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reidmania · 1 month

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loml | spencer reid

summary; after you and spencer reunite at JJ’s wedding after being broken up for two years, you are quick to realise it will never be the same as it was, you’re the love of his life, and he is the loss of yours.

warnings; exes to not lovers but something!! no happy ending, angst, fem reader, season 7 spence, mentions of arguments, falling back into feelings because its familiar, they are so in love, jj’s childhood friend!reader, reader wears a dress, no use of y/n cus ew, reader has long enough hair to have up, they are so meant to be its not even funny, everyone can see it. they are perfect for each other TIME IS MEAN!!!

an; hey this was ur fault ! also i made so much shit up abt the wedding because i cbf rewatching that ep tbh 🥰🥰

‘what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye’ is this fic

also this was written in an hour and im sick and im pretty sure its horrible and doesn’t make sense but thats so okay!! lmk if u want a part two!! they deserve better pls want a part two!!

‘Who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway. we embroidered the memories, of the time I was away, stitching, "We were just kids, babe", I said, "I don't mind, it takes time" I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed. I felt aglow like this, never before and never since. if you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary. you and I go from one kiss to gettin married. still alive, killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried. in your suit and tie, in the nick of time. you lowdown boy, you stand up guy, holy ghost, you told me I'm, the love of your life’

You remembered it all too well.

The lights gleamed around the garden, there was some background music playing, quietly in the distance, probably louder for the people surrounding it. Whereas you had found yourself settled in a quieter corner of the beautifully set garden. The ceremony was beautiful, you sat through and tried to avoid shedding tears seeing someone so important so happy.

You were alone, watching the guests of the wedding dance when you felt the presence behind you. The familiar cologne filled your senses in a way that made your head spin and chest ache with familiarity and overwhelming comfort. Two years since you and smelt the cologne and it still had the same effect on you.

You remembered the conversation as if it was a broken record playing on repeat in your mind. How your head turned towards him and the smile lit up his face. Its not like you had ended on bad terms — not at all. It was a mutual agreement to break up all those years ago. You were just at two different points in your lives and it was beginning to clash.

His voice was gentle when he said your name. You had seen him around earlier, your heart had skipped a beat and your stomach filled with familiar butterflies, but you didn’t approach him. Now here he was, standing in front of you, saying your name as if no time had passed at all.

You repeated his name back, a smile on your face as you stood up from the white garden chair that had been delicately placed around the table. His arms enveloped you almost as soon as you were standing. You could recall the way they felt, safe, secure and the exact same as they had two years beforehand.

“You look great” He had mumbled into your hair, his hands pressing against the small of your back, furthering your presence against him, trailing of the silk of the floor length dress you had worn, face buried into your hair as if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment.

Your hands rested on the back of either of his shoulders, head resting against the front of his shoulder. You were sure he could feel the small breath of air you let out against his neck before you pulled yourself away from the hug. “So do you. It’s been so long.” You had said, eyes trailing over his face, taking in every noticeable change since the last time you had seen him.

“Too long.” He agreed, eyes mirroring yours as they danced along your features, as if he was committing it to memory.

The words had made your chest tighten and warm all at once. It wasn’t long before you were sitting at an empty table, catching up. You told him about everything that had changed in your time apart as did you. And then the topic swiftly changed as the two of you danced along fond memories of your years spent together.

“We were so young” He mumbled after you had recalled a specific memory of the two of you having pillow fights on late Saturday nights, a small thing that became a common ritual every night Spencer had been home on a Saturday. Your smiled had widened at his words — although only two years ago the maturity between you both and grown massively.

He added quickly as he reached out to take your hand, a familiar movement you had been neglected of the last two years. “I was too young, immature.. You always deserved more than what I could’ve given you then.” His words were sweet and sincere yet you begged to differ.

“I think that was the happiest i’ve ever been.” You recalled. Everyday spent with Spencer was a memory you kept safe in a secure part of your mind. You looked back at photos from that time, there was a certain gleam in your eye, one that wasn’t found in any photo recently, despite being content with your place in life currently.

