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reiding-writing · 3 months

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i LOVE your angsts

you can write something about the reader and spencer being apart after a conflict, being childish and sarcastic towards each other afterwards, and then, one of the cases ends in an explosion and, or, fire in which one of the two is trapped and alone, and the other takes risks to save him

who knows, maybe one of the two in the hospital is still delirious and asking to marry the other? anyway, you choose

basically two idiots in love and proud who can't bear the thought of losing each other

thanks 🥺🫶🏻

commitment [ s.r ]

You love Spencer Reid more than anything in the world, but committing to someone for life was not something to be considered lightly. A life or death situation might speed up the decision process a little.

spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 4.0k ll masterlist!!

WARNINGS: commitment issues, fire, major character injury, miscommunication, happy ending

a/n: happy 29th of february? is that something to be celebrated? anyway, kinda took this one on a rollercoaster ride, enjoy :)

Spencer Reid wanted a family.

He wanted to get married, have 2.5 kids and live in a house with two cars and a white picket fence.

But he didn’t just want that with anybody, he wanted that with you.

You weren’t sure.

You loved Spencer with your whole heart, you really did, but after your parents’ failed marriage and your negative experiences with romantic relationships in the past, the fact that you’d even been in a committed relationship with Spencer for the last four years was an achievement in itself.

You’d talked about it a few times, but you’d always come to opposite decisions. Spencer wanted to settle down with you, and you were afraid to do so.

Your most recent conversation on the subject ended less as a conversation and more as an argument.

“So you don’t really love me then?” You could see the betrayal in his eyes at you again shutting down the idea, his tone carrying more upsetness than accusation.

“No Spencer of course I love you what are you talking about?” You can feel yourself nearing tears at his question. He was quite literally the person you loved most in the world, and to have him shut down your feelings because you didn’t see eye to eye with him broke your heart.

You spent the next few days staying with Garcia.

You tried to not let your disagreement with Spencer influence your work, but the fact that you wouldn’t so much as spare a glance at each other during office hours tipped off the rest of the team about your situation immediately.

“So,” Morgan leaned his hip against the counter of the kitchenette as you fixed yourself a cup of coffee, neglecting Spencer’s mug on the shelf instead of making both cups at once like you’d usually do.

“So?” You raise an eyebrow at his incomplete sentence.

“What’s going on between you and pretty boy?”

You sigh before he even finishes the question. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,”

“Your lover’s quarrel is ruining the vibes, it is most definitely something for me to worry about,” You roll your eyes at his response. Trust Morgan to find the most unserious way to express his concern for the two of you.

Logically you knew it was because he wanted to tread lightly, but that didn’t make it any less eye-roll inducing.

“So,” He leans forwards a little. “What’s going on? Did you disagree on whether Star Trek or Star Wars was better or something?”

You give him a deadpan stare and he immediately surrenders, raising up his hands as he concedes.

“What else do you have to argue about? You guys are like the most boring couple I know,” Morgan shrugs nonchalantly, and you halt the stirring of your teaspoon in your drink.

Boring? You weren’t boring. Were you? Did Spencer think you were boring? Did he think your relationship was boring? Maybe he only wanted to tie the knot in the hope that it would ‘reignite the spark’ or whatever people said.

“Hey.” Morgan snapped his fingers in front of your face, effectively pulling you out of your internal spiral.

“Hm?”

“I asked if it was serious, Garcia told me you’ve been staying with her the last few days,”

Curse Garcia and Morgan’s no filter relationship.

“Everything’s fine, we both just need time to cool off,”

“You’re sure?”

You have to consciously suppress a sigh at his continued questioning. Morgan was great, but god did he push.

“Yes Morgan, everything’s fine,” You spoke with enough conviction that you managed to convince him of your truth, although whether you believed it yourself was another question.

“Good, because if you two ever broke up I’m pretty sure the whole team would fall apart,” His tone tells you his joking, as does his expression as he leaves you to your coffee, but your brain isn’t as kind as to just let the comment fly over your head, and you’re sent into another spiral as you make your way back over to your desk.

Do the whole team really think of your relationship with Spencer as a vital part of its inner workings? What if it really didn’t work out? What would happen then?

Would the whole team fall into chaos?

You didn’t want to break off your relationship with Spencer. But what if it did happen?

Your thoughts leak into your body language, your shoulders tense as you sit down and your eyes not quite focused on the papers on your desk.

It didn’t help that Spencer sat directly opposite you either. It was like the world was trying to rub your conflict in your face every time you saw his hair in your peripheral vision.

You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your head, but you knew he wouldn’t say anything. It was one of the faults in his character, and yours you suppose, because even if he did ask you what was wrong you’d probably blow him off anyway.

The tension between the two of you was enough for Emily and Morgan to share a glance across the bullpen to each other, although they didn’t have enough time to corner you into asking what was actually going on as Hotch called the team into the conference room.

The silent feud between the two of you continued into the meeting, sitting on opposite ends of the table like you were two negative magnets being forced away from each other by an insurmountable pressure.

It was a little silly you think, to be so removed from each other after a single argument, but when Spencer put his foot down about something, he held his ground under any circumstance.

And so the two of you were destined to lie in a stalemate, sat seething in silent frustration with each other until one of you eventually caved under the pressure.

It wasn’t going to happen.

It was another fault of the two of you. You were both too damn stubborn for your own good, and it was beginning to affect your ability to work together.

You were supposed to be two sides of the same coin. Two gears intertwined and seamlessly rolling off of each other in perfect unison. Instead, you couldn’t even decide on the importance of a half-burned diary found at the scene of the last scene you’d arrived at, the fourth building set ablaze in Fallon in the last five days.

“This guy is clearly dealing with marital struggles, that could be our trigger,”

Of course he had marital struggles, because you couldn’t escape your own issues even when you were two-thousand miles across the country.

