
"Car's on the third floor"
"I told you that I could get an Uber."
"And risk you to be kidnapped or something? Not a chance. Besides I wanna keep my job as much as I can."
"Gee, thanks for caring, Mr. O'Hara."
"Todo un placer, preciosa." He chuckled
Your knees trembled as he spoke in spanish, you were sat on the front seat and fastened your seatbelt. He started the engine but it just revved a couple of times before it went dead. And just when you thought nothing could go wrong, it started pouring. Hard.
"Shit."
You groaned in frustration and Miguel smirked.
"Why the rush? Have somewhere to go?"
"No, Mr. O'Hara. Just wanted to rest. I'm not used to wear heels actually."
"Thought you were meeting with that guy you were making out the other night"
Your eyes widened in utter embarrassment as he stretched in his seat.
"Jesus... this can't be even more embarrassing."
"As your teacher, I completely disapprove such behaviors. Specially with that cabrón. He's not a good person."
"What do you mean?"
"He's conditioned. Likes to spread out intimate content of girls he gets."
"How do you know this?"
"I told you, nothing I haven't seen before."
You sank in your seat, mulling over his words.
"Hate to admit but... Im kinda glad knowing this. I mean, I'm really embarrassed though, but-"
"You're glad that little video fell onto my hands and not someone else?"
You nodded, unable to look at him as your face flushed.
"Yes, what?"
"Y-Yes, sir."
"Must admit though." His hands on the wheel tightened. "It took me by surprise. Out of all the female students, you, did a whole show."
You gulped as your breath hitched. His eyes squinted and that dark tingle was back at it again
"Hands in those cute ass panties, riding your hand like it was the last thing you'd ever ride."
His hand pulled his hair back as he bit his lip so ever softly. You on the other hand were trembling, unable to look at him in the eye.
"Who were you thinking of?"
"N-None. I swear. This is... really really bad"
"Maybe, but so is sending really explicit videos to your teacher, preciosa."
You shut your mouth and looked at him, he leaned in and studied your face. His index and thumb taking your chin.
"You're trembling. Why? A pretty thing like you shouldn't fear me. I'm not gonna hurt you. Quite the opposite actually." His thumb caressed your cheek and his lips brushed over yours.
"I wanna make you feel as good as you did in that video." He kissed your cheek and bit softly at your earlobe earning a shudder. It was like if another person had took over him.
"Can I? You want me to make you feel good, muñeca?"
He was overwhelming your senses, then you felt him unbuttoning your shirt. You nodded.
"W-Wait... what if someone sees us?"
Miguel unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you for a deep kiss. Moaning, your hands raked down his chest, stopping at his belt.
"Don't worry on it. It's fucking pouring outside." He riled up your skirt up, exposing the fabric of your panties. His lips went to your neck and kissed a soft trail as his fingers dipped between clothed folds, earning a whimper. His free hand managed to pull out one of your breast and then rolled his tongue over it.
"So sensitive" His fingers rubbed in slow circles your little flesh mount. He took a moment to pull one of the windows two inches down, enough for air to seep in.
"Spread those legs for me, preciosa. Lemme see that pretty pussy." Your hips accommodated as your skirt was pushed upwards, he then removed your panties and smiled.
"Sit on the back seat. Can't taste you properly like that." With trembling hands you moved on the back leathery wide seat as he moved the front ones forward, leaving more space in the back. He removed his blazer and his tie. Your heels long forgotten in the front seat. He seemed like a caged animal in a tiny space, and you a small snack for him.
His hands kneaded the supple flesh of your thighs, you removed the blazer and soon he finished unbuttoning your shirt, your bra was unclasped, spilling your breast freely. He groaned and kissed you once more. In your haste you unbuckled his belt but he stopped you.
"Are you on contraceptives?"
His fingers spreaded your legs further, exposing your slick flesh. You just nodded dumbly.
"No habrá problema entonces." He muttered more to himself than anyone as he bend over, one of your thighs dangled in his left shoulder as he brought your slit closer to his mouth.
He did a small cross blessing on himself and a little prayer and licked his lips.
"We've got to be grateful for this meal." His tongue went flat against your slit and dragged it up. Your toes curled up and you groaned.
"Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor." His lips focused in the little bundle of nerves, giving it soft suckles, kisses as his tongue dribbled in your inner folds.
"Podría comerte todo el día" He mumbled as he gave feathery bites on your plush flesh. His hands held your thighs, you were too enraptured in pleasure to mumble a coherent word. Instead your hands latched at his head softly and applied pressure only when he grew closer to that very sweet spot.
His tongue lapped up and soon his whole mouth disappeared between your folds. The obscene sound of his mouth working made your spine arch. He held you in place as his face kept buried between your legs. Your breath hitched as your body went taut. He switched in between devouring your clit and fucking you with his tongue.
"Y-Yes!" You hissed as searing pleasure crashed hard. Your toes curled in, and your body trembled, coming undone on his mouth. He made sure to clean you up before releasing your flesh with a wet pop. You pulled him for a kiss as the rain kept hitting the car, drowning any sound.
"Such a pretty and naughty baby." He cooed as he tied your hands behind your back with his neck tie, then pulled his pants down his knees and brought your knees close to your shoulders, exposing once more your puffed and wet cunt.
"Sending videos for me to watch" He pumped himself a couple of times before rubbing his flushed tip in your sopping folds. You moaned as he entered you slowly, feeling the good stretch of his cock in your walls and gasped.
Hearing your classmates talking about the possibilities of what Mr. O'Hara had between his legs was nothing compared to actually experiencing it as it dug deeper in your guts.
You gave a shaky whimper at how full you felt, and he was barely starting. You could only watch as his girth disappeared between your folds with ease.
"You're so tight, princesa." He kissed your temple, as you choked on a thrust he gave, shaking your whole body.
"Wanna be a good girl for me?" Nodding you groaned as he tangled one of his hands on your front bangs and held you still, to then ram his hips against yours. It earned him a sweet wail from you. He closed his eyes for a second, relishing at your warmth and tighteness
"So fucking good. Will give you a lil' present before you graduate." His hips slapped shamelessly and viciously, leaving you with little room to breathe properly. Your hands desperately trying to hold onto something
"Gonna miss you and this pussy when you're gone, you know that?" His voice rumbled through his chest between heavy pants and soft growls.
You were too cock drunk to actually speak, the lack of air was making you dizzy, soon you felt like a zombie, just grunting and moaning as his body crushed you, over and over, almost fucking you in to the seat. Miguel O'Hara was anything but gentle, in all sense of the word. The car shook softly and soon, you gritted your teeth as the pressure in your lower belly increased until you came on his cock. Gushing and clamping down hard.
Your body shook, and he cupped your cheeks, smiling at the debauched look on your face as you came, proud of himself. Your hands had numbed out, but he then untied them.
"Such a messy baby." His hips didn't stop, one of his hands snaked it's way to your neck and squeezed.
Your hands found a little strength to cling to his arm, his eyes never left you.
"Give me another one, mi amor"
He cooed as his hips fucked you silly, tears piling up at the corner of your eyes, overstimulation making a mess out of your senses. Your nails scratched his wrist as his thrust turned erratic, sloppier and finally he came as he cradled your limp body closer to his.
It was almost possessive. You gave a pathetic cry as you came with him. He kissed you softly and laid you gently.
He then pulled one of the windows down another couple of inches, letting air to refresh your burning body.
Your clothes were soiled, except for the blazer, the rest was drenched in sweat or covered in fluids. The good thing was that rain could cover up all evidence.
He looked at you in awe and pride.
----
"You look lovely in this one."
Mr. O'Hara's chat was opened, revealing a picture of you sucking his cock in his classroom with your graduation gown, looking at him with doe-like eyes.
"Thanks. You taste great, btw." You typed back, with a smirk
"Call me, Miguel, preciosa. I'm not your teacher anymore."
-----
Si si, cállate — "Yeah, yeah, shut up"
Todo un placer, preciosa - "My pleasure, gorgeous"
cabrón— Fucker
muñeca- Doll
No habrá problema entonces- "No problem then"
Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor- "You have a pretty pussy, my love"
Podría comerte todo el día- "I could eat you all day"
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Longing for love
Pairings: R2! Leon X Fem! Reader
Summary: It's your birthday, and your childhood friend wants to make it special.
