#and then they still get to be weird and fucked up AND still be loved
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!)
a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.
You look at it.
And then you set your phone down.
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.
He looks good. Almost too good.
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head.
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully.
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.
You cover his hand with your own.
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm.
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.
“Yes, please.”
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings.
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.
“Spencer?”
“Hm?”
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK.
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.
He knows.
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?
Maybe you have it all wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.
24 hours go by.
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence.
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans.
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown.
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration.
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.
—
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute.
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment.
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!”
He knows.
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding.
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more.
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.
—
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.
“You regret your first time?”
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.
You want to scream bloody murder.
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse.
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.
“Goodnight.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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Peaches And Cream
Summary: Joel loves the taste of you, and you love being his favorite dessert
Warnings: explicit sexual content, mature themes, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex, slightly dom Joel, submissive reader, implied sex, praise kink, dirty talk
A/N: if anyone wishes to be added to my Pedro/or Joel tag list please let me know and I’ll be happy to add you. Heart, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and supportive. Thanks! XOXO
Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446
Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989
Hall Of Hunks
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Feeling absolutely reduced to a hot and sweaty mess as you laid underneath Joel. Who was staring at your disheveled face. A look of pride written across his face as your body trembled around him.
“I’ve never seen you cum so much sweetheart.” Praising you as a hand covers your eyes in embarrassment. “You did so good for me baby.”
That powerful and mind blowing release had you almost in tears. Trying with all your might not to just cry in front of him. Feeling like that might weird him out a little bit. Since he could take tears as being in pain or discomfort, and then he would stop, and you didn’t want him to stop. Your body was feeling overwhelmed as it continued to shake underneath his fingertips.
“Let me see those pretty eyes.” His deep voice persuades you as your hands slowly moved away from your face to look up at his smirking one.
“Joel.” Whining his name as he snickers keeping his cock still absolutely still inside of you.
“Whadda you need pretty girl?” He teases feeling your cunt clenching around you making him groan.
Joel knew exactly what you wanted, but was still too shy to say anything to him. He always helped you ease your way into expressing what you wanted with him. Giving you a little bit without asking him, and then getting you to finally speak up. Carefully pulling out from your raw cunt your body jolting at the sensitivity from the sudden loss of him. Feeling his cum ooze out of your body his hand massaging your inner thigh soothingly.
“Fuck me baby girl look at you.” Watching as his liquid spilled out of you and trailed down between your cheeks. He was licking his lips wanting nothing more than to lick it all up, and taste how delicious you both were mixed. That’s exactly what he did too.
His hot mouth attaching to your puffy and still wet cunt. Hands reaching out to grip onto his hair as his tongue flicked back and forth on your clit. Back arching off the bed as he slurped away, hands gripping your inner knees as he kept them pushed apart so he had full and complete access to you. Body feeling like it was on fire as he thrusted his thick tongue inside of you. Rotating your hips around to feel more as his nose brushed against your clit.
“Oh god.” Crying out as your orgasm was already swiftly approaching still extremely sensitive from your previous release. Joel looking up at your remarkable expression unable to look anywhere else. Loving that he was the one in control feeling like he held all the power in your pleasure, and it made him feel like a god.
Reaching a hand over to your pelvis as his thumb started to rub circles on your nub. Your senses heightened and overwhelmed not knowing how much longer you were gonna be able to last. Joel could tell that you were fighting to keep going, and he knew what would help you reach the finish line.
“Tastes like peaches baby girl.” His low voice sends you over the edge as your body starts to crumble. Your ribcage rising and falling with each quick breath. Hands falling down to your side feeling loose and numb. Stomach trembling from the resounding orgasm you just experienced. Your battered cunt was so sore from being stretched and abused over and over again.
Feeling a pair of soft lips gently caressing your thighs and inner knees a trail of saliva being left behind. Sex was always amazing with Joel, but the one thing you loved just as much was the aftercare. His touch was always so gentle and comforting as he would help ease you through each orgasm.
“Fucked that pretty cunt so good, didn’t I?” His crude language had your thighs twitch, and you loved it all the same. Joel already knew the answer to the question, but he loved the reactions you would give him just for saying certain words.
“So proud of you my sweet peach.” His nickname had you smiling as Joel pulled you into his arms and laid you on top of his warm body. Listening to the sound of his heart beating, and the rise and fall of his chest was easing you into a slumber like state. “I’m not done with you yet though baby girl.”
#Pedro pascal#Joel miller#Pedro pascal x reader#Joel miller x reader#Pedro pascal smut#Joel miller smut#pedro pascal fanfic#Joel miller fanfic#Pedro pascal blurb#Joel miller blurb#Pedro pascal fic#Joel miller fic
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‘ THAT [ GIRL ] IS MINE ! ,
ᡴꪫ sum. university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.
wc. 6.4k
warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), booty call, unprotected, size kink, praise, fıngering, cunnılingus (toji eating it from the back), degredation, dumbification, toji's very whipped for you, overstim, squırting.
an. this is the last chapter WOOOOO. thank you to everyone who read dbf! toji. may he return somedayy
girl, are you fucking stupid?
a simple question you couldn’t answer as if your life depended on it. if only you knew the deep consequences you’d face by having some careless fun on spring break. oh, but it’s just a one time thing, it’s just a little fling that won’t mean anything once april’s over. you continue to keep reminding yourself that every time you were with him. toji fushiguro—your father’s sleazy best friend, the guy who was about eight years older than your twenty-two year old self, the guy who was shameless, the guy who literally fingered you underneath the table during dinner, same said guy who makes you clean off his fingers with your tongue like the good obedient girl you were.
maybe you are fucking stupid,
spring break was coming to its inevitable end, meaning it’d be the end of your little fling with mr. fushiguro. oh and you did get caught, your father knows— but let’s not focus on that part, let’s focus on the part on how you were questioning yourself. was this love or just a game? surely it couldn’t be love, ew. toji himself said that he can’t stand relationships. you yourself was too busy with being a studious university student to even consider a significant other. so… what exactly was this peculiar feeling? a good description was a weird stir in your stomach, especially whenever he’s lay his eyes on you. alas, maybe instead of love, the feeling was entirely different.
you know what they say about karma though, it always catches up to you in the long run. oops..?
it was about three thirty in the morning. you were tossing and turning in your sleep. birds could just about be heard outside your window, chirping and chirping away. with an exaggerated sigh, you stare into the beige drywall that coats against your ceiling for a long, long time. no matter how much you tried to delay the inevitable—you had to get up, you just had to get it off your chest.
you should probably not keep this yourself..
but you pondered deeply at what his reaction might be— would he feel the same way, or would he hate you and turn a cold eye … ?
just thinking about it for such a long duration of a time made your stomach churn. at the same time though, whenever you thought about toji for too long . . that happened. you’d get aroused, having your pretty little panties in a twist.
you still question just how your father and him even met. a guy like toji isn’t really a guy you’d stumble across everyday. he mentioned to you on how he was gambling at boat races—you believed that, but still, you always did wanna know more about him.
toji was a very private man though, nothing wrong with that.
you couldn’t help but be a little curious about the man you’ve been screwing with for the past thirteen days now. thirteen days felt more like thirteen long consecutive weeks. like most, your break was supposed to only last five days to a week. it only ended up getting extended because of some kind of altercation at your campus. albeit, you didn’t ever want it to end,
but all good things do come to an end, right?
reaching for your phone, you decide to text him— you didn’t exactly expect a reply despite it being so late but still, you unlock your phone before scrolling for his contact..
< 69 Toji Fushiguro 🎥 >
Today 3:27 AM
hi toji.
u up?
• • •
Yo
Yea. Just woke up actually. Why?
lol no reason, i can’t sleep.
i miss u and i need to tell you smth
Oh?
Fuck I miss ya too, girl.
Come over then. you still got my location?
yeah be there in a bit xx
Read 3:29
locking your phone again, you take a quick thorough six minute shower. toji missed you just as much as you missed him— it’s been about a day or two or three that’s passed, of course you two wouldn’t be able to see each other every day.
it was mostly every other day. with spring break coming to a crashing depressing end, this would all be the end of your little spring season fling.
damn.
the drive to toji’s apartment was about maybe nine minutes from you. not exactly far, you’d have him come over to yours but you forgot that your father was literally next door to you. he’s already aware of what was taken place at his own home but again, let’s not focus on that part of the story.
at least not yet.. or ever,
you threw on a simple ample outfit, one of your oversized university hoodies and some leggings. something homely, something comfortable.
the weather was actually pretty decent, a bit humid but not exactly too cold either.
once you arrive at toji’s surprisingly well kept apartment, he met up with you at the door with that same smug grin. “….hey,” is all he says, eyes staring down your body for a while. you take the chance to ogle at him too. even with it being the middle of the night, he still looked handsome. with dark black hair of his a bit ruffled, toji had on nothing but obsidian black colored shorts and a white tee. his muscles, you always did feen over his mammoth-like jacked muscles. he was so toned— a lot taller than you, the epitome of what a real man was. “how was the drive? drive okay?”
“it was okay,” you mutter, stepping into his apartment. he’s holding a half empty can of cheap off brand booze, locking the door behind you as you take in the scenery. you feel a bit of butterflies rummage throughout your tummy as he slings an arm around you. it was like each time you’d meet with him again, he’d get more and more affectionate towards you. facing him, you had a cute abashed smile. “you look sleepy. did i wake you?”
“nah,” he firmly shakes his head, placing his empty can aside. toji takes off the thin coat you wore over your hoodie before hanging it up on the nearby rack for you. “i was ‘bout ‘ta get ready for work but then ya texted me.”
work.
toji never did tell you what he does for a living.
your eyebrows slightly raise. “wha— why? i can wait, just go to work.”
“dollface, really. it’s fine,” he chuckles, his voice a rough low. he leads you towards his bedroom, the bed wasn’t made up although it smelled a lot like him in here. a cheap musk of cologne fills through your nose as you sit down on his bed beside him. toji stretches, the veins in his forearms exposing ever so slightly and it’s so hot. “besides, didn’t feel like clockin’ in anyway. still gotta finish my taxes.”
“oh,” you mumble, completely lost in his gaze as he continues to speak. toji notices you staring and he smirks.
playfully, he pokes at your forehead, a teasing flick with two fingers to snap you out of whatever trance you were in. “. . soooooooo,” toji hums in a raspy pitched tone. his fingers that went against your skin was abnormally warm. “what did you wanna talk ‘ta me about?”
right, that..
suddenly, you felt your thighs squeeze together. toji’s staring at you, awaiting for a response and whilst you smother your glossed lips together, you rub the back of your neck. “oh, it can wait. it’s not that important,” damn, if looks could kill, you’d be screwed. dark green irises focus on your lips, then your eyes before back towards your pursed up lips. toji was quite familiar with your awkward body language, you lean up close to him before dragging a finger down his chest. so sensually, “like i said though, i missed you toji. i go back home tomorrow.”
“you’re lying, doll,” he whispers, letting your finger run down the middle part of his chest. a few bristles of chest hair pokes through his white tank before he raises a brow. “but fine,” and he grabs you to sit right on his lap. instinctively, your arms wrap around his broad neck. the closer you got, the more you got a good whiff of him. his cologne was so strong, it made you dizzy. “i missed ya more. and that’s right, y’er spring break’s ‘bout to end,” and you almost moan at feeling his clammy hands squeeze against your thighs. “excited to go back?”
“no,” you grumble, a grouse hiding underneath your tone. he slyly smiles, a thumb skimming against your skin. “i don’t wanna leave yet.”
“well girl then jus’ stay,” he rolls his eyes, forever a sassy, sassy man. “and, i find it kinda amusing. the whole point of your spring break was to visit your father ‘n you basically spent it all with me,” and his eyes run down your body, pulling you up close to kiss the outside of your neck. “ain’t complainin’ though.”
you pout, he had a point. “i can’t stay, my campus is like five hours away,” and you moan a bit from the softness of his lips meeting against your tender skin. “maybe.. you could visit me though.”