“We don’t even know if that diary belongs to our unsub,” You sigh exasperatedly as you slump back in your chair.

“It was a grocery store. Who brings a diary to a grocery store unless it’s something extremely important to them? It has to belong to our unsub.”

“Spencer-”

“You know that I’m more likely to be right about this,”

You can’t help but scoff at his statement, discarding your coffee mug on the round table and causing small brown droplets to coat the surface of the wood from the force. “You’re really pulling the intelligence card? Seriously?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Spencer shrugs his shoulders with a furrowed expression. “My intelligence is what got me here and it’s telling me that this diary belongs to our unsub,”

“And my experience is telling me that you’re fixating on this goddamn diary instead of looking for things that could be actually useful to finding this guy because you want to feel sorry for yourself by living through his struggles.” You gesture exasperatedly to the book in his hands, becoming increasingly frustrated with Spencer’s attitude towards you.

He might be smart, but you had almost half a decade on him in terms of experience. He had zero right to speak to you like that mid-feud or not.

“You’re angry at me, I get it. Don’t let it cloud your judgement.” You push yourself up from the table with a scowl, leaving your chair pushed out as you exit the station with the door slamming shut behind you.

“You’re sure this is the right place?” Morgan furrows his eyebrows as you approach the house, clearly run-down and looking as though no-one had lived in it in several years.

“I’m sure,” Spencer gave a determined nod as he un-holstered his gun, following the team into the house to sweep it for the suspect.

Despite your argument about the importance of the diary, Spencer had continues to fixate on it completely, leading to a partial name that Garcia had managed to identify and ultimately the house you were now running into.

You feel under-appreciated sometimes. Hotch always ended up going with Spencer’s choices, experience didn’t matter. It was like he had a tattoo across his forehead that read ‘I’m always right’ and everyone else took it as law.

But you’re not going to disobey direct orders, even if you did want to throw all of Spencer’s favourite books into a filled bathtub and watch him mourn over the ruined pages.

“Clear!”

You sweep the house room by room, you, Hotch, and Emily in charge of the ground floor whilst Morgan and Spencer went upstairs.

It was a complete ghost house. There was no electricity, no running water, smashed windows and moulded wallpaper, the furniture looked decades old and above all it just smelled horrific, a mix of leaking waste pipes and faulty gas lines. Were you seriously supposed to believe someone was living here?

“All clear up here,” Morgan emerged at the top of the stairwell with a shrug. “We got nothing,”

“Of course we don’t,” You mutter the words to yourself with a roll of your eyes, silently confirming your own victory at the obvious lack of human presence in the house Spencer was so sure belonged to the unsub.

“Alright, regroup outside,” Hotch called up to the two, gaining a nod from Morgan as he went to retrieve Spencer and bring him down as you exited the building.

“Nothing?” JJ tilted her head slightly as the three of you emerged, met with Emily shaking her head with a slightly awkward expression as she met your gaze.

“Nope, gross, but nothing,”

“Gross is right, it smelled like shit in there-” You clear your throat into your elbow like you’d managed to infest your lungs from the smell.

“Where’s Spence and Morgan?” You shrug your shoulders at JJ’s question heading back to the SUV to grab a bottle of water.

“Knowing Reid he’ll be over-analysing something,” Emily chuckles slightly, patting JJ on the shoulder as she follows you past her. “Morgan’ll get bored soon enough,”

“Are we going or what?” You call out from where you’re leaning against the car, water bottle being waved around in your hand as you gesture your impatience.

“Morgan and Reid are-” Emily stops as she spots Morgan walking out of the front door. “—Reid is still inside,”

“Of course he is,” You grumble to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

“He’s refusing to leave until he’s found something,” Morgan shrugs as he reaches Hotch’s side. “He’s adamant that there’s something to be found in there,”

“God seriously?” You groan out your words as you rejoin the group. “It’s an abandoned shit hole, there’s nothing to be found—”

A loud crash from the house interrupts your complaint.

Loud crashes are never good.

Neither is the bright orange flicker of light you can see through the front door. Definitely not when you’re working an arson case and Spencer Reid is still inside the house.

It’s like all the hours of you pondering how best to make Spencer suffer for his actions completely disappear as soon as the flames are in sight.

You couldn’t be angry at Spencer if he was dead.

The way the wooden beams of the door frame collapsed under the heat really cemented that thought in your mind.

“Spencer—”

Your attempt at running inside is promptly stopped by an outstretched arm that collides against your waist, winding you slightly and causing your expression to turn from fear to anger at the person who’d interrupted your attempt to vacate Spencer from the building.

“What are you doing?!” You push Morgan’s arm away from you harshly as you attempt to bypass him, but you don’t even get two steps forward before his arm is again blocking you from running into the burning building. “Get off me!”

“You can’t just run into a fire-” You continue to struggle against Morgan’s grip as he pleads his case to you, causing his voice to strain from the exertion of trying to keep you in one place.

“Morgan if you don’t let me go right now I swear to god-” Morgan withstands your threats with his strength, and you’re becoming increasingly resentful at just how much effort he’d gone through to stay physically fit.

“The fire department are on their way-” JJ’s voice is soaked in concern as she speaks, both hands clenched tightly around her phone as she stares into the open door of the house and the yellow-orange light that is quickly enveloping anything visible inside it. “They’re four minutes out,”

“Four minutes isn’t fast enough-”

“Hey-” Morgan continues to struggle against your writhing, planting both of his hands firmly against your shoulders and shaking them slightly in attempt to get your attention. “He’s going to be fine.” The uncertainty in his gaze tells you the opposite.

By the time you hear the sirens of fire engines rounding the street-corner, you don’t have the mental energy to feel relieved. All you can do is stare into the raging inferno that encapsulates the entire ground floor of the house and pray desperately that it didn’t manage to climb up the stairs. You know you’re being too optimistic.