Wc: 2.4k
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity (both sides), pet names, soft sex, making out, slight oral( f receiving).
An: I know I promised I'd post this last week, but this week I was feeling down about writing anything. Just as I haven't replied to asks or comments, I'll probably reply to them tonight.
I don't know what happened, I had so much to write and ended up writing almost nothing. Anyway, I'll try to finish what I've already got half-written and try to post it over the next few days!
I really hope this bad mood passes soon, and I thank you all for your love. 🫶🏻
It was a special day, your birthday. You had nothing special planned, nothing other than lying in the comfort of your bed watching some series on your laptop.
Even though you had told your childhood friend, Leon, that you didn't want anything special today, he refused to accept it.
It was your birthday, how could he pass it up? Even though he didn't have the best financial conditions in the world, he spared no expense in giving you a shiny necklace with a heart as a pendant.
If it were up to him, he would give you anything you asked for. Because he thought you deserved all the best the world could offer.
And here he was, spoiling you with sweet, wet kisses, holding you down on the bed while he gave your forehead one last kiss before whispering:
"Are you sure you don't want anything?" You'd lost count of how many times he'd asked you that during the night.
You knew he could get you anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask.
"No, Lee..." You said softly, clutching and snuggling into him.
He nodded, tangling his fingers in your hair and playing with the strands, holding you so close to him that the two of you had your bodies pressed together.
The bed seemed so cozy for both of you, the covers that were wrapped around your bodies as the two of you exchanged these light caresses.
You couldn't have been happier on your birthday, cuddling up to him while the gentle rain fell outside.
Leon felt his heart flutter every time he saw you all dolled up in a light purple dress, looking like a princess. Wearing your prettiest earrings, glossy lips that had left a raspberry taste in his mouth that made him keep licking his lips because of it.
"You know... I saw a dress..." Leon begins, and you already know where this is going to end.
He always says he sees something that reminds him of you, and every time he ends up bringing it as a present for you, with the excuse that you'd look perfect wearing what he's bought.
"Leon, you don't have to..." You whisper, kissing him on the lips.
He closed his eyes with a soft smile, pressing you a little closer against him.
"But I'd love to..." He says with that cocky smile you already know well.
You giggle, kissing his cheeks several times. He always got frustrated and embarrassed when you did this, his cheeks getting hot from the act.
But he'd be lying if he said he didn't love it every time you showered him with kisses. The feel of your lips on his skin was something he would never forget.
Without even realizing it, he gripped your hips a little harder, getting goosebumps when your breasts grazed his chest from how close you were to him.
Once you'd finished what you'd started, the proud smile plastered across your face.
"Why are you blushing?" You asked with mischief and sweetness in your voice, biting your lip as you looked at him.
You watched his lips come together and press, a sketch of a pout there. His eyes locked with yours, his arms wrapped around your waist.
God, how could he resist that? How could he resist you?
He swears he was trying to ignore the situation, trying to ignore the way you were so close to him, your warm body crashing against his.
Maybe he was being daring, but he took the opportunity a step further, placing a light kiss on your neck. Letting his lips linger there for a few moments.
The response that came from you pleased him, he heard your breathing hitch, your chest descend and rise more visibly. He knew you liked it.
"Maybe I want something..." You whispered, looking at him with a certain shyness.
You knew that the two of you had already crossed the line into friendship, not least because you doubted that friends kissed or got that close. But when he looked at you in such a sweet way, something in you melted.
"Say... I can give you anything you want..." He whispers, lightly caressing your cheeks.
You bite your lip, leaning your forehead against his once more, and soon the sweet words are coming from your lips:
"A kiss?" It wasn't the first time you'd kissed, but the way you asked for it this time, so sweetly, the smile was kind of drawn on your face.
Who was Leon to say no?
"Whatever you want, princess." That's all he said before kissing you.
It started in a loving and gentle way, his lips moving against yours in sync, his fingers caressing your waist with affection and delicacy.
Your hands wrapped in his hair as his tongue traced your lower lip, asking for passage into your mouth. And you didn't deny it.
You don't know how it happened, or how a simple make out session turned into languid, sloppy kisses, his hands grabbing every bit of skin he could find, not wasting a single precious second to touch you.
And before you knew it, he was on top of you, his hands slowly coming down to hold your hips. And knowing how far this was going to go, you didn't try to do anything to stop it.
In the blink of an eye he had already taken off your dress, his lips trailing down your neck as he grasped the waistband of your panties, taking no time to remove them at once.
His eyes went wide once you were naked in front of him, his cock aching from the rush of seeing you like this.
"Can I...?" All he wanted was your permission to continue or to stop, it was up to you.
You nodded shyly, letting him do whatever he wanted.
And that was all he needed to continue. He moved his face down to your belly, kissing softly and sweetly across your skin, leaving no part untouched. He was so anxious that he could barely think straight, the only thing he wanted to feel was what it would be like to be inside you.
So he needed to prepare you, right? And once he saw how wet you were already getting with just a few kisses, it wasn't long before he thought of a solution to get you soaking wet.
His hands gripped your thighs, you could tell he was as nervous as you were. The blush on his cheeks, the way he was biting his lower lip to hold back the sounds he might make at the sight of you in this situation.
He'd never seen you naked like this, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined this situation multiple times.
But now that you were here in front of him, it was a completely different story.
Before you could look at him, you felt his warm lips on your thighs, giving you light, wet kisses.
As if he was afraid and apprehensive of making any moves, he had never done that in his life, he was just following what he thought was right, maybe he could call it instinct or something.
His warm, soft lips gave you goose bumps, made your body shudder under his body, you gasped and arched your body gently.
His every touch was capable of making your thoughts go blank and you forget the world around you, as if nothing else mattered. Just the two of you there.
He also couldn't stop salivating once he saw your wet folds, the state he'd managed to leave you in with just a few kisses and caresses. Your throbbing pussy almost begging for him, a sight that sent an electrifying pulse to his hard cock.
You held back from moaning when you felt his hot breath against your sex.
It wasn't long before you were shuddering at his touch, the way he was so delicate as he planted kisses in your folds, he was so tender that it was simply attractive to watch. His blue eyes staring at you, just to make sure you were comfortable with it all, and that you wanted it as much as he did.
As soon as he saw that you were ready for him, he began to undress. In a hurried and clumsy way he took off his clothes, throwing them into a corner of the room.
You were mesmerized by his body, strong and muscular, so defined that you could salivate just looking at it.
Once again he was lying on top of you, his lips pressed to yours in a hot kiss.
You only heard him fisting himself a little, before he began to guide his tip into your entrance. You knew from the kiss he was giving you that he wanted to make you focus only on him, making you as comfortable as possible.
So he slowly entered you, calmly and patiently, all the while asking you if it was okay and if he could continue. The situation was new and strange for both of you, so reluctance was more than normal.
Once he had sunk into you, he could have sworn to God that he was holding back from cumming, the sensation of your warm, wet walls was more than enough to finish him off.
But he held on, held on and tried his best to stop the thoughts of simply exploding inside you here and now.
And he hovered over you, simply rigid on top of you, just as his hard cock didn't move an inch from where it was.
He felt your discomfort, the way you hissed a little when he put it in, and if you were being honest, it stung considerably.
He stood still, that is until you both got used to the foreign feeling.
But even then, he kept giving you soft kisses on the cheek, whispering sweet nothings to help you relax.
"I love you so much..." He whispered sweetly in your ear, giving the area light kisses and licks.
You moaned softly at his touch, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips, entwining with him in such an erotic and intimate way.
And in yet another of his gestures, he entwined his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly as he gazed at you with those gentle blue eyes.
It was a gaze so tender, so loving, a gaze that was reserved for you, only you.
"You can move..." You say softly, looking at him shyly.
He gets the message, and slowly starts to move, in a shallow and calm way, he had no intention of rushing things.
Not least because he could see how nervous you were, or how much your pussy clenched around him, even though he had stimulated you, had prepared you to loosen up more.
