#find something better to do with your time

[kpopnstarwars]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: ty taylor swift i attempted to base this fic on your song but then i divulged as normal

tw: 18+, smut, p in v, inkpie, oral (both recieving), sub feyd by which i mean feyd is DOMMED, spit, degradation + praise, one spank kinda, swearing, lil bit of crying, mention of evil baron activities so sa + pedophilia, tiny mention of cheating but none actually happens, lmk if there's anything else bc lbr there probably is i just forgot it

wc: 3.9k

Feyd-Rautha has gravely underestimated you.

It is true that you are not strong in terms of Harkonnen definitions, but you expected a man destined to father the Kwisatz Haderach to be able to see past that. What was that the Bene Gesserit were saying about superior genetics? You don’t see even a glimpse of that in his frosty gaze when he regards you - he looks at you as if you’re a delicate vase that may shatter in the lightest of breezes. He thinks he needs to fear breaking you.

He misses how you miss nothing.

You are not Bene Gesserit; you are merely one of their pawns, a genetic machination produced from centuries of manipulations and deceptions, but you can read a man better than the majority of their number.

The seething jealousy in the clenching off Glossu Rabban’s fists is like a monster sinking its venom laced fangs into his heart: starkly evident to you - as evident as the barely repressed, parasitic fear of inadequacy that lurks like a second beast within the first. Just the same, the gazes the Baron sends your husband do not escape you. Nor does the caged, wild look that washes over him whenever you leave his uncle’s chambers: the look of a man who inside is still a boy, relief washing over him that he has left unscathed and untouched for another time.

Even more nuanced than that, you see the vulnerability within Feyd-Rautha. He craves to be loved, the way he should have been as a child, when instead he was desired; all this at an age where the most he should have been doing was playing with carved wooden toys at his parent’s feet.

He believes no one can see the last, soft sliver of his heart that he’s fought to preserve, that wants nothing but to have someone to be vulnerable with, just because he’s buried it so deep inside of him that sometimes even he doesn’t think it’s there any more.

But you see it.

You see beneath it too, to a place that he himself is not fully aware of. A place where he hates who he has become - a wild, savage creature, bleeding from wounds that do not seem to close up, slipping in its own blood when no one can see.

It’s from here, from this place, that the urge to preserve you somehow originates. He thinks you are a flower whose petals will easily be crushed in his heavy, calloused hands, and he is wrong; in a strange way it endears you to him, that he believes that he is too rough to hold you. You do not think it is quite love - not yet, at least, it is only the third month of your marriage - but when you see him fighting to not be the beast that he is before you in an effort to spare you, something that is not just pity stirs in your heart.

You can hear him now, pacing, cursing under his breath in the antechambers. Sometimes he sleeps there, on the narrow sofa, and you’ve come to realise it is those nights when he wants you most. Aside from your wedding night, he has made no other attempts to produce an heir, and you find his restraint valiant, but stupid.

He could try as hard as he liked; he would not get anywhere close to breaking you.

Rising from your seat on the small, ornate stool at the vanity, you push open the door to the antechamber and take a step into the room. Feyd pauses his pacing with his back to you, and you can see the tension in his shoulders and the rigid way he holds his body before he turns around to face you. His pupils are dilated, his eyes dark, and you watch him regard you with something too untethered to be restraint.

‘Am I keeping you awake, wife?’

You shake your head. ‘I had not retired yet.’

You know he expects you to explain why you’ve interrupted him, but you remain quiet - your silence is as much of a tool as your words. He doesn’t speak either, but his eyes tell you enough; they do not leave your frame, hungry, torrid, and his fingers twitch as if they ache to slip you out of the simple shift you wear to sleep and touch you everywhere, to explore the curves and dips of your body.

Tilting your head, you smirk. ‘If you wish to give me your heirs, husband, I would advise another method that differs from staring one into me.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ he growls, but his face tells other tales.

Stepping forward, you reach out to him but he backs away. Still, the sheer thirst in his eyes sears away at you, even as his actions fight against it, his fingers closing on the doorknob. His hands are steady, his shoulders too, but the tightness in his muscles betrays him as always. Usually, you’d let him go now, but tonight you wish to see how far he will let you push him before he pushes back, so you snare his forearm in your fingers, tugging at him as he turns the knob.

He doesn’t look at you. ‘Don’t test me.’

You smile, cloyingly so. ‘Why not?’

Lightly, you trace your fingers down his chest, straightening the fabric of his black shirt while you gaze thoughtfully up at him through your lashes, lips curving upwards at the indecision in his eyes. He fights it, wrestles with the burning need, but in the end, he prevails, transforming it into a streak of anger that colours his voice as he tears himself from your grasp, recoiling as if your touch ignites pain within him - and maybe it is pain, that he wants you so but fears to indulge himself.

‘Get away from me.’

Feyd-Rautha does not give you a second to do so, because he is the one haring down the dimly lit corridor, his jaw tight, nails digging into his palms. Truthfully, you have never seen him move that fast, not even in the arena, and it almost makes you laugh - the great na-Baron fleeing from his wife and his own lecherous thoughts.

Maybe you did not win this round of tug of war, but he has asked something of you - to get away from him. Over the next few weeks, you follow this to the letter, avoiding him like the plague; you do not interrupt his pacing in the antechambers, nor do you haunt the bedroom like you normally do, asking him questions that he cannot answer. Feyd-Rautha is sensitive to change and you know he will seek the reason for it.

There is a barely cloaked intensity in his eyes when he finally corners you, and under it, you detect recognition: he sees that you are not who he thought you were, and he sees that you are not so different from him - always observing, always planning, and so, mind shatteringly hungry.

You were just dropping by the bed chambers to gather some of your clothes. The night before, you’d relocated yourself to one of the guest bedrooms - you could sense Feyd’s resolve cracking, and you knew that this would break it for certain: coming into his chambers to find them empty, wifeless, your side of the bed damningly cold. Jealousy is clear in his eyes as he backs you against the vanity, filling you with a rising sense of triumph.

‘What has caused this change in your behaviour, wife?’

You raise a brow, faking confusion. ‘What change? I would argue it is your behaviour that has changed, Feyd, you who can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.’

He snarls. ‘Who were you with last night?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get away from you,’ you reply, keeping up your pretence a little longer. ‘I slept in the guest quarters. You do not reciprocate any of my advances.’

‘Advances?’ He echoes, incredulous. ‘You taunt me, wife. It’s like you want me to break you.’

Cocking your head, you regard him coolly for a moment, letting some of the sharpness of your unmasked gaze leak through, letting him see the calculation in your eyes - you see the wariness it incites in him as he realises again that you are not who he thinks you are. Wordless, you lean in close to him, bringing your face to his, hovering there.

And then you let your arm drop and make a swipe for the knife at his belt.

Fast as a viper, he catches your wrist in your fingers, but you smile, challenge in your eyes as you bring his second blade to his neck. You’d slipped it out while he was distracted with your other hand, and he blinks at the cold press of it to his skin.

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it?’ You murmur. ‘You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of breaking me. Who’s afraid of little old me, huh? No one is, Feyd.’

‘They should be,’ he whispers, and when you meet his gaze, it sets you alight.

‘Indeed,’ you reply softly, letting your lower lip brush his.

As he kisses you, his hands seizing your face and locking you to him, you hook his knife’s blade in the collar of his shirt and drag it down, slicing the fabric until it flutters to the floor. Pulling away, you take him in - the moonlight planes of his sculpted chest, the broadness of his shoulders, his roiling, keen gaze. This man whets your appetite in the darkest kinds of ways: you cannot wait to ruin him.

Absently, you trace the outline of the tent in his pants with the tip of the knife blade. A breathy noise leaves him, and he freezes as if he can feel the cold kiss of the metal against his skin; you laugh, delighted that he is so mouldable in your hands.

‘Get on your knees,’ you command, seating yourself on the end of the bed.

It’s captivating, his lack of hesitation as he follows your orders. He sits back on his heels, looking up at you, and you can tell that he’s letting you see him like this, you can tell that if he didn’t want you to have him like this, you wouldn’t, but still, you reach out, gently skimming his shoulder with your fingertips.

‘All you have to do is say, and I will stop,’ you say.

He dips his chin. ‘I do not think I’ll have to.’

You smirk, something savage and powerful and thrillingly depraved rearing its head inside you, awakened by the sight of the na-Baron kneeling at your feet. That will be his last coherent sentence tonight.

Pausing, making him wait, you lean down a little, inspecting his features, the ardour in his eyes. He looks at you as if you hold the universe in your hands, as if you hung the stars in his sky, as if you are a  goddess, and he wants nothing but to worship you until he is expended.

You spit on him.

It lands on his cheek, and his eyes widen a fraction. A shudder wracks his body, and he simply stares up at you, breathing heavy, before slowly, his lips part, and he sticks out his tongue, his request evident. You grab his jaw, squeezing so that he opens up wider, and spit in his mouth - the low groan that leaves him as he swallows is fucking delectable.

His cock twitches in his pants when you pick up the knife. Tracing the blade over the shell of his ear, over his cheekbone and over his lips, you marvel at the way he holds still, awaiting what you’ll inflict on him next like a good little toy.

When the metal reaches his jaw, you nick the skin, drinking up his sharp intake of breath and the clench of his fists as the blood trickles down the column of his throat; you catch the droplet of crimson on your tongue, licking a careful stripe up his neck, grinning when you catch his lips in a kiss and he trembles at the taste of his own blood. Feyd is greedy, his tongue brushing against yours as he leans up into your touch, the way his mouth works against yours hot, fervent, pleading.

Planting a palm to his sternum, you push him back, chuckling when he strains to follow you, eyes glazed, lips swollen. You spot a streak of red and swipe your thumb over his lower lip, wiping it off before standing.

‘Get up, strip, and get on the bed,’ you bid him, pulling your own shift over your head.

Feyd scrambles to follow your orders, yanking his pants down, and you take your time to admire his muscle sheathed body; strength ripples beneath his skin, a sweet dichotomy to his weeping cock, rock hard and flushed rosy. He halts his movements, as if he’s pinned down by your appraising gaze.

‘For whom do you wait, husband?’

As he turns to get onto the bed, he’s a little too slow and you swat at his ass. A choked sound leaves him, and you laugh at the way his knees almost buckle. Feyd’s ears run red when he lies down on the mattress, and you straddle his thighs, sneering at the way he twists his fingers in the sheets, squirming beneath you.

‘Pathetic.’

You don’t give him time to respond, instead wrapping your fingers around his cock and pumping up and down fast, and he gasps at your rough touch, his back arching and his hands coming up to touch you - you wave them off you, meeting his eyes.

‘No touching,’ you intone, the hint of warning in your voice enough to render him obedient.

This time, you take his cock head in your mouth. He’s so fucking sensitive, reacting as if the sweep of your thumb down the underside of him and the slide of your tongue over him is mind shattering; it doesn’t take you long to get him teetering at the edge of his orgasm, just for you to pull away at the last moment.

His thigh jolts, weak pleas of your name leaving his lips, gripping the sheets so hard you wonder if they’ll rip. Again, you take him in your mouth, deeper, one hand dipping to play with his balls; you revel in the wretched sound that he makes when you hollow your cheeks around him, your teeth grazing up his length. You toy with him until you think he’s moments from breaking, until he’s writhing upon the sheets, face contorted in pleasure loaded with sweet, sweet agony.

‘Please let me come,’ he whimpers, voice cracking, the look in his eyes crazed, pitiful. ‘Please.’

You decide to give it to him, jerking him brutally fast until he comes; it hits him like a tidal wave - his eyes roll back in his skull, his body tensing, rigid and impossibly taut before he goes boneless, a broken cry of your name on his lips as he spills all over his stomach. A single, ecstatic tear slides down his cheek as his orgasm seizes him, snatching him up and shaking him like a ragdoll.

Lingering at his side, you wait until he’s come down from his high before getting up to retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom, perching on the bed beside him and cleaning up his come, pressing kisses to the surprisingly soft skin of his hips. One wavering hand comes to rest in your hair, and you glance up at him, biting back a smug grin at the dazed look in his eyes.

‘Feeling okay?’

He nods.

‘Words,’ you chide.

‘Y - yes, na-Baroness. Better than okay.’

You raise a brow at that. You did not specify for him to call  you anything, so this is all his doing; he fidgets beneath your gaze, and you note that he’s growing hard again, his cock stiffening between his thighs.

‘Can I…’ He begins, but trails off, thinking better of it.

‘No, little na-Baron,’ you reply coyly. ‘Tell me what you desire.’

His eyes scorch you with their yearning. ‘I want to taste you, na-Baroness.’

You smile. ‘As you wish.’

You lean back against the pillows, letting your legs fall open for him. It’s somewhat comical, the way his eyes widen as he sees your slick cunt, and he swallows harshly - you can almost sense his mouth watering. Carefully, reverently, almost, he nudges your knees over his wide shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy, admiring you. It’s as if he’s testing himself, waiting to see how long it takes for him to break and taste you.

Lurching forward, Feyd groans, low and deep and right against your clit when he laps at your heat, quickly becoming insatiable as his tongue moves masterfully at the apex of your legs, laving over your clit and curving in and out of you. Bolts of pleasure spear through your body, fierce like crackling lightning at the eye of a storm - he is everything to you in this moment. He shatters you, breaking you and mending you anew.

As he brings you closer, your body begins to shake and your legs close around his head; you suffocate him with your thighs, and you can tell he lives for it from the way he fervently grips your ass in his large hands, kneading the flesh and moaning into your pussy.

Something pulls tight within you, deliciously so, and you cry his name in warning, fingers curling around the base of his neck to hold him still as your hips buck, rutting into his face. Dimly, you can see him grinding into the mattress as you fuck yourself on his tongue - the chafe of his nose against your clit makes you shatter, and you fall apart for him with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

You’re still coming down from it when Feyd begins to lap at you again, dutifully cleaning you up, and you twitch with the slight overstimulation, hooking a finger under his chin to see his eyes: his gaze is loaded with the heat of a thousand suns, and yet somehow it is also bleary, drunk. A laugh escapes you, and you tug at his hand, encouraging him to lie beside you.

‘Good boy,’ you hum as he nuzzles into your touch. You can feel him achingly hard against your thigh, and you let yourself catch your breath before reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘Want to fuck me now, hm?’

He nods avidly. ‘Yes, na-Baroness.’

All it takes is for you to half spread your legs before he’s climbing eagerly between them, hesitating before looking up at you for permission. You dip your chin, smirking, and then he’s sinking into you, burying himself inside you.

Voice cracking, Feyd chokes out your name, and he shudders, gasping at the velvet vice of your cunt as it clenches, bearing down on him. Sharply, you rock your hips up to meet his, and this time, a soft, keening whine leaves him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He can barely keep himself from spilling inside you.

‘You can barely hold it, can’t you, my little na-Baron?’

His words come out jumbled, his speech scrambled, mind ground to a standstill by the all consuming heat of your cunt; he babbles out protests, saying that he can, desperate to prove he can, stammering that he wants to make you feel good.

Cruelly, you buck your hips up against his again, and a pained sound looses from his chest, but he thrusts to meet you, hips lurching forward, his arms almost buckling either side of your head. Panting, he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, unable to stifle the whimper that tears from the back of his throat when you rake your nails down his shoulder blades, claiming him, littering his shoulders and neck with bites.

‘That’s it,’ you sigh as he finds his pace. ‘Just like that, good boy.’

A strangled noise tears itself from him at your praise, and he fucks into you, frantic, almost feral. Eventually, his thrusts begin to turn sloppy, and you kiss him in order to steal his breath and taste his fervid moans of your name on your tongue as he comes deep inside you.

Pressing a palm to his lower back, you pin him there, buried snugly within your pussy as you reach down with your other hand and rub your clit hard - it takes but a moment for you to come, and he writhes at the cataclysmic feel of your walls fluttering around him, overstimulating him, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he comes again with your cunt milking his cock.