“eh. we’ll see.”
moments pass before you find yourself making out with toji. it lasts for a good while, ten precise minutes exactly. his hands free-for-all all over your body, the warmth of his hot breath goes against yours. the bitter taste of rich booze lingers on his breath, it’s chemically and it almost burns, yet it’s addictive. toji’s taste alone was addictive. you moan, feeling him ghost a big hand between your thighs to locate your arising heat. your leggings could only conceal your arousal for so long. his eyes were barely open, half-lidded as another hand travels up your hoodie. stubby fingers of his drag against your skin in such a way that you couldn’t help but grind against his lap.
toji grunts, deepening the passionate kiss—his tongue was so sweet, occasionally sucking against yours. perhaps he did miss you more than you missed him. with his head slightly cocked back to a certain angle, you start to hear and feel your own breaths shudder.
everything was going so fast yet slow, he parts his lips a bit further before you feel a hand of his reach all the way down between your legs. after a while of mashing teeth and sucking against tongues together, he pulls away. “y’er still as nasty as i remember. walkin’ around with no fuckin’ panties, huh?”
“nasty for you,” you whine, feeling his rough hands tug all over your body. swiftly, a hand snakes underneath your thighs. he runs a single thumb down your soaked slit and he guffaws. with a sly grin, he leans in to kiss more against your neck. so tender, he knew all the right spots to make you whimper out and squirm. his balmy hot breath resuming to collide against your skin made you bite your lip, an arm still throwing around his neck. “you don’t like me wearing panties anyway.”
“well yeah,” he sneers, his touch going further against your pre-soaked clit. you were already a bit drenched and he hums. “i steal them from ya regardless. my ‘lil souvenir. besides, what’s the point of wearin’ those things when y’er always this fuckin’ soaked.”
you moan, feeling him insert a single finger inside. his fingers were always so thick, stretching you out probably even better than his dick ever could. almost as if your entrance was elastic with how good it stretches. it’s his middle finger, then it sporadically turns into two— two thickset fingers prodding inside your slick heat.
you coat his digits so well with your syrupy arousal, he glances at you with a simper as you clamp around them both at once. “you get more nastier for me every time,” he murmurs, slowly swirling his fingers inside you. you’re clinging onto his neck tightly, feeling that strain in your lungs drag out as you pant. “drivin’ around this wet, girl i ‘oughta spank ya.”
“do it then.”
he glares at you before you gasp. toji lightly shoves you into the bed and you flop down, uttering out a soft ‘oof.’ landing on the sound mounds of your chest, he yanks down your leggings fully before meanly kissing the right cheek of your ass with his palm. “do it then,” he mocks you, pitching his naturally gruff tone to your own. “shut the fuck up,” and the sting feels good, his fingers were now out of you and again, you pout. clamping around nothing now, you were quite really just arched over his bare knee. “have ya been touchin’ y’erself lately? tell me.”
“no,” you lie, and that earns another spank— you moan out, the feeling of his palm was so hot at first touch. quite literally, the sting made you twinge before you grip onto his bulky thighs. “haven’t touched myself, swear.”
“oh bye, don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” toji mutters, and you’re just dangling over his knee.
occasionally, the coolish air against his room would waft right against your skin. “known ya for a good what, two weeks? i can tell y’er lying,” and the way his voice pitches— it’s so rough, gravelly.
the baritone in his voice never fails to make you wet, so deep. you didn’t really know a good way to describe toji’s voice, all you knew was that it was raspy as hell. heavily and utterly raspy to the point where even him whispering against your ear was enough to have you drenched. “don’t like ya touchin’ her when ‘m not around,” he clicks his tongue, caressing your bare stinging ass. you’re panting, aching for him to just hurry up, to do something. toji cackles, noticing from how impatient you were simply from your body language. “aw. am i talkin’ too much for the pretty girl? you bein’ over my knee not enough to satisfy ya?”
you sigh, wriggling your ass a bit and he spanks it again just to watch the recoil bounce against your skin.
“t— tojiiii. just fuck me already.” you grumble, you didn’t really care how whiny you sounded.
it was late at night and you were horny. that was for sure pretty much all you knew. besides, despite it being about two to three days since you last saw him, yeah.. maybe that wasn’t even long of an absence— but you did kind of miss toji.
more importantly, you missed his little friend between his legs.
“i’ll fuck ya when i wanna,” he gruffs. you whine once he sprawls your legs open a bit more. toji stares at your ass, spreading them to see your sloppy cunt opening for him. a sweet little meet and greet. so wet, you’re still laid over his lap before he leans down. “shh. listen to her,” is all he says. whilst he’s inching his face closer, two exact seconds later you feel toji’s saliva trickle into your pulsating entrance. oh. he spat on your pussy, he was quite direct with it too. he then gathers a long stringy wad of gossamer-like spit before spitting it right between your swollen folds. you bite your lip hard, forgetting how much of a nasty man he was. “yeah she’s missed the fuck outta me.”
toji was purely fluent in pussy talk. it was common for him. he’d always refuse to your cunt as ‘she’ as if she had a name or something.
no shame, shameless— toji brings a thumb towards your clit, rubbing against it just so you could hear the squelches you made yourself.
“you used a toy, baby?” he hums, sliding his tongue against his lips, against the scar that slants against his skin oh-so-sexily..
“y-yeah,” you whimper, the coldness of his saliva making you shudder within his hold. your breathing became more rapid as you tighten the hold on his legs. “magic wand. i jus’ wanted to try it.”
“tch… magic fuckin’ wand,” he snarls, actually sounding quite offended.
continuing to drag and skim his fat thumb down your slit, you mewl out. you’re effortlessly soaking his single slender digit with such sheeny amounts of your sweet. “bet ya didn’t even know what the fuck you were doin.’ how long it take ‘ta make you finish?”
you’re panting now, trying to recall your lewd moments with your sweet beloved hitachi, it was expensive too.
you bought it from some shady link online, one of your friends recommended it to you so you shrugged it off, saying why not. besides, you hardly ever have time to play with yourself anyway. even more now that you had toji.
“like … maybe thirty minutes.” you exhale deeply, the fast paced strokes of his fingers making your eyes almost roll back. so so good, all he was really doing was skimming his fingers against your sopping wet entrance— barely even doing anything, yet you were still a mess.
toji chuckles, making you get off his lap before laying you face first on the mattress. he grabs your waist, pulling your ass upward to stick out before he gets up close for a nice direct view. “aw. thirty minutes? thirty minutes when it can only take me five with my tongue?”
“f-fuckkk.” you start to babble, his warm breath fanning all against your exposed cunt.
it cools against your skin, sending each nerve that resides inside of your entrance to spiral uncontrollably. toji had you arched all over, arched over like some slut.
to be fair, if the shoe fits you might as well wear it.
“dunno if ya deserve to be eaten out,” he speaks in a low undertone. your dilated pupils roll way back at his simple touch.
he teasingly brings his tongue towards your pussy, it’s retting, sloppily so. toji drags two fingers and you eagerly coat his digits with such salaciously, lewd arousal. “mhm. look at that, fuckin’ drenched. my favorite waterpark,” and he spits against your folds once more before snickering darkly. “jus’ thinkin’ you used those useless hands on this pretty pussy makes me ill.”
oh, you’re about to lose it..
he was stalling, more talking and less eating.
instead, it should have been vice versa.
you’re a mover, writhing in his lap, still hunched over with a cute arch before he spanks your ass.
“little girl, cut that shit out,” he grunts and abruptly, you feel the coldness of his flat tongue finally lap against your pussy.
immensely, your mouth forms into an ‘o’. if it was anything toji fushiguro knew how to do well, it was that he knew how to eat.
he ate you out like it was the end of the fucking world, as if your pussy was the only food remaining left in stock.
you gnaw on your bottom lip further, gasping once he wastes no time to dig in.
. . slow slow sluuuurps,
he makes sure you hear how wet you were on his mouth. just downright filthy, his tongue lays itself flat before he nibbles all against your throbbing clit.
“o-oh my god, toji, hngh,” you’d babble out in pathetic sweet sobs. with his tongue scrapping against your entrance, creating suction with his mouth had you stupid.
as your maw dramatically drops, he’s eating you from the back. there’s a concise dull moment where he pauses. with big two rough hands, he spreads your ass open fully. “f-fuuuck.” you moan, feeling him blow his warm breath all against your puffed folds.
from behind, you hear his sexy low titter before he resumes—yet this time, he lolls his pink tongue all the way out, so fucking long..
and as he does, he licks from the very bottom of your cunt until he’s reaching near your puckering hole— he’s never acknowledged that spot before, your ass.
your eyes widen, a clamoring gasp exits from your lips before he spits against it, lathering his tongue everywhere. he likes it wet, more importantly though, he likes it nasty.
“arch that back more for me, bend girl, bend,” he coos in a muffled tone— purely speaking with his mouth full. his stubble tickles against your pussy and your back voluntarily moves itself forward. a curve, he found it so appealing,
so . . amusing.
“there mphm we go baby, good girl. keep that head on the bed. ‘m fuckin’ starved.”
you’re clinging tight onto one of toji’s satin covered pillows, feeling his tongue roam everywhere. it knew no bounds. your heart starts to race at a more rapid speed the second he sneakily dips his tongue back into your needy clit.
he passionately sucks against the clitoral hood before using a hand to smack your ass every single time you squirm.
after about probably the nth time of his lewd escapades with his tongue, he starts to prod his calloused fingertips near your entrance once more. his fingers featuring his tongue, oh you were really no match.
“imgonnacumimgonnacumimgonna—”
“mhm, bet ya are,” he rasps, a deep chuckle dragging out of his throat.
the way your body responds to him was so cute. “keep that ass up ‘n y’er face down,” he orders, earning another vicious smack on the rear from him. you’re moaning, feeling yourself start to spasm. toji occasionally breaks his lips away to kiss near your ankle, your thighs, anywhere but your cunt and he knows how much you hated that.
the teasing— he’d purposely stop just to move his lips elsewhere, watching you fidget in such obscene anticipation. “don’t fuckin’ cum yet.”
“but—”
“but shit. you heard me,” he groans, bringing his mouth back towards between your legs. you whine, feeling him roll out his tongue before slurping up such a good amount of your syrupy taste.
with your toes curling, stomach seizing, you couldn’t stop shaking.
so damn good, his buttony nose rubs against your folds and it tickles for a split second. the stimulation has your mind going for a loop, you even slip your hands underneath your sweatshirt just to touch on your sensitive perky nipples. “wait for me. hold it, yeah.”
but of course, you didn’t listen,
your body had other plans.
it was inevitable, your orgasm ignored toji anyway, you’re ponderously throbbing.
the pulse between your thighs only grow more briskly before you realize you’re drooling all over his bedsheets.
oh, the feeling felt so delicious, your jaw remains open and you feel so much pressure. so much, his tongue still grazes against your slit before you shriek out, gasping for whatever air was left. it was quick, very very quick.
it’s speed..
it’s tempo was like lightning speed—a bolt that flashes within a blink of an eye, concentric circles steadily building up within your lower abdomen pooling up with heat before it just snaps,
you came.
“o-oh fuck, f-fuuuck, toji,”
suddenly, the room grows quiet. you knew toji didn’t like for you to finish early—especially finishing after he tells you to wait, but oh well.
you couldn’t help it, and the orgasm he just gave you was so good, mouth watering. with weak legs that could barely stand up it’s on own, you inhale a single sharp breath before you’re flipped over quickly.
“the fuck did i just tell you?”
“s-sorry,” you giggle, sprawled all on his bed. your eyes immediately meet the gaze of his shorts, they were half on. he’s got a bulge going on, a hard one at that. his black boxers briefly stick out and it’s so attractive—you catch a glimpse of his happy trail from his tank top that was pulled up just a bit, exposing a bit of his skin. sharp v-line, slim snatched waist.
slut..
god, he was so jacked. the more you stare at his sculptured body, the more you fantasized about how he could just toss you around the—
“oh, is somethin’ funny to you?” he utters lowly, and his tone— he sounds ticked off, he’s barely even raising his tone, projecting it but you still hear the slight rasp to it. you just got even more soaked. “was gonna let ya ride me but i don’t wanna stare at a brat right now.”
“h-huh?” you reply, and then your face was met against the plush mattress again.
you lewdly mewl out a whimper once he spanks your ass, a hand grabbing onto your hip.
