#masc!reader

[knowledgeableknitter]

I love that they’re being read as masc!reader, because I did not write them as such - I was thinking just generic strong reader, and the fact that it can be read more ways than I even intended is great! 😊

You Lifted... Me?

Just a little drabble. Part 2 of 3. It's just funny stuff.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x you (like, normal, but strong)

Word Count: <500

Summary: You saw it on Instagram. A girl lifted her boyfriend onto the counter. You want to try it out.

Trigger Warnings: You lift bucky onto the counter. He likes it.

Author’s Note: Part 1: You Lifted the Couch. This is Part 2. Part 3 tomorrow.

Masterlist

Bucky was half-asleep, leaning against the kitchen counter and chewing a piece of toast with bleary eyes.

His hair was a mess, dog tags swinging lazily against his bare chest. He hadn’t even noticed you walk in. The morning sun was warm through the window, the room smelled like coffee, and everything about him was completely relaxed.

You smiled to yourself. This was gonna be too easy.

You stepped in front of him, kissed his chest to distract him, quickly braced your hands under his thighs…

And before he could register what was happening, you lifted him in one clean motion from the floor to the counter.

He went straight up and you placed him gently on the countertop, like a particularly grouchy houseplant.

Bucky made a very undignified noise.

It started low, confused, and then shot up into a high-pitched yelp that cracked in the middle like a pubescent teenager.

“YNN—GAHH?!”

The toast fell from his mouth. His arms pinwheeled once before he caught the edge of the counter in wide-eyed shock.

You stepped back, grinning. “Morning.”

He stared at you, blinking fast, like you might vanish if he didn’t focus.

“You—what—you just—did you just lift me onto the counter?”

“I did,” you said, pleased with yourself.

He looked down at where he was sitting, then back at you. “Why?”

You shrugged, “Saw it on Instagram.”

Bucky’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.

“Some gym couple,” you added, grabbing your mug from beside him. “She just walked up and lifted him. Looked fun.”

“You lifted me.”

“Yeah.”

He blinked again. “Off the floor.”

“Mhmm.”

“While I was eating toast.”

You took a sip. “You were relaxed. Easier to balance.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “You can’t just do that.”

“But I just did.”

He gave a weak laugh, still stunned. “I made a noise.”

“You did.”

“A bad one.”

“It was kind of cute.”

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “You can’t keep being hotter and stronger than me. There’s rules.”

You stepped between his knees, reached up, and pulled gently on his dog tags until he looked at you.

“You know I’m not stronger than you,” you said. “I just wanted to see if I could. That’s all.”

He was quiet for a second, eyes scanning your face like he wasn’t sure which emotion to land on.

“I didn’t think I’d like it,” he said finally.

“Oh?”

“I loved it,” he admitted, almost sheepish. “But I’m also, like... reevaluating my entire identity.”

You leaned in, kissed his cheek. “You’re still the intimidating one.”

“I squeaked.”

“You did.” You said, smile widening with fondness.

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Tag list: @lovely-seb @calwitch @its-in-the-woods 

[apr1ldust]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley finally healing <3

Reader x Simon Riley

Simon Riley prided himself on being a one-man ship, never letting anyone get too close—never allowing himself to be influenced by ‘good-for-nothing shit’.

Well, that was until Price dismissed him due to being medically unfit.

Despite the harsh fights he put up against the decision and endless objections, he was inevitably ‘thrown to the curb’.

Everyone but him saw it was for his own good—the longer he stayed part of military, the more his psyche deteriorated. His eyes were just as soulless as a sunken ship, his core buried away beneath the sand.

He kept himself perpetually busy: going to the gym—laundry—fixing his outdated car—applying for jobs—drinking, eventually managing to convince himself he’d never feel fulfilled without the military.

He avoided small talk at all costs, content with the fact his neighbours preferred their own company.

However, that was before you disturbed his peace.

Always offering sweet smiles alongside your baked goods and never expecting anything in return. You got under his skin in the worst way possible.

He began doing anything in his power to avoid you—yet, somehow, you were always there. The scent of your perfume always lingered in his mind, your mail ending up on his doorstep—even your tiny menace of a cat escaping into his garden!

So, how did he end up here?

You were curled up against his bare chest, small breaths slipping through your parted lips as Simon brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.

Somehow, the very face he used to curse, was the very face he now admired—with a purity he never imagined himself to be capable of.

He gazed upon the gorgeous cerulean blue ring adorning your finger, the precise one he put there.

Over the years, he had healed, accepted help (albeit reluctantly)—he learned to embrace life. And, slowly, the changes to himself became obvious: he gained a soft layer of fat over his muscles due to your homely meals (he could never deny you); he drank less; he steadily had less PTSD episodes and learnt new skills.

Eventually, he let himself to close his eyes while cradling you close—just as you loved him to do.

Fuck, he wouldn’t change a thing.

[kabr0ztrousers]

For your everyday writing, could you write something with insectoid aliens?

Like, reader (masc preferably but I could go either way tbh) works on a human ship going planet to planet studying aliens, except they’re not a scientist, instead something like a janitor or tech fixer whose never really viewed as an “important member” of the ship.

But, they, unlike their fraud higher uppers, actually are unfearfully open to alien culture, and when the aliens see this, reader is basically “kidnapped” (not actually really kidnapped bc they probably let willingly but yk) and made into the hive king/queen

Kabr0z Writes episode 83: First Contact Protocol

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: group sex; kidnap-but-not-really; Oviposition; mpreg

A/N: I wound up doing a seni-hivemind thing here, though if you were hoping for a little more sexy personality sublimation that's coming later this week. That's not even a joke, it's on the forecast

######################################

The ship was on yellow alert, shields up and no unnecessary power draw. It's been there for a week, ever since you left the borders of Federated space. A slipspace contrail had been detected above a previously uncontacted world. Xenologists had been observing from high orbit in cloaked research platforms. The hivemind on the planet below have discovered FTL transit, which means one thing: diplomacy would have to begin.

Yours was the closest ship, the xenologists having left the system in a hurry once ships started reaching orbit equipped with suspected superluminal drives, scuttling their platforms into the host star. No cultural or technological pollution could be allowed to happen before the hive made those first faltering steps on their own.

The ship rattled as it dropped from slipspace. Long and thin, like a javelin. The vessel was designed to minimise cross section while passing through a shockwave of compressed space. Travel between stars now took days rather than centuries, at the cost of slipspace vessels being laid out in long corridors.

You'd been lucky enough to be selected for the away mission, along with a xenolinguist and a comms officer. Your job was to stand there holding a rifle and looking serious.

The species were insectile, long-bodied and angular. Twitching antennae swaying to an unheard movement. The aliens were writing, their species having long since abandoned verbal communication for a form of low-level telepathy. Individuals weren't very smart, but as soon as more than two or three came together in a room, they could outpace most humans. By the time twenty got together they formed a living computer. Each individual takes on a role as a single node in a vast networked mind.

The delegation was being walked through the hive, twisting passages filled with individuals, each swaying as they watched you pass. There must have been thousands, even tens of thousands of them, each networking with the others.

You weren't looking where you were going. One corridor led to another, then another, the insectile people parting for you as you strayed further from your group. You were being herded, though you didn't know it yet.

You stepped into a round, vaulted room. A larger insect reclined in the centre, on a bed of sorts. They pushed you towards it. Antenne settled on either side of your head. A voice echoed within your mind. Your voice.

"Apologies for deceiving you. I am the King of this hive. My time grows close, and I must have a successor."

A successor? Did he mean you?

"Yes. You. I have seen your mind, through my drones. You are unfulfilled amongst the stars, the whipping boy aboard ship, no home on your planet, you took to space to fill the void. Let us fill it for you.

He wasn't wrong. Four of the drones approached you: larger, winged, with reddish markings on alabaster white exoskeletons. Their touch was gentle, disrobing you from your dress uniform, stroking your skin, caressing your chest and back. One knelt in front of you, taking your cock in its hand, while another wrapped it's arms around you from behind.

You could feel something pressing against your ass, gently pushing into your hole as its fellow fondled you. You grew harder in its hand, grunting as it rubbed the shaft in one hand, massaging the head with the other. It was remarkably good at this, you suppose it must've got some technique from scanning your mind. Or maybe the immense processing power surrounding it let it find the most effective method. Either way, it was mere moments until you were struggling to stand, knees buckling as cum leaked out of you. The drones maneuvered you to the bed, leaning you against it. One sat below you, hands still working your cock, the other pushing against your rear, a third took a place in front of you.

An appendage extended from its crotch, pressing into your mouth. You opened up, allowing it to enter you as the one behind you pushed its way into your ass. You moaned around one cock as the other ground against your prostate, feeling the ridges of it tease you to another aching, leaking orgasm. The one underneath hummed delightedly as cum dripped down from you onto it. The drones fucked you harder, reaching their own release, buzzing and humming as they buried themselves into you.

The cum tasted like cranberries. Sweet, sharp, astringent, it flooded your mouth with pearls. They felt like the tapioca balls you'd had in milk tea once or twice, soft and pliant, bursting when you applied pressure with your tongue, but mostly sliding down your throat. The one in your ass released as well, dumping its load deep into you, grinding into your ass as the pearls filled you up. It stung a little, the eggs taking root in your guts.

Days passed, your belly swelled up. You could hear the hive around you, growing stronger as the old king grew weak. You weren't one of them, your mind was your own, but the harem of those special drones treated you as if you were. The next generation grew within you, one day soon you would push them out, a slew of larvae to renew the hive.

It's good being king

[dork-star]

Stubborn - P.1

Platonic Batfam x Masc!Runaway!Teen!Reader

[s.masterlist] | p.1 | p.2 >>

[masterlist]

1601 words

Small TW - Mentions of: prostitution, past abuse, violence, past attempted rap3. Not at all in detail, but thought I'd mention.

" Caught"

You were the by-product of a one time fling between Bruce Wayne and a prostitute trying to get by. 

 You lived with your mother and her various men for years, not knowing of your actual father, dealing with neglect; physical, verbal, and emotional abuse; and her manipulation. When you finally had enough of her and her bullshit, you stole both her and her current man's wallets. Taking their phones too to pawn them off for some extra cash as well. You threw their ID’s, they were of no use to you. 

 You lived in Gotham, you barely survived. Scrounging for food and money whilst also resting during the day, needing to save as much energy as possible to keep yourself safe at night. You became a master at hiding in the shadows, at fleeing, you weren't as strong as them– you would never be while homeless and barely finding food– but you were smaller, more agile, easier to lose track of. You used all of it to your advantage to survive.

 Sure, you had your fair share of tussles with various criminals or just general asshole teenagers just a few years older than you - both situations where you would barely escape with your life, the clothes on your back, and your dignity, bruised and bleeding and aching - but it was better than dealing with her beatings, her shrieking, the various men she brought around for money that would also try have their way with you too. As if you were also some kind of prostitute on sale for use. At least you were free to do as you like, instead of being chained to two rooms, having to beg your abuser for food. You were in charge of yourself, nobody had any right to tell you what to do.

 On your 15th birthday, your gift was being caught by a police officer and taken into custody. For your own safety, of course. The officer had found you in the dead of night, running for your life from another group of thugs that had tried to mess with you. You had run straight into his car, rolling over the hood with the momentum. Those pieces of shit were still chasing after you, and they had no qualms fighting and maybe killing a lone officer. He urged you to get in the car and you reluctantly agreed, it was really your only option. Either you left with him and lived to see tomorrow, or he left without you and you end up dead in some back alley (or, the secret impossible third option, where he doesn't leave you behind and protects you, in which case if you both live you up in custody anyways, so no point in injuring yourself and another for no reason). 

 As you both sped off, he glanced at what you were wearing through the rear view mirror. You looked dirty, your clothes ragged and tattered. They looked too big for you, whether that was from just the clothes being a size or two too large or from the fact you looked so skinny he couldn't be sure. He took you to the station, ignoring your complaints and pleas to rethink. 

 You were willing to jump out of the speeding car if you had to, and you were about to, but he had already locked the doors. 

 You resigned yourself to the back seat, slumping and crossing your arms, ignoring the way your eyes stung, how your lip and arms trembled as you held yourself taught from frustration and slight hopelessness. If it weren't for your thin hoodie your nails would've pierced your skin with the force of your grip.