Completely spent, Feyd goes limp, and you rub your hand over his back, smoothing circles on his skin with your lips to his forehead. The post orgasm clarity begins to hit him, and you feel him go rigid - slowly, he pulls out, his seed leaking out now that he’s not filling you, and he attempts to get up, but his legs are too weak and he collapses beside you instead, his chest heaving, his eyes still a little hazy, still fucked out, even as he fights for lucidity.

There’s something on his face that cuts at your heart - a look of expectancy, as if he’s waiting for you to get up and leave now that you’ve had your fill of him. Concerned, you reach out, and he leans away from your touch.

‘Feyd,’ you murmur. ‘It was not too much, was it?’

‘N - no,’ he replies. ‘I just…’

Sitting up slowly, you look him right in the eyes. He stares back, bewildered, but you press a finger to his lips, foregoing your own fumbling words to instead recite the pledge of allegiance of a Harkonnen soldier to their general; his eyes widen - you know you have hit home. You’d exchanged wedding vows, of course, but these have a different meaning: you see it in the respectful way it is uttered, a soldier acknowledging his superior’s presence.

You pledge to him not only your heart, but your sword - your service - too.

‘Wife,’ Feyd bites out. ‘Surely you do not mean - ’

‘I mean it,’ you cut in. ‘Every word.’

Again, you reach for him, and this time he does not flinch away, letting you tuck him close to you, his breath coming out shaky. Gently, you tip up his chin, planting a chaste kiss on his parted lips, and he returns it slowly, wondrously, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle brush of his mouth against yours: the innocence of it is bittersweet - has anyone ever kissed him this tenderly?

Carefully, you withdraw, wanting to see him, but he does not let you meet his eyes, instead hiding his face in your neck, his lips at the hollow of your throat. You grant him the privacy of not being seen when you feel wetness on your skin, his hot tears tracking down and pooling in your collarbone - his hands ball at his sides, and you pry open his fingers and lace yours with his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Tightly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him with a hand cupping the back of his head, cradling him to your chest.

Your voice is quiet in the still air, but it carries as if through an arena, a promise arcing through the air like a soaring arrow.

‘You no longer walk this world alone, Feyd-Rautha.’

best believe when i started writing this i did not anticipate the 2x 'good boy's 🧍

dune taglist: @callumsgirl @oh-you-mean-me @insufferablyunbearable

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: baby blanket

Azriel had never had a baby blanket. 

When you found this out, it made you so sad you started crying (you were on your period which didn’t help the emotions). 

You were talking with Feyre and Cassian. Feyre mentioned how she found Rhysands baby blanket in their closet and couldn’t get over how cute it was. 

“It has bats! It was so cute.” 

“Oh yeah, Rhys’ mom made me one with swords on it.” Cassian sipped his beer. 

“And Az?” You asked. 

“Az what?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

“What was on Az’s?” You asked, tilting your head. 

“Huh.” Cassian thought. “I don't think he ever got one.” 

“What? Why?” Your heart was shattering for your husband and mate. 

“When he joined the family, he was in his preteens. A little old for a baby blanket. I joined when I was a bit younger so I think that’s why I got one.” He titled his head as he thought. “He might’ve had one when he was with his blood relatives, but I doubt they let him have any comfort.” He grimaced. 

You teared up. “Rhys’ mom never made one for him?”

“No, just because he was a bit older.” Cassian shrugged. 

You frowned, “I wouldn’t think of it either if I were her I just…” Your lip wobbled. “He deserves it.”

“Aw shit.” Cassian got up and went to your other side. “I forgot you were on your cycle.” 

“Shut up.” You cried, swatting his arm. Which he wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest. 

“He’s okay, sweetheart. He’s a big boy.” He kissed your temple. 

“Everybody deserves a baby blanket. I still have mine.” You bit your lip and sniffed. “I need to make Az one. He deserves it!” 

Feyre touched your shoulder. “I think Rhys still has fabric his mother owned.”

“Can you ask? I wanna make it and include the woman that took him in.” You frowned, “and find some way to include his mother.” 

“Of course.” Feyre said. She also kissed your temple. 

Feyre later asked Rhys, who absolutely let you have some fabric. That way the blanket was from both you and Rhys’ mom. You reached out to Azriel’s mother, who helped you learn to sew. You spent hours with her. You loved doing this so you could give Azriel something meaningful, then it was better since his mother helped you learn. 

You did a few practice runs with random squares of fabric that weren't the special kind. Just to make sure you didn’t fuck up the actual project. 

You picked out a soft fabric he loves because it doesn’t cause sensory issues. You chose if in his siphon blue with stars on it. 

When he came home after you had finished it, he was concerned because you looked like you were up to something. 

It didn’t help that you had made his favorite foods plus dessert (since you wouldn’t let him eat you for dessert with your cycle going on, which he doesn’t care either way for the record). 

Then after dinner, you made him sit on the couch and close his eyes for a surprise. “And I forbid your shadows being sent out! So don't send them!” You yelled as you ran up the stairs to grab the surprise.

“Yes, love.” As if they’d listen to him over you in this case. Plus, he’s never seen you so excited. So no, he wasn’t going to ruin it.  

He heard your giggling as you walked down the steps and couldn’t help his own tiny chuckle. He heard the crinkling of a bag as well. 

“Okay, open your eyes baby.” You said. He opened his eyes to see his love smiling wide and her eyes twinkling. 

She handed it to him, he could feel that it was hefty. He took the tissue paper out and threw it at you, which you giggled at as it hit you. 

Then he saw the most beautiful blanket there. He pulled it out. It was a deep, rich navy blue. Sparkling with the night sky. 

“Did you make this?” He whispered, his heart was already filled because his love gave him something. 

You nodded and that caused his heart to overflow. 

“I love it but what’d I do to deserve it?”

“Just be you.” You said. Then he saw the tears start in your eyes. “Gods, this stupid cycle. The amount of times I cried making it.” You wiped your face. 

“Cassian told me you’d never had a baby blanket. And everybody deserves that bit of comfort. I’m sorry if this seems silly I just-“ Your lip wobbled. “I wanted you to have it.” 

“Oh baby.” Azriel cooed. Which was weird, because he was one of the most feared warriors cooing over his period-ridden wife. “C’mere.” He set the blanket down, and pulled you into his lap. Your thick thighs cradling his muscular ones. 

You fit perfectly in his lap. He then grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around you both. For a baby blanket, it was quite large. You worked so hard. He loved it so fucking much. 

“I’m sorry this is your gift and I can’t stop crying.” You let out a wet laugh. “Gods, the amount of times your mother teased me for crying.” You sniffed. 

“My mother?” He froze. 

“I went and visited her a lot these past few months. She taught me how to sew. We had lots of tea and talked about you.” You teased. “I loved seeing her so much.” You whispered. 

His heart was bursting. You spent time with his mother, his mother who you loved to see.

“Baby, this is beautiful. You’re so talented.” He kissed your forehead. “I can’t believe you made me a baby blanket. Thank you.”

He never even thought that he’d want one. Now, the only way anybody would get it out of his hands would be if he were dead. 

“Where did you find this fabric?” He asked. It was beautiful. As if the night sky itself was woven into it. And so soft on his skin. 

“Rhys’ mother.” You sniffed again. 

He snapped his head to you, confused. You smiled. “I asked Rhys if there was any fabric left from her. Then I actually embroidered your mothers signature in the corner, with her guidance. So,” You shrugged. “It’s from all three of us.” 

“The three most important women in my life.” He murmured. 

He brought you into a kiss that told a thousand words. “Thank you.” His voice broke off. “I can’t even begin to think of how to repay this.”

“That’s the thing Az. You don't have to. I’m your wife, I am honored to give you something so special.” You whispered, clutching his face. 

“You didn’t just give it. You made it. You make me so happy, my love.” He brought you in for another kiss. 

After that night, you kept catching him snuggling the blanket. He wouldn’t travel with it, it was his prized possession. It never left your house. All your family knew about it was that you made him a blanket. 

Then, for away missions. You made him a travel size one. 

Then for his birthday. A tinier matching one. Only with your signature in the corner opposite his mothers. 

And, an embroidered baby footprint.

[railingsofsorrow]

don't walk out

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: “we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave.”  pairing: s.reid x gn!reader  w.c: 1K warnings/content: implied abandoned issues; argument; silent treatment (brief); language; angst.  A/N: guess I'm on a roll today. I just love some angst. 

navi

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“is that supposed to make me feel better?”  

lights had barely been turned on when you spat out a response, breaking the tense silence. your apartment was tidy, nothing out of order, even the pillows where settled two on each edge of the couch like you always did before leaving for work.  

it was the expected. three days away on a case didn't exactly mean your house would turn upside down, would it? unanimated things didn't move on their own. but one thing that was turning upside down was your mood. not only did the journey home came with lots of turbulence, but Spencer had to make an unpleasant comment that made your blood boil. was it wrong that you just wanted to not look at him right now? you were even considering not sleeping beside him tonight. 

“for fucks sake.” you mumbled under your breath when he had stayed silent. he's ignoring you now. great. throwing your work bag on the couch, you didn't even take your shoes off as you moved back toward the door. you can't handle his passive aggressive act and you certainly won't handle his silence treatment.  

“where are you going?” he called out, shuffling out of the bedroom upon hearing the sound of keys dangling. no. no, you're not leaving, are you? “what—” 

“i'm gonna take a walk, spencer.” 

it didn't take a second for him to rush over and stop your exit by blocking the door. “what are the car keys for then?” desperation clouded his tone and you felt guilt building up in your chest, but it wasn't bigger than your frustration.  

“I'm gonna drive.” 

“at this time of the night? you hate driving at night.” 

“are you my father?” he almost flinched at your sharp tone. okay, he deserved that hostility. he's been nothing but rude to you the entire jet ride back home. it's not that you did anything — even if you had done something, it does not justify the way he was treating you —, the case had been hard. it involved kids. the team wasn't fast enough. he wasn't fast enough. you almost got hurt. it was a lot to absorb in a short amount of time.  

he never wanted this: you walking out while you were mad at each other. no. you had made a deal long ago. you both were laughing after your first stupid argument, something about forgetting to fold the laundry.  

“okay, but we can be like this, right?” you said, nudging him. “we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave.” 

his eyes soften and he almost turns to mush. he understood then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. and yes. you would be mad and you would upset each other but leaving was off the table. he could do that. there was nothing he'd want more. 

but now he'd cross a line. didn't he? how dare he do that? how dare he cause you do want to walk out? 

“i'm sorry.” spencer is still at the doorway when you ask him to move. he won't move. he can't. “i really am. I shouldn't have said that. it was out of line.” 

“really?” you snap. he hears the edge in your voice and the crack. it breaks him. he just wants to hold you, he never meant—means to hurt you. “then why did you? why would you even think about something like that?”  

he holds back his breath of relief once you've put the keys back in the bowl. the lump in his throat diminishing slightly. 

“i was upset. angry— at the case. the whole situation, not you.“ he clarified. “sweetheart, i'm sorry. I didn't mean it.” you're searching his face for some indication of lie that you won't find. “i'm sorry.” 

“you're an idiot.” your anger is gone, there's just frustration now. maybe at yourself, because you can't really stay mad at him as he stares at you with those eyes.  

“i am,” he admits, no ounce of hesitation in his tone. he's fairly certain he is, in fact, an idiot. “i'm sorry.” he repeats and he will repeat over and over again until you forgive him. he will beg if he has to. “don't leave, please.” 

and that is not fair. it's not. he can't make you mad and say sorry and all will be forgiven. he can't look at you with those eyes and think things will be magically fixed. 

but then your armor cracks. suddenly, his behaviour makes sense. 

we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave. 

“i wasn't going to—” you're ashamed at this point. you were so blinded by anger that you'd do something you promised to never do. “you know I wouldn't leave, right?” then his desperation in reaching the door before you makes sense and you're taken back to the moment you promised not to walk out in a fight. that's exactly what you where about to do.  

“i'm sorry.” you say, staring at the keys in your hands. “i didn't think before acting.”  

spencer nods slowly, taking a step closer towarss your frame. “and I didn't think before speaking. I'm the one that should be sorry.” 

you caught a glimpse at his twitchy fingers and takes one of his hands into your own, letting the keys slip to the floor as you yank him to your arms. he only complies by squeezing you against him. and finally, both of you have what you've been craving since this case started: each other's comfort.  

and then, you repeat. “i wasn't going to leave, you know that, right?”  

“yeah.” he burries his face into your neck and his voice is muffled by your skin. “yeah, I know.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ; 

[notmyneighbor]

Back Alley - Doppelgänger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count 5k

Rating Explicit

CW - minor blood/injury, fluff and smut

Also available on AO3

The end of your shift. The quiet part of the evening.

Nestled downtown in the oldest part of the city, the diner you’re employed at as a waitress caters to DDD members and civilians alike. The final patrons have already filed out the front entrance, a pair of glass front doors with shiny chrome handles. You begin the process of closing the establishment for the evening, starting with a final wipe down of all the surfaces in the dining area while the young man that washes dishes works his way through the last batch of soiled utensils and plates and cups. You count the money in the register and gather the receipts, placing everything on the owner’s desk in the tiny office in back of the restaurant.

The adolescent has finished the washing in the kitchen and finds you putting leftover food scraps onto a plate, a snack for the stray cats that dwell in the alley behind the diner. He rocks on his heels, the apron he’d been wearing already removed and now anxiously wrung between his hands. “Did you want me to wait, or…”

You smile softly. “No, that’s alright. I’m just going to set this out and bring out the trash and I’ll be locking up. Go on home. Be safe.”

Needing no further encouragement, the youth darts from the kitchen. You shake your head ruefully, gathering the ends of the plastic bag in the kitchen’s rubbish bin together and knotting them. Balancing trash in one hand and the plate in the other, you manage to open the heavy steel door at the rear of the diner that leads to the alley.

Normally there are several strays to greet you as soon as you open the door, accustomed as they are to this nightly routine.

Tonight it takes you several moments to locate one solitary form after you’ve lobbed the bag into the dumpster and closed the lid, retrieving the plate you’d set by the back door.

You spy one of your usual clients hovering near the stockade fence further down the narrow passageway, a raggedy looking gray tabby with a torn ear that’s normally the friendliest of the bunch.

“Hey there. What’s wrong, you’re not hungry?” You walk forward a couple of steps, crouching down and holding out your empty hand, making little affectionate sounds to lure the animal closer.

In the distance you hear voices shouting. Not uncommon in the city, but you’re still wary as you straighten, leaving the plate on the ground.

The cat, still hunched by the fence, issues a warning growl.

You turn and see a shape moving from the opposite end of the alley where it divides into the main road, the hair on your bare forearms rising, the skin goose pimpling.

You whirl around, already making for the open door at your back, that slice of light inside a beacon that’s frustratingly so close and yet so far.

You don’t quite make it.

A hand reaches the door before you do, slamming it shut. It becomes a wall at your back as you shrink against it, recoiling from whatever just closed it.

No, not whatever. The strays knew what it was. Now you know, too.

A doppelgänger.

This one dressed in the uniform of a milkman, though his outfit had seen better days. Spattered with blood, you cannot find a single patch of the white shirt that doesn’t bear some trace of scarlet droplets. Shouting again in the distance, though this time it sounds closer.

You open your mouth to yell for help and a hand instantly clamps down over it. The doppel is breathing heavily. It must be the DDD pursuing him. Without the light of the diner’s interior, you can’t see much of the creature’s replicated features in the night shrouded alley. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you yet, your heart hammering like mad.

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you help me, I’ll do something for you in return.”

He was trying to bargain? Bad idea. Doppelgängers were notorious liars. By definition of their very existence they had to be masters of deceit. He must have been desperate if he was making this offer. Definitely being chased by the disposal team officers, the likely source of the shouting you’ve been hearing, the details of the situation coming together in your mind.