Being with Spencer was a sort of fever dream, a sort of perfect you’d only find in a film or a romance novel, things like falling asleep while he read to you, or slow dancing in the dim moon light that gleamed through the kitchen window at late hours, small love notes left around the house, that was something that you failed to find anywhere else — not for a lack of looking.

His eyes stayed on yours, his skin glowing under the warmed yellow lighting of the fairy lights that dazzled the garden with their gleam, his eyes holding a certain sparkle you could only describe as nostalgia. “Me too.” He had said, eyes dropping from yours to your hand in his.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart soared with the warmth from his touch, your mind fogging from any sense of realism, until your thumb traced his knuckles and it lacked the familiarity everything else did. His hands had grown rougher, more callous although the same soft in your touch.

“Dance with me?” He offered, eyes lifting to meet yours again. Voice gentle and barely above a whisper as if he was scared you would reject him, maybe even more scared you would accept and it wouldn’t be the same as it was.

You nodded, accepting anyways.

His hands dragged yours to the crowd of other people dancing. His hands moved to wrap gently around your waist, your arms slinging over his shoulders to wrap around his neck as his arms pulled you in close. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

The music fell into background noise as your focus was pulled instead to the sound of his gentle breathing, and slow heartbeat as his head rested atop of yours that was press into his shoulder. You fell into step as if no time had passed at all, you swayed gently in his arms.

“I’ve missed you.” His words came out as a whisper and your heart pulled. This was wrong, you could feel it in your stomach yet the thought was quickly replaced by the feeling of home that buried itself in your ribcage as his hands trailed gently up and down your sides in a soothing familiar motion.

You wanted to reply and tell him you had missed him too, that every night you laid in bed and recalled every last moment between you too. How people from your past still asked about him, how their faces fell when you laughed and admitted you were no longer together.

You wanted to tell him that in the time that had passed you had still the framed photos in a box under your bed, how you hadn’t changed a single detail in your apartment just in case one day he came over. You wanted it to be familiar.

It was, This was. Everything about Spencer was familiar and it was safe.

“I think we needed the time.” You exhaled out, honestly. Maybe if you were to try again now it would end up differently. Maybe he was right in what he said earlier — you were both too immature to handle the intensity of the love the streamed between you. The pull that seemed magnetic the minute your eyes laid on his.

He hummed gently as his arms stopped their movements on your side and instead rewrapped themselves around your waist, dancing down your back, holding you close as he inhaled your scent. This was all he ever wanted.

“Everyone still tells me I was a fool for letting you go, that I was meant to be with you. I think they were right.” He mumbled out into your hair. You remembered being told the same thing. You remembered your friends telling you how sorry they were and how they could have never imagined you and Spencer ever breaking up, ‘you guys were the great love story’ they had rambled.

You shook your head against his shoulder. It was meant to happen like that. Maybe this was all you would ever be. Meant to happen, but never actually happening.

“Maybe” You exhaled, unable to bring yourself to say more as you relished in the moment. The distance of the last two years between you both seemed to disappear as your focus remained on everything that was the same.

The difference, he was different, you were different. Your likes and dislikes had changed, as you assumed his. How if you were to try again you would have to relearn one another. Everything he once knew about you was a distant memory, a familiar reminder of what had once been. Of what was once lost.

His lips pressed against the side of your head and your heart pressed against your chest uncomfortably as your heart beat increased. His hands left a burning trail on your skin even over the fabric of your dress. It was too similar, and too different all at once.

The love between you and Spencer was loud. You loved each other loudly. It was never meant to be a secret, everyone saw it in the shared glances, even now, in the way his touch was significantly gentler with you than anyone else, how your body relaxed in his grasp.

The love between you was loudest in the silence.

Everyone could see it.