 You were convinced you were going to end up in some kind of group home. End up in the system. In an orphanage. Stuck jumping houses from one awful family to the next shittier one every other week– or every day, even. You spent that night at the police station after they got it out of you that you were living on your own on the streets, and that going to your mother wasn't an option.

 However what you didn't expect after the blood test they had done, was for you to share DNA with the prince of Gotham. The billionaire playboy of the city. You were utterly flabbergasted. How did your mother manage that!?

 When your collection day–well, night, the meeting was at 11pm– came, it wasn't Bruce who came to retrieve you. It was an older man, grey with experience yet poised and strong in his presence. He introduced himself as the butler of the manor (the butler? Did he mean the Head Butler or whatever it was? Bruce surely didn't have just one old man maintaining the entire house for him, did he?). He assured that you would be a welcome and wonderful addition to the growing family.

 You didn't have much with you. A small messenger bag filled with essentials, or what you considered them as such - one change of winter clothes, scraps of cash for when you needed it, swiss army knife, a journal so you didn’t go crazy while surviving on the streets of the most crime ridden city literally ever. It was almost pitiful. You felt the way that this butler–Alfred, you learned– looked at you, examining you, gauging you by your appearance, your clothes, your weight and height. Judging you as if he had any right. You scoffed, sneered, growled whenever he looked at you. 

 You looked out to the entrance of the Mansion with a furrowed brow, eying the man that stood there waiting for something, someone– you. Alfred stood by you, ushering you onwards with a soft smile. It was a little unnerving, to be encouraged, especially so gently.

 You stood in front of your new house, new dad, new future. Bruce held out his hand to you, smiling the way he did for the camera as he welcomed you and asked your name. As if you were stupid. You hated the look in his eye, in Alfreds too– as if you were some pitiful fragile little kitten, beaten and bruised. You weren't pitiful. You weren't fragile. And you certainly weren't about to let them treat you like you were. 

 You scrutinise his hand and glare up at him, not taking his handshake. You wait until his hand drops. “You know my name.” He stared him down– up, because he was far bigger than you were, taller, stronger, he could absolutely throw you if he wanted to. Thankfully he didn't want to, he just shifted a little on the spot before opening the door for you.

 You didn't walk at first, just stared at him warily. You glanced back at Alfred and at your surroundings, were you fast enough? The two men were levelling you with a suspicious look. You decide to enter, just so that they don't get too wary of you. 

 Shit wait, maybe you should've played this differently– maybe you should've led them on, your plan is more risky now. You winced, stopping as you took in the grand entryway. It wasn't as if it was far too large for the room's status, but it definitely seemed as if everything in this room alone was worth more than everything you had ever done in your life, plus your own life. You stepped back, trying to take all of it in very well might give you a headache, and you bumped into Bruce's legs.

 You slap his hand off of your shoulder, stepping backwards away from him, breathing hard. You didn't even realise he reached out for you before you reacted. “Don’t touch me.” You choke out, breathing still heavy, a cold sweat dripping past your brow. You resisted the urge to wipe it away. No sudden movements, you tell yourself. 

Bruce looks over you once and sighs, dragging a hand down his face. He looks over to Alfred, murmuring something you can’t hear. It sounds muffled, like there was cotton stuffed in your ears. You reach up to take it out, but you don’t feel anything by your ears. He crouches down in front of you, raising his hands- you flinch back at the movement- palms forward. He's saying something-something you can’t make out, but he’s obviously trying to placate you. How-... How insulting. 

You can’t help but feel your top lip twitch into a sneer through your heaving breaths. You hold your ears tighter-why were you still holding them? That didn’t matter- you had to get out. Plan abandoned-get out now. 

Your eyes dart around the room, the biggest exit is the front door, still open - but Bruce is in the way and Alfred is already closing it - shit. Your legs fumble a little as you step backwards again and you almost fall over. Your throat is closing-you need to get somewhere safe to deal with whatever the fuck is happening to you. You gasp in another breath as your eyes flicker around you. Window it is. Both of the older men seem to have read you as their eyes widen and they're already moving to block your chosen window. They’re too slow. You vault and twist so that your back crashes against the glass, your hands still on your ears. 

You hit against the ground outside hard, and groan just a little-it sounds so much louder in your head, and that must be why it sounds strange-but you have no time to waste you have-you have to get out. You clamber your way to stand - it's harder than it should be. And you run.

A/N - Heyyy !! :3 First post on here, hope you like it, I'm not in any way a great writer but I do enjoy it hehe Reblogs are appreciated and I do take reqs 🫶

[whoopsyeahokay]

Simp.

summary: prompt fill. a silly little subby Wally drabble because our clingy boo is fun to write. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x masc!reader

warnings: smut. sub!Wally Clark. flashfic. crying after climax. Wally Clark has undisclosed mommy issues. same 'verse as Boy Noise.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🖇️

Simp.

"So good, baby," You praise, "Keep going. You wanna make me come, don't you?" Fuck, yes, Wally does. It's all he wants in the whole world. "Just like that. Such a good boy for me."

And the words go straight to his cock. Flush through him like the heat of the sun, burning in his belly.

You're at his house, dragged there after school because today was a shitty day and he was vibrating with restless energy. He needed you so badly and you never made him suffer.

You lounge in his dad's armchair like a king, one leg hooked over Wally's shoulder, the foot of the other propped on the seat of the armchair, spread wide to accommodate him as he whimpers and whines and probes his tongue as deep as he can get it, kissing your pussy in a filthy wet rhythm.

He hears the clink of your glass on the side table, gives a little moan when you plant the heel of your foot on his shoulder and push, dislodging him. Wally makes an unhappy sound, pouts up at you with big, pleading puppy eyes, but you only smirk in return.

"Stand up," You command. And he does. No resistance, just obedience.

He gets to his feet and takes in the image you make, sitting there mostly naked, your button-down open to reveal your naked body, tie loose and still around your collar. You lick your teeth, grinning like a lion that's about to eat its first meal.

"Strip." You say, tone making Wally's belly squirm.

Again, he does as bidden without question. Tries to do it slow, give you a sultry performance how you sometimes want him to, but apparently not today.

"I don't want a show, baby," You tell him, husky and rich, eyes dark with fever, "Get naked. I want you to make me come on your cock."

Wally's out of his jeans and t-shirt faster than lightning. You stand in a single, sultry motion, lead him by his cock to the armchair and push him down. He spreads his legs wide, arms clasped around you as you as you crawl into his lap.

You take another long sip of his dad's whiskey, the ice tinkling when you place the glass down again, and then, quick and hard, you drop down on him. Take him as easy as a breath after the long minutes he spent pleasuring you with lips and gentle teeth and sloppy tongue.

He's fucking needy now.

You don't move. Not right away. Giving him a chance to adjust, to breathe, to center himself before, "You're gonna be a good boy for me, aren't you?"

Jesus, he will, he promises. He'll do anything for you, he just wants so badly to make you happy. Tell him how to make you happy, please, fuck, please.

Wally whines, hands loose on your hips, desperate for you to let him show you how good he can be as you take control. It's slow at first, driving him crazy, the heat inside him fogging up his brain, his body tense with desire and need.

"Please," He begs when you begin to ride him a little faster, just enough to get him to the edge before you stop. Shit. No, please, no, he needs to come so bad. Has needed to come since you got him on his knees and grabbed the back of his head, brought his face to your pussy and told him to eat up, sweet boy.

It's intense, everything he feels for you, with you, from you. His body shakes as you start again. Slow. Too slow. And then harder, sharper rolls of your hips until, yes yes yes like that, you start moving in earnest, taking him over and over, deep and tight and hot.

"Please," He gasps, whimpers, eyes clenched shut, hands squeezing your hips, "Please, I need to come."

"Not yet, baby boy." You say, somehow stern despite how you're panting. "Let me come first and then you can have your turn. I know you can wait." He can hear the feline grin on your face, can feel your heavy eyes on him, "You're my good boy, aren't you?"

"Yes!" He sobs, the pleasure and frustration making him that much more sensitive, "I'll be good for you, so good, I promise!"

You lean over, still bouncing on him, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries so hard to keep himself in check. "So perfect for me, baby," You reassure him, "Such a perfect boy for me."

Wally spent years trying to be everything his mama wanted him to be. The man, the myth, the legend. In control always. Perfect son. Perfect player. Perfect student, friend, partner, upcoming pilar of the community.

And he did it. Everything she asked, Wally did, getting him nowhere and nothing except more pressure and expectation and criticism.

Maybe that's why he's like this. He's not a psychologist, but it makes sense. How much he fucking needs you to take control and tell him what to do so he doesn't have to think. At least you give him the chance to be good, instructing him from point A to Z, no judgment, just praise. Your sweet, perfect boy; all yours, only yours—

"Please," He whimpers, every touch electric. "Please, Mommy, I need to come," He begs and the title is new, coming from deep within him, ushered from some part of his soul he's kept tightly sealed until now, but he couldn't give less of a shit. Especially with how you moan and squeeze around his cock like a vise.

"Yeah?" You purr, still so together. So in charge.

He gasps, shivers, head falling back.

"Look at me, baby," You order, and Wally listens. Mouth parted as he pants, eyes half-lidded and soft, "Are you close?"

"Yes, yes, please," He can't take much more, not even if you ask him to. And he doesn't want to disappoint you, doesn't want to come before you do. Desperate to be everything you say he is.

You move faster, harder, more frenzied, back arching, tits in his face, moaning when you come. Jesus, fuck, the feeling of you coming around him makes him dizzy, he can't hold back, begging over and over because it's too much stimulation, too good, too right, oh God.

"Please," He practically sobs, "Oh, oh, please!"

You lean in, nip his ear and then command, "Come for me, baby boy. Be good and let go."

Just like that, Wally submits to it and comes harder than he can remember doing before. His whole body tenses and then releases, shuddering as he sobs in relief, fucking up into you as he spills inside you with the force of a fucking train.

"That's it, baby, give me everything," You groan, and it just prolongs his climax.

You're so good to him. So understanding and kind and generous and Wally can't help it. He doesn't mean to, hates himself a little for it, but his eyes sting and his breath catches and he clamps his arms around you as he body shakes.

He's crying. He's never cried during or after sex before now. It's just...there's so much inside him, emotion and feeling, and he has to let it out or he'll burst. Small whimpers and needy whines, tiny little sounds of love and pleasure and thankfulness. He feels so fucking clingy, desperate to hold onto you so you won't slip away and leave him alone to fend off the world by himself.

With fingers in his hair, you draw his head into the crook of your neck, other hand stroking his back as you shush him sweetly.

"I've got you, my good, good boy. You did so well. You made me feel so good."

And he sniffles, nods, holds you as close to himself as he can until the moment passes and he's calm. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. Cheeks bright pink and lower lip between his teeth because you force him to look at you.

"How do you feel?" You ask in such a kind, affectionate tone that Wally feels—

"Better." He admits. And then, quieter, "Safe." In a way he's never felt until you came into his life like a beacon of hope.

A slow smile forms on your lips and you kiss his forehead, "Good. That's all I want, baby."

Wally sniffles again, clears his throat, asks timidly, "Did you like it?"

And you pet his hair, hold his jaw, and say with certainty, "I loved it, baby boy. I always love it."

Warmth blossoms in Wally's chest. He grins up at you, proud of himself.

🖇️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW).

a smutty flashfic Wally Clark headcanon outlining who he is as a boyfriend.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Just a little ask- can we get a Regina George x basically a masc lesbian version of a himbo reader?

I don’t know about you but I have to climb Mount Everest to find any masc reader fics 😭 it’s hard out here!!!

Truth or Dare ||

|| Regina George x masc!fem!reader

|| Warnings: heavily implied smut, house party, underage drinking, Regina being Regina, sex mention, reader being slightly peer pressured in Truth or Dare, swearing, Regina being possessive over reader

|| Summary: Regina gets reader ready for a house party, they get a little distracted by each other. At the house party, reader ends up having more fun than she thought she would.

Requests open!