"So tight..." He moans softly, giving your lips a gentle kiss.
The way he was so tender, so tenuous as he thrust into you, he didn't even move much, just enough to cause a little friction.
Not least because he didn't even know what you liked at those times, it was two inexperienced lovers learning at once.
"Lee..." You call softly, gently biting your lower lip as you look at him.
Surely he noticed the way your hips began to move against his, as if your body knew exactly what to do in this situation.
He took this as a green light, and began to pick up the pace, still making a point of giving you kisses and caresses all over your body.
You felt your mind getting so heavy, his cock reaching places so deep, points so sensitive that you couldn't even imagine.
It was all so good, certainly better than you imagined.
In one swift movement he removed one of his hands from yours, moving down your belly until he reached your crotch, where he stopped respectfully. Not wanting to do anything without your permission.
"Is it okay if I....?" He asked, placing his index finger next to your clit.
He wanted to know what you liked, what felt good, and he was going to start here. With your bundle of nerves.
"Y-yes... Please." You asked in a sly voice, and he could even see the pout that formed on your lips.
He smiled against your neck, giving the area a hickey, leaving a small mark. And then there was his thumb, smoothing over your clit, making small, delicate circles on the sensitive flesh, making you roll your eyes and moan louder with each movement.
He eased off when he felt you loosening up more, and with that he understood that he could increase the speed of his hips, and so he did.
Now the dirty, wet sounds echoed through the room, his heavy balls slapping against you and making that characteristic skin-on-skin noise.
But neither of you cared, so lost in that moment that the least of your problems was the profanity that came out of your mouths in the form of words.
Your heavy breaths came together as one, in the purest of synchronies. He was close, and so were you.
But as far as he was involved, your pleasure came first, so he would hold back as long as he could so that you would come first.
"Leon... I think I'm going to cum." You say in a low moan, feeling a new sensation forming in the pit of your stomach.
Your walls squeezing so tightly around him, and him trying his best to hold back. With a strangled groan you felt your hot fluid pouring out of you, your body arching and crashing against his as you came.
It was enough to send him over the edge too, and he almost didn't take his cock out of you, he was so lost in your expression of ecstasy that he forgot he wasn't wearing a condom.
He even thought about cumming in your belly, but was genuinely apprehensive of making a mistake and making a mess. So he pulled out of you, fisting himself and cumming on the sheets. Moaning and grunting as his cum spurted onto the silk sheets.
You were both tired from the recent orgasm, and he took the opportunity to lie on top of you and hold you close.
"On your belly next time?" He asks softly, a shy, mischievous smile appearing on his lips.
You smile, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks with your hands, hugging him as he relaxes on top of you.
"Yes, next time." You whisper, closing your eyes and storing the moment in your memory.
You couldn't have hoped for anyone better to lose your virginity to, and for sure, Leon couldn't have had anyone better either.
You can believe it was your best birthday.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy#leon x reader#leon x y/n#leon x you#leon resident evil#leon kennedy smut#re leon#resident evil leon#leon scott kennedy x you#leon scott kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy smut#leon smut#leon re2
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keeping secrets
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: you and satoru avoid each other
warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)
last part | next part
*
year four.
"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter."
satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head.
"he didn't give you anything to sign?"
"not recently."
you sigh. "i don't think he lost it."
satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?"
"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?"
his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that."
"well, can you help me look for it?"
satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it.
you snort.
but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there.
and, admittedly, things have been a bit off.
you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).
honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek.
and... it shouldn't be weird.
no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do.
but it's weird.
it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther.
and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back.
and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should.
but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.
it's not like satoru made you.
if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place.
you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine.
"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.
you try to ignore it, really.
"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin."
"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him.
"i didn't tell you about that?"
"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--"
he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good."
"there's no way she's good."
"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital."
"what?"
satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that.
not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever.
"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles.
but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it.
so, yeah. things are fine.
*
"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.
the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in.
you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'
"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job."
"again?"
you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease.
it falls flat.
"did he get in trouble?"
"i don't know," you shrug. "probably."
honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days.
it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--
"when's he going to be back?"
"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..."
megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?"
you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home."
he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression.
megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?"
you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?"
he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge.
maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long.
just, you know, forever.
*
"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you.
most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude.
"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin.
seriously, why is it so cold in this house?
"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.
he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired."
"he said that two years ago."
satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to.
but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?"
"sure. what's up? megumi do something?"
"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..."
"meeting?"
your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party."
"on friday?"
"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean.
i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--
satoru hums. "what about the kids?"
"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it."
satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume.
he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel.
you just know it.
"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?"
you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week?
how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there?
"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night."
"megumi hates guy's nights."
satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there.
like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you.
he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse.
it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.
"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--"
"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you.
"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure."
he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining."
"okay."
"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything.
and it's not okay.
*
the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step.
it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse.
it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.
"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?"
"we were--"
"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride.
your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?"
"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long."
"that's great."
"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition."
megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment.
you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.
you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that.
you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?"
"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?"
you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick."
he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension.
as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry.
because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it.
but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him.
“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.”
“i knew you’d say no.”
you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”
“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“
“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger.
just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.
how can he stand there and act like you're a team?
“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.”
“i don’t care!”
satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.”
“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.”
“secrets? i’m not—“
you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.”
“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.”
“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.”
“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.”
his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi.
this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu.
“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.”
“like i said, he’s fine.”
“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”
you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--
“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?”
you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“
“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.
“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.”
“i would never—“
you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.”
“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up.
you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?”
“well, no, but—“
“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.”
the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him.
you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you.
satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?”
“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“
“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“
“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!”
he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care.
“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?”
you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.”
“you think i don’t know that?”
“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.”
satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched.
you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.”
“that’s not what i said.”
you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“
“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“
“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!”
“what?”
“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?”
what about me? you don't say.
“i didn’t bring him for me—“
“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“
“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“
“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?”
he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.”
“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.”
“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.”
you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it.
all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--
but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?”
“this isn’t about us."
“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.”
“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself.
clearly, you've struck a nerve.
“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.”
“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”
“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”
satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you.
“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.”
he shakes his head at you.
“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?”
“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“
he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue.
and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter—
fine. you will too.
“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.”
satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?”
this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else.
“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“
“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you.
he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks.
“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“
“and you have? what about what you want him to be?”
“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“
“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.”
you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.”
you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care.
satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--"
"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"
"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“
“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.”
satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue.
and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started.
but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air.
you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization.
but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going.
he walks out the door, slamming it shut.
you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care.
but after a minute, he doesn't return.
and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru.
pretty sure.
but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away.
and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened.
you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about.
you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back.
are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again?
you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy.
should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back?
is he going to come back?
the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear.
maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds.
but it feels like an hour.
"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you.
you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now.
but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids.
so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water.
you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache.
you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart.
megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have.
you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this.
god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything?
how could you make another mistake?
"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life.
"where did gojo go?"
"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk."
"is he okay?" tsumiki asks.
"are you okay?" megumi follows.
"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break."
"from us?"
your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good."
megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats.
"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--"
"when is he going to be back?"
you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything.
"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready."
"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried.
"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?"
they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay.
but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home--
this is why you shouldn't have moved in--
this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul--
"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist.
he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could.
theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard.
your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete
but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together.
you can't cry, but you really want to.
*
satoru's entire body feels different.
he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences.
he misses you.
it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe.
because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating.
you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word.
he doesn't want this, this thing to be real.
denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.
and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough.
but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you.
it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.
he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say.
he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough.
he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be.
but those words feel too rotten to say aloud.
so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again.
you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along.
but he doesn't want to do that. not to you.
and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it?
it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it.
and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition.
there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately.
and he sees you, lying in bed.
and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open.
there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone.
you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him.
and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore.
but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry.
it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen.
he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle.
and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him.
immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated.
satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this?
should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest?
but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave."
satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more.
he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there.
your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.
he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive.
"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul.
"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't."
"i can't lose you too."
he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry."