Your mind burnt with the memory of the night you broke up, he brought the idea of a breakup up. He suggested it and you whole heartedly agreed. Not for a lack of love. You both mutually expressed the amount of love you had for each other throughout the entire conversation. It just wasn’t the right time. The conversation happened, he mumbled out ‘don’t be a stranger’ as he kissed your forehead in the doorway of your home.

You had let out a wet chuckle as his fingers brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks, similar ones on his own. You agreed, he mumbled an I love you, and then a ‘ill see you soon’

And you hadn’t seen him since.

Until now.

You hadn’t been bitter about it. You were partially glad you hadn’t seen him. You knew if given the chance in those two years you would’ve ran back to him in an instant. Told him how you were sure your heart hadn’t been beating regularly without him by your side, then listened to him ramble about the science of broken heart syndrome as you pressed soft kisses against every inch of his face.

“Whats going on in your pretty head?” He asked. You let out a laugh at his sweet words. The sentence something he had used numerous times throughout the years of your relationship whenever you found yourself lost in thought.

Everything had changed, yet stayed the exact same.

“I don’t think I’ll ever move on from us.” You mumbled out honestly. The words a weight on your chest, a truth that had been buried down your throat you failed to admit to anyone else.

His touch provided a specific burn against your skin, his voice playing an irreplaceable melody in your mind, his sweet words and whispered nothings written on every butterfly that filled your stomach, his eyes unparalleled to another. the feeling in your chest that only he could arise. the smile on your face only he could provide, the gleam in your eyes only present when he was too.

He had left a mark on you, your relationship had left you in a daze for the last two years without you even realising it. nothing would provide the same fulfilment as being by his side did.

Every feeling with him had been new and original, a sort of happiness you didn’t know was humanly possible. You were pretty sure he provided you with a dangerous amount of dopamine, an addictive amount.

If Spencer was a drug, then you had been going through withdrawals for years.

“I know I will never move on from us” His admission carried a different weight than yours did. Despite being the same the meaning was different.

it left your heart heavy and regret flowering in your chest.

“I should go, I told my roommate i’d be home early.” You whispered out, against the soft fabric of his suit jacket. His arms tightened around you momentarily before releasing his hold on you.

His eyes were lidded when he looked down at your face, your arms fell from his shoulders and your stomach twisted at the familiarity of the loss of his touch.

“Don’t be a stranger.” He said, voice quiet, meaningful and honest and you felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. Everything left unsaid over the last two years coming up in the back of your throat but remaining unsaid.

“I won’t.” You promised.

His lips pressed against your forehead as he squeezed your waist gently, before letting you go.

The movement was natural, like you would spend every day of the rest of your life doing it. as if you would wake up in the morning tangled a-mess in his arms, the you would find yourself a giggling mess during a pillow fight on an upcoming Saturday night. As if you were finally going to happen.

You didn’t see him again after you left that night.

You burnt with the memory of his arms and his lips against your skin that night for the next years of your life.

For a love so loud everything seemed so quiet. You recalled the goodbye between you two that seemed so peaceful and tame, an understatement of the love that blossomed when in one another’s presence.

An invalidation of everything he had made you feel.

For a great love story, someone had to experience a great loss.

And he was yours.

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rinhaler · 1 year

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NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #aiku smut #aiku oliver x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #tw noncon #tw somno #tw drugging #tw biting #tw marking #tw spit #tw alcohol

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dumbseee · 5 months

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prom queen, part two.

part one.

genre: fluff!

warnings: bad english/grammar :p / idk if it’s really good tbh but i wanted to post the last part because i know some people are waiting for it shsjskks <333

taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @tr-mha-fan <3

"what’s taking them so damn long…" bakugo sighed, slouching on the couch, hands in his pockets while he was eyeing the corridor for any signs of the girls of class 1-a. they all decided to get ready together in mina’s room and of course, took the longest time. "just be patient, bro! the wait will be worth it." kirishima winked at his friend while elbowing him in the ribs, making the blond bark at him. "i can’t wait to see them in their beautiful and short dresses." mineta almost drooled over sero, who was sitting next to him, the boy winced and pushed the grape boy away. bakugo’s ears perked up at his words. "i bet momo and y/n will look the best, they’re the sexiest girls of-…" he couldn’t even finish his sentence since bakugo sent him flying away with one blast. "kacchan!" midoriya jumped out of his seat, startled since he was sitting near the two. "he better keep y/n’s name out of his dirty mouth." he mumbled, glaring the spot mineta was sitting on a few seconds ago.