Started: May 10th

Finished: May 13th

~~~

The only reason you were popular was because Regina George was your girlfriend; if you hadn't been associated with her you would've been a complete outcast. You didn't fall into the femme social norms society had created. You leaned on the more masc side. Backwards hats, baggy pants, oversized shirts and sweaters. How you ended up with Regina you had no idea, but man you loved every minute of it.

You sat with her group during lunch, it was Wednesday so all of you had at least some type of pink on. For you it was your backwards flat cap, coloured a soft pink. Regina had bought it for you since prior to dating her you had absolutely zero pink in your wardrobe. Your clothes were mostly neutral colours, except for the few pride merch pieces you had.

The rest of your outfit was what you would typically wear. It was Fall, so you had a brown oversized hoodie; the sleeves and hood were a soft cream colour. Your pants were a pair of grey-ish green cargos. The way you tended to dress was mostly just grabbing whatever from your closet since you were always rushed in the mornings; sleep was priority. Looking good came after.

Regina hated that you did this. There was definitely a few times where the outfit you ended up showing up with was so mismatched that she would make you go back and change.

"Have you been listening?" Regina looked at you, eyes narrowed. You blinked and stared at her in confusion.

You definitely hadn't been.

"Uhh..."

Regina groans," Pay attention, dumbass. I asked if you had an outfit planned for the party tonight."

You had completely forgotten about the house party Regina was dragging you to, so you didn't have an outfit." I can't just wear this?" You looked down at what you already had on.

Her face scrunched up and she rolled her eyes," Absolutely not. After school you're coming to mine and we're giving you a makeover."

"Great..." You muttered, not really wanting the makeover but you knew Regina wouldn't let you say no.

The rest of the school day went by pretty quickly and at the end of it Regina had driven you to her place to work on your party fit.

As you walked into her room, she grabbed you by your waist and pinned you to the wall. Trailing kisses along your neck which got a soft gasp out of you.

"Regina- I thought-" You were confused why she was she doing this, not that you minded but you thought you were here for a makeover... not make out.

Her hands gripped the bottom of your hoodie and slowly pulled it over your head.

"Well, I have to undress you first. Don't I?" She whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded your head and let her continue with what she was doing.

She smirked as she watched you easily go along with what she was doing. Once your shirt was off, she unclipped your bra and let it fall to the floor as she pushed herself against your body. Her kisses went from your neck to your chest, pulling away from you just moments before she would've reached your breasts.

You made a soft sound when she pulled away, Regina smirked and gripped your hand; leading you to her closet. She loved teasing you like this. Her favourite thing was watching you get worked up, then pulling away from you last minute.

She dug through her clothes, trying to find a nice shirt and pair of pants to go with it. Something that would both match your style and fit what she was going to wear.

When she found the right combination of clothes, she handed them to you and gave you a deep kiss. You melted into it, kissing her back. Her hand rested to the small of your back as she pulled away; eyes slowly trailing your figure.

"Change into that."

You looked down at the clothes she picked out for you, raising an eyebrow as you looked back at Regina again. "Do I have to?"

She narrowed her eyes," Yes." Her hand trailed down further before slapping your ass, making you gasp at the suddenness," Don't argue."

You rolled your eyes but got changed into the fit, Regina's eyes never leaving your body as she stood with her arms crossed.

The outfit she had given you was a little more out of your style than she planned for; she had given you a black lace corset with a fishnet long sleeve that went down to your hands and made fingerless gloves. For the bottoms she'd given you a pair of red jeans and one of her louboutin boots that had just a bit of heel. Okay, it was seriously out of your style. She just wanted to see what you would look like in it and man she wasn't disappointed. When you were dressed, you looked at her then down at the heeled boots.

"I'm so going to fall tonight." You muttered, she laughed at that and a smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

"And if you do, tell me so I can get it on video." Regina winked at you, you huffed.

"Love you, too." You muttered, she ignored your comment and grabbed you by your hand. Pulling you helplessly over to her makeup vanity. Your worst nightmare.

Regina forced you to take a seat before she sat down in your lap, a smirk on her face as she went through her makeup supplies.

"Regina..." You tried to protest, but her hand went to your mouth to stop you.

"Don't start. A little makeup won't hurt you." Regina whispered, grabbing her moisturizer cream and beginning to put some on. You cringed as it touched your face and closed your eyes, reluctantly letting her do what she needed to do.

Nearly twenty long minutes later, Regina was done and satisfied with the look she had created. She grabbed you by your chin and made you look in her mirror as she raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"It's... not my style. But it's fine." You replied, at least being honest with her.

She rolled her eyes and let go of your face," you look better than fine. Now move so I can do my own makeup."

You moved out of her way and headed over to Regina's bed, laying down as you scrolled on your phone and waited for her to be done. Hers took much longer than yours, since she was doing a whole lot more than what she had done for you. You wouldn't even begin to be able to describe what she was doing because you had no clue what half the products even were.

Once Regina was ready, she pulled you from her bed and began walking to her jeep.

"Do we really have to go? I mean, it's a Wednesday night, G. We have school tomorrow." You weren't thrilled about a late night party. Regina's dragged you to multiple parties before, they weren't your scene.

"We're going. We just spent almost two hours getting ready and that time is not going to waste." She looked back at you with narrowed eyes, you sighed deeply but got into her jeep with her and she drove the two of you to go pick up Gretchen & Karen.

When they got in the jeep, you held conversation with them until you finally arrived at the party. You dreaded stepping through those doors but you didn't have much of a choice as Regina dragged you along.

As Regina dragged you along, you did your best to avoid making contact with anyone. One girl nearly threw up on you but Regina pulled you closer to her.

"You're not ruining my clothes tonight." She mutters, hand gripping you tighter as she found her way to the kitchen.

Now in the kitchen, Regina goes through the fridge. Pulling out orange juice, vodka and some ice to make a Screwdriver Cocktail. She pours one for herself than one for you, handing you your drink.

You take it, grateful it wasn't some shit like bud light. You weren't big on beer, you preferred the simply stuff with vodka. Which Regina knew. Sorry bud light fans.

You took a drink as she walked back over to you, hand wrapping around your waist as she trails it along your body. You look at her with a soft smirk, raising an eyebrow as you see the look in her eyes.

"Yes, baby?" You ask in a whisper.

"Shh." She mutters, giving your lips a soft kiss before kissing your neck a few times. Earning some soft sounds from you.

She pulls away and chugs back some of her drink before setting it down on the counter," I'll be right back. Watch my drink."

Regina tells you, you nod and keep your eyes on her as she leaves the kitchen. You then lean yourself against the counter, taking her drink in your hand so you could keep an eye on it like she asked.

You're alone for no longer than a minute when some girl you thought you vaguely recognized came into the kitchen. You weren't sure where you'd seen her, but it was somewhere. Maybe just passing her in the school halls?

She didn't stand out all that much, at least in your opinion. Her eyes locked to yours and she smiled, walking over to you.

"Y/N! Hi!" You weren't surprised she knew your name, many people knew your name when you didn't know theirs. Being Regina George's girlfriend will do that.

"Hi." You reply simply, hoping she would catch on to the fact that you weren't interested in conversation. Not with her, anyway. You took a big sip from your drink, but she pulled it away from your mouth. The suddenness of it nearly making you choke. She grabs both drinks from your hands and sets them behind you, pressing herself against your body.

"Wouldn't you rather... have something else on your lips than a glass?" Her voice was low, she was clearly flirting with you and clearly drunk. You were about to push her off when someone very loudly cleared their throat from behind you. You looked over and saw Regina in the door way, arms folded and glare intense as ever as she stared down the girl. You felt yourself relax. Thank God.

"I'm feeling nice tonight so you have three seconds to back off before I end whatever pathetic social life you have." Regina's voice was scary calm, laced with fake kindness that sent a shiver down your spine and the threat wasn't even directed at you.

The girl flinched when she heard Regina and quickly stepped away from you, though her hand lingered for a moment longer than you would have liked.

"Regina-! We were just-!" Regina cuts her off before she could explain, marching right up to you and positioning herself where the girl had been against you moments before. Her hand grips your chin as she pulls you in for a rough kiss. You made a soft sound, melting into her lips as you easily kissed her back.

When you parted, the girl was no longer in the kitchen. You smirked as you looked at Regina.

"Thank you, baby." You whisper, she narrows her eyes and shushes you with her finger.

"Don't think you're off the hook." Her other hand grips you at your waist, nails digging into your skin. Hard enough to leave a mark on you.

Your eyes closed at the feeling, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you leaned back against the counter.

"Guys! We're starting a game of Truth or Dare!" Gretchen's voice rings out from somewhere in the living room, catching both yours and Regina's attention. Your eyes flutter open, a hint of disappointment in your features at the thought of ending whatever it was that Regina had started.

"We're so playing." Regina tells you, you nod in reluctance and hand Regina her drink from the counter before taking your own and following her into the living room.

You could see your guy's friend group seated on the couches plus some others who had joined. Faces you recognized; Gretchen, Karen, Cady, Aaron, Shane. The rest you didn't exactly know but you had definitely seen them around before. the backup dancers from Stupid with Love.

Regina took a seat in the open arm chair and motioned for you to sit in her lap, you easily followed the silent order. Leaning back against her with a soft, contented sigh.

The game went through a few rounds before it circled over to you, Shane being the one to ask you Truth or Dare. Since it was Shane, you went with the hopefully safer choice of Truth. You knew his Dares could get messy.

Shane smirked," What's your most embarrassing sex story?"

Your face flushed at the question, you should've known Truth would be just as awful." Drink." You stated, opting to skip it by drinking since that was a rule you guys had added. You only get three drink skips.

You felt Regina's hand on your waist, her chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

"No, I wanna hear this. Say it." She has a feeling she knows which one you're avoiding, but she wants confirmation.

You rolled your eyes, looking longingly at your drink in your hand. Knowing Regina wouldn't let you skip this one. You could feel everyone watching you expectantly.

Groaning, your free hand came up to loosely covered your mouth." I once leaned too far back and fell off the bed. Broke my arm."

"Oh my God! That's how you broke your arm?!" Gretchen grinned," You said it was a skate boarding accident!"

"Well I wasn't about to say it was a sex accident." You rolled your eyes again, Regina laughed from behind you and gave your hip a squeeze.

"Watching you scramble to come up with that lie to your parents was so fucking funny." She smirked, you gave her a glare.

The others laughed and you stuck the middle finger at them as you took a drink from your cup anyways.

The rest of the game continued, lots of the classic questions were asked and dares were done. Overall it was pretty fun, this was probably the most fun you've had at a party in a while.

[crying-wolves]

🆃🅷🅴 🅰🅽🅸🅼🅰🅻🆂.

(peer mentor!ex-prisoner!vi x masc!prisoner!reader)

PART ONE

synopsis: the consequences of your chaotic past have finally landed you in Piltover's finest Correctional Facility. Too bad you can't even atone for your sins in peace without seeing some very familiar, very unwelcome faces.

cw for part one: prison 😔, only sorta-kinda proofread, lots and lots of cussing, afab reader, masc!reader, reader is kind of a pessimist. and a little mean. she went through a lot. running from the cops, the slightest sliver of sexual tension, MDNI!!!!, discussions of crime, dr*gs, alc*hol, all that fun stuff, backstory exposition, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: this is gonna be multi-chapter (around 5 parts) because it feels better to me this way! the second chapter will be out before next week! pls enjoy <3

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated :)

Time. 

Sweet, sticky, oozing, glorious time.

It’s funny. When you were still a kid—

Well, kid is kind of an overstatement, but you were definitely reckless enough to feel like one. Wind in your face, light in your eyes. All that good stuff. Everyone around you said you were just a touch too restless. A little overboard with your idea of fun.

It was almost as if there weren’t enough seconds in a lifetime to get to everything you wanted to do.

And you wanted to do everything. Sex, drugs, booze, petty crime, not-so-petty crime—The list went on and on and on and on, and then it got longer.

And then, quite suddenly, actually, you didn’t feel like such a kid anymore.

Soon, you were well into your twenties.