"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't."
"you don't have to."
"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave."
"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever?
there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time.
so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again.
"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it.
"i'm not going anywhere," he answers.
and, just for tonight, it's enough.
he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow.
*
next part | series masterlist
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#a typical family#jjk satoru#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader
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a little sugar and spice [v.s.s]
pairing: OPLA!Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader
wc: 0.7k
cw: n/a
an: *in dj kahled voice* another one- also i started reading the manga! this was lowkey inspired by this one reel i saw in a series called cheese church- chessus bless guys!
"Finally awake?"
Sanji stood there, towel thrown over his shoulder as he mixed something, pausing for a moment to look at you.
There was a brief silence, in which you coughed, trying to fish a response out.
"Did i fall asleep here again?" You groaned, the sticky feeling of the leather ever present as you pulled yourself up sluggishly.
"You did, i'm not complaining. I got a lot-" He pointed to the chopped vegetables sitting to the side, "-of meal prepping done. It's just as quick as i remember it being."
"Speaking of which, when did i fall asleep? The last thing i remember was coming in here for something," You muttered, trying to recall any more you could.
"Nothing much. You came in here for a glass of water, and eventually you fell asleep on the couch," He said, smiling widely, "you tried to help me with the pastries i was making too, but you kept messing with the batter."
You shrugged, getting up and stretching.
"You want something to eat?" He asked, wiping his hands on the towel, "You haven't had anything since yesterday." Before you could protest, he gave you a pointed look, "And don't you try to protest love. As i recall, you drank the entire bar dry last night and started professing your love for m-"
"Shut up," You flushed, mouth opening and closing as he gave you a victorious smirk.
"Still, you know i'm not wrong." "Why you.... you know what? I'm not sure you'd be able to make what i want," You said, sticking your tongue out at him, "i'm very choosy about what i eat."
He gave you a deadpan look, rolling his eyes, "What? Fancying yourself a picky eater today love? I assure you, i can make anything you can imagine."
You thought long and hard, biting your lip before it hit you.
"I want a grilled cheese."
"A grilled cheese?" He let out a little laugh, putting down his knife, "Are you sure thats all?"
"Yes. That's all i want. A grilled cheese," You said, slamming your hands down on table, eyeing him up and down. "If you don't make it, you're not man enough-"
"Challenge accepted," He said, quickly putting away his other tools, "I'm assuming you know where the cheese is. Go get it-"
"Already on it," You said plainly, opening up the cabinet. Among various bottles and boxes, there sat a wrapped block in the back, wrapped with twine.
"Found something!" You pulled it out, coughing as he took it from your hands. Unwrapping it, he whistled, showing the block of cheese to you.
"Mold. I wonder how long it's been back there." He said, and you groaned, seatings yourself on the island in front of him. "Aw bummer, what are you gonna do now?"
Sanji chuckled, placing the block on the counter, "You know we never waste any food love, so now we just salvage it as best we can."
Within minutes, the sizzling of the bread filled the kitchen, and the aroma of melting butter and toasting bread wafted through the air. Sanji's concentration was evident as he flipped the sandwich with precision, ensuring it was golden brown on both sides.
As you reached for the cheese, he swat your hand away, shooing you off the counter.
"Sit down, you need to be more patient cause perfection doesn't rush itself." You huffed, sitting back down at the island, tracing the pattern of the counter.
The sound of ceramics being placed on the counter made you look up, grilled cheese and a mini green cake looking right at you.
"There you go, love. One grilled cheese, as you asked!"
"Mmm, this is amazing, Sanji," you exclaimed, stuffing the food in your mouth, "You really outdid yourself with this one."
Sanji's seemed satisfied as he watched you enjoy the sandwich, retreating to get something from the back.
"I'm glad you like it, love. By the way-" He returned, smaller plate in hand, "- i have something for you to try."
You didn't respond, looking at the mini cake he handed you.
"I'm guessing you're wondering what that is?" He said, and you nodded.
"It's a mini matcha cheesecake. You should try it," He urged you, and you obliged, taking a bite.
"Hmm. It's good..." You replied, wrinkling your nose.
"You're not telling me something," He said,
You glanced at Sanji, "Well, it's good, but it's missing something."
Sanji arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Missing something, you say? What could possibly be missing?"
"Sugar," You replied.
Sanji's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Sugar? You think my cheesecake needs more sugar?"
You nodded, a playful glint in your eye. "Definitely. It's got that nice matcha bitterness, but it needs a little sweetness to balance it out."
Sanji gave you a smile, clearly enjoying the banter. "Sugar would throw off the delicate flavor balance, but let's see if I can meet your sugar quota."
With a flourish, he reached for a small jar of powdered sugar and lightly dusted the cheesecake with it. "Now, give it another try," Sanji said, pushing the plate back to you.
You took another bite. "Mmm, that's much better," you declared with a satisfied smile.
"I guess i just didn't use as much sugar as i usually would, since you're so sweet."
"Don't forget i've got a bit of spice in me too," You rolled your eyes, leaning in closer.
"Indeed," He muttered, sealing the distance between the both of you, kisses tasting with the faintest hint of some kind of sweetness unknown to you.
"Hey Sanji I thought i smelled something really good cooking and- Oh!" You both tore away from each other, Luffy watching you as Zoro stood behind him, annoyance scribbled all over his features.
"First thing i see this morning-"
You hopped off the counter, blowing Sanji a kiss as you ran from the kitchen. Your departure was followed by an angry rupture and laughter, resounding loudly through the halls.
"Wait- You idiot why would you do that?!"
"Well i wasn't the one initiating PDA this early in the morning!"
#opla x reader#op live action#opla sanji#opla sanji x reader#opla x y/n#sanji x reader#sanji one piece#opla#opla fanfiction#one piece live action#sanji vinsmoke#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x y/n#vinsmoke sanji x reader
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How would reader react to one of the PTO moms from the little ones kindergarten shamelessly flirting with dilf izuku? And how would izuku handle the situation?
You should definitely talk to my wife
DILF Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader
"Is that Prohero deku?" A new mom to the PA asked shocked as the Number One Hero stood in the meeting room, setting down muffins on the beverage tables.
Mrs Fujihara turned and nodded at the sight of the large green haired man. "It is indeed. He often comes just to pick up his kids or drop of beverages for our meetings. His wife is head of the Parents Association." She informed the new comer.
Mrs Akirizawa looked at the large man who wore clothes that clung to his muscular figure as a little toddler was strapped to his chest, living proof that if a man wanted to he would. She looked up and down the large hero before letting out a hum. "Maybe I should get myself aquiented with him."
Mrs Fujihara glanced over at Pony who held her youngest daughter. They both looked at each other with looks before turnign to look at Mrs Akirizawa. "I don't think you should do that. He's married." Pony spoke out.
"Happily so."
Mrs Akirizawa chuckles at their assumptions, moving her dark black hair back as she did so. "I'm married too. I just..." she shrugged as she looked at the Number One hero who was patting the back of his young little toddler as he looked at the display he had crafted himself. The large man offered his little one a high five which was met with a small chubby one, bringing a handsome smile to his face. She shrugged as she looked back to Pony and Mes Fujihara. "I just want to get acquainted."
Pony and Mrs Fujihara both watched her strut over to the location that Izuku was. Pony sighed as she shook her head, her blond hair moving with her. "We should plan her funeral." She said with a sad look.
Mrs Akirizawa walked up to Izuku with a smile on her face. "ProHero Deku?" The tall man turned around to look down at the tall woman. She stood in a pencil skirt with a tight button down, a few buttons open to show her cleavage. "I don't think we've met, I'm Akirizawa Sezune." She bowed at the waist.
Izuku smiled friendly. "No we haven't and please, I'm off the clock so I'm Midoriya."
She noticed that he didn't give a first name but she didn't comment on it. She smiled up at him adoringly. "It's so nice to see fathers come to such meetings. Often than not they stay away from schools unless it's reward ceremonies."
Izuku chuckled as he shook his head. "That's true but I'm just here as an accessory. It's the little ways I help my wife. She already has so much on her plate."