"sorry for keeping you waiting guys!" momo’s voice echoed in the living room, and slowly they all arrived, dressed in beautiful and fancy clothes, hair and makeup done. each girl, who had a partner, went straight to them, while the ones without one would just go to their friends. "you look so cool jiro!" kaminari basically had stars in his eyes while he was looking at jiro, who couldn’t stop blushing. "wow ochaco! you look splendid in that dress! it’s the one we picked out?" midoriya was smiling widely at his friend, the brunette stuttered an answer but nodded furiously. "you look really nice, momo." todoroki smiled at momo, she nodded and played with her hair. "same goes to you, todoroki."

you smiled, seeing all your friends being happy and ready to have fun. you felt a small tap on your shoulder, when you turned around and saw bakugo standing in front of you, a hand hiding in his back and a faint pink color decorating his cheeks, you smiled widely at him. "bakugo! you look good in that suit." you eyed him from head to toe and the blonde thought he was going to explode on the spot. he was burning up inside and he couldn’t stop from blushing at your compliment, he cleared his throat and shoved a freshly brought bouquet of red roses. he couldn’t look at you, so he looked at the ground. "i knew the dress would look good on you, but you exceeded my expectations." he finally locked eyes with you and your smiled slowly faded, bakugo was complimenting you, he brought you flowers and he brought you the dress you were wearing right now.

it was the night when he told you go to to prom with him, you had returned to your dorm only to find a huge box sitting on your bed. a small note was left on top of it and said, "mina told me you were still looking for a dress. i hope you’ll like it, pretty girl." was this a dream? bakugo katsuki, your longtime crush was really being this sweet to you? you fell asleep that night, with a huge smile on your face.

"thanks again, bakugo. this is literally my dream dress." you smiled, turning around, making the dress fly around your waist. bakugo watched you with a small smile on his lips. "i want you to call me katsuki." he offered you his arm for you to grab and you two left the dorms alongside the others to join the rest of the students, in the ballroom. your classmates, watching in awe how the two most oblivious person they know, finally getting together.

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 9 months

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I’ve been simping over your ‘human’ Nomicon design since it came out in Ninja-November. If you have any headcanons about them, would you please share?

ah, a fellow monster/eldritch horror enjoyer I see! thank you! <3 tbh that Nomicon design was like an one day revelation, because while I love all the human!Nomi designs I've seen over the years (and there are some banger ones, man), it hit me that we as a fandom really underutilize all the uncanny aspects Nomi possesses. So ye. I do have a couple hc.

Nomicon is an entity that doesn't have its own face and voice.

Whenever Nomicon talks to Randy it uses proxies in form of art/images/drawings/scribbles/writings. It gives strangely non-verbal vibes for something so cryptically eloquent! And whenever it does use a voice, its voice of the First Ninja (or more accurately his VA xD) , its first owner/wielder. When it uses a face, its usually the static/unmoving marble-like faces of Art or silly pen scribbles - both of which hold that uncanny valley look of something that looks human but really isn't. Not to mention the fact that it once literally stole Randy's face/body to teach him a lesson.

I like to think that Nomicon has a library of faces/visages/voices it can take on, but all of them are creepily unsettling because - what would a book know about how to be human? It's face moves wrong, the eyes are too wide open, its body is creepily still, the voice uses inflections like its copying someone else (and sometimes voice warbles and changes/overlaps with other voices because it has so many).

All of it gives these fae/cryptid vibes of creatures that steal voices/faces to trick people, but in this case Nomicon collects those faces/voices from its owners along with their memories (which is another messed up thing we collectively forget is very creepy lol).