  a newly-lit angry flame in your chest, 

  a whole lot more restless energy, 

and a shiny court order issued for you to pay for the consequences of your childish actions.

Now, shoved into the corner of four thick stone walls with 58 and a half more months to go, all you have is time. 

  And nothing has ever felt like less of a comfort.

It’s an uncharacteristically humid day when you see her again. The other prisoners are groaning about the busted ACs and barred windows, claiming that they’re being roasted alive every minute they’re forced to spend in these conditions, and if you weren’t so concerned with folding each individual page of a shitty magazine you’d found into jumbo fortune tellers, then you would be right there with them. But, you know, important task at hand and all.

You’re on your 15th glossy sheet when a heavy fist raps against your cell door, startling the plush paper out of your hands, and your contraband scissors clattering to the floor.

 “Fuck…one second!” you hissed out, trying to tape the tiny shears to the bottom of your crackling toilet’s seat. It’s usually the best hiding spot one can find in this overglorified bird cage. The guards who usually commence the daily room checks, Officers Harold and Steb, tend to overlook the rather obvious placement, choosing to believe in the all-forgiving power of ‘feminine rehabilitation’. As long as you bat those pretty eyes and send a half-assed smile over their way, they’ll depart from your space with little trouble, whistling cheerily and trusting in the innate goodness of women who are simply ‘down on their luck’.

If they found out about half the shit the other inmates were smuggling in, whether it be hidden under porcelain seats or shoved up some secret orifice, they’d have a serious bitchfit.

The door swings open after a great deal of hustling and bustling on your end. Flashlights and clickers bombard your senses like noisy fireflies, and for some reason, Harold is grinning at you like he’s won the lottery five times over.

  “There is a very special assembly being held today for you C-block girls. Report to the East chapel in 30 minutes! You don’t wanna miss it!”

He’s always excited about things like this. Fundraisers, kickball, bonding activities. Whatever gets the girls together, possibly even enjoying themselves for an hour or two, lights his wrinkled little face up like a Christmas tree. It’s hard, you admit, not to find his hopefulness endearing. Sometimes, at least.

You bare your teeth sweetly, corners of the mouth pointing upwards as politely as can be managed.

“Sounds like a whole lotta fun, sir, but I was planning on a cozy day in, you know? Window watching…ceiling observing. Can’t put those off.”

  He pouts, actually pouts, at your negative response. For a moment, you think Steb is going to have to talk him down from crying.

  “Oh nonsense! Nonsense!” he exclaims, waving his pudgy hands in the air to ease himself. “We’ve set up fans and opened alllll of the windows. It’ll be a great big treat Besides, inmate, it would be rude when our special guest has come alllll this way just to speak to you lot!”

He turns on his heel away from you, motions for Steb to follow in step into the hallway.

  “30 minutes! Nothing more, inmates!”

The door slams shut, leaving you to stew in frustration without the prying eyes of happy-go-lucky correctional officers.

You wonder, for a brief moment, if there’s enough time to grab the scissors from your hiding place and offer it up to Harold for a one-way ticket to solitary confinement, but you decide against it. Who knows what this special assembly will bring out of the other women?

A full 47 minutes pass by before you find yourself in the East chapel, Officer Harold clicking his teeth in disappointment at your tardiness. But when that sweet breeze of electric fans and breathable air hit you in the face, you wish you had arrived sooner. Especially when your eyes fall on the last available seat: one smack-down in the middle of the front row. Of course.

You shove your hands into the pockets of your dark blue jumpsuit, settling into the surprisingly comfortable flip-out chair that’s a hair’s breadth away from the altar. Every single person seems to be talking over each other, new voices add themselves sporadically into the mix, gossiping excitedly about the same old things that always happen in this place.

  “Did’ya hear Nolan’s getting out on good behavior next week? what a fuckin’ kissass? I’d break her face if it didn't mean God knows how long in the hole…”

  “You’ll never guess who I saw sucking face with a guard while waiting in the commissary line. Some of these girls’ll do anything for a freebie, I swear…"

It almost reminds you of a high school cafeteria. Nothing but low jabs and cruel chatter.

“Apparently, they flew her in from Zaun…she’s this ex-convict who got out of a murder charge ‘cause the judge says she’s got ‘good character’ or something. Can you believe it! I’ve got fan-tas-tic character and I’m still stuck in this hell for another 40 years…”

  That certainly peaks your attention…

  …because there aren’t many people, especially, many people from the Undercity of all places, who go before the hallowed Piltover court with a charge like that and just get to walk free.

And considering the fact that you were born and raised in Zaun, growing up with kids who had also spent their free time chasing the next new thrill until ultimately getting caught, it may not be a stretch to say that you could, possibly, recognize this speaker.

It isn’t until you catch a flash of electric pink hair, a silver sparkle atop thick raised eyebrows that your heart drops to your ass.

  Violet fuckin’ Lanes. 

In all her flesh and glory.

Janna, even the way she struts to the podium pisses you off.

Her boots hit the ground like some magic megaphone, somehow commanding the attention of each and every eye in the room. The inmates stare, like wild animals trailing a new addition to an already tight knit pack. It’s different, though. There’s none of the whistling or lewd comments that usually accompany the arrival of a new prisoner, but the captivated silence that falls over the crowd when she smirks their way makes you wish she was in uniform like everyone else was.

Some regard her with disdain, invisible daggers shooting from their eyes right between her charmingly crooked smile. Others are practically leaning into the spinning fans that litter the scenery, trying to catch themselves from swooning so openly in front of her.

You can’t say either reaction is unexpected. You two do have a particularly troubled connection, after all.

Violet had introduced herself to you as ‘Vi’ after some enforcers shut down a crazy house party you were both attending. Bottles were being thrown all over the place, people had been dragged out by their arms and legs. You took this as a sign to get the fuck outta dodge.

When the pink-haired girl had caught up to you, pretty easily, you might add, she was already talking your ear off. Inviting you to a different party just a few blocks away, asking if the dying cigarette hanging from your lips was up for grabs, listing off every situation in which she’s had to book it to keep from getting locked up (this was the 6th time in the last three weeks), all without faltering in speed or running out of breath. It was impressive, for sure.

She led you straight to that party she was gabbing about. Some stuffy abandoned warehouse spinning with heavy smoke and even heavier music. Vi hauled you into the center of the heady disarray and pulled you in as close as she could.

  “Dancing’s always more fun when your eardrums are about to pop right out of your skull.” she’d told you.

And you smiled at her. Honest full-face-grin beamed at her, because, Gods, where has she been all your life, and why is she only coming into it now?

So, of course, you danced with her all night. It ended up being the most fun you’d had in a really long time. You could tell she wanted to keep your attention all for herself, what with the way she wouldn’t let you out of her sight for longer than ten seconds (even when she challenged you to keg stand contest, and lost her focus because she couldn’t keep her eyes on her own barrel for the life of her), but you didn’t mind so much. She kept laughing and spinning you in circles and dragging you around like she was leashed to your wrist, but you didn’t find it the least bit annoying.

When the warehouse began to empty and the music dimmed to a shivering whisper, Vi brought you to the roof just in time for sunrise. The way the warm spots of heat kissed your features rebirthed a sort of softness in your heart, and you showed it by wrapping an arm around Vi’s shoulders in a contented squeeze.

  “You’re…something else, you know that?” you’d crooned to her, still addled and woozy from the flask in your hand and the—well, copious amounts of everything still settling in your system.

Vi trailed her gaze up to the curve of your neck, taking in the position of your head, memorizing the drops of alcohol as they ran down the corners of your mouth. You were downing cheap, warm beer like parched wolf, and for some reason, her head swirled with envy at the sight of it.

In a flash of a moment, she ripped it from your lips, and toppled you over so hard you started spitting up the bitter liquid.

  “Hey! The fuck was that f–”

She straddled you, trapping your thighs between her own in a tight embrace. pressed a harsh kiss to your temple to apologize, the madwoman.

When you looked back up at her, she tilted her head at your form like a curious pantheress, like she wanted to know how you felt squirming between her teeth.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she inquired, like her hips weren’t crushing yours into the impenetrable concrete.

You blinked several times at her.

  “I–I dunno! …What are you doing this weekend?”

That got her grin back. She rewarded you by shifting her weight off of yours, and stretching out next to your heaving frame with a thoughtful hum.

  “Come up Topside with me. I can show you all the best spots, we can get into some real trouble up there…”

  A stunned laugh loosened itself from your throat. No one’s ever caught you off guard this much in such a short amount of time, so you punched her in the arm to regain some iota of surprise back.

“What happens if we get caught, smartass? We’re not exactly piltie princesses over here.”

She rubbed her sore bicep slowly, shrugging as if she’s made of rock-hard diamond. From what you’ve seen of her, it doesn’t seem like an outlandish assumption.

  “Oh, please…”, she muttered, ultramarine eyes boring into your foggy glare.

 

“You really think they’re gonna be able to catch us?”

It’s been almost seven years since she said that to you, on that hushed, rumbling morning, 

  and you regret ever listening to a single word she ever uttered in your direction.

taglist: @baylegend6

[latenighttalkinqwp]

can you write a morgan cheli x masc!oc

clothes swap with morgan!

based off of this tiktok trend!

“baby!” morgan yelled, jumping off the couch and running into your shared bedroom. you smiled up at her, raising an eyebrow whenever you seen the smirk on her face. “what are you about to ask me to do?” you asked, arms going around her waist whenever she sat on your lap. “so..have you seen those tiktoks where they swap outfits and they have to guess who’s is who’s?” morgan giggled, holding up her phone to show you another couple who did it. “bro, you could not pay me enough to do that. maybe whenever you have your practice clothes on-”

“okay, so your just gonna stand there- don’t look so uncomfortable!” morgan couldn’t stop giggling. “babe. i’m in flare leggings and a baby-tee. i’m trying my hardest to not cry.” you laughed, looking morgan up and down. she currently had on your insanely baggy cargo pants, and a random hoodie you guys had thrifted together. “hang on- you forgot my keys on the belt loop.” you smirked, attaching your carabiner to the belt loop. she rolled her eyes, starting the countdown on the video. “babe what am i supposed to do..” you muttered, looking at her as she began to pose like how you would. “just do something you think i would do.” she smiled up at you, laughing whenever you put your leg up to the side and threw up a peace sign. “okay, are we done yet?” your shoulders slumped, and you leaned over her shoulder to watch the video.

“wait- do you think we could do it one more time? i made a weird face.”

“morgan.”

“oopsie!”

- thank you so much for reading all the way through! reblogs are appreciated 🤍 click here to see my masterlist!

- so sorry for the delay on this request angel, i have been so busy!

[writersrkive]

Cat boy | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer thinks you, his new colleague, are cool, but he doesn't know how to interact. Somehow, he stars to consider the idea that cats are a good way to start getting to know you better, perhaps because you remind him of them. You couldn't agree more with the idea, especially when you're also curious about the only team member who's the same age as you.

genre: fluff?

pairing: Spencer Reid x masc!bau!reader

warnings: I think there's nothing to worry about.

Navigation Criminal Minds masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer never had the facility of talking to others, especially if they were strangers. You were not a stranger, but a student of criminology who was doing his internship. However, he wasn't used to you yet. Spencer thought you were interesting, but even if both of you were the same age, he thought that you were too cool for him, just like Derek.

After a few weeks of your arrival, Spencer found a way to know you better without talking —getting nervous—: listening when you and the team talked, like right now.

“Aww, Sergio would love to meet them.” Emily said, looking at your phone. There was a picture that everyone came to see, except for Spencer, who was awkwardly standing a little far, waiting for the team to go home.

“They are so cute!” García exclaimed.

“Of course you like them, baby girl.” Derek smirked.

“I love all animals.” She picked at his side.

“What about you, Spencer?” Your voice made the brown haired look in your direction. He seemed lost.

“Huh?”

“Come. I'm showing my babies to everyone.” Spencer would describe your smile as ‘cute’.

When he got closer —close enough for him to be comfortable—, he looked at the picture. There were two cats: one white with black spots, and the other completely grey. They were sleeping on top of something black, Spencer realized it was your t-shirt, jeans and belt. He didn't know why he was getting flustered looking at a fragment of a body, your body.

“Are you a cat or a dog person?” You asked.