"Oh?" Mrs Akirizawa let out with a tilt of her head. "Is she a busy person?" She asked, glancing around to find you, but you weren't in sight. "It must be stressful having such a busy wife. She ought to be spending all her time on you." She let out almost with a worried look on her face.
Izuku stared at her for a moment before laughing and shaking his head, seeing the misunderstanding. "I'm sorry, I don't think I worded that correctly. My wife is busy because we do have 5 sons after all."
"FIVE?!" She let out surprised. "All boys?"
Izuku nodded proudly before looking down at Koda. "Yep. He's the youngest. Koda say hi." He moved the little boy's hand to wave at Mrs Akirizawa. Koda frowned at the woman, his bottom lip moving as he looked like he wanted to cry. He turned to look away from her. "He's shy." Izuku reasoned with a broad smile.
Mrs Akirizawa looked Izuku up and down with a soft smirk. She chuckled. "Well I can't blame her for giving you 5 boys. I mean look at you, any woman would be lucky to have such an attentive man like you." She motioned to him with a look that Izuku had seen before. "I'm new to the PA, and I could totally use a seasoned veteran like you to..." Her moved to hold onto Izuku's bicep. "Show me the ropes."
Izuku stared at her for a moment before putting on a tight smile. He was more amused than anything. And no doubt you had seen this wherever you were so he wasn't worried. He trusted you to deal with any person that tried to stake a hold of your man.
"I don't think I'm the best person to do that." He said truthfully, taking a step back. His eyes followed her as she took a step forward. "I'm just here as an accessory, I trust all the other mom's know more than me."
Mrs Akirizawa laughed. "Yah but you know how other women can be. Sometimes a man's touch is a what we need."
"I couldn't agree more." Stepping into the conversation was you. You stood in a beautiful white dress that made you look gorgeous. You wore a pearl necklace with the kanji symbols for 'Midoriya' on your neck. You forced a perfect PR smile on your face. "Midoriya Y/N, Head of the Parents Association for the Little Heroes Kindergarten." You introduced yourself with a bow.
Izuku stepped closer to you, moving to wrap an arm around your waist. His eyes stayed on you the entire time, clearly love stricken. "There you are, my love. I was missing you so much." He told you gently.
You turned to him with an eased expression. "Honey, I was just talking to Mina." You reminded him, looking at Mrs Akirizawa.
Izuku moved his hand to guide your face to look at him, a hand wrapping around your neck as he moved to give you a deep kiss. You couldn't help but sigh as you allowed his tongue in your mouth briefly. He moved back with a proud smile, kissing the side of your head as he glanced at Mrs Akirizawa.
Mrs Akirizawa stilled in fear as she was sure she saw a horrible glare for just a split second. Izuku turned to look at her with a smile. "You should definitely talk to my wife, she can give you the run through." He motioned down to you. He looked to you. "I'm going to round up all the others." He gave you a squeeze as he left the both of you together.
You smiled at the other woman with a hum. "You must be Mrs Akirizawa. I'm so glad you could join us. We love to say that every person we reach, is another family we have in our roster. My husband tells me that you wanted an overview of what we are about, don't worry, we'll explain it in the beginning of the meeting for all our new members." You informed her stepping forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "A word of advice..." you leaned closer to her with a smile. "Don't even think about it. My husband is for me to acknowledge and you to ignore."
You walked right past her, heading to the others. You clapped your hands together. "Come on ladies! Let's get started."
"Izuku, how could she look at you like that!" You let out with a frown as you took off your jewellery as you sat in front of your vanity. "Looking at you like she's a fucking whore. You're a married man for fucks sakes!" Izuku chuckled as he walked over to you, silent as he watched you. You looked at him angry that all he was doing was chuckling. "And what's so fucking funny?"
He laughed at you, moving to wrap his arms around you. "How angry you're about this. I don't even remember her face and here you are so pent up." He placed a kiss on your neck with a hum. You sighed as you dropped your shoulders. "Remember, my love. You are my wife, Mrs Midoriya." He growled out against your neck kissing and sucking at your neck. "I put a ring on your finger. You are the one who gave me five boys." He looked at you in the mirror, his whispered words swirling your stomach and making you squeeze your thighs. "You are the one who I bury my cock in every night."
You sighed as you leaned against him. You felt his hand drag down to under your dress. You naturally opened your thighs as you leaned against him, your eyes settling on his reflection in the mirror.
He hummed at the sight of you. "Mrs Midoriya."
-Glitch1d
#midoriya izuku#izuku midoriya#izuku midoriya x reader#dilf midoriya#dilf deku#dilf izuku midoriya#dilf izuku x reader#midoriya x reader
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The Jacket (part 1/2)
Summary: Alive!reader gets assigned a new locker, finds Wally‘s letterman jacket and decides to keep it
Includes: Wally Clark x reader, smut
A/N: I just love Wally & Rhonda‘s friendship
"This is not what I meant when I asked for a new locker." You said, scrunching your nose in disgust.
„Yeah, it's like they haven't cleaned it in decades" Your friend dusted her hands off.
A comical cloud of dust came out of the locker, when you finally managed to open the jammed metal door. Coughing, you stepped back.
Meanwhile, unbeknown to you, two students were watching. Dead Students to be exact.
„Hey, isn't that your locker, hot stuff?" Rhonda pointed her lollipop towards the situation.
The footballer turned and nearly tripped, running over to you.
„Stop panicking, it's not like you could do anything about it anyway." The brunette rolled her eyes and started following him.
„They promised my my mum they wouldn't give my locker away and now I see some-„ Wally tried to find the right words, holding onto Rhondas arm.
She raised a brow at him „Hot cheerleaders taking over your locker ?"
„I'm serious! All the stuff I have on me is in there, what if they throw it away?" He said, watching you hold up his letterman jacket.
„You're right, they really havent cleaned this in ages." You looked at your friend.
She reached inside, pulling out a blue and white jacket. You took it from her and held it up. „It's cute don't you think? Kinda vintage."
„Oh my god. look." She pointed at the stitching at the right top. ‚Wally' it read in white italic letters. You looked at her. „You think it belonged to the stadium guy?"
„Possible? I mean there's other stuff in there. Maybe he wants it back." Your friend crossed her arms. „We could go to the library at lunch and look into the yearbooks to find out."
The bell rang, interrupting your little locker investigation.
„Sounds like a plan." You said, before walking to class.
—
Wally anticipated lunch break and already waited in the yearbook section, when Rhonda suddenly appeared next to him.
„What are you doing here? Aren't you busy catching gossip in the teachers lounge ?" he asked, cocking a brow at her in question.
She smirked. „I love gossip, but seeing your big star student slash jock ego getting crushed by two human girls is even more entertaining to me"
Wally mocked her smirk and rolled his eyes. He was about to reply when he heard you and your friend entering the aisle.
„1981, 1982- ah here Yearbook of 1983. The trophy cabinet has a table with all, the state champion teams and his name was listed in that year."
Rhonda leaned her head on Wally‘s shoulder, or at least as far as she could with their height difference. „Oh superstar, even state champion? Aww, if I wasn't dead I'd feel sorry."
„Fuck you, Rhonda." Wally scoffed, trying to concentrate on you skipping through the yearbook pages.
„Sorry I'm not into footballers, sweetheart." She sucked on her lollipop again, leaning against the shelf.
Wally took a deep breath. He was a nice guy, really and he liked Rhonda, but sometimes her attitude just got to him.
„Maybe, footballer dick is just what you need to get over your brooding and depressed mood."
Rhonda laughed. „ Ew." She pushed his shoulder.
„Turn to the exceptional students pages." Your friend said and flipped through the book.
There it was, a full double page.
In loving memory of Wally Clark stood under his picture. Fluffy black hair, chocolate brown eyes and charming smile, wearing the exact same jacket you found in your locker today.
„He's dead?" It sounded more like a questioin than a statement coming out of your mouth.
„Sad, he's sexy." You friend stated.
Rhonda nearly choked on her lollipop and Wally swallowed, before a smirk crept upon his lips.
„She did not just say that?" The shorter ghost crossed her arms.
„He is." You agreed before nudging your friend.
„You think he was a fuckboy ?" She laughed and you joined in. Taking the book from you she read the different things written about him.