You barely compute the obvious when a stretcher is prepared in front of the entrance, only coming to when you hear a worried gasp emanate from Emily at your side as Spencer is laid down on it after being recovered from the house’s master bedroom, very clearly unconscious and less clearly still breathing.

“Breathing is shallow, pulse is weak, we need to get him on oxygen,” The EMTs converse between themselves as they rush the stretcher into the fire ambulance, leaving you and your team to stand idly on the sidelines as both the fire and Spencer are taken care of by the firefighters on the scene.

You pace the waiting room on your heels, the sharp contact of your feet on the marbled floor leaving small shock waves to shoot up your legs as you walk. You couldn’t just sit down, you weren’t going to relax in a chair whilst the love of your life was possibly dying of asphyxiation. You were worried, terrified, and you had to release that nervous energy somehow.

If Spencer was here right now you’re sure he’d reprimand you for your nervous habit, rattling on about how heel-striking is dangerous for the health of your legs as it compresses your entire weight into a single point that can have bad impacts on your bones. Thinking about it just makes you feel worse, making you pace more and ultimately creating a self-fulfilling cycle where the more you thought about what he’d say the worse your actions would get.

At least you were actually in the hospital waiting and not back in the station waiting for a call. God knows you’d be more of a burden to the rest of the team than a help right now.

“Visitors for… Spencer Reid?” The nurse checks the clipboard in her hands as she speaks, and the second you hear the first syllable of his name you’re diverting your pacing to walk straight up to the nurse’s side.

“He’s awake but dreary, and he’s refusing any medication to help with the pain in his esophagus,” The nurse explains his conditions to you as she leads you down the hallway, shrugging her shoulders slightly at the mention of his refusal of pain medication.

“He can’t take narcotics, do you have any substitutes? NSAIDs?”

The nurse nods slightly at your explanation, checking her clipboard once more as she stops you at a wooden door. “I’ll have a look and see what I can find,”

“Thank you,” You give her a small nod and a smile as she leaves you at the door, suddenly even more nervous than you were in the waiting room. Not only was Spencer now in recovery for smoke inhalation and minor burns, the last ‘conversation’ the two of you had was an argument. A stupid, petty argument because you were both stubborn assholes who couldn’t agree to disagree on anything.

What if he didn’t want to see you? You were probably the last person he wanted at his bedside right now after everything that’d happened. Maybe you shouldn’t go in and see him.

Your hand is already opening the door. Okay, well, too late to second guess things now.

“Hey Spencer…” Your voice is barely a whisper as you enter the room, door shutting seamlessly behind you as you walk towards his hospital bed, fingers ringing together as a work around to release all of the nervous tension in your body without bursting into tears. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I ate a campfire-”

His words are enough to break the small tension between you, and you laugh softly in a mix of relief and worry. At least he was alright enough to be able to speak properly. The burn on his arm looked pretty bad though.

“You look like you ate a campfire,” You approach his hospital bed slowly, taking a seat on the plastic chair at his side and gazing over him with an entirely pitiful look in your eyes.

“I’m okay…” It was like he could read your mind, then again your sure that most people would be able to see how distraught you were right now, but Spencer was always the first to notice, and he languishly reached his hand out to rest against your knee.

You started crying the minute his fingers made contact with your slacks.

“I’m so sorry-” It felt a little silly to be crying in front of someone who’d just been trapped in a burning building and was probably experiencing an insane amount of pain from the lack of medication, but emotions don’t always follow logical boundaries. “I’ve been so- horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it at all-”

You’re sure you look like an absolute mess by now, tears staining your cheeks from your crying, a blotchy complexion from your stress, wrinkled clothes and ruined hair from constantly messing with them to try and find a release for all of your anxiety, but the way Spencer looks at you would have you assuming you’d stepped right off a runway.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for,”

“But-”

“Nothing.” Spencer shakes his head to the best of his ability as he shuts down your rebuttal, and he shifts his hand upwards to lie over your two hands clasped in your lap. “I shouldn’t have tried to pressure you into something that you’re not ready for, that was my fault, and for that I’m the one who needs to be saying sorry,”

“No I get it-”

“I made you uncomfortable and upset and that was never my intention,” Spencer continues to cut off your attempts to speak, something he’d usually rather die than do to you - or anyone for that matter - but deemed a necessity to stop you from lumping all of the blame on yourself when you had done nothing more than establish a boundary. A boundary that Spencer didn’t respect.

“I love you, and I want to spend every waking hour I have in your presence, I want to sleep with you in my arms and wake with you by my side. I want to experience every up and down with you and keep you safe and loved at every instance,” Spencer gives your hand a small squeeze as he looks at you, your reflection in his eyes one of pure beauty and perfection. “I didn’t do that for you in our last disagreement, and I can only hope that you’ll forgive me and allow me to make up for that moving forward,”

Spencer’s fingers ghost over the back of your hand, pressing small circles into the dips between your fingers and gently massaging your skin. “I want to do nothing more than love you, and a piece of paper and a pair of rings won’t change that either way.”

You swear that you melt with every word that leaves the boy’s mouth, and if he wasn’t currently hospital bound you’d smother his face in kisses until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

In respect for his condition you turn you affections to his hand instead, holding it up to your face and pressing deft kisses against the curve of each of his knuckles, silent tears still sliding down your cheeks. Tears of a different trajectory this time, filled no longer with guilt and frustration and instead replaced with the realisation of just how much you mean to Spencer Reid.

“I love you so much,” Your lips brush the back of his hand as you speak, his fingers dampening with the lingering moisture of your tears as you hold his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth. “So much.”