Nomicon is an entity that doesn't have a body, and most importantly - hands.

The reason I gave Nomicon so many shadow hands is because, well, Nomicon is a book. Hands hold those books, so the hands are very important to Nomi. All those shadow hands? Are memories of all the hands that held it (mostly previous Ninjas, but also the Creep and some others). It remembers everyone who held it.

The fit- the hat and the cape are kind of obvious, it look like center of the cover and the cape looks like covers on either side with pages underneath. The weirdest addition I made - is the spaghetti noodle-doodle 'hair'.

It constantly fascinates me that Nomicon, besides the Greek Key/9 motif, has those sort of concentration circles that are also present during Mask/Suit transformation. It gave me thought of sort of weird halos i guess?? Which adds to creepy vibe, but in this case its biblically accurate angel / holy deity type of vibes.

Nomicon has very basic understanding of humanity.

For all the experiences/memories/personalities it was created from and it absorbed over the years, human things are a rather alien concept for the book. It's the reason Nomicon is so bad at its timing whenever it buzzes Randy. It just doesnt care that you are at school Randy, its trying to teach you how to be a better ninja!!! In some sense, it absorbed the most prevalent quality of First Ninja - the dedication to duty, the whole reason for its existence - to serve Ninjas to be the best they can. So, such human/mortal things as good grades/video games/a good nights sleep are very nebulous concepts to it.

Less of a hc but more of an observation/gripe but-

COME ON ITS NAME??? Ninjanomicon as in Ninjanecronomicon??? Because lets be honest its not just a book/guide for Ninjas its a book full of DEAD NINJAS??? LIKE??? In some sense all previous Ninjas, when they go through Ultimate Lesson, 'die' in the real world (because they are no longer Ninjas) and are preserved in Nomicon. And First is like deadass dead? (Plop plop too lol). So I feel like there should be more creepiness about that.

Anyway thats basically most of it, and sorry for silly doodles but i cant really draw creepy stuff xD

#que?#rc9gn #ninjanomicon #can i even tag it #human!ninjanomicon #honestly its more #cryptid!ninjanomicon #listen: do i simp for every hot human!nomi design?? ye??? im only human lol im weak #but i do feel like creepy cryptid nomicon that is tasked with watching/teaching ninja teenagers has a lot of potential #like imagine cryptid!nomi while being wise is also not really understanding basic human stuff and every wielder teaches it something new #im kinda channeling all those hcs about urban legends/cryptids making friends with humans and learning human things (tm)#but there is also this tang of angst because every 4 or so years Nomi looses its humans ;( so sad

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kazumist · 2 months

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EPISODE 20 ✦ YOU'LL BE SAFE HERE

LOVE, MAYBE — A CHILDE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 417.

it was surprising that ajax knew exactly where to find you.

well not really; it’s not like he had many options for where you could be in the first place. perhaps he was just lucky that he had thought of this place first—the quiet park where you two had your “late night walk” a few nights ago, which mostly contained you and ajax just sitting down on a bench and him walking you home right after, really.

ajax slowed down his steps when he saw you hiding your face with your knees up on the bench. he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, not because of you. he’s frustrated that he didn’t want to see you like this. although you rarely smile at him in general (he considers himself lucky if he ever gets you to smile in his direction), ajax knows that a smile suits your features better than a frown—or even worse, tears.

he gently approaches you, silently taking the spot next to you. you knew it was ajax right away from the familiar yet comforting scent of the fabric conditioner that he uses on his clothes. and he was the only one you contacted before you made your way here. after simply texting the location of the park, ajax immediately knew that something was up.

“i don’t get it.” you mumbled. ajax doesn’t dare to speak—not yet.

instead, he pulls you closer to him by wrapping an arm around you. he could feel his clothes getting slowly dampened by the amount of tears you’ve been letting out but he doesn’t mind. he’ll take care of that later. “why? i have my limits too, dammit.” you sobbed into his shirt. ajax comfortingly rubs his hand on your arms.