„Look, this cheerleader wrote ‚He loved eating jelly filled donuts' Oh I'm sure he did" She wiggled her eyebrows.
„Well if I was born back then, I wouldn't mind him tasting my jelly filled donut." you said giggling.
After chattinf some more, the two of you put the book back and left, still giggling about the handsome footballer.
Wally's face burnt bright red and he felt like his cheeks were on fire. He knew that girls had found him cute back when he was alive, but he never heard girls talk about him like that.
„Congratulations stud, now you're a teenage girls' wet dream in two centuries." Rhonda joked and patted his shoulder.
„What do you mean ?" Wally asked nervously.
Of course he had sex before and he did like it rough, but he was in a relationship before he died and even now he only had one partner to relief his teenage hormones. Wally never wanted to use someone for their body, but this ‚trapped in the school as a ghost’ situation didn't really allow any relationships.
„What I mean is, that girls are or were obsessed with you. When you came to this school I couldn't go anywhere without the female students talk about ‚tall and sexy' you are and how hot you look during football practice." She made a disgusted face and Wally looked at her in shock.
„Oh and don't we forgot about your girlfriend back then. She was very descriptive to her friends about your dick and how exactly you used it to bring her to the edge."
Wally now leaned against the shelves, trying not to freak out.
„But that was long ago, most of the ghosts here died after me." He said, trying to make himself feel better.
„I don't know why you're freaking out so much? I should be freaking out. Of disgust." She tried to calm him.
„You're right. I just thought- I can't believe I was so naiive." he said, looking down.
„Hey Wally, you're a nice guy." she said, making him smile. „Still entitled tho."
He laughed and rolled his eyes.
—
A few days later you were able togive Wally's mother the stuff you found in his locker. She seemed like a nice woman and you felt a little emotional at how grateful she was.
Especially because you decided to keep the letterman jacket. You gave it to the dry cleaners and basically lived in it ever since picking it up. It was slightly oversized on you but extremly comfortable.
But there was also something different since you wore it. You felt... watched. Just like today, when you got dressed after swimming club.
After leaving the shower, you put a towel over the bench to sit down. You took little longer than usual and had the changing room to yourself.
Suddenly, it's like something tickled over your back, down to your hips. A pleasant sensation. You shivered, reaching for the jacket to cover yourself.
You called out for someone. But you really were alone. Your friend had joked earlier that Wally Clarks ghost would come for you, because you didn't give back his jacket. Luckily you didn't believe in ghosts and when you sat down on the bench, yet another thought invaded your mind.
You leaned back and opened your legs slightly. Wouldn't be the first time someone touched themselves in the locker rooms. The boys did it all the time after practice.
Your fingers travelled from your navel down to your already wet heat. Exploring your folds, before finding your clit, you closed your eyes. Wally Clark appeared behind your lids. He kneeled between your legs, strong hands holding your hips.
He kissed the creamy skin of your thighs upwards, the dreamiest of chocolate brown bedroom eyes looking up at you. He licked his plump lips before speaking against your folds, the vibration making you hiss out.
„Quite the unusual offer. Letting me eat you out so I'd forgive you for stealing." his tongue lapped up the wetness of your folds and one of his hands found your breasts, kneading them softly before pinching the nipple. One after one.
„Wally, please." You moaned and circled your clit faster. The feeling of being watched heightened your pleasure from the fantasy.
He sucked on your clit and his other hand also left your hip. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, pumping. „Mmmh" he moaned against your sensitive spot. You shivered and moaned his name again and again.
Goosebumps spread over your skin and you were sure his fingers would feel even better than your own. Shifting slightly on the bench, you were sure the towel underneath you was already soaked. The tight coil in your lower abdomen let you know you were close.
„If you weren't already late I'd edge you. Looking so pretty spread out for me on the bench." His fingers curled up and he switched between sucking and licking at your centre.
You came, biting down on your lower lip, so you wouldn't be heard in the nearby hallway. Opening your eyes, you adjusted to reality again and pulled his jacket together in front of your chest. You felt sick, pleasuring yourself to a dead boy. You decided to sit for a bit before redressing and drying your hair.
Wally still kneeled in between your legs. His lips glistened with your juices and he laughed „So much better than a jelly donut"
Licking his fingers clean, he tried to calm his nerves. His hard cock strained against the grey sweatpants, so he sat up and adjusted himself. He really tried holding back, knowing what he did was technically a grey zone of consent, but seeing you spread out on the bench, naked and wearing his jacket, he just couldn't not help you out. Also, you did say you wouldn't mind a few days ago.
He just wished you could see him. It made him dream on his own, about you two. Maybe on the bleachers or in the teachers lounge. Wally really liked the couch in the teachers lounge.
He watched you get dressed and waited for you to leave so he could take care of himself.
—
The thoughts of Wally haunted you throughout the next few weeks. Maybe his ghost did haunt you. So you decided to help the homecoming committee decorate the school with posters and decoration up until the late night to take your mind off it.
You fell asleep in the Gym. Waking up in the middle of the night on the hard floor you sighed. You were about to collect your stuff and leave when you heard a moan. Looking up, your jaw nearly dropped to the Floor.
Wally sat upon a gym mat, the ghost of a cheerleader who died in the 90s after dropping from a pyramid sat in his lap.
There was an obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. Her cheer skirt was tucked into the seam revealing her bare pussy with two of Wally's fingers knuckle deep inside. There was a wet spot on his crotch and the squishy noise of his fingers pumping at a fast pace hollowed in the gym.
Her moans were swallowed by his lips, hungrily devouring her mouth.
You squeezed your thighs together at the sight. Envious of the girl. Wally pushed a third finger inside, keeping the rough pace. The blonde girl reached down to rub her clit, but Wally slapped her hand away.
He pulled away from her, biting her bottom lip.
„You only get to do that when my cock has been inside of you."
Your head fell back against the wall. God, you must be really going crazy. Hallucinating or dreaming, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.
The blonde pouted. „M'sorry Wally."
He helped her climb off his lap before he stood up on the mat. She was already getting on all fours with spread knees. Meanwhile Wally pulled his sweatpants down, revealing his impressive girth. Getting on one knee behind her, he pumped himself with his head thrown back, before guiding himself inside her.
He started with slow thrusts, obviously not doing this for the first time. The blonde under him closed her eyes, mouth agape in pleasure.
Wally picked up the speed while kneading her asscheeks. Your eyes widened when he spread them, letting a string of his spit drip onto her other hole. He massaged it with his thumb and the blonde responded with screaming his name „Please, Wally. Please Please Please." she writhted under his touch as he pressed down with his thumb.
Your -or more his jacket felt too hot all of a sudden and you felt your hardened nipples against the fabric of your bra. Pressing your thighs together you tried to get some relief.
The blonde bit her lip to silence her pleas buz Wally slapped her cheek „No. No. No. Baby. I wanna hear you. Let them hear you." His hand went back to her ass.
„You can pleasure yourself now." he instructed and her fingers immediately found her clit, circling roughly.
After her first orgasm, he pulled out. His dick dripping with her juices, the head angry and red. Wally helped her turn on her back, legs draped over his shoulders, guiding just the tip inside.
She whimpered. „Please come on my tits, Wally. I want to taste you."
You bit your lip at her voice, full of need and desire.
He smirked and started jerking above her chest. Her hand joined him as he put his abover hers, guiding her how he liked it.
He groaned her name as he came. Thick spurts of his glassy cum decorating her rosy nipples, up to her chin, which she greedily licked up.
She started licking him clean. „Thank you, Wally. Mmmh." He pushed her head down further, and looked up.
You stared at him wide eyed as you made eye contact with him. At first his gaze looked dazed from pleasure, but then he thought you could see him.
But that wouldn't be possible would it? Humans can't see ghosts.
Wally tucked himself away and helped his companion fix herself, but when he turned around you were gone.
He was definitely going to seek you out tomorrow.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed, let me know in the comments & leave me some love 💕
#milo manheim#wally clark#milo manheim fanfiction#school spirits#wally clark smut#wally clark x reader#wally clark fanfiction
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Count On Mom ~Batfamily Imagine~
Summary: The kids try to get Bruce to get away from the computer. Luckily, there is always one person who can take his mind out of anything including Batman duties. You.