You can’t imagine a single thing the invader could offer you that you’d desire.

“I’m going to remove my hand. We’re going to go inside. You’re not going to make a sound. Agreed? Nod if you understand me.”

Wide eyed, nostrils flaring, you move your head, signaling your acceptance of his terms. What choice did you have?

The barrier over your mouth lifts and you’re pushed aside, firmly but without malice, the heavy door wrenched open. You’re shoved inside and the door is quickly shut again.

“Is the front door locked? Lights off?”

You nod, swallowing past a panicked lump in your throat as you take a couple of steps back away from the intruder.

The male copycat sighs, shoulders visibly sagging with relief.

He’s still hiding.

Still wearing the visage of the human he’d duplicated, a tired looking brunette male probably in his early thirties with tousled chestnut hair, shadowed under eyes, a long nose with the slightest bump along the bridge—an old injury that had never healed quite right, perhaps—set above thin lips.

The arm that’s been tucked tightly against his side the entire time, never once in use to restrain you or open the door, you realize, now lifts, exposing a gash across his lower abdomen, rent right through the fabric and severing the flesh beneath.

You’d incorrectly assumed the blood had been from a struggle with the original milkman he’d replicated, not from the alien himself. You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your eyes linger on the injury. “What happened?”

“Got cut jumping the fence.”

“That’s going to need stitches,” you observe as he drags the shirt’s hem free of his belted pants, hurriedly thumbing the buttons open and shrugging out of the garment, thrusting it into the garbage bin you hurriedly point to. The undershirt is similarly stained, but this he leaves in place, merely lifting the edge to better expose the wound.

His eyes meet yours. “Can you do it?”

“I mean, I’m not a physician. All I have is the sewing kit I keep in my purse to mend tears in an emergency. You need to see a doctor, go to the hospital…” Your voice trails off. Of course he couldn’t. He’d be killed instantly.

“Get it.”

You hesitate. Were you really going to risk helping this foreigner?

“Please,” he adds through gritted teeth. Perspiration beads his forehead. You wonder if he hasn’t already been exposed to something that would prove infectious later on. Not really your concern, though. You just needed to survive until you could get away from him. Somehow.

“Alright.” You don’t spare any more time debating about what the right course of action is. You grab one of the clean dish rags from under the kitchen sink and your purse stashed in the bottom desk drawer in the office.

The doppelgänger’s eyes remained fixed on your every movement, watching as you soak the wash cloth in warm water and pull the sewing kit from your purse, the fingers threading the needle shaking. You drag one of the chairs from the dining room for him to sit on, kneeling on the linoleum beside his seated form.

You hesitate again. You really didn’t have the appropriate kind of materials for this. Should you have heated the needle to try to sterilize it first? Was there even time for that? Would it be easier just to attempt to cauterize the area? Somehow you don’t think the invader would be keen on the idea of getting burned, even if the intention was to aid and not harm. “I don’t know that this is going to work, but I’ll do my best. This is going to hurt,” you caution.

“Worse than being cut open?” He asks bitterly.

“No, I suppose not.” You begin washing around the cut, scrubbing at the dried blood, trying to clean the edges of the laceration. It’s still weeping blood but the flow has slowed, the body’s natural clotting process coming into effect. The milkman he’s replicated is on the leaner side, with little softness in the abdomen you’re cleansing. “Why can’t you just replicate the skin again? Make it intact?”

“It doesn’t work like that. It’s penetrated through the outer layer. You humans are so fragile. It doesn’t take much to tear through…” He lets that thought remain unfinished.

You shiver, thinking of how, were circumstances different, he would’ve torn you to shreds without a second thought, murdering you at best, devouring you at worst. You can’t help but wonder if the doppel will turn on you once you finished patching him up.

“Okay, I’m going to try to start sewing.” Your heart is still thudding rapidly. Your eyes narrow in concentration as you pierce the skin, hurriedly seeking the adjacent flesh to sling the thread between, then drawing it taut. You’re feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded. You tell yourself you’re not piecing a person back together. Urging yourself to pretend it was something else. Mending a torn shirt. A ripped stuffed animal. Anything but the gruesome sight before you.

At last the task is completed, the pale skin sutured together. You sit back on your heels, heaving a raspy sigh, your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, willing them to stop trembling.

“You’re skilled,” the doppelgänger murmurs, looking over your handiwork, probing the closed incision gingerly. It is a rather impressive job if you’re being honest, a neat line of even stitches despite your shaking hands.

“You’ll need to keep this clean so it doesn’t get infected. And you can’t move around too much. I don’t know how well that thread will hold.” You gently push his questing digits away, applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit in the office to cover the wound and he eases the ripped undershirt back down.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes meet his. You’ve never heard of an invader asking a human for help. Being grateful. You don’t know what to make of it.

“I won’t forget this.”

You rise, tossing the used wash cloth in the trash and returning your sewing kit to the depths of your handbag. You return the chair to the dining room once he’s slid from it, watching as you settle your purse strap on your shoulder, keys to the diner in hand. The replicant opens the back door a crack, peeking outside, head cocked slightly, listening. No shouting. The DDD had passed through the area. He glances back at you a final time before slipping through the gap.

You lock the door behind him, then sag against it, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’d let you live, as promised. A doppelgänger that kept his word.

What did it mean?

***

He’s in the alley again.

You tell yourself you weren’t looking for the milkman’s clone every night for the last three shifts, merely taking out the garbage and feeding the strays per usual.

Your stomach does a little somersault as he approaches. His skin color is better, no longer so ghostly pale. The milkman uniform he’s wearing looks clean and crisp and starched. Where had he gotten it? Was he keeping a low profile, pretending to be the human he’s dressed as? There certainly seemed to be some transfer of knowledge that occurred when the replicants adopted a human form, intelligence information that surpasses beyond what could be obtained through just casual observation. The doppels knew so much about humans, and humans still knew so little about the invaders, what should have been a home field advantage hampered by the persistence of these alien visitors.

“How are you?” You greet him cautiously.

“Healing well. You did a fine job.”

What should you say to that? You’re glad you helped the enemy? You shudder to think what would happen if anyone ever found that out.

The doppelgänger steps closer. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

As if he was a vampire, seeking permission to grant entrance. You can’t imagine what he wants from you now.

Still, you push the door open wider. He eases past you, his body lightly brushing yours.

“What do you have to eat?”

“Um…” As far as you knew, the invaders only ate human flesh. “What…what did you want? I haven’t cleared out the displays yet. There’s pie, donuts from the morning, though those are probably stale by now. I can make you a sandwich, or…”

He follows you into the dining room as you list the possible offerings, reaching for one of the chocolate iced pastries tucked under the nearest glass dome. He takes an experimental bite and his mouth turns down in disgust at the flavor.

“I warned you they’d be stale.”

“It’s not that. It’s the sweetness. Overwhelming. We’re primarily carnivores.”

“Is turkey okay? Or maybe ham? I don’t know what to offer you.”

He tips his head to one side, considering. “Cow?”

“Yes, we have ground beef.”

“That would be preferable.”

“You just want it…raw?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” There are a couple of defrosted packages in the fridge. You resolve to put some of your tip money towards the meal. You don’t like the idea of stealing from the restaurant.

It feels weird just handing him the styrofoam tray, but also silly to dump the mass of pink pulverized meat onto a plate. You refuse to watch him eat, studying one of the laminated menus resting on the counter intently, unfortunately catching a glimpse of him licking the traces of blood lingering at the bottom of the package when you dare to glance over at him.

“I’m aware this adds to the debt I owe you,” he says.

You discard the tray and fold your arms across your chest, trying to exude more confidence than you felt. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

A slight frown appears as the creature processes the phrase.

“It means adding it to the list of things you already owe that you intend to repay.”

“Ah. Yes, that.” He watches you finish cleaning up after his grim repast, wiping the counter down a final time before accompanying you to the front door and waiting as you lock the entrance from the outside, tugging on the chrome handles to make sure they’ve been secured properly. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes,” you answer, suddenly wary.

“This is not a very safe part of town for humans,” he muses.

Is anywhere safe anymore?

“Is your living space guarded by the DDD?”

“Not internally. There’s just the street patrol.”

“I’ll accompany you as far as your destination, then.”

“You don’t have to.”

The doppelgänger insists, now walking beside you. It feels unwise to allow the invader to see where you live, but then again, had he done anything to harm you thus far? Surely there had been opportunity if that was his main goal. What was his main goal? What did he want, if not to consume, to take over control of the planet like his brethren?

“You’re not like the others,” you murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling the mimic’s eyes flick in your direction.

“Do you know many doppels?” He sounds bemused.

“No,” you reply, stepping over a broken bottle littering the pavement.

“Is every human the same?”

“Of course not.”

“So why should we be any different?”

“I guess you’re right,” you concede.

You’ve reach the end of the street you’re traveling on and take a right, leading the invader onward into another back alley. You’ve barely taken a few paces before the sound of heavy footsteps alerts you to someone else’s presence.

“Disposal team.” You hear the disgust and fear in your companion’s tone as he tenses, jerking to a halt. The sounds are getting louder as the guards draw closer. “Play along. They won’t be suspicious if they see a couple.”

Suddenly you’re pushed against the wall, so abruptly the air leaves your lungs, your next desperate intake of oxygen interrupted when the doppel’s mouth covers yours.

You feel you stomach do that little somersault motion again. His tongue finds the inside of your mouth. He tastes slightly metallic. The movements are inexperienced, clumsy. Imitating something he’s seen. The teeth that nip your bottom lip are sharp.

“Hey! You there! What’s going…” The DDD officer halts, the beam of the flashlight illuminating what appears as your lover pinning you against the wall, caught up in a moment of passion. You don’t even have to fake the look of embarrassment as your eyes shyly meet the guard’s, the doppel’s mouth sliding from yours.

“Sorry, sir. Just picked my girl up from work and I couldn’t wait.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks extremely convincing.

The DDD member’s partner draws even with his cohort, the gun in his hand lowering, looking over the pastel yellow dress you’re wearing.

“I know you. You work over at the diner.”

You nod frantically.

“You should get on home. It isn’t safe out here. Even with your man with you. Especially not down the side streets.”

“Sorry, that was my idea. My feet are killing me and I just wanted to get home faster.” You pause, reaching for your purse still slung over your shoulder. “Did you want to see our IDs?”

“Nah, that’s alright. Imagine a doppel making out with a human. Right?” He elbows his companion, grinning.

“Get home safe, now. No more dallying,” the older of the pair cautions before abandoning you, resuming patrol with the more inexperienced member who’s still wearing a smirk as he trails slightly behind, darting one more glance in your direction as if hoping to catch you in the act again.

The copycat heaves a sigh of relief when they’ve both finally departed, the booted steps receding in the distance. His eyes lock with yours, and you see his nostrils flare slightly, a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then his eyelids lift, whatever mystery he’s been puzzling over solved.

“You liked that.”

“What?” It’s your turn to be confused.

“You liked what we just did.”

Oh. Your cheeks flush again. “No, I…I was just playing along, like you said. You caught me off guard.”

“You did a good job. Thinking on your feet. Admirable, really. How deep in debt I’m getting,” the doppel hums beside your cheek. He hasn’t shifted much since your discovery, one hand still braced on the wall at your back, his body leaning close to yours. “You smell good. Good enough to eat.”

You shiver and gasp. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No, no. Not what I had in mind at all,” he hurriedly reassures you. The clone of the milkman plants a kiss on the side of your neck. Gentle. Not rushed, not under the guise of something to trick the guards. Repeating the process, getting accustomed to using the human body he’s replicated for this new task. He kisses your lips again, and you know you should be repulsed.

You’re not.

Your mouth parts for his, inviting him inside. He’s already growing more skilled, the tongue against yours slick, deft, curling and stroking, the fire he’d begun stoking in your core flaring anew.

You’re French kissing a doppelgänger, and you like it.

You feel a hand caressing down your body, pausing to drag the purse off your shoulder, then kneading one breast before sliding down to your hip, moving neatly around to grope the curve of one buttocks cheek. The fingers curl, dragging up the fabric of your dress.

“I can smell your arousal. Your body wants to mate.” It’s crass, vulgar, sheer filth the alien should be slapped for uttering, but there’s nothing derogatory in the way he mentions it, the words of observation that he spreads before your lips lilted with a kind of wonder, fascination, curiosity. He’s finally reached the hem of the skirt portion of your work uniform, shifting quickly to the waistband of the panties you’re wearing, dipping underneath and nudging at the fork of your body.

To be doing this, with a doppelgänger, in public…

Your legs are already shifting, your stance broadening slightly to grant him better access. A little grunt of satisfaction, and then his fingers glide through your slickened folds, searching for the source of that dampness.

You moan softly, disappointed when the fingers do not linger, instead brought up to the invader’s lips, his thumb rolling the slick of your sex over the pads of his index and middle fingers curiously before he thrusts them into his mouth, a fresh flood leaking from your canal as you watch his eyes slide closed, a sound of some rapturous enjoyment hummed around those digits.

He kneels down, the movement swift and smooth, your eyes darting nervously to the lit street so close and yet so far, the last of the street lamp glow’s reach ending just beyond the shadows you’re standing in. The doppel looks up at you and you bury a hand in the thick mane of chestnut hair, a tender gesture of permission, pleading. You don’t know if he’d stop even if you’d declined the offer, that ravenous look in his eyes intense as he impatiently shifts the hem of your dress again, dragging away the flimsy undergarment that clothes your sex, this last barrier discarded carelessly on the pavement nearby.

Your low heeled pumps scrape against the dirty gravel of the alley as you adjust your position, the alien’s face instantly at your pussy, nose digging into your mound, tongue laving the rosy sensitive flesh. He groans and you echo the sound, your legs already trembling as his tongue delves deeper, dragging fluid back, the inadvertent flick of the tip of the curled muscle against your bud making you gasp and moan, your head rocking back against the brick and mortar.

His attention focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, mouth clamping over it and sucking, slurping, nursing at it until you see spots in front your eyes. You know you’re being loud, your only saving grace being that the building at your back is a long abandoned shirt factory with no one to hear your lewd sounds of pleasure.

His fingers are at your entrance again, paired to penetrate into that opening. The milkman he’s imitating has long fingers that reach deep, curling and twisting inside, scooping out more of your arousal for him to lap at before he sups at your pussy, drinking straight from the source.

You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds when you climax, shuddering against that incessant mouth worshipping your cunt, your fingers knotting restlessly in his tresses. You cum like a freight train, hard and fast, an unstoppable force driving you right through into bliss.

He’s still lapping, enjoying the taste of you, this new creamier substance that emerges from deep within after your release. You can’t tolerate it any longer, now shoving gently at his shoulders, pleading you’re too sensitive, it’s too much, you feel as if you might faint if not for the strong building exterior supporting your spine.

The doppelgänger rises, face wet with your juices smeared across his mouth and chin and cheeks, a distinct shine visible even in this dim illumination. “Delicious,” he growls softly, dragging his fingers over his dampened features and then nursing them clean.

His gaze focuses on the smear of crimson on your lower lip and he licks at that spot, sucking the wedge into his mouth, tasting that little copper tinged leakage of your lifeforce. You whimper and keen, feeling his hand guide one of yours to his crotch, pressing it against the erection straining there.

You squeeze gently and he huffs in pleasure, dragging your hand up and down. Needing no further guidance, you begin struggling with the belt buckle and button closure and zipper keeping you from your goal, dragging his cock through the opening flap of his briefs, smearing precum over the tip and eliciting another deep growl, the mouth nuzzling your throat vibrating in pleasure.

“Want to fuck you,” he gasps, and you find yourself nodding, no longer caring about the exposed location or what you’re about to let invade your body. You want it, the brief satiety you’d just enjoyed already dissipating, leaving you hungry for more.