“don’t act like ya can’t here me, girl. bring that ass up a bit more,” and you gasp, feeling him drag your hips a bit closer towards his slim waist. “yeah.” he breathes, having a gentle yet firm grip on you.
rough coarse fingertips glide up against your own hips as you feel him take a second to align himself. fuck, you missed this.
you missed him.
in the midst of toji already pulling down his shorts and boxers— he then grabs ahold of his thick cock, giving it a few solid strokes.
he was so hard, leaky tip glistening with pre that he wished he made you lick the top off.
but it was far too late, he just wanted to be inside, just as much as you wanted him inside. the crown of his cock was so fat, even with toji being slow to ease himself inside, he’s still practically splitting you open.
“shit, i missed this,” he grunts in a hoarse tone whilst he’s going inside you.
“f-fuck,” you bawl up the creamy white sheets into your fists.
you almost forgot just how big he was, despite it only being a good three days without feeling him stretch you out.
toji groans, feeling the subtle tightness of your walls adjust to him like always— it usually lasts a second or two. he’s furthering himself in, already about to bottom out.
he’s already niiice and snug. a perfect fit,
every. single. time.
toji rarely does doggy with you because he prefers staring at your face— solely to make fun of your little facial expressions. but whenever you were bent over for him on all fours, it was simply an experience you never wanted to end. “oh fuck m-me,” you croak, feeling him yank harshly against the hood of your hoodie. you bump back against him and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to create an unkempt, sloppy pace.
it was rhythmic, he starts off slow before strenuously pounding into you.
churning up your sweet savory insides like butter, you clamp around him so good that it makes his abs tense up. “mhm,” he tugs tighter against the fabric that was thrown over you from the torso up. dark eyes of his flicker toward your ass, each time he moves, your ass moves.
in full compatibility, the sheer skin slaps was brutal. your head was spinning like a merri-go-‘round, strained inhales pulling your heaving lungs every few milliseconds. “. . girl,” toji groans, and you moan once he gives your ass a spank again for probably the umpteenth time today. his voice, every syllable he drags out in that deep hoarsely voice of his had you so soaked. “fuck back against me, c’mon. ‘s a two way street, baby.”
“y-you’re so fuckin’ big though,” you whine, pawing into the soft cushions of his comforter.
“awww,” he utters in a faux, sympathetic tone.
he leans against you, so close to where he’s basically in prone bone— no more doggy.
he’s so deep that the tip of his dick prods all against your secluded g-spot. toji’s hefty weight hovers against your bare ass and you moan melodically. “i’m big, yeah?” and a colossal, veiny hand of his wraps around your throat. gentle, barely any pressure but a good amount to make you whine again. “but y’er doin’ so good, was jus’ about to praise you but you don’t want praises, huh,” and you’re falling in love time and time again with his sensual yet reckless rhythm. the way the bed rocks and shakes in harmony, you’re at a lost of words.
speechless, breathless, every -less word by this point.
he was hitting you so deep, every angle.
so thorough,
his hips were sharp— your moans grow louder the moment he gets right up against you, a hand gripping into your hair rigidly. mercilessly, a hand lightly digs into your scalp as he’s holding your head up. toji’s damn near balls deep now, making sure you feel every consecutive thrust. “some nerve, textin’ me at three am just to fuck this sloppy cunt,” and his hot breath fans against your neck. you whine once you feel his tongue slide against your sensitive collarbone. so deep—you were sure he’s just jackhammering his cock into you by this point. each movement was pivotal, he was precise with the way his hips snapped against you. whiplash got you good, you’re currently just a babbling mess listening to his crude words. “but i bet ‘s more than that, yeah? you wanted to tell me somethin’ so just tell me.”
“n-not yet,” a sweet moan dies out your throat.
toji rolls his eyes— this girl, he’s thinking in his head. you were testing his patience, a stubborn little thing. one of the many things he’s liked about you. “fuck, h-harder toji. harder.”
“sloooow? i can do slow,” he replies in a deriding tone, and his deep thrusts turn into satirical unserious, slow pumps. you whine, he lets go of your hair and you just plop down on your chest. he knew what you wanted, he knew how you liked to be fucked, and yet he was just being a tease.
toji fucking fushiguro for you.
he’s always been rough with you, treating you like nothing more than a mere rag doll at times. there’s been sweet affectionate moments too, rarely, but it has its moments.
toji’s infatuation with you only grows, the more he spends time with you the more he even starts to question himself.
you’ve got him whipped.. precisely with your pussy, yes, but whipped in another way completely. he didn’t know how to describe it, mainly because it was nothing to describe,
indescribable.
he couldn’t put anything to words—especially whenever he was deep in your guts, mashing your cunt around with his cock like homemade dough. kneading it with his tip,
stretch, mold, ply, repeat..
he’s doing all that with his dick. he sucks his teeth, a tsk escapes from his mouth before he spanks your ass— bringing you right back to reality.
“fuckin’ gonna milk the shit out of me,” he groans, his hips all sloppy and vigorous.
toji’s so close to you that by now, he brings a foot up to press against the back of your neck. you gasp, really feeling just how deep he was inside your cunt.
the wool of his sock presses against your neck as your face was smushed against the satiny sheets. “mhm, that’s it girl, take it. take that shit. milk my fuckin’ cock, fuuuck.”
his groans get louder, you’re so wet it’s ludicrously sloshing against him and you’re all doe-eyed and dumb.
emphasis on dumb, not a single thought was embedded into your brain.
as his hips keenly buck against you, you’re breathing shallowly, trying to keep a good momentum against him before you whine.
you were close again, yet this time— something else was approaching,
something more . . provocative.
your legs shake and shake, your jaw aches from how much your teeth is shattering amongst each other before you feel him grab onto your wrist.
he pins it behind your back whilst he’s still fucking you raw.
broad, clammy hands of his roam down your voluptuous body, taking in to snag a feel of your curves, your pretty physique, everything..
beads of sweat droplets start to race down the sides of toji’s naturally dark brows— he huffs and puffs, the girth of his dick only stretching out inside of you even further.
you’re a babbling mess, the arch in your back was so cute that it makes him throb. you feel the throb that lingers from his dick, it pulsates at such a meteoric pace that it has you pulsing in response.
“where do ya want it,” he grumbles with a soft vexing pout on his lips. toji was trying his best to maintain composure—but he was flustered, the more he leers down your back, down your pretty structured spine, the more he’s starting to adapt this unexplainable feeling. “best fuckin’ tell m—”
“inside,” you purr out, your voice all strained and a raucous from the immense amounts of moans that left your throat. “i-inside, wanna feel you again, ‘n again, ‘again..”
toji snickers, swiping a tongue against his lips before he slows himself down for you to adjust.
you’re preparing to finish with him— he coos right up against your ear, sticking two fingers in your mouth. “finish with me, princess. ‘m givin’ you this one chance,” and he deepens his voice all the way down, balls so deep inside that you feel a faint gape stretch you whole.
you’re compressing him down tight with your gummy walls before you feel the slimy friction of pure sweat sticking against your own skin. “you gonna be a good girl ‘n cum on my cock? or a bad girl who’s not even listenin’ to a damn thing ‘m saying.. ?”
“c-cum, toji, mphm,” you choke out a sweet desperate wail, feeling one of his bulky arms wrap around your torso. “wanna cum.”
as you spoke, your words were merely muffled from his thick digits shoving inside of your sloppy, needy mouth. his warmth, once it skids against your skin, it never ever leaves.
you think you’re about to cum but instead, you gush out.
violently, electricity courses through your veins. vibration after vibration pulses throughout your body and you’re hysterical,
it’s so abrupt, so intense..
you’re squirting, coating his dick with your honeydew arousal from the base down.
he chuckles at your body’s initial response, how you’re finding it impossible to stay still. you’re clenching around his shaft still, mouth all open, eyes wide as big as restaurant saucers.
swooning, you’re swooning from his length and that’s when you whimper once he groans right in your ear.
the raspiness, it’s got you drenched— drenched like a faucet, the sensation was beyond pleasurable.
toji ends up following seconds after, it hits him harder. like a truck, it comes at full speed before you’re met with such absurd milky ropes of his seed. it shoots out quick, but it’s thick. you get quiet, hearing the sloshing spurts trickle its way inside of you. “f-fuck,” he stutters, a shaky breath following as he slides his fingers out of your mouth. a trailing glimmering cobweb of your own spit drags from his two fingers as he’s dumping knots and knots of cum into your sweet, starving cunt. “saved so much f’r you, feel it deep ‘n y’er womb, doll?”
“y-yes.” you swallow, a multitude of moans emit from you before he slowly pulls out.
oh, the sight of it all. one of toji’s favorite parts was to simply gawk at the mess he created, taking in the mess he made you.
a messy girl.
the messiest, your chest feels tight and you’re heaving.
he licks his lips, staring at your ass with hazy eyes. his own cum oozes out of your hole and he just wants to lick it, plug it back into you and give you another thick load.
that’ll come soon enough— as much as he had stamina equivalent to a near stallion, he needed a little break. his chest felt like it was about to explode.
“fuck,” he collapses against his side of the bed, reaching towards his thigh to scratch it.
as if on instinct, you crawl towards him, an arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer. your head presses against his chest. you hear his rapid heart beat and he murmurs out a husky, “good girl,” and he leans in to kiss the crown of your head. “gimme a minute though. ‘m not as young as i used to be, y’know.”
you giggle, a simper stretching across your face as the time passes.
instantaneously, it gets quiet for a moment before you suddenly remember why you even came here . . for one last time.
“toji,” you utter, attempting to catch your breath.
you were still heaving with lungs full of build up oxygen, panting a bit before he glances down at you with that unreadable, naturally stern expression.
a hand of yours strums down his pecs seductively, playing with the curly chest hair that remains stuck against his skin. “i’ll um . . tell you what i wanted to say earlier.”
“let me go first.”
with your eyebrows slightly furrowing, you glance up at him and he stares up at the ceiling before back at you. “about a week back, at y’er dad’s place, i told ya i loved you,” and his breath hitches for a moment— even saying something as sentimental as that made him cringe.
you figure he was being serious though because his sudden eye contact never left yours. “you never gave me an answer back.”
“. . . oh,” you sheepishly say, remembering the exact encounter he was referring to. you then lean up to toji, gingerly planting your lips against the right side of his mouth where his tender scar resides. “you didn’t hear me? i said i love you too, toji.”
his chest feels all warm and mushy, you love him?
“you do?” he replies, being taken aback. this entire situation was messy as is, but again, they do say the heart knows what it wants.
you nod, repeating yourself before pulling him into a quick three second kiss. “i love you, toji.”
. . .
. . . is what he thought you was gonna say.
far from it actually, you’re sat in the passenger seat of toji’s car before you lightly tap him on the shoulder. he’s parked, slouched back against his seat before he snaps out of his erotic phantasm. he was dropping you off back home,
oh right.
home.
“toji? did you even hear a word i just said?”
“huh? yeah, you said you loved me too.”
“no … i didn’t. what?” you scrunch up your face, the most perplexed expression of all.
that was nothing you said, with a sheepish expression, you mutter out the words he’d never thought he’d hear you say. “toji, i said i’m pregnant.”
. .
happy spring fucking break.
#★vegasbaby.#toji smut#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji x you#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x reader smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk drabbles#anime smut#female reader#cw sex mention
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calling quinn “captain” in bed and he goes feral
warnings: emosh quinn, sex as comfort HIII, masturbation (fingering), wee bit of dirty talk, riding, unprotected p in v, use of "captain"
pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader
summary: the one where quinn comes home after the 'nucks are knocked out of the playoffs (i am not manifesting!!) and he and his girl make up for the time missing each other.
wc: 1601
The playoffs had come to an end with a simmer for the Canucks. Quinn, who had led his team to so many victories throughout the season, was headed home after game seven of the second round– just narrowly missing the finals for the Stanley Cup.
You had called him briefly after the game, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had been quiet, listening to you speak about your day– a topic that he himself had requested, so unhappy with his game that he didn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that he played hockey for a living.
Listening to you talk about the book that you read that day, the walk that you had gone on with your best friend, and the annoying conversation you had to have with your boss that you hate made him feel like he was just a normal guy for a day.
Now, with him on the way home, you were ready to comfort him in any way that you could.