“They both can carry a lot of germs and diseases. I don't like germs and diseases.”

“Well, if someday you wanna come to my place, let me clarify that they are completely clean and ready to meet you.”

What did you mean by that? Were you expecting him to visit? Why? When? How?

Spencer investigated what you said, that “cat or dog person” thing. Apparently, sometimes it wasn't just about what one person prefer, but their own personality. Everytime he observed you —which was constantly— he noticed a little bit more of your “cat” personality. The way you moved; the way you waited, observed and talked; the way you would smirked at him whenever you catched him staring.

“What are you thinking about, pretty boy?” Derek asked in the jet.

“Cats.” He answered without thinking.

“Cats? I thought a girl catched your attention back in Los Angeles.” He smirked. “They were pretty interested in you.”

“Let him think about cats, Morgan.” You defended Spencer from your seat, “Cats are cool, aren't they?”

“Yeah…” Spencer said, looking away.

The next day, the team did paperwork. Spencer finished first, so he went to buy a coffee. Surprisingly, you followed him a little later. Both of you were waiting for your orders to be ready.

“You know, I have always thought you are cool.” You said after a long time of sitting together in silence.

“I think that word describes people like Morgan and you, not me.” He whispered a little confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. The type of people that one cannot take their eyes off. Your body, face, personality, everything says ‘look at me, I'm awesome’, but yet, you are so quiet and mysterious.”

“You just describe how I would describe my cats.”

Both of you chuckled. In your short time in the BAU you have seen Spencer smile, but never like that, when you were the reason for his expressiveness.

“I mean it.” He looked at you with all the attention of the world. “You are cool, Spencer, but maybe people need to remind you that more often.”

The batista mentioned your names, so when you walked back to work together, you kept talking.

“My offer still stands.”

“What offer?”

“You coming to my place.”

He immediately blushed, so you had to bite your lip to hide the fact that you wanted to squish his face. He was too cute for his own good.

“I'm not good at knowing new places.”

“You always are when we are working.”

“Exactly, it's work. This is different.”

“Well, just think that you are going to get to know your newest college better.”

“I'm not good with new people either.”

“You might be with cats.” You showed an amused smirk.

And for the first time, Spencer enjoyed the fact that someone said something with a hidden meaning, because of course he wanted to be good with… cats.

[sharkymurdock]

soft!Matt Murdock letting you borrow his tie and helping you tie it ever so gently. And when he has gotten it to the perfect length, his hands lingering on your neck feeling your pulse :3

[sagecallie]

You're so pretty ♡

Modern university AU

Jayce Talis has a huge crush on his classmate. Stars align one day as your usual project partner calls in sick.

[jayce talis x masc!reader]

[nsfw, mdni]

[cw: slow(ish) burn, dry humping, blow job, deepthroating, subby jayce, dom reader, dirty talk, face fucking, praise, masturbation (i mean, almost), frotting, reader has male genitalia, he/him pronouns used for reader]

From the moment Jayce opened his eyes that Tuesday morning, he felt butterflies in his stomach.

He could never really tell if it was more anxiety than excitement, because a part of him wanted to skip the whole day, but an equal part wanted to go so badly.

Hands already beginning to shake, he shut off his 6 AM alarm. He let his hand linger on his phone for an extra second, debating whether or not to email his professors about staying home.

Breathing in a slow, calming breath, he decided against it. He swiftly pulled off his blankets, shuddering at the feeling of cool morning air hitting his bare skin, the comforting warmth of his sheets quickly disappearing.

He hastily jumped up, making his way to the bathroom before he could change his mind.

Yawning, he hopped into the shower to wake him up properly, but also to begin his extensive morning routine.

As soon as the cold water of his shower hit his skin, he could feel his mind clearing up. He quickly wet his entire body before the water would turn warm, gasping at the coldness of it.

Usually he wouldn't start his mornings with a shower, he was more of a night shower person. He preferred sleeping in, showing up to class in sweatpants and yesterday's shirt.

But today was different. Tuesdays were different.

He felt excitement pool in his stomach again, making him shudder.

On Tuesdays, he has a german language class. He didn't really care for learning new languages, but what he did care about was you.

You also took that german class. That was the sole reason Jayce even concidered it, he wasn't even good at languages. Quite the contrary actually, he struggled a lot, having to be tutored constantly. He would spend his nights almost crying at his homework, not to even mention the quizzes. He hated the class with all his heart.

Well, with most of his heart.

He felt the butterflies again as he lathered shampoo in his hair. You were going to be in that class-- the only good, well, great thing about that class.

He finished his shower, moving to the bathroom sink to grab his hairdryer and styling wax.

Every Tuesday, he would spend hours getting ready for school. Showering with his most expensive products, styling his hair, shaving, moisturizing... The whole ordeal.

He desperately wanted to be noticed by you, and if you ever did, he didn't want to risk looking undesirable. He wanted to look put together, like he cared about his appearance. He wanted to look and smell clean, expensive. He wanted to impress you.

To say he had a crush on you would be an understatement.

Would a regular crush have him shaving at 6 in the morning? Studying his face inches apart from his bathroom mirror, plucking away every stray neck hair? Switching out his jewellery twelve times, trying to find the perfect combination?

No. Only you would, and Jayce knew it.

He was so desperately in love with you, borderline obsessed with you. The way you walked, your sense of style, your mannerisms. How you would furrow your eyebrows when you were deep in your thoughts. How you would cross your arms behind your back when you talked to the professors. How you would mouth words when you were typing on the phone.

Had you ever actually talked to him apart from a standard greeting, maybe sometimes noting something about the weather or how annoyed with a group project you were?

No, but Jayce just couldn't help it.

He wasn't actually sure why he liked you the way that he did. Maybe it was your appearance, how you were almost exactly his type. Or maybe it was how kind you were to your classmates, always ready to help anyone who asked a question. Or maybe even your voice, so softly sweet yet confident, almost hypnotic.

Maybe it was all of them. Maybe it was just the fact you were you.

Jayce spent the rest of his morning routine daydreaming.

By 7.50 am, Jayce had already made his way to class and found his seat. His seat was directly behind you, he had made sure of that. He waited anxiously for you to show up, the twisting feeling of excitement in his body, roaring in his chest like thunder. He tapped his fingers, bounced his leg. Ever so often glancing towards the classroom door, hoping to see you coming in.

Finally, you did. Jayce's heart skipped a beat.

Jayce tried to play it cool, quickly averting his gaze before you caught him staring. He looked at his laptop's screen, trying to think of something to type while pretending his ears weren't burning.

You walked leisurely to your seat, put down your bag and sat down.

Without moving his head, Jayce looked up from his screen. You were wearing baggy jeans with a sweater, a simple yet stylish outfit.

Jayce swallowed dryly. How did you manage to look so good each time?

He quietly watched as you pulled out your laptop and books, admiring you. He ever so slightly leaned in, trying to see your face better, catching your attention.

With your hands still inside your bag, you looked up to meet his gaze.

"Hey", you said, giving him a light smile. "Something on my face or something?"

Jayce immediately looked away, feeling embarrassed as hell. He laughed awkwardly, which made him immediately cringe internally.

"No, just wondering if-- uh-- you maybe had an extra pencil? I forgot mine at home", he improvised, trying to seem nonchalant.

He sweated as you shot him a look. He wasn't sure what it meant, and that made him anxious. He nervously bit the inside of his cheek as you went back digging in your bag.

"Here", you said, handing him a pencil.

"Thank you, I promise I'll give it back", Jayce smiled, to which you smiled back before turning to your laptop.

In his mind, Jayce let out a breath of relief. He turned his gaze back to his laptop, placing your pencil next to his pencil case.

His stomach dropped.

Shit, shit shit-- He panicked internally. I had my fucking pencil case on my desk this whole time, god fucking shit--

He glanced back at you. You were busy on your laptop, leaning your head against your hand, your hair falling nicely on your knuckles, not seeming to pay attention to anything but your work.

Jayce's cheeks started burning out of embarrassment. Had you noticed the pencil case? Is that why you gave him that look?

His mind raced a thousand thoughts a minute. Oh my god, he totally thinks I'm a creep, or at the very least fucking stupid.

He spent the rest of the class ruminating over the damn pencil case. So much so, he barely noticed the time go by, causing him to jolt when he suddenly heard you talking to him.

"Y-yes?" He stuttered, blinking rapidly. He noticed other students leaving, quickly glancing at the clock and realizing the class was over. He hurriedly shifted his gaze to you.

"Do you have a partner yet?" You asked, leaning against his desk. Jayce looked bewildered.

"I-- what?" Jayce felt as if he had been struck in the head. Surely he had heard you wrong. Why were you asking him questions like that? You weren't even friends. He felt confused and embarrassed, of course he didn't have a partner. Why would he date anyone else when you were right there, looking into his eyes, god he wanted to kiss you--

"I asked if you had a partner. You know. The group project. Analyzing the texts." You raised an eyebrow at him.

Oh. OHH--

Jayce choked down a little laugh. "Oh, uhh, yeah. Wait no, I mean, no. No I don't have a partner yet", he sputtered nervously.

"Cool. Do you want to do it together? My friend is sick at the moment, so I don't have a partner."

Jayce's heart skipped a beat. The excitement pooled in his stomach again, making his skin feel electrical. He had to really focus not to rip into a massive grin.

"Sure", he said, trying to appear nonchalant. "When do we start?"

You shrugged. "Whenever. It's not due until next week. But I'm free this evening if we want to get started early."

Jayce nodded, his chest feeling like it was about to explode. Butterflies dancing in his stomach.

"That's cool with me. Do you want to meet up at the library?"

"It closes at six, and I'm not free until seven. I was thinking maybe your place or mine. Then there'd be no rush." You ran your fingers through your hair, shifting your weight back from Jayce's desk, putting your hands in your pockets.

"You can come to mine", Jayce blurted out. "I-It's closer. I think."

You chuckled. "Yeah sure. See you at seven?"

"Yeah", Jayce swallowed. "See you at seven."

♡♡♡

Jayce sat nervously on his bed, bouncing his leg out of anxiety. His school supplies were spread out on the floor, waiting for him to scoot down and start working. Write down some notes. Open up a word document. Hell, just turn on his laptop.

But he couldn't move. He felt stuck. Like he was a prisoner waiting to hear his final sentencing.

As the clock crept closer to seven PM, he felt like he could begin to actually sweat.

7.00.

Then, 7.01. 7.02.

Once the clock hit 7.10, Jayce tangled his hands into his hair, leaning his head back, staring at the ceiling.

What the fuck am I doing?

He felt ashamed. Ashamed for waiting you like this, like a pathetic creep. It was pathetic, and Jayce knew it. Knew it so well his eyes started stinging, tears threatening to fall.

It caused him to feel even worse.

There he sat, waiting for you, about to cry because he was so eager to have you in his room. Because he was so embarrassed over wanting you to come so badly. And if only you knew, Jayce was sure you would never ever talk to him again. That you'd think he was weird. Pathetic.

Jayce let himself fall down on his bed, his arms spread side-to-side. He stared at his white ceiling, listening to his wall clock tick.

Jayce closed his eyes. He imagined you in his room, working beside him. You’d lean over to grab something, giving him a glimpse of your collarbone. You’d lean close enough for him to smell your cologne: woody, spicy, maybe with a hint of cinnamon. The kind of scent that stayed in his lungs long after you leaned back. The kind of scent that made him want things, things he’d never be brave enough to admit to your face.

Out of all people, why did you choose him to work on the project with? There were other people in front of you. Plenty of people without partners.

Jayce grimaced.

What would you look like on top of him? Would you push your body against his, whisper sweet things in his ear? Or would you hold him down by force, shoving his face into his mattress while you ram into his body?

The thought of you controlling him made Jayce squirm. His entire body felt hot, his dick twitching in his jeans in an effort to get hard.

Jayce knew you'd be there any minute, he knew he shouldn't be imagining things like this. But, fuck, he couldn't help it.

What would you do to him? Would you force him down on his knees, force your cock down his throat, make him take it? Would you moan his name? Would you be vocal, let him know you enjoyed him? Would you fuck him raw and hard, or would you take your time, making him savour every thrust?

Suddenly, Jayce was awoken from his filthy daydreaming by a sound of his doorbell.

He swiftly got up, panicking. He was rock hard. For you.

Embarrassment washed over him like a tsunami. You were right outside his door and he had just spent the last ten minutes fantasizing about you like a fucking pervert. He did a few jumping jacks out of desperation, trying to get his cock to calm down so he could open the door.

You rang the doorbell again, making Jayce whimper.