His hands loop around the back of your thighs, his body crouching slightly then lifting you up, your dress scraping along the bricks. He fucks up into you and your legs wrap around him, your wrists draped over his shoulders as you’re thrust into and back against the building.

The milkman’s copycat prick is large, long and thick, stretching you as he fills you when his hips snap forward. Your unprotected buttocks suffers abrasions each time you’re impaled but you couldn’t care less. The pain is lost amidst the pleasure you’re experiencing as he buries himself deeply, withdrawing just slightly before driving forward again. Your mouths seek one another’s but it’s difficult with all the jostling, a sloppy collision of wet lips and wetter tongue, trails of saliva linking your panting openings.

“Your stitches…the strain, you shouldn’t…you’re bleeding,” you gasp, the hand that snakes down finding his shirt sticky with blood.

“Don’t care…fix it later…”

Your breasts are tender from the repeated battering of his chest against yours. You’re being pummeled mercilessly now, the invader pushing so hard it’s as if he’s trying to merge completely with you. You almost think you can see, just for a moment, a shift in the facial features, a glimpse of the doppelgänger’s true form lurking beneath the false human surface, but then it’s gone and it’s just those soft tired eyes and that slack, generous mouth as his cock pounds into your cunt until your body finally surrenders to another release, your muscles clenching, sucking at his member. He chases his own climax, moaning against your mouth, pumping streams of hot seed inside of you.

You realize then you’re both sweating, both drenched in perspiration and saliva, blood from his reopened wound and cum that leaks out of you and coats the erection he withdraws from your body as he slowly lowers you back to the ground, your stockinged feet touching the dirty road, your shoes lying nearby where they’d tumbled during the rough intercourse with the alien creature.

The doppel retrieves your panties and you hastily shove them into the purse he hands you. There’s no way you’ll be putting those back on after being in the dirty alley, almost laughing aloud at the idea when you’ve just been soiled by something you should consider disgusting. The amusement fades as you watch him brush the sole of each nylon clad foot clean before assisting them back into your pumps, the gesture almost oddly tender and thoughtful.

The doppelgänger straightens, his fingers reflexively reaching for the bloodied area staining his shirt, then moving to refasten his pants. His eyes meet yours again, waiting to see what you’ll do next. Wondering if there is regret, perhaps. Or if this is the start of…something.

“I…I live two streets over. We’re nearly there.” As if you hadn’t been interrupted on your journey home. You don’t know what to say, just wanting to fill the sudden silence.

He nods and you begin walking in slow, measured steps. Your limbs are still tingling, the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm still firing through them.

You and your companion reach your destination. The building looms up between two shuttered shops. Five stories. No elevator. You resided on the top floor. A lot of stairs to tackle on a good night when you’d merely worked a shift at the diner. Now, after this…

“It’s a long trek. I’m on the fifth floor. Will you be okay walking that much? I don’t know where else to stitch you back up again. I need to wash it, I need a good light source, I…” You’re inviting him inside your apartment. The realization suddenly dawns on you.

“Yes, I’ll manage.” He pauses. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“Helping me avoid the DDD earlier. This. Letting me into your home.”

You nod, your hand resting on the rusted railing that borders a flight of cement steps leading inside the building. The nearby street lamp flickers, a bulb that was long overdue for a change, the filaments within struggling.

“Of course. People should help each other.” You ascend the stairs, holding open the door for him.

He nods gratefully. “I’m not human, though. I’m the enemy.”

“Are you?” Your voice sounds wary at this reminder and you pause at the top of the first landing.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, following you up the next flight of stairs.

“Until the debt is repaid?”

“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a query.

“I don’t know how I feel.” You’ve reached the third floor. Despite his bravado earlier, you see him wincing slightly, his breathing ragged as he keeps one hand pressed to the injury. You wait for him to recover but he waves his other hand, indicating you should continue your journey.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The words make you halt abruptly and he nearly collides with you. You hurry up to the next landing and clear your throat before you give voice to your admission. “Yes, I enjoyed it,” you say when he reaches your side.

“Will we do that again?”

“Now?”

His solemn features break out into a smile. Handsome. The milkman whose appearance he’d copied was attractive, especially like this. You like the curve of that mouth, the flash of his teeth. “No, not now. I’m hardly in any condition to…I meant later,” he adds for clarification. “Another time.”

“Oh. Yes.” A sudden thought occurs to you. “Will you be safe from the patrol? On the way back, to wherever…”

“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.” He steps closer to you. “Are you that anxious to be rid of me?”

“No, I only meant…” You shake your head, feeling flustered.

“Were you looking for me tonight? When you were behind the diner. Hoping I’d be there, maybe?”

“Why would I…I hardly know you.”

“You know me a little better now though, right?” He crowds you back against the wall of the stairwell. You’re thinking maybe injury or not, he still wants you. You can feel the desire radiating from his eyes, his lips hovering close to yours. “You’re really something special, aren’t you? Out of all the humans to run into, and I find the only one who’s willing to take a chance on me, risk…” His voice trails off before he kisses your mouth. It seems impossible there would be any passion left inside of you to respond but you find your lips melting against his, one hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding the doppelgänger close.

[lordprettyflackotara]

if u think i’m pretty || chris sturniolo

SMUT. 18+. Minors DNI. tw: hate fucking. lots of it. bickering while fucking? idk you get the gist. finally got around to writing about chris. can you believe i scrapped like 5 fics? 🥴 yeah me either! also, sequel with matt if yall want it ;)

“Christopher fucking Sturniolo!”

Your words were laced with venom, the staircase rumbling beneath you as you stomped upstairs. Faintly you could hear Matt call out for you, your mind too filled with rage to hear him properly.

Pornographic moans flooded your eardrums as you reached Chris’s room, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. Your closed fist rattled his door, the dramatic moans coming to a screeching halt.

“Open the fucking door dickwad!” You screamed. Impatiently you tapped your foot, deciding he was taking too long. You grabbed the door handle, (surprised to find it unlocked), and swung the door open.

It was almost comical watching Chris and a girl you didn’t know scramble to get themselves dressed.

“What the fuck are you doing in here? Get the fuck out! Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Chris spat, shoving his gray sweatpants on. For a brief moment you felt bad for the girl, her waterline filling with tears. She was just one of many you had seen this week. You grabbed a shirt you presumed to be hers, handing it to her. You took a deep breath, containing your anger as you looked at her.

“Please get dressed and for the love of God, find someone better to fuck,” You sighed. The blonde was gone in a flash, practically sprinting out of Chris’s room. You crossed your arms, shooting lasers out of your eyes as you glared at the brunette across from you. Oh, only if looks could kill.

“I’m not believing my phone magically teleported into the dishwasher of all places,” You snarled. Your phone had been missing for six hours straight, your iphones location still saying it was at the triplets house. You had dragged Matt and Nick all around their house, searching from the ceiling to the floor. When you had finally accepted defeat, you had opened the dishwasher to grab a bowl to make a snack.

And to your displeasure, your phone was sopping wet, sitting in plain sight on the rack.

“You have zero proof I did that, literally zero,” Chris argued. Your eyes briefly flickered to his exposed chest, the amount of skin throwing you off. You shook your head, showing Chris your ruined phone. “Really? Because I can’t recall the last time you did dishes but you magically did them last night,” You snapped. Chris shrugged nonchalantly, a cocky smirk creeping across his lips.

“What can I say? I figured i’d help out the household,”

That’s it.

You chucked your phone at him, the brunette dodging the attack by seconds. It was ruined away, even the rice method was unable to save your phone. It smacked against the wall, the sound making Chris jump. “Maybe your phone wouldn’t be ruined if you weren’t having very LOUD phone sex with your boyfriend!” Chris yelled. You threw your hands up in the air, completely dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? Why would I ever-” You began arguing, before it clicked.

You weren’t having phone sex with anyone, that was for sure. But you stayed over at the Sturniolo household frequently, to the point where you were there more often than you were home. As much as Chris drove you insane, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. The concept of the attraction being forbidden, soured by years and years of bickering, did something inside of you.

You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, even though you didn’t want it to. Chris snickered at your loss of words, shooting you a genuine smile. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teased. In a swift motion you dashed across the room, your palm connecting with his cheek. Your tension with Chris had never gone beyond yelling. He had never crawled under your skin so much before, embarrassment seeping over you as you thought about the whole house hearing what he said.

A long pause silenced the room, the sound of the slap echoing through out your ears. Chris took a moment to process what you had just done, before his sharp gaze meant yours. His hand flew to your throat, gripping the sides as he threw you against the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your body in fight or flight mode. He easily towered over you, his sharp blue eyes filled with rage.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” Chris grumbled. He squeezed the sides of your neck harder, a whimper escaping your lips. His grip loosened, his attention fully dedicated to the sound you had made. The brunette tilted his head to the side curiously, as if he hadn’t believed what he just heard. “Did you just whimper?” He questioned. You shook your head no, Chris’s knee spreading your legs apart. Testing the waters, he brought his face closer to yours.

“You know, your little stunt prevented me from finishing earlier. Perhaps you’d like to help me out,” Chris purred, the glint of lust in your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. You rolled your eyes, your heart beginning to race as his body pressed against yours. “If you’re going to kiss me get on with it before I change my mind,” You said plainly. Chris’s grip on your throat tightened, your airway becoming restricted.

“You’ve always been a mouthy one,” He muttered, roughly bringing his lips to yours.

Chris hated how good you tasted, how good you smelled. He hated how your skin always looked so soft, your lips so plump. He despised how confident you were, always charging into everything in your life head first. What Chris actually liked, was that you challenged him. He knew that his infatuation with you wasn’t actually feelings, just raw and untamed lust. But fuck, with your lips against his, it made him want to change his mind.

The two of you clawed off each other’s clothes, discarding the clothing to the floor. Chris’s tongue swiped across your lower lip, before sliding inside. His kisses were rough and sloppy, your body addicted to the electricity he made run down your spine. You pushed him harshly against the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress underneath him.

You straddled him quickly, attempting to take control of the situation. Ever so slowly you grinded your wet cunt against his exposed shaft, a groan escaping his lips. Chris cockily put his hands behind his head, admiring you. “Go ahead, get yourself off just by grinding on me. You can do it pretty girl,” Chris instructed. You felt heat dash across your cheeks at the sound of his praise, your hips moving seemingly on their own.

Curses left your lips as you threw your head back. “Making me get myself off since you can’t do it? Figures,” You managed to say, your movements becoming more desperate. Chris leaned forward on his elbows, watching your cunt slide up and down his shift. “I’d watch your words ma, i’ll overstimulate you until you’re nothing but a cock craving whore,” Chris warned. His warning felt real, the threat in it seeking genuinely true. Even if you didn’t want to believe it.

Chris bit his bottom lip as you shamelessly grinded against him, every little movement providing pleasure to your clit. “You really think i’d fuck as many girls as I do if I couldn’t make them cum? I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Chris said coldly, mockingly tilting his head to the side. Your gaze landed back on the man beneath you, ignoring his cock in between your folds. “Yeah? I thought I was supposed to be overstimulated by now. What happened to that?” You challenged.

He was quick to change positions, your back landing against the mattress before you could think. He roughly spread your thighs apart, shoving two fingers into your cunt. A gasp of surprise was ripped from your throat, his spare hand resuming its place as your personal collar. Chris’s name spilled off of your lips as his fingers curled inside of you, his name becoming a sinful mantra. “What happened? Not so cocky now are we?” Chris taunted, watching you fall apart on his fingers.

The sight of you was enough to make his cock throb, his body craving attention. Chris remained focused, determined to corrupt you. “Open your fucking mouth slut,” Chris ordered. You so without a second thought, flattening your tongue across your bottom lip. He gripped your face harshly, leaning over and spitting into your mouth. “Swallow it,” He growled, watching you intently. You did as you were told, swallowing his saliva. You felt humiliated as it slid down your throat, the feeling euphoric.

“Thats a good girl, now why don’t you cum on my fingers for me? Hmm?” Chris asked. His words of praise made the rope inside of you snap, your orgasm washing over you without warning. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling as Chris removed his fingers from your aching cunt. You watched as he sucked them clean, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so.

Still coming down from your high, you put every last bit of energy into rolling your eyes. “Are you going to fuck me or just stare?” You asked. Chris’s cocky smile fell, replaced with a frown. “Nothings ever good enough for you, is it?” He replied, crawling on top of you. He brushed the tip of his cock up and down your folds teasingly, enjoying hearing you audibly whine for him. “Why’d you destroy my phone?” You asked, your coherent thoughts interrupted by him shoving himself inside of you.

You both moaned in unison, the unholy sounds vibrating off of the walls. “Why’d you decide to have phone sex in my house?” Chris gritted out, sliding himself further into you. He had more girth than you expected, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I asked you first dipshit,” You spat, fighting back a groan as he slid in further. Chris could feel your walls spasming around his cock, the sensation enough to make him cum right then and there. But he knew you’d never let him live it down.

“Yeah? Well I asked you second,” Chris replied, bottoming out inside of you. The tip of his shaft brushed against your g spot, the slightest movement of his hips making you whimper. “If you must know I wasn’t having phone sex, dumbass,” You said honestly. Chris pulled his hips back at a teasing rate, entertaining the argument. “Yeah? So what were you doing?” He questioned, doubting what you were saying. His hips bucked back into yours, hitting your g spot purposefully slow. He was drawing his thrust out, enjoying the sight of you squirming beneath him.

“I-I was thinking of you, alright? Now are you going to fuck me or what?” You rambled, embarrassed by your confession. Chris paused for a moment, soaking in your words. He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “Is that so? Well, I destroyed your phone because I got jealous. You belong under me, just like this, taking my cock,” Chris purred, ignoring the embarrassment of his own confession. He pulled back slightly, allowing the two of you to make eye contact.

Out of breath and desperate, both of you panted as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Well, in that case, you better get on with it,” You said weakly. The same cocky smile that you hated plastered across his lips, his hips bucking into yours quickly. Your nails dug into his back as his hips continued to slam into yours, his cock buried inside of your cunt. Chris couldn’t hold back his own groans, your walls milking his cock dry.

With glazed eyes he met your gaze, relishing in the sound of your groans, chanting his name. “Open your mouth for me,” He ordered, his cock abusing your cervix. Chris enjoyed that you didn’t hesitate, obeying him without a second thought. He put two fingers into your mouth, shoving them as far back as he could. “Now fucking suck them slut,” He growled. With each degrading word you squeezed him harder, your body snitching on your hidden desire.

“You look so pretty like this, when you aren’t yapping that mouth of yours,” He huffed. A painful whine came from his lips, your nails purposefully digging deeper into his back. You pathetically bobbed your head up and down on his fingers, concealing your smirk as you heard him in audible pain. Chris slithered his spare hand down to your cunt, drawing fast and sloppy circles around your clit.

“Go on, cum for me. Cum on my cock like the good girl you are for me,” Chris panted. The extra sensation was enough to make you throw your head back, Chris’s fingers still lodged in your mouth. Your warning of your orgasm was muffled, your thighs shaking violently under him. The sight was going to be burned into Chris’s memory forever, the feeling of your cunt spasming around him giving him an undeniable ego boost. He fucked you through your orgasm, becoming preoccupied with chasing his own.

His fingers roughly grabbed your waist, fucking you rougher. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” He admitted. Chris watched, mesmerized as his cock slid in and out of your cunt. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his hips beginning to stutter. You grabbed him by his throat, dragging him towards you. You put your mouth next to his ear, smirking as you told him, “Inside of me.”

You filthy fuck. For the first time your name fell from Chris’s lips as he came, his warm seed flooding your cunt. In unison you both tried to catch your breath, Chris carefully slipping out of you. The room was silent, besides desperate breathing, a knock came from Chris’s door.

“Yeah?”

“Your uh, doordash is here dude,” Matt said awkwardly. You could hear him place a bag in front of his bedroom door. “Thanks,” Chris replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Hey Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time maybe fuck a little quieter, Nicks pretty pissed.”