And it started by making him forget about his problems in the way that only you were allowed to do.
That’s why you were waiting on your couch, naked, legs spread and a finger on your clit. Quinn was due to walk through the door at any minute and the first thing you wanted him to see when he walked into his apartment was his girlfriend waiting for him.
Quinn mused about your beauty all the time, whether it was in public or just to you or just to himself. He had told you many times over the course of his relationship that though you were beautiful all the time, there was nothing like the way you looked underneath him as his cock thrust inside you.
Tonight, he would certainly be inside you. You were just hoping that you’d be the one on top of him, taking care of him, making him feel good.
The lock flipped as Quinn unlocked the door, making you perk up and tilt your head with innocent eyes at the front door.
“Hi, Q,” You greeted.
Quinn had crossed the threshold with his head down, dragging his suitcase behind him. His face was soft when he looked up at you, placated like he was happy to see you but still so, so sad. Then, his eyes fixed on your fingers, the ones that were running up and down your glistening slit.
“Hi,” Quinn replied, seeming frozen in place. His eyes darted between yours and your fingers.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” You said. You reached up to pinch a nipple between the fingers of your other hand, watching Quinn’s eyes follow your movements.
He shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes. “Anything in particular?” He asked.
“Been missing your cock, Q. I’ve been feeling so empty without you around to fill me up.”
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Quinn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, reaching up to unbutton his shirt.
As the expanse of his chest appeared to you, the light dusting of hair that you loved so much, you moaned softly and pushed a finger inside yourself. It was smaller than Quinn’s, and the angle was always weird when you fingered yourself, and it was hard to get any real pleasure without getting your other hand on your clit, but it was worth seeing the look on Quinn’s face and the way his pants tightened.
“I tried my fingers, Q. I tried my toys. They just– oh– they weren’t as good as you.”
“Fuck, I missed you,” Quinn said, crossing the room and kneeling over you. “That mouth, so dirty, baby.”
You leaned up, capturing Quinn’s soft lips with your own. The kiss was wet, both of you trying to convey just how much you had wanted each other while Quinn was gone without saying a single word. Your finger never ceased moving inside of you, although Quinn had started to rub over your clit. You worked in tandem, comfortably, making your body roll into the pressure. Your movements, and his, were slow, savoring the fact that you were together again and would be for nearly the whole off season.
“I want to ride you,” You breathed into Quinn’s mouth, so quiet that he would practically have to taste the words on his tongue to understand you.
He did, though. Of course he understood what you said. He knew immediately, with the way he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you with him as he sat back onto the couch. He fumbled with his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down his thighs just enough that they were out of the way.
You sank down on his cock as soon as he pressed it against your opening, your mouth falling open with the sensation.You panted into Quinn’s mouth as you began to lift yourself up and down.
Quinn’s hands were resting on your hips, doing nothing except acting as a presence, something to anchor you as you rose and fell on his length.
“Feel so good,” Quinn praised, transfixed by the way your hair was framing your face and the way you bit your bottom lip when you found your g-spot without his help. “Was this what you imagined while I was gone, doll?”
“Yeah, yeah,” You agreed. “Fuck, Quinn, I needed you to take care of me.”
His heart quivered in his chest at that, those words meaning more to him than so many of the things you could have said when he came home.
“I’m here,” Quinn assured you, his fingers pressing into your skin, grabbing and enveloping the shape of your hipbones. “Gonna take care of you forever.”
“So good.” You began to bounce up and down harder, more quickly, relishing in the way Quinn’s skin slapped against yours. “Q,” You whined, clutching at the muscles of his shoulder, one hand pressing against his chest. “Quinn, I’m gonna come, oh, Captain…”
All the breath flew out of Quinn like it was stolen from his lungs, squeezed like a tube of toothpaste that had just one more use left in it. It was like his vision went dark, the word echoing in his head. Captain, captain, captain.
Quinn’s hips moved of their own accord. His hands, having once rested delicately on your hips, were now clutching your ass desperately.
“My girl, fuck, need me to take charge like I do on the ice? Need your captain to fill you up ‘cuz you can’t make yourself feel good? Have I spoiled you that much?” Quinn rambled, fucking into you with earnest.
He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. His hips were like a machine, fucking into you so well, so consistently. It was militant, Quinn able to play you like a violin after memorizing your body long, long ago.
You could only moan in response, the kiss of his cock against your walls, as strong as a heartbeat turning your mind to jelly. What was originally a night meant to tease Quinn, to prioritize him, had quickly devolved into a night of mind-numbing, leg-shaking pleasure for you.
“Looked so good, touching yourself when I walked in,” Quinn continued. “Such a pretty sight to walk into. You’re all mine, huh? Just needed me to come home and make you feel good? Show me what I was missing?”
“Quinn,” You whimpered.
“Captain,” He corrected.
“Captain,” You repeated, drawn out. As if hypnotized, you were willing to repeat back anything he said. “Can I come?”
Quinn groaned, gravelly in the back of his throat. He lifted you up and down to meet his thrusts, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you. His eyes focused on the ring of your wetness around the base of his cock, the clear pool of juice that glinted on his abdomen in the light.
“Please,” You begged, your head finding the curve of his neck. “It’s so good, Cap. I need to come, please let me come.”
“Come, baby,” Quinn encouraged, his thrusts growing uncoordinated as you squeezed him. “Come with me.” With just a few more thrusts, Quinn felt himself burst, spurting inside of you. The aftershocks overtook him when you let out a sigh at the feeling of him, his warmth, filling you up in a way it hadn’t in so long that you’d missed so much.
For a few minutes, you and Quinn just basked in the feeling of being reunited with the person you loved.
“Captain,” He eventually said aloud, stating it like he was feeling out the way the word felt in his mouth. Quinn eyed you, raising a brow.
“I like the way you take care of your team,” You admitted. You reached out and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling it around your finger. “Reminds me of how you take care of me.”
Quinn’s heart flipped in a funny way, something akin to heartbreak but so much warmer. “I love you so much,” He said, forcing the words out in a way that he hoped conveyed just how genuinely he felt them.
You smiled, soft and sweet, and continued to play with his hair. You two sat there, on the couch in the presence of the other, until you lost track of time. Eventually, when you were blinking slowly and Quinn could feel your eyelashes beginning to flutter against his neck in a way that signaled your exhaustion, he picked you up and carried you to bed.
Always taking care of you.
note: ANOTHER MONDAY MORNING ONESHOT! I AM NOTHING IF NOT CONSISTENT ABOUT MONDAY MORNINGS!
feeling like a fuckin pirate writing this captain shit (i love y'all and i looove reading captain kink fics (that one threesome between quinn and nico...) but i felt like a damn pirate! aye aye matey!) i'll stick to my daddy kink a-thank-yewwww
also: game 4? in nash? holy shit! quinn's hair is so much darker in person and it looks so fluffy. he's pretty (and looks lost all the time) and also i never saw him make eye contact with anyone standing at the glass during warmups. also-also his tapejob on his socks was so weird? also also also: he was adjusting his gear literally every thirty seconds between whistles and no one else was– does your gear not fit, brother?
#puck-luck's fics#quinn hughes#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x y/n#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#andy writes anything🍄#qh43
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Sub sam monroe x fem friends hot older sister ❔
𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 | 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞
pairing: sam monroe x older!fem!reader
summary: it’s been like what? 6 years since you saw sammy, he’s still as weird as he used to be, only prettier. After seeing him again you notice there some tension that wasn’t there before.
c/w: nsfw, loser Sammy, blowjob
discord - twitter: anakinsdove
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡
ﾟ。Love you
𝘄/𝗰 - 1,352
“What’s that for?” You ask your little rat of a brother why he’s suddenly carrying enough snacks to throw a party.
“Sam is coming over, he’s going to spend the night here” Your brother says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Who?” “Sam” he rolls his eyes “Oh! Sammy, blonde, walks weird?” “Yes…” he’s slightly confused at your description then he realizes you haven’t seen Sam in a while…. A long while?
“He dyed his hair” your brother ads “Seriously?” You say sarcastically clearly faking interest trying to find something worth watching on tv “And he walks normally” “I’m sure he does”
“Anyways aren’t you a little bit too old for sleepovers?” Your condescending tone is very annoying to your brother but that’s what sisters do. “Aren’t you too old for Halloween?” “Huh?” Your brother smirks pointing at your makeup, you respond by throwing the pillow on the couch with enough force it feels like a brick, he runs upstairs
“coward” you mutter to yourself and suddenly someone’s knocking on the door
Someone’s knocking extremely loud
You decide to ignore it as you keep painting your nails but the knocking is very persistent and it gets louder somehow accidentally painting your toe “fucking loser” you curse under your breathe and stand up walking furiously towards the door.
“What!?” Your tone is harsh and the boy takes a step back, Sam looks stupid as he makes sure he’s in the right house “I-is James here?”
“Sam?” You ask softly this time, your anger quickly dissipating from your features, eyeing him up and down… wow.
“Hi Y/N”
You open the door for him to come in as he awkwardly goes through the door, he tries to keep his hips as far he can from yours while walking in, you sigh at the awkward silence
“How have you been-“ “You look very different-“ both of you say at the same time “You look the same” he says “I looks twelve?” God you’re making fun of him
Hes about to answer when your brother comes down running from the stairs “Sorry dude I was taking a shit!” He greets him as you stand aside
“Don’t talk to her Sam” your brother says smirking “Shut up man” they run upstairs and you shrug trying to shake the awkwardness away
You keep trying to distract yourself with tv but it isn’t fucking working
Sam Monroe….
He looked so different from what you remembered, he’s taller, there’s a lot of piercings stuff on his face and you’re pretty sure he was wearing eyeshadow.. his hair now it’s black… funny because you remembered him being blonde and looking like a puppet, you giggle at the thought… Oh! and his clothes, he was wearing a Metallica t shirt, Vintage….
You moan and you realize you been rubbing your clit through your panties this whole time then gasping in embarrassment and closing your legs
What a slut… what if someone saw you rubbing your cloth on your living room, that would be a reason to kill yourself, what if Sam saw you like that?… that however doesn’t sound as bad
Control yourself Y/n
A few hours later the sun has set… you succeeded distracting yourself and as soon as Sam leaves you won’t have to see him again you’ll forget this awkward chapter in your life where you masturbated to the thought of your younger brother’s friend until… “Why me man!?” “Cause I’m about to win this level” “Youre shit at the game” “Shut up!” you hear the boys arguing upstairs “It’s just fucking popcorn Sam” your brother mocks him as Sam sighs coming down the stairs
You can’t help but look up at him “Hey” Sam stops midway “Hey” he tries to sound and look relaxed, but when did your boobs get so big?
“Pop corn?” You asks pointing at the box he’s holding in his hand “I’ll burn them” he says
“It’ll be my brothers fault” you laugh and Sam smiles “C’mon” you guide him to the kitchen and put the popcorn in the stove “You look very different too” he responds to your earlier conversation, you smirk at the opportunity of teasing “Really? I thought I looked twelve” “Fuck no” he suppresses a laugh and you nod playfully “Well, maybe a little” “Fuck off” you push him playfully and his back makes contact with the counter “You still have your dimples when you smile” your heart actually softens at his comment “You don’t look like a puppet anymore” he rolled his eyes “I meant that in some ways you look the same but in other- other ways you look very different” he stares at you collarbone
“Sam?” You take a step forward “It’s mean to look at girls boobs when they’re talking” he freezes “I was not-“ you grab his bicep “I always knew you liked me” Sam is really about to die or kill himself, whatever is option is quicker… instead he grabs your waits and pulls you to him then freezes again “You want to kiss me Sammy?” His gaze switches from your eyes to your lips, to your boobs that look so good in that thank top, then your lips again, his lips hesitantly meet you in a clumsy kiss… but then you find out he’s so hungry for this, teeth clatter and he hums into your mouth, his hands shaking as he holds your waist…. You pull away teasingly as he tries to chase your lips but you have other plans like kissing his neck
“Fuck” he moans, his little sound has you clenching your thighs, you need this boy asap…as you nibble and suck his neck then pulling away again “Sam” “What?” He says breathlessly
“Can I suck you off?” WHAT THE FUCK he nodds shakily and you get on your knees “J-James?” Sam’s says as he watches you unbuckle his belt “Don’t talk about my fucking brother when I’m going to give you a blowjob” “Sorry..” “He’s playing, he wont find out.” You try to reassure this poor boy as he nods shakily “I promise” you unzip his pants and take his boxers down urgently, it’s too much, you hear the popcorn popping, heavy breathe, the waves crashing distantly… his cock slapped against his stomach… Sam looks down at you in awe
You start stroking him, watching the angry red tip leaking already, “w-wait wait I’m gonna c-cum” Sam warns virgins you think to yourself and force yourself to stop stroking him, if he’s gonna fucking cum he’s cumming down your throath tonight “fine” you say angrily and take him down your throat “Fuck!” Sam moans as his shaky hand tangles in your hair pushing you down further “I can’t I can’t I’m sorry” his eyes roll back and his back arches, your wet lips wrapping around his thick cock…. Sucking him sloppy it’s just so much
He doesn’t know why god is on his side tonight but he’s not complaining, he beats himself mentally, he seeing stars, fireworks exploding behind his eyes and all that cringy shit he once heard, now he knows it’s real, he feels your tongue massaging the underside of his cock and you make something with your tongue where it licks at his balls slightly and-
“Fuck!” He yells as he cums…. Thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throath, he tastes salty…
Your doe eyes look up at him seductively as you keep licking his tip, his legs tremble as he spasms, he has to push you away so he doesn’t pass out
You finally release his cock from your mouth “breathe Sammy….” “Fuck sorry I-“ his breathe is heavy “Shhh….” You kiss his lips softly so he tastes his own cum…..