The smile that breaks out on Spencer’s face could cure any ailment in your mind within seconds. “I love you too,”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

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cdelphiki · 1 month

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Earlier I got ready for bed an entire hour early because I was tired, then I suddenly remembered the northern lights were supposed to be visible tonight so I peeked outside real quick and saw NO CLOUDS! so, fully dressed for bed I hopped in my car and drove north for over an hour just exploring the New York countryside.

This is my first time ever seeing the northern lights. I’ve tried so many times in the past, but every time clouds ruin the day. They tried tonight but it was still one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Best 2.5 hours I’ve ever spent driving around.

#northern lights

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 2 months

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Imagine Zuko when you’re paralysed with fear at the sight of Azula…

It had been a peaceful morning just like the previous two days - until the ground quaked violently. Eyes flew open at the imminent danger and Aang was quick enough to deflect an incoming fireball as the rest of the group scrambled to their feet.

Zuko’s eyes widened when he realised their attacker. “It’s Azula.”

You had just thrown a bag into Appa’s saddle when you heard him and ice trickled through your body. Stumbling back, you accidentally stepped on Momo’s tail to which he screeched and then nursed in his little paws.

You would have apologised. You would have done anything but you stood frozen with fear clawing at your throat seizing all breath.

There was a series of calls for you but it was fuzzy to your ears - all but one. Golden eyes found themselves in your line of vision until it was all you could see. A warm hand against your waist, another on your cheek giving off a natural heat that thawed you for a few moments to focus.

“Look at me. You need to get on the saddle, okay? I’ll handle this.” Zuko said.

You took in a small breath, apparently you were still alive and breathing. Unable to find the words, you blinked and it was enough for the Prince.

He gently but quickly urged you towards the sky bison where Sokka had a hand extended. When he had yours gripped firmly, Zuko let you go and ran for the ledge to face his sister.

What happened in the moments after were a blur, there was yelling and the smell of fire and earth in the air. Appa was speeding through the valleys in order to escape and you held the side of the saddle to keep from flying off.

Just as he levelled out, you heard a voice in the air. That conceited, cold, relentless one that spent days and nights in your prison chamber. Then you heard her laugh - the very same one that echoed when spikes of lightning shot into your shackled, defenceless body until your screams forced blood.

Scrunching your eyes, you let go of the saddle and covered your ears. You didn’t care if you flew off. You just wanted to be away from her. Curling into yourself, you laid on the leather base and tried to drown out the sound.

There were shouts from somewhere above. A hand gently pressed against your arm as Appa changed flight and dipped low hard. The hot rush of air reminded you too much of the prison cell and memories began to flash. You started to drown in them, missing the additional thud of a body in the saddle.

Appa levelled out once more, still maintaining speed but the loud voices outside had reduced to softer tones - unlike the ones in your head.

Your nails dug into your scalp as your mind drowned you in the very worst trauma. And you begged for it to stop. You’d do anything for it to stop.

Something familiar moved closer, warm hands finding purchase over yours. They were steady and safe, carefully prying the tight hold away. A muffled voice made its way through your head and worked a soothing balm across the chaos.

Finally, you could feel a line between the past and reality. And you fought hard to stay in the land of the latter.

The air around you had cooled. Your cheeks felt wet and your hands were holding onto a soft fabric that smelled of home.

It was enough to finally pull you out of the haze and understand where you were.

Zuko was laying with you. His arms wrapped protectively, body flush against yours. His head nuzzled by your neck while his mouth whispered to you alone.

He was telling you a story about a prince who promised to give his life to protect the love of his life.

“You’re the love of mine.” He said with a gentle squeeze. “You will always be and I will never let you hurt like that again. I promise.”

~ More imagines here ~ (for more ATLA)

A/n: 2.5 hours sleep works wonders sometimes…

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar x reader #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar imagine #atla x reader #atla imagine

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thevioletcaptain · 15 days

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Almost a decade ago, in November of 2014, I became so exhausted by seeing people throw around the absurd claim that Dean/Cas fans made up only 1% of SPN fandom that I decided to prove how wrong it was. The most readily available data which didn't rely on conducting a survey or poll -- and was therefore a more accurate representation of actual fandom activity rather than just whoever happened to respond to a survey -- came from fic numbers on Ao3.

I made a post about it at the time (the pertinent figures are included below, or you can see the original post here) and then completely forgot about the entire thing. Until now.

Why? Well, largely thanks to a sudden resurgence of the same old nonsense this week, mostly cropping up in the comment sections of a couple of polls that crossed my dash. The temptation to check if there had been any significant changes to the fandom's activity since I last looked ten years ago was too strong to ignore.

Friends. Things have proven to be shockingly consistent.

With the same caveat from last time -- that this is only showing trends in the subset of fandom who actively uses Ao3, and therefore obviously doesn't take into account the "general audience" subset of fandom who don't participate beyond watching the show and occasionally liking a social media post -- here are the numbers:

Old count | November 9th, 2014 | 4 episodes into S10

Total SPN fics posted - 86,352 Fics listed as gen - 22,718 (26.3%) Fics with Dean/Cas - 33,762 (39.0%) Fics with Sam/Dean - 12,286 (14.2%) Fics with Sam/Cas - 1,634 (1.8%) Fics with Sam/Dean/Cas - 787 (0.9%)

The remaining 18.6% of SPN fics were non-gen fics featuring other character pairings, including reader inserts and original characters.

New count | May 28th, 2024 | 3.5 years after finale

Total SPN fics posted - 290,707 Fics listed as gen - 61,343 (21.1%) Fics with Dean/Cas - 116,925 (40.2%) Fics with Sam/Dean - 34,673 (11.9%) Fics with Sam/Cas - 5,548 (1.9%) Fics with Sam/Dean/Cas - 1,957 (0.6%)

The remaining 24.3% of SPN fics are non-gen fics featuring other character pairings, including reader inserts and original characters.

Notes on data:

All data was collected while logged in on Ao3 to ensure no incorrect counts were caused by hidden works.