You exchanged glances with Chris, watching as he shoved on a shirt.

“You heard him, be quiet next time,”

“Next time? There won’t be a next time. Mr.I lasted thirty seconds.”

The sound of you two bickering made Matt roll his eyes, causing him to walk away. He wondered if you both would ever get married, or if you both would hate fuck forever. He shrugged at the idea, heading back downstairs. All Matt knew for sure, was that your moans made him cum the hardest he ever had. And that, was enough for him.

[cowboyspence]

Baby Reid? Baby Reid!

Summary: Spencer finds out that you're pregnant

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Word count: 342 (I at least think so)

Disclaimer: This the the first fan fiction I ever wrote + english is not my native language + I have no idea how tumblr works to be honest lol

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You and Spencer have been married for 2 months now after dating for more than 4 years. Your marriage couldn't possibly be any better. You barely ever argued but lately something has changed.

You've been acting different. Spencer noticed. The team noticed. Everyone noticed.

You were constantly mad at Spencer for no reason at all. You barely ate. And you were tired all the time. Is she sick? Spencer asks himself. Maybe it was his fault, he thought. That he did something wrong and now you're upset. But despite of his eidetic memory, he couldn't remember anything he could've done to upset you. So he decided to just look up your symptoms to find out what you might have.

He typed your symptoms into his computer at work.The results shocked him...Pregnancy symptoms was the first thing that came up.

Could that be possible? Could that explain why you've been acting this way? When did this happen? he questioned himself. What a dumb question...Your wedding night 2 months ago. A night full of passion and love and most importantly right now....without any contraception.

After minutes of just staring at his computer screen, he decided to just ask you. If it just was this easy Spencer thought.But he knew that it's the best and only thing he could do in this situation. He walked over to your desk, that is not far away from his own.

"Y/N, can we talk real quick?" your husband asked. "Sure, what's up, love?" you replied.Spencer blushed at the nickname, even though you've been calling him love ever since you two started dating. This was probably the nicest you've been to him in days. "I'm just gonna ask you, because I know that you hate when I don't get to the point and umm..." "Spence, breath" you answered, as an attempt to calm him down. "Are you pregnant?", he suddenly blurted out. "Umm..." you couldn't even form proper words. That was everything he needed to answer his question:

You were in fact pregnant.

[coldfanbou]

What A Few Drinks Do

Alright, new twice mommy series part. We had some slight fallout from the last part before we spent some time with Dahyun. We learn something interesting about this mommy lol. This part is gonna help set something up for later.

Length 2.5K

Dahyun X Mreader

You wake up, get ready, and drive to Dahyun’s home. You chat with her briefly as she puts Eunsoo in the back. “You said Nayeon was just going to ride with us yesterday, right?”

“Mhmm, she just wanted a good look at the area. She hasn’t asked for another ride, so we can go as soon as I have Eunsoo all set.” Dahyun buckles in her sleepy baby and climbs into the back, checking herself for everything. “We’re all set back here.”

“Then let’s get going.” Your drive is peaceful, and the two of you walk into work. You notice Jeongyeon hadn’t come in yet. It was strange, but you thought that maybe she was just going to be late. During your break, you meet up with Dahyun, “Did you see Jeongyeon at all today?”

“No, I haven’t. Nayeon’s not here either,” Dahyun pouts as she begins to think with a bit of worry on her face, “Do you think something happened to them?”

“I don’t think so, to both of them? I’ll call Jeongyeon, and you can call Nayeon. You do have her number, right?” Dahyun nods her head and calls Nayeon while you do the same for Jeongyeon. You hear the tone as you wait for your call to go through, only to get sent to her voicemail. Dahyun receives the same response, but neither woman responds. The two of you are considering visiting Nayeon. “I don’t know where Jeongyeon lives, so we’ll have to visit Nayeon to see if she knows anything.” Dahyun nods her head.

“Yeah, I hope nothing bad happened.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much Dahyun. They’re strong. Let’s finish the day before going.” Dahyun nods along, her face a mix of concern and uncertainty. The two of you focus on your work, trying to distract yourselves before finishing up the day and heading back to her home. You unload Eunsoo first, helping Dahyun get everything back home before heading to Nayeon’s apartment. You knock on the door when no response comes; you knock again, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. 

This time, the door opened; it was just a crack, but it was enough to tell you Nayeon was home. “Nayeon!” Dahyun says, relieved to see her. “We got worried when you and Jeongyeon didn’t show up for work. Are you alright? And do you know if Jeongyeon is okay? We tried to call her earlier.”

Nayeon opens the door a little more, “Sorry for not coming in today. It’s just that Jeongyeon isn’t doing so well.” The older woman looks inside before turning back to you. “She found out her husband has been cheating on her. She’s been in bed crying all day. I don’t think now's the time to have company.” You struggle to find the words to respond.

“Is there anything we can do for her? Maybe bring her something to eat?”

“We’d appreciate that, Dahyun. I’m probably going to miss the next few days of work while I watch Jeongyeon. I’ll tell you both when she starts to feel better.”

“Right, we appreciate that, Nayeon.” You tell her before she closes the door on you and Dahyun. You head back to Dahyun’s home, entering behind her. “Dahyun, would you mind if I stayed the night?”

Dahyun gently bounces Eunsoo in her arms as she heads towards her bedroom. “Of course. Let me put Eunsoo down, and I can start something.” Dahyun uses her body to close the door to her bedroom. Placing Eunsoo in her crib, Dahyun's grin grows. She knew it was a bad situation, but she was happy it caused you to spend more time with her. Dahyun jumped up and down in the room as quietly as she could, far too excited. She calms herself down, running her hands through her hair to clean her messy hair before stepping back out. 

“What do you want to eat?” She says, struggling to hide her smile as she looks at you.

“Let’s see what you have first,” you say as you look inside the fridge. “Actually, let me cook something for you. It’ll be something simple but delicious. We can bring some over to Nayeon and Jeonyeon, too.”

“Yeah,” Dahyun says, walking over to you and placing her hand on your back. “At least let me help you.”

“You can help me after you change, Dahyun. You should change into something more comfortable.” Dahyun nods and hurries to her room, changing quickly before returning in an oversized t-shirt and pajama bottoms. 

“Alright, now let me help,” Dahyun says with conviction. The two of you make a small meal of seared fish, rice, and stir-fried vegetables. You prepare enough for yourselves and Jeongyeon and Nayeon. 

“We should take these over while it’s still hot. I can take them real quick; you can plate the rest.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You pack some of the food and head to Nayeon’s home. You knock on the door, waiting outside for a second when Nayeon opens the door slowly, poking her out from behind it.

“We made you two some food; it’s still hot.” You tell her as you hand over the food. “Is Jeongyeon doing alright? I mean, is she at least eating?”

“She’d rather not, but I’m making sure she does. Thanks for the food. I know she’ll appreciate it.” Nayeon says with a slight smile. “I’m glad that she’s made some good friends.”

You nod in response, “We just want to see her do well. I’ll be leaving now. Good night.”

“Good night.” She says, closing the door.

You return to Dahyun’s, thinking about how Jeongyeon must be feeling. As you step through the door to Dahyun’s apartment, she grabs your arm and drags you to your seat. “Come on, let’s eat.” You and Dahyun talk about various topics throughout your meal, going from work to what you like to do at home as you have a few drinks.

“It’s amazing that you’re able to work and take care of Eunsoo. Do you even have any time for yourself?”

“Sometimes, but for the most part, I just sleep. I’m too tired to do anything else.” 

“I’m sure it must be tough sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it’s a little easier now that you pick us up and drop us off. I’ve had a little more time to sleep in the morning. I’ve gotten the chance to relax more, and I feel really good.” Dahyun runs her finger along the rim of her glass. She gives you a nervous look before breaking into a smile. “Um, would you like to… never mind.” Dahyun wipes her face. You watch it begin to turn red and decide to push her on the subject.

“Would I like to what?”

“I-um was going to ask if you’d like to…” Dahyun looks around the room, trying to find some way to change the subject. You lean over the small dining table and place your hands around the side of Dahyun’s eyes, giving her nowhere else to look. “I want to know if you wanted to have sex.” She says quietly, her pale face turning a bright red. 

“What was that?” You ask her to repeat herself, wanting to tease her.

“Do you want to have sex?” Dahyun says as she looks at the dining table.

You stop covering Dahyun’s peripheral vision, “I think that you’re the one that wants to have sex, Dahyun.” She blushes at your statement. The alcohol was talking for both of you; you lean in and steal a kiss from Dahyun. She shuts her eyes, her hands gingerly wrapping around you as you get closer to one another. You grab Dahyun, lifting her as you two continue to kiss. You carry her to the living room, crashing on top of her couch. You feel her legs wrap around you. Your hands move down her sides, grabbing at the hem of her shirt. You lift it slowly before tossing it off her body, seeing her bare breasts as Dahyun looks away from you. You cup one of the soft mounds, giving it a light squeeze and shaking it in your hand. She shivers at your touch, a gasp escaping her lips. 

You run your thumb over her nipple, flicking it lightly. A small amount of milk leaks from her tit as you give her breast another squeeze—this time, Dahyun moans, her eyes filled with lust as she grabs the couch's armrest. You kiss the middle of her chest, slowly moving to her left breast. You kiss around her nipple, teasing her as her breathing becomes heavy with anticipation.

Dahyun felt herself getting wet as you teased her body. She could hardly keep her eyes off you. You avoid her nipple, moving up toward her neck and planting sweet kisses. Dahyun coos as she feels your tongue against her skin; your finger flicks her nipple again, making her grimace as her world becomes filled with pleasure.

Your slide your other hand down her smooth stomach, sneaking under her pajama bottoms and rubbing against her cunt, the thin fabric of her panties quickly becoming soaked in her juices along her slit. “Ah, that feels so good,” Dahyun groans. 

You stop kissing her momentarily, getting by her ear to tell her, “Don’t forget to make me feel good.” 

Dahyun looks down at your bulge and reaches for it. Cupping it in her hands, she feels the heat radiating from it. She rubs it slowly with her hand, earring small groans from you as you get under her panties and push two fingers inside her. “Oh fuck,” Dahyun moans as she grips your shirt. You curl your fingers inside her, rubbing against her walls as you push your fingers in and out of her. You take in one of her nipples, running your tongue along it. Dahyun’s body grew weaker; she could hardly move as you flooded her mind with pleasure. “Keep going,” She moaned, grinding herself against your hand. 

“Dahyun, you’re sounding so slutty.” You whisper into her ear.

“Don’t say that. I’m not a slut,” Dahyun whimpers as she nears her climax. You feel her walls tighten around your fingers; you speed up, causing her to whine. 

“Don’t you hear yourself? You’re moaning like one.” You say as you flick her nipple with your tongue. 

“I’m-I’m cumming,” Dahyun was trying to refuse your claims, but she climaxed before she could finish. You watch her body twitch as she cums, as she soaks her pajama bottoms in her nectar. Still, you continue to finger her, “Wait, please!” Dahyun whines as you overstimulate her. You shut her up with a kiss. 

Feeling her walls tighten around your fingers again, you slow down and deny her another orgasm.  You climb off the already-exhausted woman, stripping yourself down to nothing before doing the same to Dahyun. Back on the couch, you grab Dahyun and place her on your lap so she can straddle you. Dahyun places her hands on the sofa, trying to support herself as you tease her cunt with your cock. She mumbles something, and when you ask her to say it louder, she repeats herself, “I want your cock.”

“Are you being honest with yourself now, Dahyun?” She lazily nods at you. You get by her ear, whispering your question, “Are you a slut, Dahyun?”

“I’m not a slut,” 

“What if I made you my slut?” You let go of Dahyun’s body, letting her support herself but keeping your cock pointed toward her cunt. “All you have to do is drop yourself on my cock.” You make the choice harder for Dahyun by rubbing the tip against her lips. When you come to a stop, Dahyun drops her weight on you, impaling herself on your cock. You both moan. Grabbing onto Dahyun’s waist, you start to thrust, holding her still as you drive your cock deep into Dahyun’s cunt. She grabs your shoulder and fills the room with her moans as your bodies smack against each other. You move one of your hands to Dahyun’s ass, giving the soft piece of flesh a rough squeeze and making Dahyun groan. “How does it feel, Dahyun?”

“I love it, I love your cock.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” You nip at Dahyun’s neck, “Who’s my little slut?” You ask teasingly.

“I am, I’m your slut.” Dahyun groans as she bounces on your cock, her modest breasts bouncing along with her. Dahyun’s walls clamp down on your cock as she says that. You figure that she might like the slight degradation and slap her ass.

“Say it again.”

“I’m your dirty slut,” Dahyun moans, a tired expression on her face as she approaches her orgasm. “I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.”

“Not so soon, Dahyun. Hold on a little longer.” Dahyun bites her lip as she tries to hold off her orgasm. As you continue to thrust into her tightening cunt, you feel yourself about to cum. You speed up, moving like a piston in and out of Dahyun. 

“I’m cumming!” Dahyun shouts. You bring her down onto your cock, burying yourself inside her as you cum. Dahyun feels the familiar warmth inside her as your cum rushes into her, painting her walls white as your baby batter makes its way into her womb. She leans forward, kissing you as you both come down from the high. You lay down on the couch, with Dahyun lying on top of you, your cock still inside her. You end up falling asleep like that.

When you woke up, it was early in the morning, and it was still dark outside. A light down the hallway stayed on as Dahyun came back into the living room. She was startled to see you awake. “What are you doing up so early in the morning?” you asked her.

“Eunsoo woke up and started crying. I just finished putting her back to sleep.” Dahyun responds before sitting on the couch. “Last night was…something.” She says, struggling to describe what happened.

“I think we both had a little bit too much to drink,” you tell her, placing your hand on your thigh. Your memories of last night are a little foggy, but there was one thing you remembered. “Dahyun, I’m sorry for last night, but I have to ask.” She looks at you nervously. “Are you into degradation? Because you got really tight when that started.”

Dahyun felt her nerves relax as you asked that question before she began to huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said defiantly, trying to ignore that part of last night.

“No, I definitely remember you getting tighter when I degraded you.” You squeeze Dahyun’s thigh and lean in. “Who’s my little slut.” Dahyun shivers at your words, and her legs rub against each other. It makes you laugh.

“Don’t laugh! It’s not funny!” Dahyun whines as she smacks your chest.

“It’s a little funny!” You retort as you take hold of her wrists. “It’s nice learning these things about you, Dahyun; now I know how to turn you on.” Dahyun blushes and buries her face in your chest.

“Shut up,” She says quietly. “We still have four hours until work; let's get some more sleep, Mister.” She says, mildly annoyed at you. You stifle a laugh and agree with her as you try to relax and go back to sleep for a little while longer.

[sickslimez]

HOLE IN THE WALL! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...as an overworked and stressed employee, you find relief in giving blowjobs to complete strangers at an adult store

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, oral (m!receiving), jerking off, nipple play, tit job, pussy job, cum eating, praise, a little twist at the end, not proofread (as usual)

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

had to repost this bc tumblr took it down for whatever reason even though I have things more explicit than this on my other blog lmao

Working at an office where you were constantly hassled for your deadlines always put a lot of unwanted stress on your shoulders. Higher ups yapping in your ear about something you’ve been told one hundred times before and your fingers are typing as fast as they can on the computer. It was a complete and utter shit show, a waste of your precious time. But you have one little secret no one knows about, you volunteer at a glory hole every now and then when you feel too worked up.

After a long week of staring at a computer screen and boring meetings, you walking to the adult store, greeting the worker who already knew what you were there for. All you needed to relax was to watch random strangers cum from your touch. Believe it or not, it brought you joy hearing their moans on the other side of the thin wall. Maybe you chose the wrong profession.