“You’re sleeping here right?” He nodds
“Come to my room at 2:00 AM” he nodds again and you know this boy is completely at your mercy
“Oh and Sammy….. your popcorn” you point to the stove and evident smoke “Shit!” Sam runs and trips over his pants, pulling them up quickly and trying to not burn your damn house.
masterlist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.
dividers - @i92-93
(Im very sorry for the absence! I been pretty much busy and a little unmotivated to write but I’ll try to post another fic this week, this was a little bit rushed but I hope you like it)
@anakinsbbgirl
#sam monroe x reader#sam monroe x you#sam monroe smut#sam monroe imagine#sam monroe hayden christensen#sam monroe life as a house#hayden christensen smut#hayden christensen characters#hayden christensen fluff#hayden christensen
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I think one of the keys to non-canon and rarepair relationships for me in fanfiction is that you have to respect the relationships that are already there. Not like in a "you have to do the canon relationships and then break them up first" way, because you can definitely make it so that the canon relationship in question never happened OR was never romantic or sexual if you want. But in a basic characterization issue kind of way.
For example, when I wrote a Shang Qinghua / Yue Qingyuan fic, I was looking at the ways to make that work given the Qijiu and Moshang situations. And I ended up making it so that Qijiu either never had or never fully developed any romantic or sexual feelings in this AU, but they're still inseparable as friends / brothers / platonic soulmates of a kind. You CAN'T write a Yue Qingyuan who doesn't care about Shen Jiu. It's just not on the table in terms of characterization.
(I mean, you could, I suppose, but then it's a case of, "Who the fuck even is this guy anymore? You undid his whole backstory and now he's a completely different person." I do think you can write interesting AU stories focused on character development in which Yue Qingyuan learns to move on after post-canon or in which perhaps Shen Jiu's treatment of Luo Binghe becomes an actual breaking point for their relationship, but even if things somehow get REAL BAD between him and Shen Jiu, I don't really think Yue Qingyuan will ever be able to stop caring completely.)
Likewise, I made it so that Moshang never fell into the master-servant situationship, and ended up as cooperative enemies / distant allies of sorts. But Shang Qinghua still thinks Mobei-Jun is sexy. That's his ideal guy! Airplane Bro still being a little weird about his favorite character is not really negotiable to me, even if he's in love with someone else. He has eyes! He can still look at other men disrespectfully! He just doesn't act on his attraction.
Like, you can totally just sidestep any romantic / sexual feelings and make it so they never existed, in order to pursue your pairing of choice. But you cannot easily deny, in my opinion, the basic fact of a character caring on a basic level about someone important to them. I think it gives weird "you're only allowed to care about your romantic partner / no friends allowed" vibes to just completely cut off all other relationships. There's not a hard line between "love-triangle-fixing polyamory" and "completely isolated from even friendships because maintaining friendships with exes is cheating somehow monogamy" as options here.
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King Edmund and Hedwig drabbles: running away but changing your mind and getting lost
Yandere!king & female!yandere x reader (female in Edmund’s case and gn in hedwigs)
I had a request similar to this like a year ago, but i deleted it because I couldn't come up with anything ... and now I have so ... that's annoying.
And this is probably the nicest Edmund has ever been. Weird.
BUT HEY I LOVE THE RELATIVES
Warnings: weapons, but actually pretty fluffy
King Edmund:
You had taken a horse and gone away into the forest. But here you are, sitting by a tree with the horse tied to a branch, hugging yourself and crying. What had you done? You finally realize how stupid you are. Why did you leave him? Why?
You're cold and lonely. Thieves are roaming the forest and you know that they would be delighted to find the queen all by herself. But you don't know the way home, and if you get up on your horse you risk going even further away. Staying in one place will be the best decision if you want to be found ... hopefully by the right people.
Suddenly, after what feels like (and probably have been) hours, you notice a sound.
"Y/N, your game is up."
Edmund!
You stand up and turn around, seeing him and his knights around you, their horses looking at you dumbly. The knights hold out their bayonets, but you don't care. You run over to Edmund, throwing yourself in his arms and crying ― crying in sorryness, in relief over being found by the right people, crying in fear and shame. Edmund's taken by surprise at first. He had been fully prepared to threaten you to get you to come back. Edmund's arms lock around you, securing your head into his shoulder.
"Lower your fucking weapons!" he tells the knights angrily. "Are you insane pointing them at us like that?!"
He turns to you, but before he has the chance to ask you how you're feeling of why you were so stupid to escape from him, you've already started rambling.
"I'm sorry, Edmund!" you sob. "I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did that! I regretted it immediatly, I promise! I wanted to go back but I-I lost my way and-" You can't finish your sentence, your breathe hitching with sobs.
"Shh, it's okay", he cooes, kissing your forehead. "You're back where you belong now, you're safe."
"I wanted to go back, I promise ... but I didn't know which way was the right one. I'm so sorry!"
You cry against his shoulder, hugging him tightly. Weirdly enough, you have never been happier to see someone that has hurt you. Edmund's your husband, you have accepted that. You hadn't realized that you had started to like him before now.
"It's okay, my dear", Edmund reassures you in a sweet, hushed tone and rests his head on top of yours, enjoying having you in his arms again. He rocks you back and forth gently, as if to coo you. "There's no need to cry, I'm here now. You will never have to worry when I'm here. You know that I will take care of everything."
His words are so comforting, so belieavable. You nod against his shoulder.
"Let's go home", he says. "You're cold."
He lifts you up on his white horse before cimbing up himself in front of you. You wrap your arms around his waist and hide your face into his warm back, crying even more. Why isn't he mad at you? You betrayed him. Edmund can't bring himself to be mad. You're genuinly sorry, he can't be mad at you for making a mistake ... a ridicolously stupid mistake, perhaps, but a mistake nonetheless. He needs to comfort you, not punish you.
"Make sure Y/N's horse comes with us", he says before riding off with you behind him.
Hedwig:
If you desperately had to fight with Hedwig about how controlling she is and storm off ... why did it have to be in a foreign country? You want to punch yourself for your idioticy. She's suffocating, yes, but you do love her ... somehow you still love her. And you want nothing more than to go back to her and have her hold you. How will you find her when you can't ask for directions back to her vacation house and can't trace your steps back. Why do European countries have to have such narrow, maze-like alleyways?!
You've found yourself on a bench in front of a cafe in the staking sun. You'll have to get up and look for the right way later, but your feet are probably bleeding.
"Y/N?!" you hear Hedwig's voice suddenly shriek. "Oh, my Gosh, Y/N!"
She runs over to the bench and you hurry to wrap your arms around her waist, hiding your face into her stomach. You can't help but sniffle in relief and sorry ... remembering how you left the house.
"I've been looking all over for you!" Hedwig pants. "I was so worried!"
"I'm sorry, Hedwig", you cry into her stomach. "For everything. I-"
She hugs your head closer and kisses the top of your head. "It's okay, I have forgiven you! "
She sits down on the bench next to you and cup your head into her hands. You sob.
"I'm just so happy to see you alive", she says in relief and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face. "But, dear, you're dehydrated! You'll pass out!"
She takes out a bottle of water from her handbag and feeds you half of it, before water starts to run down your chin.
"Why haven't you been drinking water?" she asks worriedly. "You could have passed out and who knows how dangerous that could have been?!"
"i didn't have any money", you say quietly. "I'm so sorry, I tried to find my way back, because I regret that I left ... but I couldn't ask for directions. I can't speak the language and I didn't have my phone and-"
"It's okay. I forgive you. But please don't do it again. It's dangerous. And I was so worried. My father was close to calling the cops and having them look for you."
"I'm sorry, Hedwig."
She hugs you, letting you rest your heavy head on her shoulder.
"It's okay", she reassures you. "I'm not mad at you. You know that I only want your best, right?"
You nod.
"You need to cool down", she says and stands up, holding out her hand to you. "Let's go get you some ice cream."
"My feet hurt really bad", you mumble.
"I will buy you new shoes too, and bandage and everything you need. Will you come with me? Please?"
You sigh and take her hand. Hedwig is the most confusing person you know, because how can she be so horrible, yet so magical?
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere drabbles#yandere oc x you#yandere oc x reader#yandere fics#yandere stories#yandere king#female yandere
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hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?
“I WANNA BE YOURS.”
KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x reader.
summary: what the request said!
warnings: swearing (bakugou…), mentions of todoroki’s childhood (very brief), that’s it i believe!
—
BAKUGOU KATSUKI —
he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldn’t even think he liked you if you guys weren’t already dating. the way he shows his love for you is… questionable.
he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .
he’ll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.
“you’re so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.”
you’ll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (he’s actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).
he takes you everywhere with him and doesn’t care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? you’re coming with. you can’t stay a second away from him before he’s rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.
your biggest fan by far, anything you do he’s practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second he’ll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.
he’ll also deny the fact he’s a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.
kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.
“what the fuck are you laughing at?”
“you stalking y/n!”
“I WAS NOT STARING AT HER.” sure… liar. you literally just outed yourself…
bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.
SHOTO TODOROKI —
the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.
he’s absolutely enamoured with you. he isn’t shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .
this boy will downright show his love for you.
we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had – always being isolated.
that’s also the reason why he doesn’t understand why he can’t stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried… why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?
cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when you’re with each other.
you can’t believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.
meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship he’s blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.
your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you don’t want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys i’m sorry).
he is very attentive, he’s such a simp. he’ll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.
there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .
once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.
starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.
“here.” a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.
“i can’t find my-”
“y/n. here.”
you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.
your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a smile on his face.
he’s too sweet for you and such a simp!
—
a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.
SEND REQUESTS! 🤍🤍
#mha#mha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#mha fluff#bnha#shoto fluff#bakugou katuski x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#todoroki fluff#bakugou katsuki fluff#bakugou fluff#mha headcanons#mha scenarios#mha imagines#mha angst#mha smut#shoto todoroki#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#todoroki x reader#shoto x reader#katsuki x y/n#shoto x y/n#todoroki x you#bakugou headcanons#todoroki headcanons#shoto headcanons#katsuki headcanons#bnha smut
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♡ good one | thomas hewitt x reader
♡ fandoms; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003 + 2006)
♡ characters; Thomas Brown Hewitt
♡ reader; gender neutral
♡ cw; references to extreme violence, stockholm syndrome i suppose?, kidnapping
♡ notes; this was literally supposed to be porn but instead here’s some weird sappy stuff lol
anyways hopefully more fics soon, writers block and rehearsals have been a bitch and a half
•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•
It was a wonder you were still alive. That’s what you thought about, sitting and fidgeting in the strange bedroom with your ankle shackled. Was shackled the right word if it was tied with rope? Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were fairly certain you’d fall prey to the crazy folks running around the place soon enough. The group you’d hitched a ride with was already long gone- one you’d watched get shot point blank by the bullshit sheriff. The others….well, you heard the chainsaw and the screaming. It was an easy conclusion to come to, especially after you saw the bloody smears on the hardwood downstairs.