There is some overlap within these numbers due to fics which are tagged with multiple pairings. This might be possible to account for if someone felt like doing more intensive data collection, but I've already spent about an hour and a half on this and that's already a lot more time than I'd like to be doing voluntary math. I enjoy statistics as a point of interest, but goddamn do I hate actually crunching the numbers.

It bears mentioning that Sam/Gabriel (5.1%), Sam/Jess (2.2%), & Dean/Reader (2.5%) all have higher counts than Sam/Cas (1.9%) & Sam/Dean/Cas (0.6%), however I didn't make note of those pairings in 2014, so I'm unsure if there has been any change.

I shouldn't have to say this, but literally all of us are just smashing our fave characters together like dolls, so as interesting as these numbers are this post is not intended to suggest that any ship is "better" than any other ship. This post is intended to do nothing more than show the available data which disproves a baseless claim about the size of Dean/Cas fandom within the larger SPN fandom.

TLDR; the percentage of active Supernatural fans on Ao3 who are interested in Dean/Cas as a pairing is significantly higher than 1%, and that has been a consistent pattern within the fandom for the past ten years.

#cass says things #fandom: supernatural #a post in which i get irritated enough by disinformation that i voluntarily do math #i wasn't planning on posting this anywhere tbh #but it was interesting to me and i figure someone else out there might also find it interesting #plus it gave me an excuse to make a couple of pie charts #also if you're about to start wank about this in my notes please consider... not doing that

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sonicslushie · 1 year

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Slipped My Mind ~ P.P.

Summary: You’re the person who designs Spiderman’s suits, but you never actually met the man- or boy- behind the mask.

A/N: terrible summary & first fic, originally this was going to be based on the conan gray song “yours” but it took an odd turn in there so it's not lmao. But if you wanna read that let me know i’m dying to write more for petey boy. This is also like a little fluff thing that i threw together in a few hours so it’s not the best (my b)

a playlist for u to listen to as u read<3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark Intern!Reader

TW: kinda a clueless reader, mentions of blood and open wounds,

Wordcount: 3.6k

Ice cream was all you wanted. It was your lunch break from Stark Industries, the place you interned at because of your impressive resume, and partly because your dad just so happened to be the owner of Tony Stark’s favorite burger place. You had been a pretty smart kid, finished highschool early and graduated MIT with a degree in engineering and all you wanted was to build supersuits. That was the dream, wasn’t it? Helping the world’s mightiest heroes by being the one who created their high tech suits and accessories, actually making a difference for those who saved billions of lives? Yeah, no.

You started out three years ago as Ms. Potts' personal assistant at the ripe age of 16. You spent 2.5 years of that assisting just doing the basic intern stuff; grabbing coffee and burgers, attending meetings to take notes, scheduling and yatta yatta, the occasional fake laugh at a dad joke that Mr. Stark made. It wasn’t until you joined Ms. Potts in Mr. Stark’s lab to give him his burger, and you corrected his formulas on some project and you thought it was OVER. He looked surprised that you even spoke to him, oh fuck, you messed up. Or so you had thought. He actually told you that you were right?? Then, I swear to god, he asked what you would do to improve the project he was working on. (It was a super suit for the newest hero, Spiderman.) He liked your idea to add what you called the “training wheels” protocol. Mr. Stark decided to give you a chance and he had you help him create the rest of the suit, and now 6 months later, you were in charge of all things Spiderman.

But that’s not the point of the story right now, right now, you wanted ice cream.

And you had just bought two big scoops in a freshly made waffle cone. Honestly the best use of 5 bucks, or so you thought. Just as you were about to take the first lick, a red and blue streak sprinted past- no into you. It was like a movie, all you saw was your delicious creamy dessert flying up in the air in slow motion, then- SLAT! Both you and the ice cream were on the ground, a familiar looking super suit standing above you, stammering about how he was “so sorry” and “chasing a bad guy” in a very peppy voice.

“You’re Spiderman, why weren’t you swinging from building to building?” You asked, furious you were now going to have to buy another one. You just wanted one thing, could you not just have it without dealing with this bozo?

“Forgot to put in new web fluid. I’m sorry about your ice cream but I’ve really gotta- I don’t see him anymore. Shoot.” He says, shaking his head. “You know what, let me make this up to you. I’ll buy you another one.”

Well that seemed fair and it slightly cooled off your now bad mood. You agree and wait in line with the dude who you create super suits for. The funny thing is, this was actually the first time you ever met the one and only Spiderman- or Spiderling as Mr. Stark calls him. You don’t even know who the person is under the mask, but at this point you really didn’t care about it, you just wanted your ice cream.

After waiting in line for what felt like forever and making meaningless small talk with the masked hero, you make it to the front of the line.

“Two scoops of strawberry, please. Waffle cone.” You smile at the worker, then turn to Spiderboy. You say at the same time as the employee, “5 bucks.”

The Spiderdude pats his sides as if feeling for a wallet, then looks at you with that expressionless mask- god you had to work on that- and says, “I don't have my wallet.”

You could almost smack him in the back of the head, but you just take your wallet out and give the worker a 5 dollar bill. Taking the new ice cream, you turn to the hero, “Well now you owe me two, Spidey.”

“I-I’ll make it up to you, do you have Venmo?” He asks, panic rising in his voice. He sounded young, maybe around your age. If you were honest, he piqued your interest. So instead of rolling your eyes and walking away, you pulled your phone out.

“Here,” you say, ready to just get back to the lab. He takes a picture of it and gives you a thumbs up.

“I’ll have to make a new venmo so you can’t figure out my identity, but I gotta run.” He says, and literally runs off. You stand there, looking at the hero you basically manage but just met, then your ice cream. What a day, huh? You shrug it off and begin to eat your ice cream as you head back to the office.