As you entered the room, you let out a sigh, locking the door behind you. You slipped your coat off, and placed your bag down on the chair. Despite what others might think, the room was always clean. It wasn’t a random glory hole you’d find in a public bathroom or a shack in the middle of the woods. You unbuttoned your shirt, letting your tits breathe as you finally were able to relax and wait for the first person to come in.

You perked up at the sound of the door to the other room opening and closing shut. He let out a loud sigh, the sound of his pants being unbuckled making you excited. “Just make me cum, I’ve had a long fucking day,” he grunted. You looked down at the hole, the man placing his semi hard cock through it.

“You and me both, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good.” Your hand glided up and down his shaft, slowly stroking him, feeling him grow harder in your hand. You stared at his cock with a smile, his swollen tip flushed a dark pink, prominent veins running on the underside of it. Whoever this man was, he sure had a pretty cock. “You’re so big,” you giggle. Your hand barely able to fully wrap around.

Delicate fingers traced the prominent veins, teasing the underside of his dick before your thumb rubbed over his swollen tip. You felt him throb in your hand, a bead of pre cum forming at his tip, a smile tugging at your lips. The stranger was fully hard, dick long and pretty. You continued rubbing your thumb over his tip, sticking out your tongue to give him kitten licks, tasting his pre cum. You heard the man shudder, a breathy gasp leaving his throat. “Oh, you’re so sensitive!” You gasped, now slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, moving from base to tip.

You moaned in satisfaction, lip tucked between your teeth as you jerked the stranger off, your free hand cupping your tits as you started to feel turned on by the sight in front of you. “Oh, fuck,” he let out breathy moan. More pre cum began leaking from his tip, allowing you to use it as lubricant to jerk him off easier. Your wrist moved in circular motions, squeezing gently the closer your got towards his sensitive head. “Shit, sweetheart! You really know what you’re doing, huh?” A moan could be heard from the other side of the wall.

Your hand pumped him faster, squeezing tighter around his shaft. “You better not cum yet!” You smiled as if he could see you, but you were taking joy in hearing him in pleasure. Opening your mouth, you stuck out your tongue and took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while simultaneously moving your hand. You pinched your nipple, moaning around his cock as his tip hit the back of your throat.

“Oh, baby, your tongue feels so good! Let me feel that throat,” he whimpered, bucking his hips against the wall, trying so desperately to fuck your face. You removed your hand from around his cock, allowing him to fuck your face. Glug, glug, glug. “There we fucking go, atta girl!” He moaned loudly. As you sat there and let him use your throat, you couldn’t help but think at how familiar the man sounded, though you couldn’t remember from where. But it was the least of you worries, you were only thinking about making him cum.

You pulled your head away, trying to catch your breath as drool coated your chin. You lazily smiled to yourself, wrapping your hand around his shaft again and slowly jerked him off. You positioned yourself to where your tits were close to his dick, rubbing his tip over your hard nipples. “Mmm, feels so good.” Your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing, sweetheart. God, I wish I could see your pretty face right now,” he grunted. You smiled at his words, continuing you give him a tit job before spitting on his cock again. You licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, taking him in your mouth slowly, allowing him to stretch your throat. You gagged on it, tears forming in your eyes before clenching them shut. Mascara ran down your cheeks as you began moving your head up and down, more spit coating his cock and falling on your chest. Your hands messily spread the spit over your tits, teasing your sensitive nipples. “Wanna cum all over your face—mmm, fuck me!” He groaned.

You pulled away again, taking a deep breath. You grinned when his cock twitched, a small giggle erupting from your chest. “You’re so close to cumming! I love it. Do I make you feel good, huh?” You cooed, dragging your fingers over his head. His cock looked even prettier dripping with your saliva.

“Can I feel your pussy? Please, sweetheart? I need it so bad,” he begged. You sat there on your knees, processing the words he said. You usually never let anyone fuck you at these glory holes, but you could think of the next best thing.

“How about a pussy job? Would you like that, baby?” You questioned, waiting for his answer while you slipped your soaked panties off. You dipped your fingers in between your folds, letting out a small gasp from how wet you were. “You got me so wet.” You slapped your pussy a few times, a lewd wet sound filling the room. “Hear that?”

“Goddamn you.” His cock twitched just from hearing how wet you were. “Let me feel her, please—fuckkk me,” he breathily said once he felt your hand grip his cock and rub his tip over your sopping slit.

You were bet over, using the chair as support while the other reached over and guided his cock along your pussy, his head rubbing between your folds and nudging your puffy clit. Your jaw went slack, eyes fluttering shut. Moans could be heard on either side of the wall. He desperately wanted to shove himself inside your gummy walls and fuck you until you passed out. “Cum all over my pussy, I know you want to.”

“Fuck, fuck, shit,” he grunted. “I’m cumming! Oh, sweetheart I’m fucking cumming!” Not even seconds after saying those words, you felt hot spurts coat your pussy, the man moaning and you continued to rub his cock all over your sloppy pussy.

“Yes!” You laughed, gasping from how he was still going. “Oh my goodness!” You felt him twitch one last time in your hand before you pulled away, sitting on the chair and spreading your legs to see at the mess he created. Curiosity got the better of you as you dipped your fingers in, scooping some of his cum and licking it clean off. “Mmmm, you taste so good!” He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Thank you for that, baby.” He pulled away from the glory hole, cock disappearing. You heard him put his pants back on. “Can I ask you a question?”

You kneeled back down towards the glory hole. “Yes, what is it?”

“Will you allow me to see who you are?” He sounded like he was nervous to ask the question.

“There’s no fun in a glory hole if you know who the person is,” you replied in a playful tone.

You heard the man let out a small laugh before sighing. “I guess you’re right. Until next time then.”

“Until next time.” You smiled to yourself. One thought sat in the back of your mind, though. Why did this man sound so familiar to you? It was a forbidden glory hole ‘rule’, but you couldn’t help yourself from peeking through the hole in hopes to catch a glimpse of the man on the other side. You noticed a familiar watch on his right hand, his figure coming more into view when he walked towards the door. An audible gasp escaped your lips when you saw the blonde hair. It was none other than Nanami Kento, your co-worker who you regularly greet at the office, the man who sits in the cubicle right next to you.

[noyasmashing]

Your page is AMAZING. Can u please do a small fic on dumbification with a masochist Katsuki in a college AU?

(Gender Neutral Reader)

A Little Plot: Katsuki externally dislikes reader but reader knows Katsuki doesn’t actually hate them and in their dorms they carry out…activities. Kirishimas dorm is right next to theirs and he is having a blast(jerking off to the two having sex and in the end Kiri gets caught cause his moans get louder than Katsukis and readers combined).

Okay… so this is gunna have to be a small drabble until i have more time to write a realll juicy one about this. I have to reply now though bc i LOVE this idea (might be a multiple part series tbh)

Picture entering Katsuki's dorm room only to find him dick-in hand while watching a video of you (probably sparring with a fellow classmate). To add to the shock, his shirt was raised and he was biting the hem to prevent any pre-cum from getting on it, exposing his abs.

He would attempt to maintain an air of anger, quickly adjusting his boxers. He would be fuming, threatening to explode you. However, the moment you coyly remark something along the lines of, "You're quite the pervert, Kats, I’m sure you won’t mind me watching," he hesitates.

He despises how you seem to be the only one with a strong impact on him. With damp, clumpy lashes, he would glance up at you. And for the first time, his usual fierce expression gone, replaced by flush ears and unsure, stuttering speech.

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction as you gently trace your fingers along his muscular physique, causing him to tremble. All he desires is to be manhandled, and fucked dumb. Accustomed to being the dominant one, he wants needs to be roughed up, but his pride wouldn’t let him tell you that.

So slap him around a bit and scold him for his inappropriate behavior. Watch how rapidly he cums in response. Better yet, bring him to climax three times, while pulling on his spiky blonde hair.

He wouldn’t even realize how loud he was moaning, until it became quiet clear that someone else was listening…

[abbyscherry]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❀ — CAFÉS & CROSSWORDS

🇵🇸 daily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post

loser abby chokes on air, almost drops her pencil, and crossword book on the floor when she notices you walking into the small café that she’s always visiting, for the first time. a bright smile on your face that has her cheeks flushing crimson red under the dim lighting of the area she was sitting in, just because of how bright your smile was. her palms suddenly sweaty when you’re letting out a laugh. a laugh she wants to constantly hear. 

the turtle neck sweater suddenly feels too tight around her neck, her blush deepening when you’re turning around, still laughing with your friends, and your eyes slowly trail around until they’re landing on her. smiling softly when you spot her scrambling for her pen, looking away just as quick when she’s realising you had just caught her staring shamelessly. 

abby was quickly trying to act oblivious to your staring. if she could stare at you and blush whenever you find her looking, why can’t you stare and smirk when she catches you watching? but it was slightly harder for her because she could feel your eyes burning into the side of her face. almost like you were trying to knock her glasses off just by looking at her.

she had barely even realized you’d grabbed your drink, and made your way over to the selection of books on the shelf when abby turned around, without seeming too shy this time or hiding it better, to look for you. only pouting as a result when she couldn’t find you. had you left? why was she already wanting to fawn over you from a distance and never actually talk to you? was she scared? maybe. would she ever say anything to you unless you did? never. 

it was cute. cute watching her look for you and she barely even knew your name.

simply unaware you were standing behind her, finding the whole interaction more adorable with a smile on your face when she’s burying her face back into her book, or whatever it was that she was reading or doing. 

taking a few steps forward, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing. your interest peaking higher at the pretty blonde who suddenly gained your attention as you heard before you could see the pencil in her hand, tapping on the wooden table and a angry scoffed came from her.

your smile brightened a few seconds later at the simple realisation she liked to do puzzles, and was clearly seconds away from giving up.

“introgression” you finally spoke up after watching her struggle for an extra few minutes on writing and erasing the incorrect answer. 

the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, turning around on her chair quickly and regrettably knocking her knee on the table in the process when she found you, standing there with your head cocked to the side and chuckling. with a wince, she replied with a stammered, “what?” looking anywhere but at you.

“the answer to your crossword question. what is a 13-letter word meaning entrance? it’s introgression”

“oh”

“m’sorry, you’ve just been staring at it for a while” you chuckled, smiling down at her.

“it kinda slipped my mind i guess, but thank you” 

“you’re welcome” you giggled, fumbling with your bracelet. “do you do crosswords a lot?”

“uhm, sometimes? keeps my brain focused” abby nodded, nervously tucking a strand of loose hair behind her glasses, and pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. “s’tupid, i know”

“no, no. s’not stupid, it’s cute” you reassured her quickly, smirking at her sudden flushed cheeks. “i can help you finish it, if you’d like? no pressure, i just like crosswords too” 

“you uh, want to—”

“yes pretty girl, i want to crossword with you” 

“aren’t you busy?” 

“never too busy to talk to someone as handsome as you. oh and the crosswords too, obviously, i guess” 

abby couldn't stop blushing at your words while you placed your hot drink on the table, sitting down on the chair opposite her. “you’re definitely here for the puzzle” she giggled.

“and something else, but let’s finish this before we get to the details about our date, yeah?”

[dduane]

Of parsnips and parsnip soup

So the question of parsnips, and particularly parsnip soup, came up secondary to this quote from an interview with Terry Pratchett. (Thanks to @captainfantasticalright for the transcription.)

Terry: “You can usually bet, and I’m sure Neil Gaiman would say the same thing, that, uh, if I go into a bookstore to do a signing and someone presents me with three books, the chances are that one of them is going to be a very battered copy of Good Omens; and it will smell as if it’s been dropped in parsnip soup or something in and it’s gone fluffy and crinkly around the edges and they’ll admit that it’s the fourth copy they’ve bought”.

And when @petermorwood saw this, he immediately reblogged it and added four recipes for parsnip soup.

These kind of surprised some folks, as not everybody knew that parsnips were an actual thing: or if they were, what they looked like or were useful for.

The vegetable may well be better known on this side of the Atlantic. (And I have to confess that as a New Yorker and Manhattanite, with access to both great outdoor food markets and some of the best grocery stores in the world, I don't think that parsnips ever came up on my personal radar while I was living there.) So I thought I'd take a moment to lay out some basics for those who'd like to get to know the vegetable better.

The parsnip's Linnaean/botanical name is Pastinaca sativa, and in the culinary mode it's been around for a long time. It's native to Eurasia, and is a relative to parsley and carrots (with which it's frequently paired in the UK and Ireland). The Romans cultivated it, and it spread all over the place from there. Travelers who passed through our own neck of the woods before the introduction of the potato noted that "the Irish do feed much upon parsnips", and in the local diet it filled a lot of the niches that the potato now occupies.

You can do all kinds of things with parsnips. The Wikipedia article says, correctly, that they can be "baked, boiled, pureed, roasted, fried, grilled, or steamed". But probably the commonest food form in which parsnips turn up around here is steamed or simmered with carrots and then mashed with them: so that you can buy carrot-and-parsnip mash, ready-made, in most of our local grocery chains.

It also has to be mentioned that most Irish kids have had this stuff foisted on them at one point or another, and a lot of them hate it. (@petermorwood would be one.) I find it hard to blame anybody for this opinion, as one of the parsnip's great selling points—its spicy, almost peppery quality—gets almost completely wiped out by the carrot's more dominant flavor and sweetness.

Roasting parsnips, though, is another matter entirely. They roast really well. And parsnip soups are another story entirely, as it's possible to build a soup that will emphasize the parsnip's virtues.

So, to add to Peter's collection, here's one I made earlier—like yesterday afternoon, stopping the cooking sort of halfway and finishing it up today.

I was thinking in a vague medioregnic-food way about a soup with roasted bacon in it, but not with potatoes (as those have been disallowed from the Middle Kingdoms for reasons discussed elsewhere. Tl;dr: it's Sean Astin's fault). And finally I thought, "Okay, if we're going to roast some pork belly or back bacon, then why not save some energy and roast some parsnips too? The browned skins'll help keep them from going to mush in the soup."

So: first find your parsnips. I used four of them. You peel them with a potato peeler...

...sort of roughly quarter them, the long way...

...then chop them in half the short way, toss them in a bowl with some oil—olive oil, in this case—spread them on a baking sheet, and season them with pepper, coarse salt, and some chile flakes. (I used ancho and bird's-eye chile flakes here.)

These then went into the oven for about half an hour, and came out like this.

While that was going on, I got a block of ready-cooked Polish snack bacon out of the freezer.

On its home turf, this is the kind of thing that turns up (among other ways) sliced very thin on afternoon-snack plates, with cheeses and breads. But we like to score it and roast it to sweat some of the fat out, and then use it in soups and stews and so forth.

So I scored this chunk on most of its sides, browned it in a skillet, then shoved the skillet into the oven for twenty minutes or so. Here's the bacon after it was done.

While it was cooking, I made about a liter of soup stock from a couple of stock cubes. If you can get pork stock cubes, they'd be best for this, but beef works fine.

This then went into the pot and was brought up to just-boiling while the bacon and the parsnips were chopped into more or less bite-sized chunks. After that, the meat and veg were added to the pot and the whole business was left to simmer for a couple of hours while I went off to do some line editing.

Finally I turned it off and left it on the stove overnight (our kitchen is quite cool, it was in no bacteriological danger from being left out this way) and then finished its simmering time around lunchtime today.

And here it is. (...Or was. It was very nice.)

...Anyway, this is only one of potentially thousands of takes on parsnip soup. Recipes for more robust versions—based on mashed parsnips and more vegetables, or different meats—are all over the place.

Meanwhile, as regards how much damage this soup could do to your copy of Good Omens if you dropped yours in it, I'd rate this at about 5 damage points out of 10. ...Call it 5.5 if you factor in the chiles. Soups along the boiled-and-mashed-parsnip spectrum would probably inflict damage more in the 7.50-8.0 range. But your results may vary: so I'll leave you all to your own experimentation.