Author’s Note: Haven't posted much in a while and I kept seeing a lot of Batfamily stuff at the last convention I went to so here we go!
BatFamily Masterlist
Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings: boob flashing, hint to smut
Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!
Do not repost this anywhere!
Three of the batkids stared at their adoptive father as he had been stuck in front of the screen in the Batcave. None of the moved as they watched Bruce in some kind of trance.
“How long since he moved?” Dick asked Cassandra and Jason.
“A day,” Cassandra monotonous answered.
“I think he blinked a minute ago, does that count?” Jason asked.
“It’s official. Alfred called it. He said he’ll bake cookies if we can get Bruce to stop working,” Duke said as he walked into the batcave.
"Step aside," Jason said as he cracked his knuckles. "This will be over in no time."
As the kids began to try to get Bruce to move away, no effort was made to moving Bruce.
"I got an idea," Dick said as he took out his phone.
You felt your phone ring, making you put the groceries down onto the kitchen island so you could answer your phone. You had just gone to the store to grab some ingredients to make dinner for tomorrow's dinner.
“Hello?”
“Hey mom! Are you and Damien almost done with grocery shopping yet?”
“We just got home. Why?”
“We’re trying to pry Bruce off of the computer in the Batcave and Alfred said he’d make us cookies if we get him away from the screen.”
“I’m on my way,” you say with a chuckle at the end.
"Already began to bake the cookies. I know you'll be able to get him away," Alfred told you.
"Of course I can. That's my superpower in this family," you joked.
When you got to the Batcave, you saw your husband tiredly staring at the screen in front of him. The dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep made you upset but you knew there was one thing you could do that would always get his attention.
"Aw my poor husband," you say.
"You got this mom?" Jason asked you.
“Step aside kids and close your eyes,” you tell them as you walked over to your husband.
“What are you going to do mom?” Dick as as he covered his eyes. The rest of the kids quickly covered their eyes to avoid to see what you were going to do.
You climbed onto Bruce’s lap before lifting both your shirt and bra in front of him. Bruce quickly snapped out of his daze before looking up at you with a smile.
“Tempting me my love?”
“Maybe,” you smile as you pulled your shirt and bra down.
“Let me have my cookies and you can have me,” you whispered into his ears as you stood up.
“Okay kids. Enjoy Alfred’s cookies,” you say as you headed out.
The moment the kids uncovered their eyes, they watched in shock as Bruce already began to make his way towards you.
“Leave it to mom for getting Bruce to do anything other than his Batman duties,” Jason said.
"I wonder how she does it," Duke says out loud.
"Because dad's got it bad for mom," Dick tells him.
By the time Bruce got to you, you were eating your chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made with Damien. You winked at your husband as you kissed Damien’s head.
“Alfred, why don’t you and the kids go out for a bit? It’s lovely outside,” you tell him.
“Of course,” Alfred said before walking over to get the rest of the kids. You began to head upstairs to your room, knowing that you had stirred something in Bruce.
“You coming Bruce?” You called out. You smirked as you heard Bruce’s fastened footsteps.
You let out a laugh as you felt him pick you up. You held onto him as he rushed over to the bedroom.
“I owe you some alone time don’t I?” Bruce asked you with a smile.
“Yes you do. Now, while everyone is out of the house, why don’t you make it up to me?” You asked him.
“I plan to," Bruce said before kissing you passionately.
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne#batman x reader#batman imagine#batman#dc#dc imagine#batfam x reader#batfam imagine#wayne family adventures#alisonwritesimagines
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ooo, how about a bf alexia fic or blurb where they go out to celebrate a win and reader's just making small talk with a stranger while alexia's off somewhere else and then alexia just shows up at your side and quietly asserts that she's there and your hers. and after the stranger leaves, she gets all touchy and pouty because she just wants the readers attention
sixth sense II a.putellas
you smiled seeing alexia being pulled away to dance by jenni and laia very much so against her will, watching her head of pink hair dissapear into the crowd as you excused yourself from your conversation with alba and a few of the other girls to get another drink.
the small bar in sydney was packed out, spaniards, catalans and australians all dancing and cheering and celebrating spains world cup victory just two days prior.
it was the final night before the team flew back to spain for their welcome home ceremony and after a big group dinner with family and friends the majority of the team had moved on, eager to spend the final night they could celebrating in the foreign country.
you waited patiently for your turn, the poor barkeepers run off their feet by the very busy night, drumming your fingers against the wooden top of the bar, somewhat lost in your own world.
"so, family or friend?" you looked up hearing someone speak near you, meeting the amused eyes of a tall dark haired woman with a thick australian accent. "sorry?" you questioned with a surprised frown, unsure if you'd heard her correctly.
"you don't strike me as a footballer, you're not from around here because i'd have remembered your face and half of spain is in here right now. so, family or friend of the team?" the woman grinned, making a gesture toward the bartender who nodded and held up two fingers.
"are all australians so forward?" you laughed, a little taken aback by the womans reading of you. "only those who run and own bars." the woman grinned, the bartender dropping two drinks beside you as she grabbed one, holding it up and motioning you do the same.
"you own this?" you asked with wide eyes as she shrugged. "co-own if you ask the right person. like i said, i don't forget a face and i haven't seen most of them in here tonight before!" the woman grinned, again motioning you to pick up the drink beside you.
"to australia losing their home world cup and spain winning their first!" she cheered making you laugh again, clinking your glass against hers, not even entirely sure what you were about to drink but a little too tipsy already to think much of it.
alexia's friends would often tease she had a sixth sense and that it centered entirely around you, like a spidey sense but reserved for her girlfriend.
cold? she was offering you her jacket before you'd even shivered once. hungry? she'd already ordered extra food despite you saying you didn't want anything. stressed? your favourite movie was loaded and her arms were open and ready for you to take refuge in them.
which is why a strange sense settled over her on the dancefloor and alexia looked around, suddenly realising she couldn't see you anywhere as her brows furrowed. she ignored the teasing remarks from her team mates as she broke free from the pack of dancing bodies, her sister pointing her toward the bar where you'd wandered off to get a new drink.
alexia's jaw clenched as her eyes finally sought you out, laughing and speaking with a stranger who was a little too close to you for the spanish captains comfort.
you broke your attention away from your conversation feeling something settle around your neck, glancing down you saw your girlfriends world cup medal dangling by your chest.
her arm was next, toned and tanned it wrapped around your neck from behind and settled across your collar bones pulling your body into hers as she leaned across the bar, waving over the bartender and ordering a drink.
"hola mi vida." she murmured, kissing your cheek and trying to wave the bartender back over to pay, each subtle touch of hers screaming that you were taken.
her possesive nature was not lost on you or your new friend it seemed who smiled in amusement at the tall womans refusal to even acknowledge her, seeming as if she was unbothered though her body language said the complete opposite.
"not quite family and more than a friend then. enjoy the rest of your trip, on me!" the woman whose name you never even got smiled kindly, clinking her drink against alexia's who finally looked up and over toward her, too late now as the blonde melted away into the crowd.
"who was that?" your girlfriend asked with a frown, hold on you tightening as you managed to turn around and face her. "i never caught her name, she owns this though." you gestured around you as alexia hummed, sipping on her drink.
"you left me alone on the dance floor hermosa." the midfielder pouted making you smile. "you had plenty of people to dance with ale." you laughed, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"none of them are you though." she smiled charmingly as you sipped your drink with a small shake of your head. "you know she was just a stranger, si? i didn't even get her name, i did not want to." you assured, gently squeezing her bicep still seeing a far off look in her eyes you knew too well.
"she was a little too close to you mi amor. just because you did not want her name did not mean she did not want yours." alexia warned, pout yet again forming on her lips as a slight veil of jealously clouded her features.
"i think you made it very well known i was taken bonita." you smiled, toying with the medal around your neck as alexia shrugged innocently.