The ice cream had been off your mind ever since you finished the yummy dessert, and went back to designing your own web fluid. Sure the dude had his own way of making it (you weren’t really sure if it had been coming out of him or not until today, you never really had the chance to ask anyone), but you knew you could do it better. Everyone at Stark Industries called you ‘Junior’ for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of your crazy intelligence. It might have also been the slight egotistical self assurance and the stubbornness you possessed.

As you worked you listened to music and snacked on the various foods you hid in the lab unbeknownst to Mr. Stark. Here and there you would test the web fluid with some of the new web shooter prototypes you had made, at this point you could swing around New York from how often you used these things. You often thought of it and giggled at the thought; ridiculous, these silly little dreams you possessed.

You had been giggling about it to yourself when the one and only Mr. Stark walked in- with a kid who was talking so fast and in such a familiar peppy tone that you couldn’t help but look up.

“-and then I looked up dodo birds and did you know they’re basically just big pigeons?” He finished, looking up at Mr. Stark with big brown doe eyes that sparkled in the light. Sparkle in the light? Oh come on, y/n. You caught yourself ogling at the new kid, still trying to figure out where you heard that voice before. Little miss genius might be able to create the highest tech super suits in the world, but boy oh boy did you have a hard time connecting dots.

“Right, big pigeons. Anyway, Peter, this is y/n y/l/n. Junior, this is Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark says, looking at you as if you could take the excitable kid off of his hands.

Now, Mr. Stark is a lot of things, and busy is one of them. This just so happens to affect his memory, and in this case, he completely forgot that he never introduced Spiderling- Peter Parker- to his favorite intern. It slipped his mind, I mean when you’re a billionaire CEO and a superhero, the little things tend to slip the mind. It’s not like he meant to never introduce you two, he really did mean to. But every time Peter’s been at the tower, Junior was always gone either for the weekend or for her lunch break. Plus, Mr. Stark had things to do. Like right now; get out of this boring conversation and get burgers from his favorite burger place with Happy.

“Oh it’s nice to meet you, Peter.” You say, not knowing that you met Peter earlier that day as Spiderman. But Peter knew, and he also forgot that he had to venmo you for that ice cream from earlier. Caught off guard, his eyes just go wide and he awkwardly smiles and waves at you like an idiot.

“Um okay. Anyway, Mr. Stark, I was about to head out, but I got the new web fluid made and finished up the new prototypes for web shooters. I also started up blueprints for a new suit. I forgot to mention I saw Spiderboy today and I gotta say, that suit does nothing for his ass.” You say, going back to the blueprints in front of you, making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow morning. Mr. Stark takes a peek over your shoulder, nodding in approval, then says, “Well I’ve got to hit the road, I’ve got… an important meeting to attend. Yeah. See ya tomorrow, Junior, same to you Pete.”

You and Peter tell Mr. Stark bye in various fashions, being left in an awkward silence, neither of you really knowing how to proceed from there. Mr. Stark never told you that you would be meeting with Spiderdude to discuss your progress on the new ideas you had come up with but if he didn't show up before 5 you weren't staying, you'd didn't get paid enough. Peter wasn’t told he would be seeing the girl he literally ran into and owe her ice cream money. Seems like it just slipped Mr. Stark’s mind again.

“So um, whatcha doing here Peter?” You say, begin to clean up your workstation to go home. Peter was just standing awkwardly behind you, trying to figure out what to say. He was also unaware that you didn’t know that he was Spiderman, he had figured Mr. Stark would have told you if you were the one working on his suits all this time.

“Oh I was um- just leaving actually. Looks like you’re ready to go home, so I- Yeah I’m just gonna go.” He says quickly, turning on his heel to leave. At this point you were just ready to go home, so you shrug it off and say, “Nice meeting you, Peter. See ya.”

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves. If he was being honest, he’s never been good at talking to pretty girls. Not to mention super awesome pretty intern girls who have been providing him his super awesome super suit. Probably too many “supers” but he didn’t care, he could barely even function in the same room as you. Not to mention he made a fool of himself earlier, but honestly you didn’t even seem to remember, which threw him off even more. And when you said “nice to meet you” it confused him, you two had met earlier that day. God, he had to get some fresh air.

Peter made it outside and was cooling down from that super awkward and weird encounter, when he saw you pulling out of the car park in your car, singing along loudly to some Miley Cyrus song. He turns away, trying not to make it obvious that he was avoiding you. But you turned your head as you were looking for oncoming traffic, and you saw him.

You don’t know why you did it, but you rolled your window down and yelled above the loud ass music, “Hey Peter! You waiting on a ride?”

He was too caught off guard to lie, and to be fair he didn’t even like lying, so he shook his head and before he knew it, he was getting in your car.

“Where are you heading?” You asked, turning the music down. He tries not to be as awkward as before as he says, “Queens, but it’s a far drive you really don’t have to-”

“Oh I live there too! Don’t even worry about it,” you say, happy you could do something for the odd kid. He was a bit awkward, but in a cute sort of way. It almost made your stomach get butterflies at the thought of you of all people making him nervous.

“Oh okay, thanks so much. I really appreciate it,” he says, then after a beat of intense silence with Miley wailing in the background, he decides to try and make conversation. “So how long have you been working for Mr. Stark?”

“Since I was 16, so like 3 years. Most of it was being Ms. Potts’ assistant though,” you say, tapping your fingers to the beat.

“Woah, wait so did you like graduate early?” He asks, now immensely intrigued. You give him the rundown of the past 6 years of your life, to which he’s very impressed and totally not thinking about how pretty you look in the dying sunlight. Totally would never do that.

“But yeah, that’s me. What about you, how did you get involved with Mr. Stark?” You ask, glancing over at him slightly. You must say for a dork, he had some very nice features.