[afterglowsainz]

Hey can I get a jealous Jude x female reader. Nothing too toxic lol l, it’s just some guys hitting y/n up on social media and somehow Jude sees the DMs and gets a little jealous. Then his petty self goes and posts a picture of him and his girlfriend on her ig or something petty like responds back with a “she’s busy bro”. Thanks 🫶🏻

jealousy | jude bellingham

obsessed with this concept already !!

summary: while you're getting ready to go out on a date with your boyfriend, he accidentally sees some dms he doesn't like and decides to do something about it

warnings: none

word count: 738

a/n: boring title booo i know i know i couldn't think of anything better :( i do hope you like the one shot tho it was fun to write about jealous jude <3

you were getting ready to go out on a date with jude while he was laying on your bed waiting for you. his phone was charging somewhere in the living room so you gave him yours to play a game so he doesn’t get bored. you were putting on your makeup while singing along to your playlist while he was building some villages or whatever it was that they do on clash royale. however, jude got distracted when an instagram dm pop up at the top of your phone, it was from this formula 1 driver that he knew was always liking your pictures, he didn’t knew he was dming you as well. he thought about opening the message, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, so he simply looked at you.

“someone dm you.” he says.

his voice took you out of your little world and you place your gaze on him thought the mirror you were applying your makeup on.

“who?”

“lando norris.” he reads the name like he didn’t knew already.

“what does it say?” you hide a laugh and continue with your makeup routine.

jude opens the message and reads it out loud. it was obvious he was hitting on you by replying to a story you had posted earlier that day when you went to brunch with your friends and you felt cute.

“are you gonna answer?” he asks again, hints of jealousy on voice.

“not really, no.” you answer and go back to singing along and applying mascara on.

when jude goes back to the screen on your phone his thumb accidentally swipes left and your whole inbox is completely exposed to him. he didn’t meant to do that, but it really was an accident and he couldn’t help but see now that it was there, only he wished he didn’t have.

some of your dms were just conversations with your friends, but a lot of them were just guys replying to your stories and hitting on you, which made him even more jealous than before. you never replied to them, going as far as deleting some of the messages you received, but since you hadn’t checked your instagram since that afternoon a lot of dms from different guys complimenting you on your story were there for jude to find.

he frowns at the phone and takes a look at you, completely oblivious while doing your eyeliner. his eyes go back to the screen and he starts looking up some pictures that you took the week before of you two.

“do you mind if i post one of those pictures you took of us last week?” he asks out of nowhere. “so i can repost it on my story.” he clarifies.

you frown a bit confused because this is the first time he has asked you something like this, but after him seeing the other guy’s dm and feeling a bit jealous you connected the dots and smile amused.

“sure.” you say.

he nods and went to post a story with the two of you looking definitely like the couple you were. he spend a few seconds thinking about a good caption, landing on a simple “my boyfriend❤️”, very straight to the point. he also tagged himself big enough for everyone to see and posted the picture, a satisfied smile on his face.

when you were done with your makeup and ready to go, you approached him and sat on his lap, your phone still in his hand.

“let me see the picture.” you smiled. he shows you the story and you rolled your eyes, a bit amused at his possessiveness. “was that really necessary?” you point at the text and he just shrugs.

“i just feel like there’s a lot of people that don't know we’re together, you know? just wanna put it out there.” you nod, fighting the smile on your face and putting your arms around him.

“is that so?” you tease him, getting closer to him if that was even possible.

“yeah, lots of guys on your dms.” he confess. “they liked your selfie earlier.”

“hmm.” you answer. “i wouldn’t know about that, i only like one guy.” a treacherous smile takes over his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss him. “wanna go? we’ll be late to dinner.”

jude just nods and gets out of bed, never dropping your hand for a second.

[2kmps]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

story summary; your granduncle explains that the noises at the bottom of the lighthouse and the missing chunk out of his leg are from swimming rats. you let him think you're a fool.

story warnings; some graphic depictions that some may consider gory, mentions of biting, mentions of rats, creature in captivity, explicit sexual content, double penetration (not safe), prose + detail heavy, implied breeding, not proofread.

if you enjoyed it, please reblog + interact!!

Granduncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much to at the bottom; a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brought a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by goose pimples as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

"Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n: not my best work, but hopefully passable. it's really helpful when y'all reblog, so please do so!!!

I don't really have any comments on this because I'm starting over from zero on the long-fic of the aquatic monster story bc I hated what I had lmao.

anyway, please keep in mind that is a concept piece. chances are that none of this will be present in the actual long-fic. this just helps me to explore ideas and familiarize myself with characters.

[nomazee]

Hello, congratulations on your milestone! 🎉

May I have (for the mix-and-match 😚) Dr.Ratio and the word-concept "bathtub"? 🫢

Take your time! ❤️❤️

this one was fun to write too (as per usual with ratio) i've written for dr ratio so much in the last two weeks i think i am becoming him.... Im slowly morphing into veritas ratio please save me... THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING this was lovely :3

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

“No way. You take bubble baths with a rubber duck?” 

Veritas freezes for no longer than a millisecond before whipping his head around to see you in the doorway of the bathroom. He’d been relaxing just moments ago, sinking into the hot water with his eyes closed, and yes there was a rubber duck in the bath with him but that was not by choice. It just happened to be there when he ran the bath, and he opens his mouth to argue but is quickly cut off by your endless rambling. 

“Anyways, I came to wash your hair. One of your assistants told me you just left in the middle of your usual work hours, and I thought, ‘wow, how odd, the Ratio I know would never do that!’ And then I thought, what better way to cheer my dear friend up than keep him company and wash his hair! It did look a little greasy today.” 

“I am not your dear friend,” he argues mockingly, but the bite in his voice falls short when you circle around the bath and set down your paraphernalia on the tiles next to you (a microfiber hair towel, shampoo, conditioner, some miscellaneous hair foams and sprays that he really does not trust you with). “You are the most insufferable person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Get out of my bathroom.” 

“This is our bathroom now, Ratio. We’re a community, you and me.” 

“It’s ‘you and I.’”

“Exactly! You and I, a community. You’re getting the hang of it now.” 

Veritas sighs, surrendering any potential of a relaxing evening to your whims. This is, unfortunately, how it usually goes, and he has yet to make a real effort to stop it. A voice in the back of his head taunts him because at his core, he has zero desire to stop it at all. 

“Come on,” you keep babbling, threading your fingers roughly through his already-damp hair. It’s not a pleasant sensation at all, and he winces and holds back a pained yelp. “It’s kind of like going to a spa, or whatever. I’m trying to pamper you. Be grateful!” 

“There’s nothing to be grateful about when you’re trying to scalp me,” he could push your hands away easily, bat you off and make you leave. Instead, though, he gives you a minute to tame your inelegant movements into something gentler. He hears the sound of a bottle uncapping, and then your hands are back on his scalp, lathering honey-scented shampoo into the layers of his hair. 

“Is this better?” you ask cheekily, tracing circles in his hair, digging your fingertips in and scratching just a little bit, hard enough to feel it but light enough that it’s still soothing. Veritas sighs through his nose, deep and heavy and sinking back into the water. There’s no mocking retorts, no quips, no sarcastic tone, just the even cycle of his breathing and the rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. If he tries hard enough, focuses enough, he can hear yours too, but it makes his stomach twist with an uncomfortable, unnameable feeling. 

In your bundle of things that you brought, there’s an empty plastic cup, and you use it to scoop water from the tub and rinse the foam from his hair. Veritas feels wholly exposed, for obvious reasons among others, and the urge to kick you out still sits heavy in his chest. Right next to it is a warmth, though, something holding his sensibility hostage, something that finds this more comforting than it would be if he’d sat in the bath until the water went cold, all alone, without your hands washing his hair clean of oil and grime and the weight of his research. 

You break him of his reverie, but the sudden sound of your voice isn’t as intrusive as he anticipated. “You know, you should start using this oil thing for your hair, I got it from one of my coworkers,” by now, his hair is completely rid of any remaining shampoo, and your hands are rubbing a thin layer of conditioner into the ends of each strand, “and it’s supposed to help your hair grow. I think you’d look great with long hair, Veritas, don’t you agree?” 

“What, do you think about that often?” It’s supposed to be something snarky, something to shut you down before you dig too deep, but you never catch the hint—it’s your best and worst quality. 

“Maybe,” you admit, heft in your words, a density that needs to be cut open and examined. He’s good at that—good at looking and prying, but he’s the worst if he’s next to you. You’re nowhere near as thorough of a researcher as him, but he thinks (with a sense of embarrassment) that when the subject is him, you’re the most qualified person around. “Wouldn’t it be nice? With your hair all down to your shoulders, maybe. And if you really think it’s a hassle to take care of, I’ll just do it for you.” 

He’s perfectly capable of taking care of his own hair, thank you very much, but the idea of having you wash it for him, brush out the tangles in it every other day is appealing to a starving man like Veritas. He aches, and the skin at the nape of his neck itches. 

“You’re saying nonsense,” he says, and he can feel the way his brow has tightened and he instinctively goes to chew at the dead skin on his lips. “My hair is perfectly fine the way it is.” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you respond, “just giving you options.” Your hands finally leave his hair, and suddenly the water in the bathtub feels frigid and icy, and Veritas represses a shiver. “Your hair is squeaky clean. Now, get out of the bathroom! It’s my turn to hang out with the rubber duck.” 

“Would you—?!” Veritas turns to glare at you, but the impish grin on your face makes him falter. You’re incorrigible. “The duck isn’t mine! And you have your own bathroom. Stop invading my space.” 

“Sigh,” you say aloud, because you’re corny and theatrics are written into every part of your personality. “Oh, grandest Ratio, I really did think we were friends, but you wound me so deeply! All this time has meant nothing to you! All this new shampoo that I bought just for you, gone to waste…” 

“For gods’ sake,” he mutters, reaching for a set of pajamas that you’d so conveniently taken from his own dressers and brought with you while on your mission to wash his hair. “Turn around so I can get dressed and then you can use the bathroom. So annoying.” 

“Not annoying enough to kick me out, though,” you say, and you’re completely right, and Veritas will admit that one day, but certainly not today.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @hanyi-writes

[sterekorgtfo]

Buck’s eyes jolted open and his heart began to race as something alerted his body and jolted him out from his slumber.

He was momentarily disoriented given that this was the first time he was sleeping in Tommy’s bed and he didn’t recognize the feel of the pillows, comforter, or the sight of the dresser across from him.

After a moment of grasping where he was and what was going on, he recognized the distinct sound of Tommy laughing his ass off behind him in the middle of the night.

“Do you mind telling me what you find so funny at 2 in the morning?” Buck groggily asked as he rotated over to face his hysterical boyfriend.

“Wh…what I’m laughing at?” Tommy asked through the laughter. “Are you saying you don’t know?”

“Given that I was deep in a very heavy REM Cycle, no. Absolutely not,” Buck replied in an annoyed tone. “Our first sleepover is not seeming very romantic right now.”

Tommy let out a few more chuckles and then began to calm his breaths. “Really? I was just thinking the opposite,” Tommy teased playfully. “Your snoring is adorable. Louder than my chopper and my bike combined, but adorable.”

Buck groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “I thought Chris and all of my girlfriends were being over-dramatic.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy interrupted through a giggle. “Christopher and multiple exes of yours experienced this, and you still had doubt?”

“Chris commented on it when I was babysitting him, and kids are dramatic; and my girlfriends…have also had a history of being dramatic,” Buck explained.

“Uh-oh. I’m dating a ‘all my exes were crazy guy’? That’s a red flag,” Tommy teased.

“No, they’re not,” Buck defended remorsefully. “I just hoped it wouldn’t happen here.”

Tommy chuckled at his boyfriend and Buck felt a mildly judgemental gaze his way. “You thought it’d just be gone by tonight?”

“Kinda?” Buck said sheepishly.

There was a lull in the convo, a moment of silence before Tommy wrapped his arms above and below Buck. “Come here.”

Buck let out a minor yelp as he felt himself be pulled closer to his boyfriend. He felt the warmth of Tommy’s bare muscular chest and arms envelop him. “I think your snoring is adorable, Evan, and I will happily suffer through so many sleepless nights as long as it means you get to fall asleep in my arms and I get to wake up next to you in the morning.”

“You say that now-”

“I do say that now. And I’ll say it again each night until my body won’t let me fall asleep without the sound of you,” Tommy insisted with a confident assurance.

Bucks heart raced and his body instinctively shuddered, and his instinct to roll away was coursing through his whole body.

“Evan? Evan, what’s wrong?” Tommy asked with concern.

“It’s nothing,” Buck lied as he rolled away from Tommy.

“It’s not nothing,” Tommy countered as he allowed his boyfriend some space. “Did I say something wrong, Evan? I’d really like to know if I did.”

Buck winced his eyes and took a deep breath. He was thankful that they were laying in the dark and - *click* oh great, there was the nightstand light on Tommy’s side.

“Evan, will you please look at me?” Tommy tenderly inquired.

Buck really didn’t want to. He wanted to hide himself under the comforters in embarrassment. He didn’t want to be vulnerable right now, but pushing Tommy away wasn’t going to help the situation. Tommy deserved better.

He begrudgingly rolled over to face Tommy and Buck’s heart was struck with guilt as he saw the pain and concern painted across Tommy’s face.

“Evan, baby, can you please tell me what’s wrong?” There was that sweet, genuine sincerity that terrified the hell out of him.

“It’s just…you make all these super sweet promises that sound like you’re gunna be around forever; and we don’t know that,” Buck explained.

“So am I coming on too strong? Do you want me to stop? I don’t mean to rush things or put pressure on you-,” Tommy nervously began to explain.

“No, it’s not too strong. And no, i don’t want you to stop. I like it a lot. Too much, actually, and that’s the problem. I’m scared at how much I like it and I’m terrified about getting too used to it in case this all goes south. You sound like you’re promising forever but you can’t.”

There was another pause as Tommy began to process everything Buck said. “Can I hold your hand?” Tommy softly asked. Buck gently nodded in response.

Tommy moved his free arm to Buck’s, and entwined their hands together, locking fingers. “Evan,” Tommy began, holding his gaze. “You’re right. I cant promise forever. I don’t think our very first sleepover warrants any ring-talk.”

Buck let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, please do not. That’s a red flag.”

“Fair,” Tommy said playfully. “But here’s what I do know. I’m 39, almost 40. I have no intention of plying the field and I’m tired of meaningless flings. I get the feeling you are too based on the handful of threats I’ve received about treating you right; which I absolutely plan on doing.”

Buck chuckled at the thought of everyone giving Tommy the ‘If you hurt him speech.’ “Who all gave you the speech?”

“Maddie. Eddie. Bobby, who found it pertinent to remind me that Athena is a police sergeant,” Tommy explained.

“Oh my god,” Buck said. “I’m surprised you didn’t run on the spot.”

“Well you shouldn’t be,” *Tommy said sternly. “I have no intentions of going anywhere. And granted, it’s possible life is going to throw us some shit. But I’m willing to fight for you, Evan. And as long as both our lives are better with each other in it, then I’m willing to give this a genuine shot. I’m ready to put in the effort for this.”

Buck stewed and marinated and contemplated Tommy’s words. “Is that not a sentiment most people have at the start?”

“No it is not,” Tommy answered matter-of-factly. “Especially in the gay community. I’m not saying everyone, but I’ve ran into my fair share of guys only looking for Mr. Right Now. Or a daddy.”

Buck started to laugh heartily at the thought of Tommy being a ‘daddy’. He understood, though. Buck kinda agreed.

“I want off the hamster wheel, Evan. And I will do everything I can to reassure you that I mean it.”

Buck leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend deeply. Tommy wrapped his arms back around Buck and held him tight.

“I don’t want to hurt you either, if it’s any consolation,” Buck replied.

“I appreciate that. I don’t know if I have another heartbreak in me either. I spent too many years being inauthentic to myself and unhappy. I don’t want to waste anymore time of my life.”