“my poor girl,” he whispers at the crown of your head, gently pressing his lips to it right after. “it’s okay; it’ll be okay soon.”

“they all say that—” a sniffle, “—but what if i don’t? what if it doesn’t get better?” you said, shakily. “i’m scared, ajax.” he gently shushes you, not allowing you to continue that trail of thought. “do you trust me?”

he feels you nod against the fabric of his clothes. “then trust me when i say that it’ll be okay, yeah? being scared and crying is okay; take your time with it. you don’t have to suffer alone, (name).”

even if you think that the world is against you or when nothing seems clear, always remember: you’ll be safe here.

extra notes.

"my poor girl" was it casual when you said MY poor girl when you were comforting me late at night? (alexa play casual by chappell roan ?!?!) /j

testing the waters tbh but i think i'll start updating more now :') ive been js super busy lately sorry TT college isnt really that fun of a place LOL

taglist (open): @xianyoon @mitsvriii @kizakiss @kissingkzuha @aethion @phtogravi @ell1e2010 @esthelily @b4tm4nn @hcmay @ivvieene @morganadorodo @kaitfae @kentply @scaranthropy @kyon-cherri @kookiibun @kochothehoe @mekiiiii @ibyobi @iuspired @tetsuskei @kunikuzushis-darling @morgyyyyyyy @chluuvr @scaradooche @kissmiere @a1-ic3 @bubblegum-angelquartz @tiredjxnna @levlucs-kiru @angeilix @cerisescherries @saeskiss @a-talkative-corn @briluvspnk @kamisatoyato @bbysatoruuu @viviixoxosblog @bambisz @chemiru @eternal-dokja @bflyprincess @jamieexistss @monocerosei @enjisthings @jangyung @hahalame @cupid-spams @snzhrchy @ukinya @luciledreamz @bisatanica @bananasquash @almond-t0fu @thegalaxyisunfolding @jaguarthecat [1/2]

#( smau — love maybe ! )#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact #childe smau #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe #tartaglia #x reader

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meiliarotten · 8 months

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Lingerie Headcanons (All Mercs!)

🔞Minors DNI🔞

The Masterlist

👟 Scout 👟

Honestly I see scout as the kind of guy that gets worked up if you just happen to wear a bra and panties that match.

He just likes the idea that you put thought into what you were gonna wear for him

If you really wanna play to a fantasy though…

Playboy Bunny suits

It’s stereotypical, but people find those outfits sexy for a reason, so can you really blame him?

Favorite colors- he would claim to like the typical red and black, but I honestly think he has a soft spot for pink.

And he definitely doesn’t know shit about lingerie styles (tbh, neither do I. I’m looking at charts and cosmopolitan articles as I write this) so a simple bra and panty set suits him just fine

🦅 Soldier 🦅

Just dress up as the Statue of Liberty, he’ll be all over you

Ok, I’m kidding. Kinda. On to the serious stuff.

I think less is more with Soldier. I’m thinking vintage pinup aesthetic really gets him going

I know it’s not technically lingerie, but hear me out

Wear a dress or top that shows off your chest or “accidentally” drop something only to bend over in a skirt that’s conveniently just a bit too short

Bonus points if your wearing some actual lingerie beneath that skirt, flashing a bit of lace

Tease him, see if you can crack that strict drill sergeant demeanor her tries so hard to maintain

Once you're in private just know he’s not going to hold back on you.

favorite colors are red white and blue. No, I will not be backing down on this.

🔥 Pyro 🔥

the more colorful, the better with this one!

That goes double for frills.

Honestly the two of you could probably make a whole day out of you trying on different outfits and strutting around like a runway model, much to their delight

Pyro is like your own personal cheerleader

May also enjoy sexy costumes (nurses, French maids, etc), but I don’t see them as being much into roleplay, so those are probably more for fun

The fashion show usually ends when an outfit is just too hot for them to resist 😏

Because Pyro fucks and I will die on that hill

Their favorite colors for lingerie would be shades ranging from fire red to pastel pink

Favorite style is either babydolls or rompers. They just think you look so cute in them!