You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been hacked into bits yet. You’d been indistinguishable from the others- just another wandering twenty-something with tight clothes and next to no money. The only thing you could think of was that gas station. Your companions had been such dicks to the lady at the counter- of course you apologized to her. She’d been just as kind in return, she even snuck a candy into your bag of sodas and snacks. She was the one who’d sent you that way, towards the farm house.
You stilled, train of thought lost as you heard footsteps. Heavy and slow- they were somehow more intimidating than any angry stomping could have been. You curled your legs up defensively, eyes trained on the door. The person stood there more than a second, silent and just as still as you were holding. If you hadn’t been listening so intently, you would have thought they turned and walked away. But then there was some quiet mumbling- a woman’s voice, maybe?- and the door creaked open.
“Go on Tommy dear- I found a good one for you.”
You’d never seen a man so tall- with shoulders so broad or arms and torso so solid. He was massive. He was terrifying. And he was attractive. Once your eyes unglued themselves from his figure you finally took in the rest. Dark, thick shoulder-length waves. A mask that seemed useless as any sort of medical device thanks to the open mouth. Eyes that were dark but not brown. Maybe blue, maybe gray..maybe just pure black. Like a shark’s. In other circumstances you'd be reduced to a puddle on floor over him. But the bloodstains on his shirt didn’t go unnoticed.
You watched him closely, and he watched you just as alertly, stalking forward like some jungle cat…No. Wait. That wasn’t right. He didn’t look scared, but he was cautious, keeping some distance. Maybe a better allegory would be he looked like he was trying to corner a feral kitten- not wanting you to swipe or dart away. As if doing either was possible. You were frozen with fear, though found the courage to lean back a bit as he stepped forward. He grunted softly and persisted, nearly trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.
Love at first sight was a stupid fucking concept. That you’d always believe. Maybe something in you just broke that same moment, maybe you were just too exhausted to think even close to straight. Maybe both. But when you and this massive man locked eyes, there was an instant understanding. He was already yours- and more importantly, you’d be his. He just had to stake his claim.
“…you’re Tommy?” You practically whispered. He nodded quickly. You got a sense he didn’t speak much, but you told him your name in return and tried to think of anything to talk about to stall the inevitable. “…you killed those people?” You blurted for some godforsaken reason. He tensed, still hovering over you. “It’s okay.” You added quickly “I didn’t actually know them. They were kinda mean.”
He furrowed his brow just a bit and searched your face, for any signs that you were lying. Before he came to a conclusion, you gave a soft sigh, instinctively leaning into the hand that had raised your face to him. Something immediately softened about him, and he rubbed your cheek in awe. The sleepy giggle it caused seemed almost to startle him. It was like no one had ever been that soft with him. Maybe they hadn’t. “….this is your room right? Can we sleep?”
Tommy still seemed in shock but carefully nodded, undoing his apron and seeming at a loss of what to do next. He frowned a bit as he noticed your bindings and quickly undid the knot that kept you stuck there. His guard was down- you could try to run. But you didn’t want to. Doing so would only be tiring. You wanted to let go. So instead you smiled softly and simply opened your arms, letting him cuddle up with you. It took him a minute to get settled, and all the while treating you so delicately… like you were made of glass. He looked up at you, again searching your face in near confusion. He grunted in surprise as you pecked his forehead. His mama really did find him a good one.
#slashers#slashers x reader#slashers x you#thomas hewitt#tcm#thomas hewitt x reader#thomas brown hewitt#tcm 2006#tcm 2003#texas chainsaw the beginning#texas chainsaw massacre#gender neutral reader#g/n reader
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rewatched 7x05 in its entirety and the entire conversation buck has with maddie is SO funny from maddie's perspective. like.
The FIRST thing he says. NO OTHER CONTEXT. is that he lied to eddie and it's eating him up inside.
Maddie is sitting there thinking like oh boy. lied to eddie??? Ok. what's all this then.
Buck explains about being on a date, running into Eddie and Marisol etc etc etc and after Maddie rules out buck doing something TRULY wild like dating a celebrity or a married woman she's run out of possible options as to like. WHY did Buck lie to Eddie? So ofc she asks him, why did you did that.
Buck is like I don't know.
NOW IF IM MADDIE. sitting here wondering why my baby brother just lied to his bestie about being on a date for no apparent reason. like. She's GOT to be wondering, right??? She's gotta be like. Something has CHANGED between Buck and Eddie and Buck now, out of nowhere, seems to NOT want to tell Eddie he's dating someone. WHATS all this then.
Finally she gets the crucial piece of information that oh yeah, i was on a date with a guy, no big deal maddie NOT THE POINT. obviously i check out hot guys' asses CAN WE PLEASE FOCUS
now things are making sense again. Maddie's like, yeah actually, kind of the point. You felt weird about telling Eddie you were on a date with a guy when no one, not even you, even knew you were interested in guys before. that totally tracks, very reasonable actually.
except then. THEN. Buck reveals the second crucial piece of information. that the guy Buck was on a date with. was Tommy. as in BBPU double-u backslash TOMMY. TOMMY FROM THE CALENDAR TOMMY!!!!!! WHOM. LAST MADDIE CHECKED. IS BUCK'S SOLE RIVAL IN THE BATTLE FOR EDDIE'S ATTENTION THAT HE MADE UP IN HIS HEAD.
at this point, in maddie's head she's gotta be like. ah. my little brother has entered into some kind of insane gay psychodrama of triangulated desire the likes of which patricia highsmith could only dream of. and she's just like well. it seems that your problem might be that you were on a date with a man whom not one week ago you were competing with for your best friend's attention, and now you are lying to said best friend about it and THAT PART is what made you spiral so hard you showed up at my door like a guilty puppy. and frankly. as a woman who is happily nearly-married to the love of my life whom i have a three-year-old with i am not qualified to tell you what the FUCK it is you think you are doing here. so. you should tell eddie your feelings, which you still don't understand, at some point i guess! godspeed little brother
#sibyl speaks#and then one week later buck and his best friend show up to her wedding looking like shit and telling her they LOST HEr HUSbAND#god grant this woman the patience to not throttle her insane bisexual brother
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🎧 | agora hills, carmen berzatto.
somethin' different about you / love it when he hit and smack too / baby, lemme lick on your tattoos / that’s true that i like PDA / take it to a seedy place / suck a little dick in the bathroom.
NSFW, blowjobs, semi-public sex, cum stuff.
request a playlist roulette here!
It had been innocent enough. You’d suggested a bar you regular at, managing to drag about half the kitchen staff down. Beers were shared, maybe you had a few too many shots, but what the hell, who’s counting?
“Hey, hey,” Carmen whispers, shooting a panicked look over at the door. “They’re gonna realise. Someone’s gonna come in.”
He’s utterly freaked out as your nails scrape under his shirt, pushing the white fabric up and up and up. You get it high enough, before replacing fingers with teeth, leaning in to nip playfully at his exposed chest.
“Locked.” You mumble into his warm skin, pressing a few kisses into his chest before flattening your tongue, dragging it over the smooth surface of his pecs.
It earns a grunt in response, Carmen’s gaze still focused on the bathroom door. Outside, it was bustling, and it’ll be sooner rather than later that another patron needs to pee, and management discovers someone’s hijacked their bathroom.
But Carmen can’t help himself, a bitter taste on his tongue thinking back to the bar’s interior. Not the bar, the guys. You were a regular here, right? So, you had to know, how they all eyed you like a piece of meat.
“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” He mumbles, words tinged with something alike to jealousy, slightly condescending and definitely petty.
You bite sharply down at his chest, which earns a wince in response. Carmen’s hand moves up, clasping at the back of your head, trying to pry you from his sensitive skin. It works, for you move away, only to drop to your knees.
“Men are so goddamn weird,” You huff out, complaining mindlessly while your fingers work at his belt. It reduces Carmen to a nervous mess, his face fluctuating between the locked door, and you. “You don’t gotta be all anxious about other guys. I’m very happily taken.”
“Yeah but—” His voice tapers off into a sharp inhale, as you tug his cock from those old jeans. “They don’t know that.”
There’s more he wants to say, but it doesn’t come out, doesn’t even form in his mind. Carmen’s focus dissolves, forgetting all about the door, all about the bar, their friends. Your hand is soft as it wraps around his length, gentle caresses that have him quickly hardening, as if the sight of you down there didn’t do it already.
You move forward, licking a long stripe up the length of him, tracing a swollen vein. It ends at his tip, which you’re quick to wrap your lips around, mouth hollow as you mumble your reply through a mouthful of dick: “Then I gotta show them, huh?”
It’s filthy and Carmen is absolutely fucking done for. His hands grip the counter so hard his knuckles are white, panting and groaning above you while you suck him off, wet and messy, just the way he likes it. Spit is collecting in your mouth and dribbling past your lips, running down his shaft and collecting at the zipper of his jeans.
You’re quick about it, slick noises filling the space, hollowing your cheeks just right and paying extra attention to his reddened tip. “Please— fuck, please, can I?” Carmen doesn’t even get the question out, because you know exactly what he means, and you’re nodding as well as you can with him stuffed down your throat.
His hands move to your head, gripping handfuls of your hair and pulling you further onto him. Air forgoes you in favour of pulling each wrecked noise from your boyfriend, Carmen’s legs trembling with the pressure of an orgasm that builds and builds until he’s cumming hot strings down your throat. It’s salty and fills the cavity of your mouth, but you pull off a second before he’s finished spilling his load, fisting his cock and letting the few last drops land on your lips.
And Carmen is still panting, hair stuck to his forehead, unable to catch his breath as he watches you: using his dick to smear the cum over your lips, almost like putting on lipgloss, letting it seep into the cracks and crevices.
Words fail him as you hoist yourself to your feet, knees a little sore, feet a little numb, but ultimately uncaring. You bend over the sink next to him, pressing an exaggerated and firm kiss onto the bathroom mirror. The imprint it leaves behind is clear as day: a milky cum stain in the shape of your lips. You stare at it proudly, turning to grin back at Carmen, whose cock is hardening once more at the sight.
“Think that’s good enough?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
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(Other than the really weird bit about "Male presenting Doctor") what were your thoughts about the specials?
pretty mixed bag, pretty messy, but good overall. i think they were very obviously a nostalgia trip for people around my age lol and it worked! i loved seeing tennant and tate back onscreen together, their chemistry hasn't aged a bit, and honestly just watching doctor who that wasn't written by chris chibnall was a breath of fresh air. they weren't boring, like seasons 11 and 12 were, and they didn't go too far off the other end into nonsense like flux did. characters want things again! the show can let itself just be silly! i was literally cheering out loud when donna and the doctor were just saying random scifi gobbledegook at each other for like a solid several minutes during the star beast.
the structure of the specials kind of baffles me. i love wild blue yonder--i think it's definitively the best of the specials as a standalone, it's absolutely fantastic, creepy and atmospheric and bringing things around to RTD's strength, which is well-written characters interacting with each other and letting good actors just act. but at the same time i dont understand why it exists? it feels like...idk. imagine if you watched the star wars original trilogy but instead of the empire strikes back the middle film was just a feature length film about luke and han surviving on an ice planet with no reference to anything that happens in the last film except the two characters' relationship. and then the next film was still return of the jedi, unchanged. it felt like that
i liked all the weird campy silliness of the star beast and the giggle, and they were both very fun! neil patrick harris gave a fantastic performance, there are a lot of very memorable sequences from the giggle, but it's very very all over the place. so many threads get kind of picked up and go nowhere. the toymaker's haunted house dimension goes nowhere. RTD's eyerolling social media commetnary goes nowhere (thank god tbh but yknow im illustrating something here). even the toymaker kind of goes nowhere, after ncuti gatwa shows up he's bascially an afterthought who loses by dropping a ball. obvious parallels to david tennant's first episode with that ball scene could be made, but just... aren't. it feels like load-bearing sectikons of the plot and themes were cut out to make room for a backdoor pilot for the stupid fucking UNIT spinoff
oh and it goes without saying i fucking hate all the UNIT wank in the star beast and the giggle. i hope space nine eleven 2 happens to their stupid fucking avengers tower i cannot stand kate stewart who is constantly a murderous bonehead (in the giggle alone she gets two pepole killed by not listening to the doctor and assuming that this teleporting godlike entity could be restrainted by Two Guys) who is both in and out of universe just a boring nepo baby with no merit of her own
um. i still dont know what happened with the regeneration. i think the implication is that when david tennant dies hell time travel back to become ncuti gatwa inside himself--at least the rehab dialogue seems to make that implication. but it's not really explained or explored? baffling. i do think that fourteen getting to settle down and live a peaceful life with his friends is cute.
oh yeah and the ask said other than that but goddd there was some good stuff in the star beast and honestly with the state of the UK media i will take any perspective on trans people that includes baseline human erespect but some of those lines made me cringe so bad. anyway overall i am cautiously optimistic for the future of the show--oh ncuti was fucking great did i mention that i instantly bnought him as the doctor he owned the scene, the moment he was there it was clear he was the protagonist, and i liked the church on ruby road well enough too--i am cautiously optimistic but i worry that a big UNIT-shaped tumor will devour huge chunks of it and it'll be annoying. also russel t davies is like 60 and i just dont want to hear what he has to say about twitter so im not looking forward to dot and bubble
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Gale’s oral fixation + John’s big thighs 😍❤️🔥
Criminally hot 🔥 I had to write a drabble. This is set in my modern AU where they're postgrad students and best friends with benefits already in love with each other but scared to confess it.