“So we’re in good hands with each other?” Buck asked.

“I think so,” *Tommy said with a soft, warm smile that made Buck feel so safe and happy with it.

“I think so, too,” Buck said as he leaned in for one more kiss. “Ready to go back to sleep?”

“I suppose that’s up to your nose,” *Tommy said playfully as he turned the light off and pulled his boyfriend in close.

[moodriingz]

Waiting Room pt. 2 | Q. Hughes

Summary | part one it’s Quinn’s turn to pine over the reader while she tries to move on, but can she do that when she’s still in love with Quinn?

Pairing | Quinn Hughes x reader, Elias Peterson x platonic!reader, reader x oc

Warnings | Angst?, mutual (but blind) pinning, cursing maybe 

Author's Note | Thank you so much for all of your support for part one! I feel so bad that it took me forever to write part two, but this semester really kicked my ass. I hope this lives up to the hype. I honestly just wanted to get it done to move on if that makes sense? I’m hoping to continue writing so feel free to send requests! I’ve also recently gotten into F1 so you can send requests for that too!! xx

Masterlist

“You were so right, me and Evan got along so well. He’s great. We’re going on another date too.” 

Quinn felt sick to his stomach. Not only had your friendship dwindled out of nowhere, but now you’re with someone else. Worst of all there was no explanation to why you pulled away. Quinn racked his brain for any reason why you would stop hanging out with him. 

Now he had to watch you give your attention to someone else. He was so jealous of this random guy. Quinn wondered what made Evan better than him? All he knew was that the bright smile and light blush you seemed to always have was for some other guy now. 

A couple of weeks passed and Quinn barely spends time with the team outside of practice and chooses to spend his time going through old photos and videos of the two of you or watching anything you’ve ever suggested to him. He’s halfway through one of your favorite movies when there’s a knock on his door. His heart flutters hoping it's you, but is immediately let down when he realizes that it's Elias and Brock at his door.

“What do you want,” He asks begrudgingly, leaving the door open as he returns to his couch.

“We wanted to make sure that you’re alive,” Elias said.

“Well now you know bye,” Quinn quips at them.

“Dude something is up with you and we’re not leaving until we find out,” Brock said.

“Is this about Y/N?” Elias asked.

“Fine yeah it’s about Y/N. I just really miss her,” Quinn admits after taking a deep breath.

“We used to talk almost everyday and that all stopped on the last road trip and now she’s seeing that new guy. I was finally going to ask her out and she just shut down.”

“Wait you were? You told me you didn’t see her that way and she overheard,” Elias says confused.

“She heard me? Why didn’t you say anything?” Quinn asks as his heart shatters all over again. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“She was so upset and I didn’t think I could change your mind. She had been pinning after you for months and you never did anything, so I just believed you,” Elias said with a shrug.

“I didn’t think she felt the same way so I was just putting my feelings aside because I cared more about our friendship,” Quinn says, putting his head in his hands. “I think I royally fucked up.”

“Maybe not, Y/N and Evan don’t seem super serious yet. You might be able to wiggle your way back in with her,” Elias says sitting down with Quinn.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe bring her coffee? Start there and see what happens,” Brock suggests and Quinn just nods making a game plan to get his girl back.

The next morning he gets up early for practice to go pick up your coffee from the cafe you always go to. He knew where to go because the cafe printed their logo on their cups and he had plenty of time to take note of it. As he walked in he immediately recognized your silhouette waiting in line.

“Looks like you beat me to it today,” Quinn says walking up to you in line.

“Beat me to what?” You ask confused why after not talking to each other for a month he decided to come to your cafe.

“I was going to bring you coffee today,” He says awkwardly with a small smile on his face.

“Oh well you can still pay if you want,” You suggest as a joke.

“Yeah I guess that’s true,” Quinn says, hoping a conversation would start on its own. After a minute of silence he gives in and asks, “So what’s new with you I feel like we haven’t really talked that much recently.”

“Nothing much, you know filming you guys all day,” You say wondering if you should mention Evan. It’s still so new and you don’t know if it's going to work out, but he makes you so happy.

“I actually just started seeing this guy. His name is Evan, I think you would like him actually, he's really nice,” You say, deciding to rip off the bandaid.

Quinn knew he wouldn’t like Evan because he was getting with the girl of his dreams.

“Yeah maybe you should bring him out with us after a game or something. I'd love to meet him,” Quinn says kicking himself because that’s the last thing he wants, but anything to get back in your good graces. 

You give him a smile at his comment thinking of what to say next. Luckily for you the barista calls for you two to order. And just like you suggested, Quinn paid. He offers you a ride to the arena before you even start walking back to the metro station to get to work.

You both sit in silence trying to think of anything to talk about. You finally start the conversation by mentioning that an author you had recommended to him a while ago put out a new book and how excited you were to pick it up. 

Just like that the two of you fell back into conversation like you hadn’t missed a beat. You arrive at the arena way quicker than you thought you would and almost don’t want to get out of the car and leave Quinn again. You walk inside and as you are about to separate, but Quinn stops you.

“Would you like to go stop at a bookstore after work today to pick up that book? I could take you home after so you don’t have to take the metro home,” He asks hoping you would say yes.

Yeah that would be really nice. I’ve really missed hanging out with you,” You say with a smile and leaving to go get your work started.

“What’s got you smiling like that? Evan?” Megan, your coworker, asks jokingly.

“Actually no I ran into Quinn this morning when I was getting my coffee and we just talked for a while. Now we’re hanging out after work,” you say, taking a sip of coffee. Hoping to hide your smile behind your cup.

“Wait, really I thought you two were going to avoid each other forever.”

“Well I guess not. He said he was going there to pick up my coffee which was really sweet of him.”

“Oh he’s so into you,” Megan says sitting back in her chair. 

“No he’s not, why would you say that?”

“Think about it, he stops talking to you right after you start seeing Evan and out of nowhere he’s doing all of these nice things for you?” 

You stop and think about it, but there’s no way he told Elias that he could never see you that way. You brush it off and get on with your day. You didn’t have to shoot any content today so you didn’t see any of the guys during their practice, but Quinn was waiting for you after work to take you to go find your book.

You try not to think about what Megan said to you today, pushing it to the back of your mind. Once the two of you get to the bookstore you feel like a kid in a candy store showing Quinn all of the books you had on your reading list but haven’t gotten yet. Without you paying attention he grabbed a basket and started throwing them in there to pay for them himself.

He finally leads you up to the counter and insists on paying for all of the books he grabbed for you. You try to convince him that he didn’t need to but you were cut off by the clerk.

“Girl just let your cute boyfriend pay for your books. That’s what I would do.” You try to deny the accusation from this random teenager, but before you could they were announcing the total and Quinn was inserting his card. He grabbed the bag and walked you back out to the car.

“Sorry if what they said was weird, but just think of it as a payback for all of those coffees you got me,” Quinn said, trying to make you feel better.

“No it’s fine I think it’s kinda funny actually.” You say finally realizing you were there for several hours and were too tired to make dinner.

“I think I’m just going to order take-out for dinner if you want to keep hanging out at my place,” You say with a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Quinn says as you start ordering. He stops at the restaurant while you run in to pick it up. He decides to text Elias and Brock an update and that he’ll tell them more later. 

The drive to your apartment was filled with playful banter about what you should watch and Quinn just watches you as the streetlights illuminate your face. The two of you finally arrive and settle on a new movie you just saw. It really didn’t take much convincing for him to give in; he just wanted to push your buttons a little bit.

Later, they are surrounded by take out tins and you’re starting to drift off. At some point during the movie your head ended up on Quinn’s shoulder and you started to doze off. Quinn wasn’t complaining, but felt like it was time for him to go as the credits started to roll.

“Hey Y/n/n wake up,” He says quietly as you groan and cuddle into him further. “Y/n/n you have to get up-the movie’s over.”

When there’s no sign of you moving he decides to just pick you up and bring you to your bed. Thinking you’re asleep he decides to give you a “friendly” kiss on your forehead and says goodnight. You feel the butterflies that you thought were now reserved for Evan coming back all over again. Quinn grabs the trash from the takeout and sees himself out, and can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. On his way home he decides to call Elias.

“Elias I’m in so deep I don’t know what to do,” Quinn says concerned because he doesn’t want to break you and Evan up and ruin something else for you.

“Wait what happened?” Elias asked confused because all Quinn had told him was that they were heading back to her place.

“I kissed her-” Quinn said before Elias cut him off.

“You what? You move fast, man.”

“Well I kind of kissed her. She fell asleep on my shoulder and wouldn’t move so I carried her back to her room and then I kissed her forehead. Now I’m going home,” Quinn says still with a deep smile on his face. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I guess act like nothing happened. She was asleep right? Just leave it be for now and still hang out with her. I can talk to her and see what’s going on with Evan and then you can go from there.”

“Yeah good point thanks Elias, I’ll see you later.”

The next day you walk into work reminiscing last night with Quinn hoping you could relive it again soon. Silly crush aside, you missed your best friend and wanted things to go back to normal. 

Elias practically corners you just to ask questions about Quinn.

“Quinn told me you two hung out last night, so you aren’t ignoring him anymore?”

“I was never ignoring him I just was busy,” You say trying to move around him to get to his office.

“Yeah alright. Anyways, how is it going with Ethan?” Elias asks, teasing you.

“Evan is great. I think I might invite him to a game or something soon,” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Oh wait, really?” Elias asks as you start to walk away. “For the record I think that would be a great idea. Maybe next week against Winnipeg?”

“Yeah I’ll have to ask him. Now if you will excuse me I have to go to my desk.” You say finally walking away. 

You set your things down and open your computer and Megan starts questioning you about your evening with Quinn.

“It really wasn’t anything crazy. We just went to the bookstore where he bought all of them for me and then we went back to my place and got dinner,” You tell her leaving out the fact that he brought you to your bed and kissed you goodnight.

“The fact that he bought all of your books is enough to tell me that he’s into you. I know you had a long list you were slowly buying for yourself.” Megan may have set you up with Evan but she wasn’t blind to how much Quinn was into you and vice versa. 

“I’m thinking of inviting Evan to a game. What do you think?” You ask to change the subject.

“I think it would be a good idea if you weren’t afraid of what your work husband would do,” Megan says, teasing you.

“I- what are you talking about,” You ask, hiding your blush.

“Y/N you can pretend to be oblivious, but Quinn really likes you and you should think about his reaction to having your new boyfriend at a game.”

“Who even knows if Evan would want to go,” You say before locking in on your work for the day.

You had already made plans to go out with Evan later that night so you figured it would be the best time to ask him then. You go home and get ready for your date thinking about what Megan said to you earlier in the day. 

Soon enough you leave to go meet Evan at some new restaurant you would never pick out because it was too fancy for your taste. He greets you with a kiss to your cheek asking you how your day was.

“It was good I just had to deal with Megan and Elias berating me all day,” You say, aiming to leave the questions about Quinn out.

“Why would they do that?”

“Oh I was just thinking about inviting you to a game soon and they were just making fun of me,” You say sheepishly.

“That would be so cool! Would you be able to hang out with me or would it be like a wag situation where I just watch you do your magic,” Evan says with a chuckle as you start to look over the menu.

“I could probably get the night off and sit with you. Do you think you’d be free for the game next Saturday against the Jets?”

“Yeah that would be great! I’m looking forward to it!” He says closing his menu to signal he’s ready to order.

You continue to hang out with both Quinn and Evan, but choose not to tell Quinn about your invite for Evan to come to the upcoming game.

Saturday’s game finally rolls around and Quinn notices your absence during the warmups. You usually can be found on the bench shooting content but tonight it’s Megan in your place. 

“Hey Petey do you know where Y/N is tonight?” Quinn asks hoping Elias might have some insight.

“Yeah she’s in the crowd tonight with Evan,” Elias says pointing towards Y/N and Evan in their seats.

Quinn’s heart drops. You had mentioned that you were thinking about inviting Evan but didn’t think it would be so soon. He tries to forget that you brought your boyfriend to the game, but he can’t forget the fact that you’re wearing his jersey. He can’t help but feel a fire ignite when Evan leans in to say something to you. The sense of jealousy does not go away, but there is a sense of pride knowing his name is the one on your back.

You spot Quinn looking at the two of you and give a shy wave like you had been caught. Evan leaves to go grab some water and you are stuck worrying about what Quinn is thinking about you bringing Evan. 

Honestly since you started hanging out with Quinn again you just felt like your heart wasn’t in it with Evan anymore. You were planning on ending it but he kept talking about how excited he was for the game, so You decided to wait until after to end it with him.

There were no goals by either team after the first period, but something about Quinn seemed off. He was checking the other team left and right and was obviously agitated. The crowd is electric even though the Canucks are down 3-2 half way through the third, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood.

Quinn continues to instigate against the Jets and eventually gets himself into a fight against some player who was aggravating him all night. It doesn’t last long, but enough to get himself a penalty. He looks even more upset than before watching over the play.

Y/N was worried for Quinn. He never was this short tempered and she couldn’t figure what made him that upset. Evan can feel the nerves radiating off of her and rubs her shoulder to try and calm her, but he can’t help but feel like he is the last thing she needs right now.

“Hey Y/N I hate to do this here but I think we should probably end this,” Evan says and you finally take your eyes off Quinn. There is nothing you can do but sigh.

“Evan I’m so sorry I really wish I could’ve been better for you.”

“No it’s ok we had a great time and I’m happy being your friend I just think you have feelings for someone else,” Evan says with little to no hurt in his voice.

“Yeah I would love to still be your friend,” You say with a small smile as he gets up to leave.

Quinn sees Evan get up, but he just assumes that Evan is getting you something from the concessions. He realizes he needs to stop focusing on your date tonight and lock in for the rest of the game.

Unfortunately the Canucks lose 4-2 and Quinn looks like a kicked puppy, but luckily he isn’t assigned to interviews so he can just clean up and get ready to head home. He hopes he can just forget this night, especially seeing you with Evan. 

Little does he know that you’re already waiting for him in the hallway all but pacing the area hoping he’s not too upset to talk to you. Quinn keeps his head down not wanting to see all of the sweet reunions of the couples and families until he hears you call his name. 

He almost doesn’t want to stop worrying Evan would be with you, but you ran up to him to get his attention. Quinn turns around surprised to see you alone with a worried look on your face.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asks, his voice laced with annoyance. His comment leaves a sting in your chest.

“Um we actually ended it, but I just came to see how you were doing. I was really worried about you. I've never seen you so upset,” You say with worry lacing your voice.

“Well thanks for checking on me but - wait you ended it with Evan?” Quinn asks, lighting back up.

“Yeah we were better off as friends. I honestly wanted to end it a while ago because I kind of have feelings for someone else, but he was really looking forward to the game,” You say rubbing your arm hoping he might start catching on.

“Oh?” Quinn says with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but still guarded in case it is someone else.

“Yeah he’s some goofball who was stupid and got himself a penalty tonight,” You say, stepping closer to Quinn.

“Well hopefully he can get that under control for the rest of the season, I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck with someone spending time in a box the whole game,” Quinn says with a smirk and leaning in.

You decided to close the gap and the kiss was all you had ever hoped for. There was a mix of fireworks and something that just felt like home as he grabbed your sides to pull you in closer. Neither of you wanted this feeling to end, but unfortunately you had to come back up for air. 

Quinn has the slightest pink tinge and smile on his face as he pulls back far enough to scan your face for any regrets.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” He says.

“Finally!” Elias says as he rounds the corner to see the two of you still wrapped up in each other's arms.

“I never thought he would make a move,” Elias adds as Quinn tries to hide in your neck.

“Well maybe we should get out of here and talk a little bit,” You suggest and Quinn excitedly nods, grabbing your hand to lead you out.

The two of you get into his car and you leave the arena stealing kisses from each other at stop lights and looking forward to your future together.