He decided to accept defeat, pulling his cock up under the waistband of his jeans, pulling his hoodie down on top of it to conceal the bump. As you rang the doorbell a third time, he finally made his way to the door.

"Hey", you greeted him once the door was opened. "I thought I was at the wrong house for a moment. What, were you taking a dump or something?" You chuckled.

Jayce forced out a laugh, slightly shocked by your boldness. "Nah, just couldn't hear the doorbell. Come on in."

As he led you to his room, Jayce seemed very tense. You noticed how he fiddled with the hem of his hoodie as he closed the door, and how he almost stumbled on his own feet making his way to his bed. You cocked an eyebrow, but stayed silent.

It felt as if Jayce was a small bird who hadn't yet noticed you: if you said anything or moved even a fraction of an inch, he would flutter away. It made you feel slightly amused.

You weren't quite sure where Jayce's confidence had disappeared. You'd seen him at school, talking to his friends, and he had always been such a big personality. He would laugh, goof around, overall just be a joy to watch, even from a distance.

"Nice place," you remarked, your eyes drifting over his cluttered floor and half-open textbooks scattered on the bed. "Looks like you're really into this homework thing." You chuckled, testing the waters.

Jayce coughed out a laugh. "I just wanted to have everything ready. You know, for the project."

"Eager to work?" You smiled, letting your bag slide down your arm, lowering it to the floor.

Jayce turned around, his back facing you. There was a clear nervous energy bubbling under the surface, one that you could now pick up on. You tilted your head, curious.

"Yeah, I mean, that's what youre here for, right?" Jayce shrugged, his tone shakier than he'd have hoped.

Relax birdie, I'm not going to kill you, you thought, a slight smirk forming on your face. It became apparent he was nervous about having you there. You just weren't sure why.

You let your gaze wander around the room. It was a little cluttered, yet cozy. Papers stacked on one side of his computer desk, and posters of bands taped to the walls. It looked comfortable, nothing fancy, but it gave you a sense of who Jayce was. A bit disorganized, yet paying attention to detail;  The posters were taped with an equal distance from eachother, and his bedspread matched his curtains. Still, he seemed to be fussing with things unnecessarily, smoothing out the creases in his bedspread and gathering up his textbooks, something you weren't sure was a nervous tic or an attempt to make the place look more tidy.

"I like the posters", you stated, hoping to change the subject and lighten the mood. You saw Jayce's shoulders relax out of the corner of your eye, him turning to face you again.

"Thanks", he smiled, quickly glancing at the posters before turning his gaze back to you. "Took me forever to hang them up."

"I believe you", you responded, sitting down on the floor and crossing your legs. "Love the spacing."

Jayce grinned, sitting down opposite you. "Yeah, I'm kinda particular about some things."

You chuckled, reaching back to your bag, pulling it closer to you. "Should we get started on the analysis?" You asked, rummaging through your bag for your books.

"Oh, right", Jayce said, his voice turning back to slightly shaky. "I gotta confess something."

"What is it?"

"I'm... actually terrible at german", he winced, looking at you apologetically. "I barely pass the assignments. I'm probably the worst partner you could've picked for an analysis."

"Nonsense", you shake your head, smiling. "I know enough german for the both of us, c'mon."

Jayce chuckled in response, hurriedly opening his laptop to conceal his embarrassment. Of course, you just had to be fluent in german. Of course. You hadn't even been there that long, and he already felt like he had been embarrassing himself the whole time.

Normally so self-confident, so sure of himself, his talents, his looks. It all crumbled away slowly the more time you spent with him.

He desperately wanted to be liked by you. To give a good impression.

He felt his head start spinning from all the overthinking.

"Want me to make up a doc?" You asked, not taking off your eyes from your screen, snapping Jayce out of his spiraling.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Jayce nodded quickly, maybe too quickly, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, yet again trying to play it cool.

You glanced up from your screen, catching the slight flush creeping up his neck. It made you pause for a second, something amused yet soft tugging at the corner of your mouth. You didn’t say anything, just started typing, the soft clicking of your keyboard filling in the silence.

Jayce watched you work for a bit, how smoothly your fingers navigated the keyboard, your eyes darting back and forth between the keycaps and the screen. He could've spent the entire night just looking at you, admiring you.

"How do you do it?" Jayce suddenly asked, before he could stop himself, breaking the silence.

"Do what?" You asked, lifting up your gaze from the screen with a raised eyebrow.

"German. Like seriously. How does one become so good at a language? All the nuances, dialects... I don't understand how you do it." Jayce gave you a slight smile before resting his cheek against his knee, letting his hands fall down around his ankles.

You let out a laugh, surprised over the sudden compliment. "I'm not sure", you shrugged. "I just spent a lot of time alone as a kid, I guess. You pick up hobbies like that when you're by yourself. For me, books and languages were easier than people."

Jayce's smile faded into something softer. Not pity, just something gentle.

"I understand." He spoke in a soft, low voice. "Although for me people were easier. Books, and especially languages though? Not so much."

You let out a small chuckle. "Then why on Earth did you pick german?"

As soon as those words left your lips, Jayce blushed. The warm shade of scarlet spread around his face, giving away his emotions with ease. Your eyes widened with surprise, but you made sure to fix your face before Jayce could notice your sudden expression.

"I don't know", he stuttered, avoiding eye contact. "I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it."

That last sentence hung out in the air longer than expected. Like it had some other meaning you weren't quite sure how to interpret. Maybe you were reading too much into it, you weren't sure.

Wait, no. Could it-- wait.

The sudden realization hit you like a fire truck.

That's why Jayce had been so nervous.

For a moment, you locked eyes with him. It was as if you saw him with an entirely different set of eyes. It all made sense now-- The stuttering, the stumbling. How it all had seemed to have started with you.

You let out a small breath, something raw and unfiltered, something akin to a small 'huh'. Jayce looked up at you, his eyes making him look like a puppy who had just been yelled at.

You weren't blind, nor were you one to bullshit-- Jayce was fucking attractive.

Though it felt as if you had only realized that just now. It made your chest tight, your skin tingle. It's not like Jayce had confessed his love to you, he didn't need to. You felt like an idiot for not noticing sooner.

"Jayce", you started, your voice soft, careful.

You were approaching the bird.

Jayce sat still. His cheek still against his knee, a deep shade of scarlet continuing to stain his skin. He looked up at you, a sense of yearning conveying from his gaze. How desperately he wanted you, not daring to break the silence that had fallen between you.

Words weren't needed, you knew. You could see it in him, the desperation. The shame.

Fuck me, you thought. Forgive me, Jayce.

You put aside your laptop without looking away from his eyes. You watched as they changed from an expression of surprise to disbelief as you moved in closer. It was almost comical, the way you could see it in his face how he was trying to remember if he'd hit his head and how hard.

You leaned in, closing the space between you two. You pressed a soft, gentle kiss on his lips, with your hand curled under his chin.

Jayce froze for a split second, like his brain had stalled trying to process what was happening. You pressed another, more firm kiss against his mouth, now pressing your body against his, softly pulling his knees open to let you in. He shyly moved his legs, letting your bodyweight push him on his back on the soft carpet.

When you finally pulled away, just an inch or two, your hand still lightly holding his chin, his eyes were wide. Searching. Like he was afraid this wasn’t real.

“Is this--” he started, voice shaking slightly.

You smiled, thumb brushing gently over his lower lip. “It is.”

He blinked. Then laughed softly, the kind that barely made a sound. “You're a good kisser.

You leaned back a little, giving Jayce room to breathe, smiling. You took in the sight, suddenly noticing how beautiful he looked under you. His hair spilling on the carpet, his skin flushed and hot. His chest rising and falling with every breath he took. His hazel eyes, still fixated on you, your face, your body.

"You're so pretty, Jayce." You murmured, softly caressing his jaw and neck with your fingers.

A silence settled between you again, but this time it was warm. Comfortable.

When Jayce finally broke the silence, his voice was quieter. “So… should we still work on that analysis?”

You grinned. “Maybe later.”

And this time, when he smiled, it wasn't a nervous one. It was the smile of someone who had just been given the one thing they desperately needed.

Jayce was still looking at you, afraid to move, afraid the moment might shatter if he did. But you didn’t want slow anymore. Not with the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

So you leaned in again.

This time, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t about not scaring the bird anymore, for the bird had already surrendered. The kiss was certain, determined. Jayce responded almost instantly, as if he'd been holding back something, and your kiss had just torn off the shackles. His hands finally moved, brushing against your arm before curling around the back of your neck, pulling you in closer.

The kiss was hotter now, hungrier, Jayce's lips parting slightly against yours. Something small escaped his parted lips, a sound that made something warm twist in your lower stomach. You opened your mouth to slide your tongue in, your fingers tangling into his hair, tugging just a little, and the way he let out the smallest moan against your mouth told you he liked it.

You pushed your tongue in deeper, eager to taste him. Your hands still holding him, your cool skin contrasting against his hot body. Something had shifted, you could sense it.

No, you could feel it.

Pressed against your stomach was something stiff. It made your skin flush in return, your body beginning to feel warm. Jayce seemed to notice the shift in your demeanor, pushing his hips up so you could feel him better, desperate for more friction.

"Fuck, Jayce", you moaned into his mouth, slowly sliding your hand down his torso, settling just over his hip bone. The sensation made Jayce shudder, his breath hitching.

You could feel yourself twitch in your pants, your dick stretching out the fabric. You slowly leaned forward, angling yourself just between his legs, and thrusted.

The feeling of your cocks pressing against eachother made Jayce yelp. He instinctively bucked his hips, feeling himself spurt out precum against his boxers. He held on to your neck, as if afraid you would let go and float away.

He still couldn't believe this was real. You, him, in his room, humping against eachother. The mere thought made him twitch, arch his back slightly out of pleasure. Warm, electric ripples washing over him every time you thrusted.

Soft whimpers formed in his throat, he was so focused on the sensation below his belt he almost forgot to respond to your kisses. Almost forgot to breathe.

You pulled back, breaking the kiss. The air in Jayce's room felt cold against your wet lips, and you struggled to keep them off his body.

"Fuck, you turn me on", you murmured. "I can't." You withdrew from him, standing up from the floor, hands twisting in your hair, frustrated and horny.

Jayce's expression shifted to worry, and he quickly stumbled up. "Wait, what?"

You turned around, biting your lip. "I can't, Jayce."

"Why not?"

Jayce felt his stomach twist. Had he done something wrong? His mind started racing. Had he come off too strong?

"I can't, Jayce." You repeated, closing your eyes. "Stop, I mean. If we continue... I won't be able to stop."

Your words made Jayce's skin flush again, his dick painfully straining against the fabric of his jeans, begging to be released. He reached out with his hand, pulling you back in. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand slowly falling to rest on top of your twitching, aching cock.

"When did you hear me say I wanted you to stop?"

You spun around, yanking Jayce against you by his hips. The sudden move made him yelp out in surprise, his surprise soon fading into want.

You kissed him again, wet and sloppy. Practically eating his mouth, you pressed slick, fast kisses at his mouth, so fast he struggled to keep up. Wet sounds filled the room, along with the sounds rising from Jayce's throat, and your fast and ragged breathing.

You wanted him so badly.

"On your knees", you ordered between sloppy kisses. Jayce did as told, kneeling in front of you, looking up at you with eyes dark with lust. He watched as you fumbled with your belt, hurrying to take it off. You gave it one big tug, pulling it free from your belt loops and moved on to your zipper.

He rubbed your thighs, eyes now locked on your bulge, eager to see you bare.

You had barely pulled down your pants when Jayce put his mouth on you, eyes clouded with desire. You threw your head back, twisting your fingers in his dark hair, softly pulling at it.

"Fuck", you panted, feeling Jayce's warm lips wrap around your tip. He slowly sunk his head, his eyes fluttering closed as he took your cock in deeper until it touched the back of his throat.

You slowly moved your hips forward, wanting to feel more of the pleasure that was Jayce's hot, wet mouth. You gasped, tugging at his hair, struggling to hold yourself steady.

Jayce pulled away, his mouth making a soft 'pop' sound. He looked up at you, pupils blown from pleasure.

You held his head still, with the other hand slowly traveling down the side of his face, your thumb grazing over his lips, pressing downward to enter his mouth.

God, he looked beautiful like that.

His skin flushed, his forehead glimmering with a light layer of sweat. His eyes dark with desire, his body trembling with want-- no, need.