💥 Demoman 💥

He probably has the most ‘traditional’ lingerie tastes of everyone

Nothing too fancy, just a silk chemise or a pair of lacy black panties will do just fine

He definitely loves being surprised with it now and then. Undressing you to find that you’re wearing something special is always a turn on

Sometimes he’ll even save up to buy you a pair for special occasions like anniversaries.

He always gets super flustered when giving it to you, though. It’s really freaking cute

That said, if you really want to get him going, wear a pair of his boxers

You know those guys who think it’s hot as fuck when their partners wear their boxers or briefs?

Yeah, Demo’s one of those guys, 100%

Plus, you get to wear comfy, loose underwear. It’s a win-win!

🥊 Heavy 🥊

Heavy doesn’t have any need for fancy lingerie

Honestly he’s kinda terrified of tearing it. That stuff is expensive!

That said, he does enjoy the way you look in a teddy.

When he learns the name of the garment he’ll call you his “little bear.” It quickly becomes his favorite pet name for you

Favorite colors- doesn’t really have any. He thinks you look pretty in any hue.

That said, one thing that gets him even more worked up than lingerie?

Is when you wear one of his shirts- obviously way to big for you, fitting you like a nightgown- and nothing else.

🔧 Engineer 🔧

this is gonna be stereotypical as hell

And honestly he’s very aware of how stereotypical it is and he’s a little ashamed of it

But if you wore a sexy cowgirl costume he would be on you in a nanosecond

But let’s run with that- I think Engie likes costumes

This man has a secret knack for roleplay, I’m telling you

Naughty nurses, feathery show girls, a college student with a low cut blouse who would do anything for a passing grade

He does have some more vanilla tastes as well though. For example I think he loves the simplicity of a camisole or nightgown

Favorite colors would include white and baby blue

🏥 Medic 🏥

I will PERISH on this hill- Medic is a thigh man.

He LOVES the way stockings hug your legs. (In fact I’ve written a fic about this exact scenario)

He would also go feral over a sexy nurse outfit. Is it stereotypical? Yes. But it is also very hot. (I have also written a fic about this)

He’s definitely bold enough to just outright ask you to wear something for him, perhaps a blood red bustier and some matching garters (to play into that thigh kink I mentioned)

However he leaves it up to you when you will be wearing said thing, maintaining some element of surprise.

Once he actually sees you in it, perhaps waiting for him in his private quarters after a long day of work, he will take his time to admire you, making you do a little spin for him

He’ll definitely tease you and refuse to undress you until you're begging for his touch on your bare skin.

🦘 Sniper 🦘

Sniper is not a picky man when it comes to sex

That said, lingerie is always a welcome surprise

His only preference comes down to the style of the lingerie- he prefers crotchless designs.

He doesn’t see the point of wearing something sexy if he has to take it off to fuck you

Styles where the bottom of the panties can be easily pulled to the side also work for this

I think he also enjoys silkier textures.

He’ll run his hands over the fabric both during and after sex, almost as a way to soothe himself and come down from the high

Neither of you really know why this calms him down so much

🌹 Spy 🌹

Spy has sugar daddy energy and will probably buy lingerie for you

Expect the fanciest, silkiest garments that money can buy.

Chemise, robes, and negligee (which is basically the “wealthy widow whose husband died under mysterious circumstances” robe, according to the internet)

Most often they would be in traditional black, but I feel like a deep violet or midnight blue could also be appealing to him.

Oh and get ready to be teased to hell and back.

Spy likes to take his time, especially when you’re wearing something nice for him. After all, what’s the point if he just strips it off of you immediately? (plus this stuff is expensive so he’s gotta get his money’s worth out of this.)

He loves teasing you

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #team fortress #team fortress two

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