“Very long story that includes him hitting on my aunt. Ugh,” he shivers at the memory, “And a trip to Germany.”

That rings some bells in your head, but to be fair Mr. Stark is in Germany a lot so you don’t really question it. Like I said, you don’t connect dots very well unless it’s in the form of equations.

You guys talk all the way to Peter’s apartment, you even give him your phone number if he ever needs a ride to the office. As Peter walks off, you both can’t help but wonder how weird the day has been. But as you drive off and turn up the radio, you put it out of your mind. Time to go home and relax.

Only when you got home, you didn’t relax. Almost as soon as you step into your apartment, your phone lets out a little “cha-ching” noise, notifying you that someone just venmoed you. You completely forgot about Spidey owing you for your ice cream until you saw the little notification: Spidey paid you $10 with an ice cream emoji underneath. You smirk, then go back to fully entering your apartment. Only to hear your phone go off a few seconds later, another venmo notification, this time a comment left under the money he just paid you.

I feel really bad about earlier. I figured I’d pay for both.

You raise an eyebrow at your phone, smiling a little to yourself. He seems sweet. Sweeter than most guys you’ve run into in the middle of New York. And trust me, it’s happened more often than you’d like to admit.

You type back.

I really appreciate that Spiderdude. Love the profile pic;)

His profile picture was that one Spiderman meme with the three Spidermans pointing at each other. It made you giggle, at least he had a sense of humor. Most superheroes (*cough* Steve Rogers *cough*) didn’t. A few seconds later he sends another message.

Next time I’ll get you three scoops:)

You smiled and decided that was a pretty good deal, three free ice creams? Sounds like a scam but you weren’t going to question it. You just put your phone down and decided it was time to have a nice warm bath and rock out to Taylor Swift.

It was a while before you heard from both Peter or Spiderman, and you were still clueless to the fact that they were the same person. After a few weeks of that whole situation being off your mind, you were going into work on a late night call from Mr. Stark said that something urgent came up with the Spiderling and he wasn’t in town to take care of it. So, you jumped out of bed and rushed out still in your pajamas to the Stark Tower.

You sped all the way there, the stars oddly bright for the city. You made note to go to the rooftop of your apartment whenever you were able to make it back. You always had a thing for the stars, having not grown up in New York. The city was beautiful, but you could truly say that you hated the nights there. No stars glittering overhead, cars and people being loud at all hours of the night. The only good thing you could say about the night in New York was all the food places that were open 24/7. (You tend to have a craving for Thai food at odd hours of the night.)

Upon arriving at the Stark Tower, you ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s going on, and she directs you to your lab. You make your way up there, wondering what in the world this kid could be needing that’s so urgent. If it’s something stupid, dear god, help him. You would molly whop him into the next dimension.

The lab doors upon a very beat up Spiderboy, who’s laid across your desk. Laying in a pile of blood. Okay, good enough reason, you supposed, immediately dropping all idea’s of punching the poor kid in the head.

You rush up to him, taking in his half dead state of being. A giant would- no a hole would be a better way of putting it. Just a big hole in his side, with a lot of blood seeping out of it. You poke him, making sure he’s still breathing. He groans in response, it’s enough to get you moving. You had planned on this a long time ago, you created a device to regrow skin just for this occasion. You found it and within seconds, his wound began healing, though it might take a while for him to create enough blood to be able to even be able to sit up again. At that thought, you ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get the building’s onsite medical team to get the kid.

Once you were finished fixing his gaping hole, you poked him again, praying he was still alive. There was so much blood everywhere, but you tried to keep your Thai food down as you begged for him to wake up.

“Come on kid, you can’t die on me. Mr. Stark would kill us both,” you say, starting to shake him now. You could see his chest moving up and down slightly, but he wasn’t waking up. You pleaded in your head for the med team to get there quickly, you didn’t know why you were so upset by this. Sure, it would be sad if the kid died, but you didn’t know him like that. You didn’t know him well enough to be crying over his dying body, begging him to just open his eyes or say something. Not that you could see them through the mask-

The mask.

Your trembling hand goes to take it off, but the medical team rushes in just as you begin peeling it off, only exposing his neck.

You step back as the med team begins working on him, you let them know that you healed him, but he needed blood. That was all you could say before they moved him onto the gurney and began taking him away, you called after, “Just wake up, Spidey, please!”

That was the first thing that Peter remembers hearing, your voice. Lights were flashing overhead as he heard people saying things above him, though he couldn’t comprehend any of it. God, he was so dizzy. And why wasn’t his side hurting anymore? He started grabbing for his side, but the people around him stopped him from doing so. What was going on?

“You were bleeding out,” one of them says from above him, he’s starting to hear them more clearly now. Maybe his superhealing had finally set in. “No, Ms. y/l/n just saved your life. Now calm down, you’re going to be okay.”

Peter didn’t realize he was just speaking his thoughts as they came to him, he also didn’t realize that you had decided to follow the medical team just to make sure he ended up okay. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to be sure. So much for looking at the stars, huh?

Peter kept babbling as the medical team got him to their facility a few floors down, starting to connect tubes to give him more blood. One of them goes to take his mask off to check for any head wounds, but he stops them. He’s conscious enough to know that he knows none of these people, and none of these people need to know that he’s Peter Parker.

“You’re Peter Parker?” You say, total confusion in your voice. Damn it, did he say that out loud? “Yes, you did, you idiot.”

You get as close as you can without getting in the way of the people trying to help him. Once they were all done and he was getting the blood that he needed, you asked them to leave so you could talk to Peter. How did you not realize? He has a very distinctive voice, and obviously that’s why Mr. Stark brought him into your lab a few weeks ago. Seriously, not your best moment.

“So you’re the infamous Spiderman?” You say, sitting on the edge of his cot. He peels his mask off and takes a breath of fresh air.