The air in the room suddenly felt hotter, the only sounds being Jayce's ragged breath as he kept looking at you. You pressed your thumb deeper, pressing against his tongue, making Jayce's cock twitch behind the fabric.

You pushed your hips forward, pressing your tip against his lips, but pulling away as he tried to take you in his mouth.

"Open your mouth", you slurred, twisting your thumb to open Jayce's mouth wider. You rested your cock on his bottom lip, watching as you dribbled precum in his mouth. The sight of it heightening your desire, you barely being able to control your urge to shove your cock deep down in his throat.

As Jayce felt the warm, slightly salty fluid drip down on his tongue, he couldn't help but moan. You moved your thumb slowly, spreading it across Jayce's tongue as more and more trickled down into his mouth, making your movements slick and audible.

Jayce fluttered his eyes shut, and you decided you had had enough. You placed your hands on either side of his head, anchoring it in place. Before he could react, you thrusted into his mouth, earning a surprised moan from him.

You kept thrusting, feeling your tip hit the back of his throat with every thrust, listening to Jayce moan and gag, huffing and whimpering around your cock.

"Ah, fuuuck", you moaned, your mouth agape, watching as you sunk into his mouth over and over again. "That feels so good baby, I love how you take my cock--"

You felt a buzz on your skin, every thrust sending in a jolt of electricity through you. Jayce's mouth felt so good. You tugged at his hair, angling his head, and shoved your cock down, deep, until you felt his throat give out and your tip slid in.

It felt like a drug, a feeling of pure ecstasy washing over you as Jayce's throat contracted around you. He quickly pulled his head back, gagging and coughing, spit rolling down his chin and pooling on the floor.

Without a word, Jayce opened his mouth again, letting you push back in. You let out a deep, low moan as you moved, your heart pounding.

"You're such a good boy", you murmured, earning a whimper from Jayce. "You like that? You like being called a good boy?"

Jayce nodded, rapidly blinking as you fucked his throat, making his eyes tear up.

"Mhm, baby", you moaned breathlessly. "I love how you take my cock so well, so deep. Your mouth feels so good baby, you're so good. So good."

Jayce shuddered at your words, tears now falling down his cheeks as you kept pounding his mouth, making him gag.

"Oh, fuck," you groaned, watching Jayce struggle around your cock, strings of spit stretching from the sides, making your muscles twitch out of pleasure.

"I want you to touch yourself", you murmured, slowing down to give Jayce the opportunity to unbutton his jeans.

He pulled back, gasping for air. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, how he was out of breath purely from getting fucked in the mouth by you.

He hurriedly unbuttoned his pants, shoving them down his thighs to reveal his aching, dripping cock.

"I want to see it, c'mon."

Jayce leaned back on his knees, spreading his thighs and planting down his hand for support. With his other hand, he wrapped his fingers around the base, whimpering out of pleasure.

"I-I can't-- I'll cum", he panted, gently squeezing.

You believed him. You didn't think you'd ever seen a man so desperately hard before, his cock almost purple. You chuckled at the sight of the pathetic man in front of you, desperate for a release.

"Oh yeah? Would you like me to finish you off?"

Jayce snapped his eyes back to you, his gaze practically a plea. "Y-yes, please.."

"On your bed, then", you flicked your head towards the bed, as an order. Jayce swiftly climbed to his bed, laying on his back, spreading his thighs as you kneeled in between them.

Jayce watched eagerly as you adjusted, eyes glimmering with desire. You pressed your hand beside him, the other guiding your cock.

He closed his eyes, fully expecting the pain that would follow you entering him. Instead, he was surprised to feel your wet, slick cock against his.

"Oh my god", Jayce gasped, gripping the sheets. The feeling of velvety skin dragging against his was almost too much for him to handle, he had to really focus not to spill right away.

"That feel good?" You grunted, holding both your cocks in your hand, moving your hips in sync.

"Muh," Jayce slurred, letting his head roll from side, writhing in pleasure, his chest feeling like it was about to explode. His lower stomach felt like it was on fire, and he desperately tried to rock, to hump, to do anything to respond to the immense amount of pleasure.

You pressed down harder, Jayce's spit and your precum making your grinding wet and audible, the sounds of your filthy love-making filling the room.

Jayce couldn't hold it in anymore. He grabbed your wrist and squeezed tightly, his entire body convulsing. He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth wide open, choking out a series of desperate, filthy moans. He threw his head back as he felt hot, thick strands of cum splatter on his stomach and chest, running down his shaft and your fingers.

"Ah, shit", you hissed, spreading Jayce's seed on both of your tips with his palm, making Jayce scream out. He bucked his hips desperately, the stimulation sending his already sensitive cock into overdrive. You glanced down, watching as his cum had coated you, providing extra lubrication for your grinding.

Jayce kept twitching, his face bright red, a dew strands of damp hair stuck to his forehead, his body already beginning to tense up.

"W-wait!" Jayce choked out, but it was already too late. He tugged hard at the sheets, arching his back and grabbing everything within arms reach as he came a second time. He screamed, violently thrusting his hips against your cock, trying to make the almost overwhelming pleasure last.

Just as he'd gained enough sanity to become aware of his surroundings again, you grabbed his hand, guiding it to your cock, still hard and red, leaking precum all over Jayce.

Jayce wasn't sure what was hotter, watching your cum-covered cock slide back and forth in his hand, or feel it squelch and twitch as he roughly jerked you off.

"Oh, yes, just like that, good boy", you moaned, thrusting against his hand, your abs convulsing as you neared your orgasm. "Tighter-- oh fuck."

Jayce felt his cock twitch as an attempt to get hard again. He wondered how much more blood could pool to his groin-- he had been harder than he'd ever been. And possibly the hardest he'll ever be.

"Hard-- again?" You moaned, still thrusting, using Jayce's hand to pleasure yourself. "God, I love you. I can't wait to fuck your brains out."

Jayce leaned in forward, pulling you in for a wet kiss. You let him dominate your mouth this time, feeling his tongue sloppily swirl around yours, making something firey twist in your stomach.

"Fuck, Jayce", you gasped between kisses. "I'm gonna-- Fuck--"

"Do it on me," Jayce moaned into the kiss. "I want you to cum on me. Cover me with it."

You nearly bit Jayce's tongue as you shoved hard against his hand, shooting steaming white ropes of cum all over his stomach, mixing into his own just moments earlier. You spasmed against him, your breath ragged against his as he milked out your orgasm.

"Oh my god", you breathed as the last drops dribbled out of you. You took in the sight below you, memorizing every aspect of it.

Jayce, covered in semen, his skin damp from sweat. His cock a screaming red color, hard and twitching, eager to be touched. You bit your lip, your face slowly turning into a grin.

"Aren't you a nasty one", you chuckle, lowering yourself to lie down next to him. "Would you cum a third time?"

"Possibly", Jayce murmured, turning his head to face you. He planted a soft kiss on your lips, his hand travelling up your torso, stopping to caress your nipple.

You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes to savor it.

There was a long silence, during which both of you took turns caressing, petting eachother, kissing tenderly. You looked into his hazel eyes, now clear, filled with love and longing. You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a yet another kiss.

"What does this mean?" Jayce asked once you parted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know yet, but we have plenty of time to figure that out."

You pressed another kiss on his lips. Jayce hummed into it, still running his fingers against your skin, making you shudder.

You'd figure it out.

[missestokyo]

Walker Scobell x Gn!Reader

[Headcanon]

———————————————————————

Sumary: Being best friend with Walker Scobell

Warning: N/A

A/N: I putted Gn!Reader for the fact that I didn’t bring up any pronouns, so, yeah

Face time at random times, like, really random times, for literally. No. Reason.

“Hi.”

“Hi?”

Silence

“You ok?”

Makes fart noise with mouth and hang up

“Dude, what?”

This boy is funny, he’s aways trying to make you laugh, even more when you’re sad

Playing Fortnite together, you don’t like it? He’ll force you anyway (in a friendly way)

You also being friend with his sister and when you go to his house sometimes she steals you from him

(He gets a little jealous)

“Can I have my friend back?”

“No, we’re gossiping about you.”

His parents love you

He taking 0.5 pics of you

“Whatcha doing?”

“Taking pictures, duh.”

If you are part of the PJO cast you guys going to pass the breaks together, talking about the scenes or just chilling

If you aren’t, he’s going to call you so you guys can talk, sometimes he’s so excited that he accidentally tells a spoiler

And if you never read one book of Percy Jackson this boy will go crazy, he’ll make you read all the books, he’ll probably tell spoilers of the book

He’s sweet boy, but sometimes is a little annoying

[kabr0ztrousers]

How about helping a penis-having demon friend of yours who is just entering heat/rut? The gentler early stages of it, but getting more intense as time goes on until their arranged heat partner arrives and helps you. Lots of cum, begging, and then some nice aftercare :) (demon top, femme male human bottom, please?)

I hope that's not too specific!

- @zeal-kitten 🩷

Now here's the million dollar question: did Zeal request this, or did someone else, knowing they'd get off to it?

Kabr0z Writes episode 50: Hot as Hell

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Hell; demons; light femdom; anal sex; excessive cum; group sex;

A/N: Wow, 50 of these! I absolutely should've planned for this, but if I'm totally honest I wasn't expecting to get this far!

If you want to support me in writing an episode a day until the 31st of December, it's totally free! Just send a request to my asks or DMs! Near enough anything's fair game, check the pinned if you're unsure!

#######################################

It's early evening in your little corner of Hell.

You were sent here a decade or two ago after an unfortunate incident involving an angry horse and your chest cavity. Turns out, being gay still gets you sent here. On the plus side, Hell really is infinite so there's plenty of housing, you're already dead so there's no need for food, and everyone in Heaven is a prude anyway. You're told it's only worth it if you're really into bright lights, liturgical chanting and harps, and you can get that down here too if you want.

Since getting here you'd made a few friends, one of whom was on the sofa next to you, helping you decide on the movie for the night.

Shg'shthg, like all demons, had the ability to alter his shape to his liking. He was slightly taller than you, even without the ram's horns curling from his brow. His skin was bluish-white, decorated with row upon row of swimming black runes subtly moving across every inch of his body. The characteristic long claws fashionable amongst demons currently held your TV remote in one hand and a sending stone in the other as he scrolled through the list.

"Satan's breath, every single piece of media humanity's ever created, and absolutely nothing to watch... How about Love's Labour's Won?"

You sighed "Shakespeare again? Like, it was nice the first hundred times, at least put on Edward III"

Shg'shthg looked at you "I was there when he was king, and the play is so wrong it's actually insulting. You know how I feel about the historys"

"When's D'Nzro getting here anyway?"

The demon beside you rolled his eyes "She's stuck in traffic. I keep telling her to get some wings but noooo" he waved his hands "She has to drive a car"

You laughed. Hell is, of course, Hell. No matter how decent life was down here, everything was just a little bit shit.

The TV flicked to a film, some B-movie about a bunch of sharks in a tornado. You looked over at the demon next you you. He was trying to focus on the TV, but you could see him starting to squirm in his seat. Sweat beaded on his brow as he checked his sending stone again. He crossed and un-crossed his legs, over and over, the beads of perspiration starting to roll down his head.

"You OK?"

He looked at you, the faint bluish tinge of his skin deepening, the text scrolling faster across his face "I wasn't expecting it to come this week..." His eyes screwed shut as his head tipped back "I need to ask you a favour"

"What do you need? I'll do it" you agreed a little hastily, but despite conventional wisdom you did trust this demon

"It's my heat, I need to fuck someone. Normally it'd be D'Nzro but she's-"

"Not here" you leant over the demon next to you. You won't pretend you hadn't fantasized about getting with the buff incubus, but you'd rather hoped for a more romantic setting. You kissed, gently at first. Shg'shthg whined in his throat, his desperate eyes wide and dark, looking up at you. You kissed him again, this time letting him push his tongue up into your mouth. He tasted of cigarette smoke and iron. You sucked gently on his tongue, allowing one of your hands to slide up his leg to his crotch. You could already feel the heat of his cock through his pants, opening them and allowing it to spring free.

You looked at it, leaking a thin stream of steaming fluid from its tapered tip, those same glyphs running up and down the shaft, speeding up in time with the throbbing of his inhuman cock.

One hand cradling his balls, you slowly licked the shaft, tasting the sticky precum running in rivulets onto your tongue. You reached the tip, placing your lips on it, letting the fluid leak out into your mouth, sucking it straight from the tap.

"Please" the demon breathed. You could feel the hand on the back of your neck, straining against the desire to force this cock down your throat.