"it was just heavy princesa, it was your turn to wear it." the pink haired woman dismissed with a flirty grin as you playfully shoved her shoulder and she guided you back to the group, hand securely on the small of your back.
cheers greeted the two of you as you returned, alexia's attention immediately commanded again by her team mates who once more tried to twirl her off for a dance. but the catalan woman brushed them all off with ease, taking her seat and pulling you to sit on her lap before you could take yours.
alba's teasing not lost on your ears you smiled knowingly as your girlfriend became increasingly touchy, clearly a response to your attention being granted to someone else that evening if platonic or not.
"alexia!" you laughed as you reached for your drink, only for her hand to shoot out and grab it for you, moving it toward your mouth. "just looking after you mi corazón." she pouted, amusement clear in both of your eyes as yours rolled but you gave in, allowing her to bring the glass to your lips as the teasing remarks around you escalated.
for the rest of the night there wasn't a single moment that at least a few inches of your skin weren't touching alexia's, a moody pout or a kiss behind your ear from her all it took for you to deny someones offer to join them on the dance floor.
"ale, baby i have to pee." you chuckled as you tried to get up but she tugged you back down, arms circling your waist. "okay, i come with you." the girl decided as you stood and pushed her back down.
"i will be five minutes top mi amor. stay here with everyone!" you laughed, though of course she didn't listen, linking her hand with yours and nodding for you to walk.
"clingy." you teased as the door swung shut on the two of you. "do you want to hold my hand while i use the toilet too?" you mocked, your girlfriend shaking her head and dropping your hand, shooing for you to hurry up.
but before you could even step into the cubicle suddenly she'd grabbed you again, pulling you into a feverish kiss sending your head spinning before she was pushing you back toward the toilet with a happy grin on her face.
"hurry princessa, my hand is getting heavy and i need you to hold it."
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Charles jealous and possessive please 🔥 SMUT
Green Eyed Monster
Smut Warning! This work is intended for 18+ audiences only!
There was something about the rich, fancy Monaco lifestyle. Something Y/N L/N couldn't quite explain.
When her boyfriend wasn't racing on the other side of the world, when he was home in Monaco he took her out to extravagant and elegant restaurants. The kinds of places where Y/N was dressed to the nines, where all eyes were on her and she was on Charles' arm.
On this particular evening, Y/N wore a black dress with a skirt that went down to her ankles. There was a slit up the side, showing off a bit of her leg. The rest of the dress was pretty simple, tight to her body with thin straps over her shoulders. On her feet she had black feels with little straps criss crossing up her legs. Her nails were black, matching the dress.
Charles stood in his suit, watching as Y/N put on her heels. He couldn't help but stare as she finished getting ready. "Oh mon Dieu, ma chérie. Tu es superbe," (oh my god, my darling. You look fantastic) he whispered as he leaned against the mirror.
Y/N tucked her hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Lord Percival," she said, standing from the bed.
Striding over, she wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed him. It was quick and careful, so that Y/N didn't ruin her makeup. "How about we don't go to dinner," he suggested. "How about we stay here and I ravage you?"
She shook her head. "Please, Charles. We haven't been to dinner in so long," she said with a slight whine.
So, they went to dinner. With Charles driving, they looked every bit the rich Monégasque people everybody through they were. Some people took pictures of them as they drove past, on their way to the restaurant.
At the restaurant, they took their seats and ordered their drinks. "I'll be back in a moment," said Y/N when the waiter walked away. She stood from her seat, kissed Charles on the cheek (leaving a lovely red mark), and made her way to the bathroom.
Charles looked around the restaurant. Some people had their phone out, pointing them at him. Charles simply smiled as he waited for her to get back.
Y/N finished up in the bathroom and made her way outside. There was a small corridor, with the men's bathroom next to the women's, before leading back to the restaurant.
A man walked out of the bathroom beside her as Y/N walked out of the ladies room. He looked her up and down as Y/N fixed the skirt of her dress and leaned against the wall. The guy let out a whistle. "Je te ferai crier mon nom au lit ce soir, ma belle," (I'll have you screaming my name in bed tonight, gorgeous) he said.
Y/N sent a disgusted look his way. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm here with my boyfriend," she spat and walked away. Walking back to her Lord Percival.
"Je m'en fiche, sexy. Je te ferai mendier pour moi dans ces toilettes si tu le veux," (I don't care about that, sexy. I'll have you begging for me in those stalls if you want it) he said, following her towards the restaurant.
Y/N ignored him as she walked back to her table. Just before she reached Charles, the guy reached forward, pinching her ass. Gasping, Y/N turned around, ready to throw a punch. But the man was gone. When he saw where she was heading, he backed off, walking to a table with what Y/N could only assume was his wife.
"What was that, Darling?" Asked Charles as Y/N sat down opposite him. Their drinks were already there and Charles had already had most of his.
Y/N took a sip of her drink. "Oh, nothing my love. Don't worry about it."
Charles narrowed his eyes. He believed her, but her answer wasn't filling him with confidence.
He was silent while they ate their food. Charles was quick to pay for the food and get Y/N back into the car. "I saw you with him, mon amour," he said as the drove away.
"What? Charles-"
"I'm going to make sure you never do anything like that again." His hand was on her thigh, gripping tight, travelling closer to where she needed him most.
"Charles," she whispered, hiking up the skirt of her dress. Charles' fingers danced across her bare thigh, sending a shiver up her spine.
Charles kept a hold of her hand as he walked her back into the apartment. He pushed the door shut behind them and locked it. There would be no interruptions tonight.
"Get in the bedroom and get that dress off," he said, walking to their kitchen.
Y/N ran off to the bedroom, unzipping and throwing off her dress as she went. She left it in a crumpled pile by the wardrobe and worked on taking off her shoes and underwear. Discarding them in the same manner, she laid back on the bed and stared at the door.
Anticipation was making it all the more exciting. She could hear Charles' shoes clicking against the floor as he approached, making her drip.
When he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, Y/N sat up and stared at him. Charles was still dressed, but his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, showing off his chest.
He was so pretty. So, so pretty.
"I don't like it when people try to take what's mine," he said, his voice low. He shrugged off his jacket and beckoned her closer.
On her hands and knees, Y/N crawled across the bed towards him. Charles pushed her hair behind her ear and tilted her chin up to kiss her. "Si jolie, mon amour. Tellement jolie." (So pretty, my love. So fucking pretty)
Still clothed, Charles pushed her back onto the bed. He ran his hands over her body, over all the places that made her shiver. Over her breasts and down to her core.
His touches were light as he touched her folds. "Charles," she cried, throwing her head back. With one hand he touched her and, with the other, he unbuckled her belt. "Nobody touches my girl," he said through a growl, his touches becoming rougher.
Flipping Y/N over, she pulled his cock from his trousers. Charles lined himself up and entered swiftly. He was still fully clothed, standing over Y/N on her hands and knees.
Charles' thrusts started slow. But they quickly got rougher. Charles had a grip on her hair, holding her up, exposing her throat. His hips were moving at a bruising pace, his thrusts hitting all the right places.
"Oh my," she gasped. "Charles!"
The hand gripping her throat moved around to her neck, pulling her back into her chest. If it wasn't for his grip, Y/N would have fallen forward, allowing her body to be pounded into the sheets. Charles bit and kissed at her shoulder, sucking dark bruises into the place where her shoulder met her neck.
Y/N was lost in a haze of sex and pleasure. She cried his name again ans again, repeating it like a prayer.
When Y/N came undone Charles kept going. He didn't let up on the pace, not until his thrusts became sloppy and his hips stilled against her, spilling his seed inside of her.
For a moment, Charles didn't pull out. He just held Y/N there, his cock buried inside of her. His breathing was erratic, his body sweaty.
"C'est ma gentille fille. Tu as fait du bien pour moi," (That's my good girl. You did so good for me) he whispered, kissing her gently.
Slowly, Y/N pulled away from him. She laid herself on the bed and reached out for Charles, trying to pull him closer. As he came closer, he took off his shirt and his pants discarding them. "I love you," she said, pulling him close for a kiss.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Charles replied, pulling her to her wobbly feet.
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x reader smut#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 smut#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 smut#formula one#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula one smut#cl16#cl16 imagine#cl16 x reader#cl16 smut
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