Exam papers flutter on the desk of Gale's supervisor as the fragrant spring breeze swirls in through the open window. The Astrophysics department's small office smells like old bookshelves, leather and coffee, more comforting than the Business School's sterile ultramodern building. But John isn't here to examine the decor - he came to entertain Gale because he thought it was unfair that he had to be holed up inside, grading papers when the weather was so nice.
That, and because John wanted to kiss him.
It's all he can think about lately. His best friend's lips, their plump cushion under his own, the taste of them, soft skin between John's teeth. Given their amazing, perfect, completely causal agreement that they'd help each other out quick and easy if needed, he didn’t have any hangups about it. But he did think it would be weird to just ask to make out without an end goal, so he pretended to be horny as an excuse, even though he wasn't.
He just didn't count on Gale being the one who'd be too turned on to resist a quickie right where they could be caught anytime.
"Jesus Christ, Buck." John hisses in the rolling chair of Gale's supervisor, his hips twitching to thrust into Gale's hand. In the grip of Gale's pale fingers, he throbs with hot need, Gale's spit slicking his length to make the friction just right as Gale strokes him. "Warn a guy next time."
"Warn?" Gale asks, lust low in his voice. He’s kneeling between John's spread legs, halfway under the desk. With his free hand, he tugs John's trousers and boxers down to bare his thighs completely.
"We started this whole thing because you said it would be convenient. That we could have each other anytime, no strings attached." He presses his lips to John's right thigh and bites down gently, his teeth digging into John's muscle. "I want you now."
"Fuck." John breathes out, gripping the armrests. He needs to swallow the moans already pressing at his throat, the guttural, helpless noises he tends to make in Gale's bedroom, because they're one curious professor away from scandal. "Can we close the window at least?"
"Nah." Gale nuzzles his thigh again, the corner of his lips curling into a smile. "I know you'll be a good boy, John."
John throws his head back against the headrest. "I'm really not."
He feels the huff of Gale's laugh on his leg. "Yes, you are." Gale sucks on a strip of John's skin noisily until it colours pink, sensitive. His expression is pure bliss. "My good boy."
A surprised whimper escapes John's throat. "What?"
Gale freezes for a moment, as if caught, but he goes back to rubbing and kissing John's thigh a second later. "Nothing."
"I don’t know what came over you." John mumbles breathlessly, slouching in the chair to give Gale better access to his cock, to chase Gale's teasing hand. His own fingers find their way to Gale's blond hair and tug as Gale leaves a hard bite on the meat of his thigh to mirror his work on the other side.
When Gale bats his right hand away, he puts the left on Gale's head instead. Gale gives him an exasperated look, then sits back on his haunches to get away from his demanding touch. His eyes roam over John's body lazily, his fist still moving up and down.
"You didn't sit like that on purpose?"
"Hm." John hums, pushing into Gale's hand. The chair rolls back a little, so he tightens the cradle of his legs around Gale's torso to stay in place. "Like what?"
"Like you wanted your dick sucked."
John closes his eyes as a wave of heat rolls down from the top of his head to his toes. "You have an oral fixation, I swear."
"Uh-huh." Gale just hums, his entire focus on John's cock now. He strokes his left hand over the bruises he sucked into the meat of John's right thigh, then he cups John's balls.
"Ah, fuck. You don’t even deny it."
Gale looks up at him from under his lashes as he leans forward. His body warm between John's thighs, his lips glistening.
"Why deny it?" He shrugs and kisses the tip of John's cock. Closing his eyes, he runs his pink tongue up the underside of it to the head, catching the drops of moisture beading there slowly from the torturous pleasure he inflicts on John's body. When John grunts, Gale looks at him again. There’s a playful glint in his eyes. "Be a good boy now, Bucky."
John puts his right hand back on Gale's head and presses his left fist to his mouth as hot, warm suction slides down his length and pulls his pleasure right out of his soul. Shadows pass behind the opaque glass of the door opposite him, people walking down the corridor. The star charts on the walls mirror the stars he sees behind his eyes as Gale sucks him leisurely, without a care in the world. No one walks into Astrophysics at four p.m. on a Friday, right? John prays, and squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure as he thrusts into Gale's mouth.
He's gonna cancel his plans of going out and take Gale home again tonight.
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Are Merch Mimics capable of using assimilation offensively against humans, for self-defense and otherwise? Like, if someone tried to break a toy/game/etc they were inhabiting, could the Mimic instead pull them in?
To a degree, yeah. I should mention though that Victor isn't "in" the TV in any magical sense; spoiler alert: he's the controller Vance is holding! Hence, the eye on the controller reacting to the dialogue. The Victor on the screen is actualy a model he rigged for a homebrew game he coded the old fashioned way, which responds to whatever inputs the controller sends to the Wii.
He actually is an active member of the homebrew community, and loves to mess with electronics the old fashioned way. Almost no one on the forums knows he's a toy bird, but are impressed nonetheless with his little projects, various rail-shooter games, and weird obsession with snarky anthropomorphic birds.
Victor could technically "jump into a game" on a tv screen, but it'd be a bit of a weird process if he doesn't know how to mod the game, so it'd look more like a shitty greenscreen effect rather than anything coherent. He'd need to learn in real time how the game is coded, how to inject arbitrary code into the system while it's running, etc etc. He CAN do that because he's a fucking NERD, but it wouldn't be a quick process at all.
I should also mention, mimics have an inherent ability to create dreams, since they come about from processing the thoughts and ideas of humans. If a human bonds with a mimic, such that the mimic now knows how the human thinks, they can pull a (somewhat) willing human into the dream when the human sleeps. So to wrap this all up: what Victor could do for a game he understands inside and out is pull a human into a dream that happens to match whatever he himself experiences as currently going on in the game. Basically the ultimate VR experience, with the mimic as a middle-man. Which might be something that'll happen in the comic soon....!
So that all seems a bit convoluted, right? Here's even more worldbuilding about matter assimilation by mimics below the cut. Stop here if you don't want a headache.
The reason so many hoops would be needed to pull a human into a game world is that assimilation is much easier on inert, inanimate objects that are not currently "in use" by a thinking thing, or something that relies on constant electrical signals to function. This can be something with brainwaves, or some other kind of animation like a normal robot. A mimic can convert a CRT TV that's turned off somewhat easily, but a TV that's turned on, with particles of every kind constantly moving into and out of it, is much harder to convert.
This means that humans and biological creatures in general are also trickier to convert, though it can still happen if done gradually enough. Hence, Victor wouldn't be able to rapidly convert Vance in one fell swoop, it'd be a whole process. It's easier to just pull a human into a dream instead, and if a mimic undersrands a video game, or a story in a book really well, they can basically make the fictional world into an extremely lucid reality for whatever human tags along with them.
I often describe mimics as just "jojo stands if they were corporeal and could just get up and move around on their own with no user"; you know how in jojo stand battles or old stories about magic curses, if you break the curse or kill the stand before its effect becomes permanent, all of the damage is magically undone? Like if you kill Green Day, the mold stand, all of the molding just instantly stops?
Mimics who use their powers of assimilation offensively work similarly; they can project their influence to a certain range, and partially assimilate matter in that range. If you knock out or kill the mimic, however, everything reverts to normal. A human who doesn't want to get converted can basically just turn around and walk away most of the time, or shoot the mimic, so the mimic in question needs to pull off some trick to get the human to stay within range for the assimilation to fully stick. A human can still break free and get out of range even if fully converted, but it's much harder, as assimilation usually means the mimic gaining greater control over the converted object in question. The exact range and effect mimics have is again like jojo stand ranges; it varies.
Different mimics have different affinities for different things. Victor can assimilate cheap electronics fastest because he likes them and understands how they work (it's why he's a toy bird mp3 player). Az can assimilate guns, and turn ammo into weird anomalous ammo with weird effects. Zachary is a genius who can assimilate any matter, including biological matter, faster than anyone... but he's also extremely picky and hates the sight of blood, so he only uses assimilation on things he really, really likes.
If I could somehow make another read more at this point, I would. It's gonna get messy:
What a weird power and setup though, right? Why? The true nature of mimics is unknown to most of them, but the deepest lore is that the first mimics were constructs made by a people long ago, who first made them as highly advanced machines that'd recognize the thoughts of their masters to fulfill any practical desire. Need a road built? Done. Need a ship repaired? Done. With physical needs all met, the people began to turn inward, and use the mimics to illustrate their own artistic ideas. Eventually, the will and consciousness of these people were assimilated and inherited by mimics, who themselves became people. Mimics spread, altered themselves, duplicated, deviated, fused, split, and wandered around. Getting into recreational wars, manifesting horrors and delights into reality because they could.
Somehow, after the dust settled, the strongest mimics, the angels, decide to set their sights to the stars, and observe other lifeforms develop technology and their own art. Did mimics come to earth millions of years ago, and simply watched humans grow, evolving with them in-tandem? Or did humans make the first mimics, and somehow became undone and set back to the stone age? The answer to this mystery is currently known only to the oldest of mimics. Except Zachary. He's old, but didn't care to remember.
This is generally why mimics seem so compatible with humans; they were made by either them, or people who were, for whatever the reason, very much like them, flaws and all. The ability to assimilate is basically the conversion of matter into a more malleable state of information. A virtually magical power, but this was achieved not through prayers and spells, but a very human-like obsession with developing technology to the point of exerting control over molecules, then atoms, then the lowest planks of matter. The obsession with scaling every mountain and crossing through every valley. To rip the natural world apart, and hopefully, put it back together before it's too late. Angels seek to ensure humanity walks the right path there, but with human's own desires and intent honored, for better or worse.
To answer your question: yes. A mimic of Mario can pull you into the game and you can jump with him and eat shitty low poly spaghetti with him.
The process for doing that is just convoluted and complicated, and you need to get to know each other a bit first. If he tries to use it as an attack though, it either won't work, or it might just wind up giving you mild brain damage.
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i'll kiss your scars
buck x eddie | 900 words | teen rating
prompt: trans buck for @steadfastsaturnsrings 🥰 💖
“But y-you like men.”
“Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.”
Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there.
“That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck."
or Buck tells Eddie that he's trans and things change between them, but for the better.
read on ao3 or below :)
Buck, Eddie and Christopher are enjoying their dinner together in comfortable silence.
Christopher finishes his plate of spaghetti and meatballs first and now that he’s not eating, the silence feels weird so he speaks up.
“I’m not the only Christopher in my class anymore.”
Eddie hums. “Oh new student?”
“Nope. His name used to be Chloe but now it’s Christopher.”
Eddie and Buck look to each other in understanding.
“So he’s…”
“Trans. Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Dad. Now people just call me Chris and him Christopher.”