You bobbed your head, taking the first couple of inches of the cock in your mouth, gently sucking as you played with his balls. Your other hand wrapped around the shaft, teasing the base as you sucked on the tip. Shg'shthg was groaning, the pulsing precum tasting richer and thicker. Your hand clenched on where his scotum, where it met his body, stopping his balls receding all the way. You spoke around the cock, eking out words between sucks "You wanna cum in my mouth?"

Shg'shthg nodded, whining and panting, the text on his body whirling with your edging, precum squirting from him in sticky spurts, filling and drooling out of your mouth to coat your chin.

You dipped your head deeper, sucking faster and harder, squeezing the base of his cock and massaging the balls as they shrank into him. He groaned, the hand on your head pushing down as the cock in your mouth spasmed and filled with cum, pumping it into your mouth as you struggled to swallow it all. It flooded your mouth, spurting from your lips, flooding your sinuses as it poured from your nose.

You pulled your mouth away from the cock as the last spurts pulsed out, covering your face. The door opened behind you, D'Nzro stepped in, her heels clicking on the floor. You looked at her, she saw you kneeling over her boyfriend, cock in hand, face covered in his cum.

"Let me guess. He told you he wasn't expecting his heat cycle so soon, and convinced you to suck him off?" Her voice was imperious, somewhere between a stern teacher and a vicious taskmistress

You nodded, taking in her body. Skin like tanned leather, eyes like coals, and two rows of short horns running down her shaved head

She grabbed you by your slight waist, lifting you so you straddled the incubus below you "Well, in that case, you've both been naughty boys." One clawed finger cut a slit in the ass of your jeans and your boxers, leaving your tight asshole unprotected "Naughty boys get punished." She held you with one hand, the other scooping up a handful of the demon-seed pooling on your sofa before slathering it on your ass, pushing it into your hole, before setting you down on Shg'shthg's lap, his still-hard cock resting against your back.

Shg'shthg's hands were on your waist now.

"Lift him up"

He lifted, lining your puckered hole up with the pointed tip of the cock you'd just drained. D'Nzro pressed the cock into you, a slender claw teasing your ballsack as she did "Drop"

Shg'shthg dropped you. Your weight rammed half his cock into you before you caught yourself.

You groaned as D'Nzro grabbed your hips and started moving you around, pushing you down and rocking your hips against the cock inside you. You leant back, pressing the cock against your prostate, feeling as the hard organ invading you pressed against it, making you leak. Two fingers pushed into your mouth, you sucked on them as you bounced on the cock within you, getting another inch of it in you with every drop.

You didn't care whose fingers you were sucking, whose hand was wrapped around your cock, or whose hands were on your waist, guiding you ever further down. Your aching cock was throbbing as pressure built behind it. Your asshole twitched and your balls rose as you came hard. Groaning and sweating you splattered Shg'shthg with your cum, adding your seed to the pool of cum on his chest and belly. The smell of sex filled your head, still sticky and oozing demon cum from your nostrils.

You were pushed down. The last few inches of the Incubus's huge cock filling you as it twitched and pulsed, spraying heat into you, filling your belly and clouding your thoughts.

D'Nzro pushed you onto Shg'shthg's chest, your dripping cock landing in the pool of mixed cum as it deflated. A blanket fell on top of you, and moments later you heard the kettle boiling, the smell of hot chocolate filling the flat, ousting the omnipresent sulphur.

A few minutes later, you had a warm mug of chocolate milk and two demons cuddling you from either side, watching some terrible B-movie about a flock of evil birds.

Not a bad evening, all things considered

######################################

Hope you don't mind I took some creative license with the request!

Remember that you can submit requests through my ask box or DMs, though the lead time at the moment is the better part of a month, so be warned it probably won't be written soon, though it will be written!

[dork-star]

Stubborn

Series Masterlist

Platonic Batfam x Masc!Runaway!Teen!Reader

You are the result of a one time fling between Bruce Wayne and prostitute trying to get by. After having enough of your mothers abuse and the various men she brings around for money trying to have their way with you, you run away, stealing their valuables and surviving on your own for a good while. That is, until you get taken in by the police and placed into the care of your biological father.

part 1

tbc...

[whoopsyeahokay]

Boy Noise

summary: prompt fill. Wally's waited a whole week for you to notice he still exists and he's going crazy. finally, he manages to get your attention and you dote on your sweet boy the way he's been so desperate for you to. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x masc!reader

warnings: smut. flashfic. sub!Wally Clark. brat. flirting for attention. blow jobs. Wally Clark has undisclosed mommy issues. dead dove.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🖇️

Boy Noise

He doesn't know why he does it.

Lie.

He does it because he's fucking desperate and you're over there watching with a simmering grin and sharp eyes, acting like Wally isn't going out of his fucking. mind. because you haven't touched him in a week.

And yeah, okay, it's no one's fault. You were stuck in practice after practice for soccer and Wally has that Art project he needs to finish, and schedules got too full too fast, but, come on, please. He hasn't been able to touch himself, his hand not good enough when he knows what the real thing feels like, and you're just smiling. Giving him that sedate up-and-down stare, licking your lips like he's a piece of meat you want to devour and, still, you just sit there, sprawled on Simon's couch, taking up more room than your frame should allow and not doing anything.

So, he flirts with Chloe, watching you watch him, hoping to instigate some kind of response. It wouldn't matter if you didn't look so good. Sleeves rolled up to accentuate your forearms, shirt tucked in, slim waist to round hips on display. A deity in painted-on black jeans and Wally's gold chain.

He hates you.

No he doesn't.

He wants you.

Now. Yesterday. Tomorrow. A week ago. Jesus, please. Do something!

Fuck, he's aching for it. Can feel his cock harden for every feline look you pin him with.

It's Maddie's birthday, he knows that's why you haven't made a move yet. You want to be present—told Wally to be present, to enjoy the celebration and it'll be worth it, sweet boy, I promise. But he's about a hair's breadth away from total atomic failure and can't get the memory of your hands on his body out of his mind for more than a second.

He tried so hard to be good. He really, really did. Sat on his hands and pretended everything was hunky dory until you showed up dressed like that, sauntered in like you owned the room, and gave him such a hot stare, Wally's blood is still on fire. And now most of it is in his cock as he sees you dancing to that song you blast in Wally's car, body moving like water; hips swaying, ass perfect.

Wally doesn't hate you, but you must hate him. He abandons Chloe without so much as a nice to see you, slinks into your space—where he belongs—and glides his hands down from your waist to your hips. You're not the only one dancing; everyone else (especially from Claire's adopted squad goals) is making a dancefloor out of the living room, the lights dim and the atmosphere high.

No one else is making this song their bitch, though. No one else is torturing Wally with their ass against his crotch and their nails grazing his neck. No one else is making him fucking wait for something he needs more than air, water, life itself. Please, please, do something!

Finally, you take pity on him, his hand in yours as you lead him to a bedroom upstairs and farthest away from the party. A guest room, Wally hopes, but a quick scan tells him it's Simon's room. You place your drink on Simon's desk and shove Wally down so he's sitting on the bed. Kick his legs apart and step between them, a sultry grin on your face.

Wally whimpers, his heart beating triple-time, head spinning already, yes. He leans back and props himself on his elbows, just watching you, licking his lips in anticipation. His eyes fall to half-mast as you bend over him, hands on either side of his hips, lips so close he can taste the Vanilla Coke on your breath. Your eyes bore into his, heavy and dark and full of promise, and you trail your fingers so lightly from his chest to the front of his tented jeans.

"Is this where you need me to touch you, baby?" You purr, holding his gaze. He nods, a little choked sound escaping as he rocks his hips up in a bid for friction you refuse to give him. "Think you can be quiet?"

Uhm, "Yeah," sure, Wally can try. But you can't blame him if he can't. It's been a week since he's been inside you. A week since he's felt your body on his, skin to skin, slick with sweat and spit and come.

"You want to taste me, baby? Or do you want me to take care of you first?"

Oh, such a tempting offer, and Wally suddenly doesn't know what he wants more. Needs more. He loves it when you fuck his face. Loves how you force him to give you what you need, using him until you scream in ecstasy. On the other hand, his dick's so hard he's sure one more soft touch will undo him, and he'd rather come in your mouth than in his jeans.

He swallows, pleading, "Can you suck me off?" Your grin turns sharp, and he adds, "I'll do whatever you want after, I promise, just please, I need it so bad. I need you to help me, please." He's babbling, begging, hand on your jaw and then sliding over your chest to your back then your ass. "I'm so hard, I can't think, p l e a s e." Wally hitches his hips up to emphasize the point.

"Whatever my boy wants," You soothe, making quick work of his fly and pulling his jeans and boxers down to his ankles as you sink to your knees.

He barely has a chance to react, mewling like a fucking slut when you get your mouth on him. He falls back, arm over his eyes, opposite hand on the back of your head, forcing his hips to stay still as you work him into your throat.

"Oh god, oh fuck, yes, ungh, thank you, thank you—" And you tap his hip, a signal that he can move as much as he needs to which he takes for the permission it is. He humps your face, fucks into your mouth in little motions, panting and whining and showering you with gratitude. You're so good to him, taking care of him like this, he has to tell you, "thank you!"

He comes with a spasm and a high, needy whine, back arching off the bed and his eyes rolling back. Fuck. Stars collide and angels sing and it feels like the first time he's ever experienced true pleasure although you and he have done this and so much more. He's just blissed the fuck out, melting into the mattress, blind eyes on the ceiling as he comes down.

Not that he can revel in the afterglow. He hears you peel out of your sin-tight jeans, feels and sees your underwear land on his face. Wally chuckles, delighted, and reaches for you, eager to show you exactly how grateful he is for you. He uses lips and tongue and careful brushstrokes of teeth to make you see God, and then asks in a breathy voice if he can do it again, "Just one more?" as if he's asking for another piece of Maddie's birthday cake.

And, Jesus, thank you, you oblige with a wicked smirk, eyes heavy, smoldering, yet razor-edged. This time he rolls you over and fits his shoulders between your thighs, uses his fingers in time with his mouth, moaning wantonly as he tastes you again. He loves this more than you'll ever know. But you stop him when he wraps a hand around himself, tries to use spit for lube, and insist, "Not so fast, baby," your chest rising and falling rapidly.

Wally whimpers, pouts, and then brightens when you flip him onto his back, sweetness hovering over his lips as you fold over him and take his cock in your mouth again.

An hour later, he's curled around you, his head on your chest, dozing and unaware. He thinks he hears Simon shriek and both feels and hears your cackle, but he could be dreaming. Shit, he hopes he's dreaming.

Whatever. Wally's too sated and happy to care. He knows you'll make everything better before Simon can banish Wally from all future gatherings or activities or the friend group altogether.

Because that's what you do. You make Wally's whole world better.

🖇️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Alphabet Soup.

the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it. (Janet and Wally are dating to increase their social value. meanwhile, Wally wants to get closer to her step-sister. you.)

[hell3ater]

Taunting

Synopsis: Vy’Kiro asks to see you in their room. You didn’t expect your actions to quite lead to this, though.

Content (& warnings): smut, gn!bottom!reader, top!Vy’kiro, porn w/ little plot, some degradation (no use of slut/whore), power imbalance

A/N: Again the wheel chose smut. I’m trying to get more writing practice in so if anyone has requests pls feel free to send them in the ask box! Im going to also try and add more chars as time goes on, ideally on a schedule <3

-

You’ve been attempting to hit on the captain for weeks now. At first, you thought that she was just trying to behave and not hook up with others. You were at the brink of giving up, until he called you over to his room.

And now were getting pounded into on his desk.

She didn’t even give you much chance of a discussion before slamming her cock into you from behind. You didn’t have to see it to feel every vein, ridge, and curve as she went in and out of you.

One hand was holding your hips, the other against your back as a grounding reminder of who was in control. You couldn’t even help but let out small cries of pleasure, albeit muffled into your arm. The fact the room was absolutely soundproof didn’t cover your need to be flustered at the situation.

“Poor thing really thought they were going to not get noticed, hmm?” Their hands had moved down to rubbing and clinging to your thighs, the gentle squeezes being too much as the claws gently pricked your skin.

“Vy- wait, ‘m gonna-“ you don’t even get to finish your sentence as your orgasm rips through you, cum dripping down your legs as you

Vy’Kiro obliges with the request of slowing down, leaning forward to press into you further. He reaches with one hand to grab one of yours, which is currently clinging hard to the edge of the desk.

“I’ve got you. And I’ve got the whole night to make you feel good, too.”

-

links: guidelines | m.list