“How did people react?” Buck asks curiously.
“Everyone was cool about it. Some people had questions though so Christopher answered them. Then Mr. Nolan told everyone that he will not tolerate any transphobia or homophobia but he’s happy to tell us more about it. And if we ever have to talk to him about it, we can.”
Buck blinks back tears thinking how happy he is that in school, kids can come out and people will be supportive or at least respectful enough that they won’t say anything negative. He thinks about how bad it would be if he came out in middle school. He’s so glad Christopher has a teacher like Mr. Nolan.
He should probably tell Eddie that he’s trans. It’s been over a year since they’ve been friends. He knows Eddie will be accepting and everything but it’s still difficult. He doesn’t want anything to change between them.
“Buck?” Eddie and nudges his foot with his own under the table.
“You okay?” he asks.
Buck quickly nods. “Yeah no I’m good.”
Eddie thankfully doesn’t push and instead asks what movie they should watch tonight.
—
They watch Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse and Buck suggests they watch the second one next movie night which Christopher enthusiastically agrees to.
Christopher gets ready for bed reluctantly and Buck reads him a chapter of Percy Jackson. Eddie watches them with a sickening fond smile.
Once the chapter’s done, he and Eddie both hug Christopher and tell him “good night” and Buck yearns for him to have this every night.
They walk into the living room and Buck plops onto the couch with a sigh.
Eddie sits down next to Buck and faces him.
“Hey, you know that you can tell me anything, right?” he says earnestly with his stupidly pretty eyes looking him in the eye.
Buck breaks eye contact and nods. “Yeah of course, uh thanks.”
Eddie doesn’t reply as if he’s hoping Buck will say more.
“Just give me a moment.” he adds and to that Eddie hums and rests his hand on Buck’s thigh. Oh god. This isn’t helping his nerves.
Buck takes a deep breath. “I’m trans.”
A second passes.
“Thanks for telling me.” Eddie smiles, trying to act like he didn’t know this but Buck sees past it.
“You already knew. How?”
“I saw your testosterone gel thing in the bathroom once. I guess you forgot to put it away like you usually do,” Eddie answers softly.
“You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”
“Of course not, Buck. You don’t owe me anything regarding that.”
“We’ve been best friends for months.”
“Yeah well did I come out to you as cis? No. Besides gender is fucking stupid. Am I even a man?”
Buck sighs. He supposes Eddie has a valid point.
“Uh, while we’re talking about more serious topics, I have something to tell you,” Eddie admits.
Buck doesn’t have enough time to panic before Eddie calmly says “I’m in love with you.”
Is this a fucking dream? Buck doesn’t know what to say. “I- What do you mean?”
Eddie continues, “Yeah that was one of the factors in the whole me discovering my sexuality process. Hen called me out so many times about my gay panic for you.”
“But y-you like men.”
“Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.”
Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there.
“That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck. I know how I feel about you. I love you beyond your body but I mean, I really love your body and I hope I can make you feel safe and comfortable with it.”
Yeah this is a fucking dream come true.
Eddie lifts up the bottom of his shirt. “Can I…”
Buck has no idea what he’s about to do but he’ll let Eddie do anything to him. That probably should be concerning but he doesn’t care.
“Yeah,” he says with a shaky breath.
Eddie gently takes Buck’s shirt (which actually belonged to Eddie originally) and looks at him with such adoration, it makes Buck want to cry.
He lowers his head and brings his lips to Buck’s top surgery scars. He softly kisses along the two lines, whispering “I love you” after each kiss.
Now Buck is crying. He is just so overwhelmed with love—both his love for Eddie and feeling so loved by Eddie. He manages to say, “I love you” back before the tears make unable to speak coherently
Of course Eddie understands and doesn’t tell him “No it’s okay don’t cry,” instead he embraces him into a hug that makes Buck feel all warm and fuzzy — like all hugs from Eddie do.
They stay there, holding each other and Buck realizes things have changed between them but in the best way possible.
#also yeah at first i just put mr nolan and then i was gonna change it but i couldn't come up with anything so i am christopher's teacher 😌#nolan writes#my fics#buddie fic#911 fic#911 abc#evan buckley#eddie diaz#buddie#trans buck#buck and eddie#buck x eddie
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ok all i can think of is super pervy & creepy incel mark w a reader who lowk knows he’s super weird and creepy with her but is like…into it. like he steals her underwear and gets off on the smell of her and she knows and is just like 🤷♀️😊 like maybe she finds a fucking box of her underwear under his bed while they’re hanging out and he’s like oh fuck i swear it’s not what it looks like and she’s like :0 okay but do you want another pair? 😊😊
“ and in addition to my other ask; what would be even better is a reader who is so like fucked up mentally over being into it (bc uhhh she doesn't think she should be so into her best friend being a fucking creep) and mark can tell and he's like ok so ur just a little pervert like me!— ☆ “
this is so good anon omggg—- it would also be an interesting idea to have a reader who’s kind of a bully/mean girl towards mark + he retaliates (😉) but that is a whole other concept that i am not focusing on rn haha 😅
MDNI, 18+ CONTENT
you were accustomed to it by now; mark’s calloused finger tips brushing past your neck, hands wrapping around your waist or pulling you almost into his lap at times. he was just a touchy guy, you were his best friend, he’d never look at you like that!! mark just loved playing with your hair, he was just affectionate!
you knew why his hugs would linger just for a bit too long, you weren’t stupid. that’s why you weren’t the least bit shocked when you had found out where your underwear had ran off to. you weren’t shocked, weren’t exactly disappointed either. you knew what had been going on, you damn near set him up by just leaving your clothes thrown onto his bathroom floor after you would use his shower and purposely wearing short skirts and low tops whenever you would hang out with him. you’d picked up on his behaviour for a while now, so had everyone else. everyone around you could see how often mark would touch and let you walk up the stairs first so he could see up your skirt, “well i’m not gonna look up there, you know that.” “if you fall or slip, i’ll be there to catch you, y’know?” “c’mon y/n, don’t you trust me? wouldn’t you rather me accidentally see up there?” “you already walk around my house basically naked sometimes.” he justified, eventually winning you over and getting the chance to pull out his phone while distracting you with talk, taking a video from underneath your skirt.
you’d found them when you had dropped your phone down the side of his bed, going to get it before mark could protest and offer himself to grab it, he hadn’t moved that one pair of cotton white panties, the ones he had pressed up to his nose the night before, getting off to the scent of your pussy still on them. mark almost died when his fear came to fruition, you holding up your own pair of underwear that you had left your phone for.
mark’s face turned red, hand shooting forward to grab at the pair of underwear; you snatching your hand away. “i-it isn’t what you think it is!” he shouted, your eyes locked onto his. the corners of your lips turned upwards, glancing at the panties and then back to mark, “i think these are my panties. no, i’m sure.” you spoke, mark’s hands flew to your shoulders. “they must’ve g-gotten there by accident…-you’re always here, you never know, you might’ve left them here-” he stuttered, fingers digging into your skin gently, moving up to hold your face so he could give you a look of sincerity, hoping that you would believe his lies.
“d’you want more?”
he swear he heard ringing in his ears. the world seemed to slow down, his vision blurry. did you really just say that or was he actually going crazy this time? a beat, two. “what?” he breathed out, voice quiet and getting lost somewhere on the way out. “i’m wearing pink. white polkadots, lace i think.” you wondered, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt, inching it towards your upper thighs. further, further. “wanna see?” and mark feels like he’s going to explode. he was already nodding before you had even asked him if he wanted to look at your underwear, you got off of the bed, standing in front of him and lifted your skirt up. lace, just like you had promised. crimson red trickled out of mark’s nose, dick throbbing in his pants.
he looked so disheveled, half lidded puppy eyes focused on your clothed cunt, blood slowly dripping down his nose and past his chin, red staining his shirt. “can.. c-can i…” he almost drooled, hand reaching towards your thigh, needing to hold you, needing to confirm that this was real and happening. “you’re gonna let me touch you here, yeah?” his hands stuck to your waist, pulling you closer as he moved to kneel in front of you, pressing his face into your cunt and sniffing feverishly, tongue lolling out to lick you through the cloth.
“s’good… smell so f-fuckin’ good, y/n..” he groaned, you giggled. you were so perfect for him, so fucking perfect. he slid one of his hands into his pants, wasting no time in stroking his cock, jerking himself off while he sniffed around under your skirt and put his mouth around your still covered pussy, wetting the fabric and licking up your juices as soon as they secreted from your heat and soaked into your panties that mark would definitely be keeping. your hands stroked through his hair, gasping lightly when he pulled your panties to the side and instantly began sucking harshly on your clit, rubbing circles into it with his hot tongue.
this was sooo fucked up. were you taking advantage of him? would it even matter seeing as he’s obviously been taking advantage of you, stealing your underwear while you weren’t looking? you didn’t care, neither did mark. you especially didn’t care when his fingers found their way into your warm cunt, pumping in and out while he gently grazed your sensitive bud with his teeth, your fingers tightening in his hair and your chest heaving, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he held you still with both hands now, teeth biting down just right enough for it to make you almost jump backwards, a light squeal leaving your lips.
“taste so good… so wet f’me, getting my fingers all sticky..” he talked into your clit, tongue flicking back and forth. mark pulled away, looking up at you with lust glazed eyes, putting his fingers into his mouth and sucking your slick off of his digits. he turned you around, mouth open while he panted, hands spreading your asscheeks as his tongue began licking circles around your asshole, making you almost jump at the unexpected action. “j-just wanna touch you everywhere…” mark told you, tongue pushing past your tight little back opening, your ass clenching around his tongue as you nearly fell over onto your knees, mark steadying you.
you were always teasing him, always. he pulled his tongue out, pulling you down onto the floor with him, positioning you onto your back, hands attacking your zipped up jacket and almost tearing the clean off. no shirt. no bra. fuck, you’d done this on purpose. “so fucking hot…” he said before sucking on your now exposed nipples, other hand squeezing as if he had no idea on how to handle tits gently. oh, that was because he didn’t. he was inexperienced, but it wasn’t something that made you upset. no, quite the opposite, you liked it; the hungriness of it. the greediness, selfishness.
“no bra… practically naked under there…-“ he huffed tapping your leg so you would wrap your legs around his waist. he bent down to lick your cheek, smiling when you gave him a look of confusion, “p-perv..!” you joked, laughing at him. his cock strained, his cheeks went pink. “again… fuck, call me that again.” mark muttered, humping against you on the floor, trapping you in with his teeth tight on your shoulder. you complied, gasping and nodding, “pervert..”
he lost it, getting to his feet and keeping his hand on your head so you knew not to stand up along with him, his hand anchored in the back of your hair, using it to pull you forward so he could rub your face in his bulge, throwing his head back when you opened your mouth, sliding your lips up and down the side of his cock through his pants.
in reality, maybe you were the pervert. you couldn’t care less, your hot best friend was trying to force his fat cock all the way down your throat with his gorgeous face all ruined and flustered with your lacey-pink-and-white panties held up to his nose, your scent drove him fucking crazy, your own face streaking of mascara and your lipstick smudged around the corners of your lips. you were beautiful to him, his hips unrelenting with his messy thrusts. “nghh aaaahh.. so warm… ‘s this what pussy feels like too?” he asked, gripping your hair even tighter. “b-bet you’re tighter in there… in your cunt-“ he continued to let his tip bully the back of your neck, your throat bulging ever so slightly with each harsh thrust, catching a rhythm that made his balls slap against your chin. “c-callin’ me the perv… you’re all soaked and sicky down there…” your eyes watered, nails digging into the meat of this thighs, your cunt gushing. this was so wrong, you should know better than to let your best friend throat fuck you after finding out that he had been getting away with stealing your items of clothing for so long. “you’re the real pervert, hah..- you look so messy, f-fuck, i-i’m gonna cumdownyourthroat—“ he choked out, dick pulsing as his head rolled back, his vision blanking and hips stuttering, thick ropes of cum filling your mouth.
he was right, you were the perv. only a perv would swallow their best friend’s load and beg him to shoot the next one into your guts.
#mark grayson x reader#dark blog#mark grayson smut#invincible x reader#mark grayson#invincible#💬 sparkie is typing…#invincible smut#fem reader#bff!mark grayson
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