“Wait,” it hits him that you didn’t know, what is going on? “You didn’t know?”

“Nope,” you laugh, “I’m not really sure how I didn’t, especially after Mr. Stark brought you in there. I’m also not sure how he never mentioned that you were there person I’ve been making all this superhero stuff for. Must have slipped his mind.” Understatement of the century.

“I thought you knew, that’s why I never really mentioned it. Also,” he smiles a little to himself, “I promised to get you ice cream next time I saw you. How about it?”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “You’re in a cot getting blood poured into you.”

“When I’m better?”

“Sounds like a date.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #mcu peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic

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succubusonthedoorstep · 1 year

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ArtTeacher! Geto x Fem Reader (Part Two!)

Warnings? Explicit Language and Smut, sir kink, choking, breeding kink, possessiveness, reader is inexperienced.

2.5 Word Count. Read Part One Here!

Author's Notes? finally uploading this <3 send requests and hcs, while i still work on longer fics mwah

ArtTeacher! Geto’s yawn echoes throughout his empty classroom- the lights flickering to life a beat late. The room smelled of paint and morning air as the windows were left open from the day before.

To say the least, the room was a mess. The freshman class seemed to have the cleaning habits of toddlers. He rarely even came in at this time, but he made an exception for you.

The previous day, late into Saturday night, you texted Geto about coming in early for a head start on your new project. He assumed you must’ve gotten his number from the school website, while yours was already saved in his phone. He felt his ears go hot as the next text came in.

(Name:) i’d love to get your feedback on it too!

He glanced at the clock that read eight am- an hour Geto usually spent out on a jog or still in bed because the weekend allowed him. He’d prefer your company over breakfast or coffee, but he’d settle for class with no way to comfortably bring a date up.

He spent the next few minutes obsessing over the state of his classroom. During the week it served as the beginner’s art course and they often left it in disarray. Geto had to start locking up the resources and completed works from his class, as they often went missing.

But with no time for him to worry about it, Geto began setting up your workstation. You’d be here any minute and he didn’t want you to waste your time doing something he could’ve started. All of your time should be dedicated to your art.

The soft knock at the door signaled your arrival, and Geto felt his heart drop in his chest. He sets down clean brushes at your easel before making his way over to the door and opening it for you.

Looking down, his eyes gravitated to the sundress you must’ve worn for him. Making his way down, your hard nipples poked through the thinness of the cloth and Geto’s mouth watered. He wrote it off, as he hadn’t had breakfast and you looked good enough to eat. If he had you how he wanted, you’d be spread across his desk with your toes in his mouth and his fingers in your cunt.

“I brought you coffee, sir! I wasn’t sure how you’d like it, so I got the good sugar and cream from the cafe,” Bright as always, you gave him a sweet smile and entered the class to set the cups down. “I really appreciate you letting me come in early.”

Firmly shutting the door behind him, Geto watched your ass in the dress as you set your bag down to pull out packets of sugar and cream. “It’s not a problem…” He lost what else he had on his tongue, enamored by your thinking of him.

“Aw, and you got me all set up?” You asked, gathering the ends of your dress to sit on the cushioned chair. “Where’s yours?”

“My what?” He asked, picking up a lidded cup from the on-campus cafe.

“Your chair?” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing. With your half-done canvas in front of you, Geto handed you a palette while he sipped the caffeinated drink. While he’d love to keep you company as he watched you do his favorite activity, the room was trashed. He’d think those damn freshmen were doing this on purpose, keeping him from you.

Grabbing a chair and pulling it beside yours, Geto looked at you pointedly. “I’ll check on you in a minute; I just have to do this before my next class,” he explained. The (unintentional) doe eyes you gave him didn’t work- only creating thoughts of those same eyes filling with tears as he face-fucked you.

A playlist Geto selected before you came in tuned out the sounds of him tossing empty bottles into the trash and sweeping the floor. The jazzy mix of melodies helped the both of you at your tasks- you’d begun the next step in your art process, and Geto got to sneak peeks at your cute face scrunched up in concentration.

Cleaning the room was soon insignificant; reduced from an hour of work for anyone else to 30 minutes for him.

Rolling up his sleeves he finished wiping down a few more easels before lowering the volume and taking his seat next to you. The black coffee had done its job, that’s for sure.

“Do you like it?” You asked, setting your brush into a cup of water. His mouth was set in a hard line as he analyzed the brushstrokes and tones of color you’d created. He wasn’t sure before this how proficient you were before, but now there was no doubt in his mind.

“It’s beautiful,” he began, leaning back into his chair and making his legs comfortable before scooting closer to your easel. “But, let me show you something. Pick up your brush.”

You obeyed, taking your brush in your hand and standing from your chair at the flick of his chin. Large, warm hands rested on your waist as he guided you back into his lap. With your palette in one hand and your waist in the other, Geto could watch you work from a much better angle.

“A-Are you sure this will help? I don’t wanna block your vision…”

“You won’t,” He simply said, already feeling his cock growing in his pants. The curve of your lower back into your perfect ass had Geto’s hand dangerously low on your hips. “Watching you from here allows me to see from your perspective. Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, sir.”

“Then don’t allow me to delay you any longer,” he concluded, setting you on his clothed cock and watching you work. You could feel his eyes on your canvas, examining the vulnerability you expressed through your medium. Adjusting yourself on his lap, Geto let out a barely audible groan at the friction.

So you continued, despite the growing heat between your legs. When you’d lean forward to dip your brush into water, Geto’s thick bulge would grind deliciously into your cunt. You probably looked so slutty, you thought, sitting in your teacher’s lap like this.

Idly whining your waist in Geto’s lap was just pleasurable enough to continue working, until he couldn’t take anymore.

“Wait, (Name). Like this,” The hand on your waist guided you back and forth over his dick print. You weren’t sure how this could help with your art, but he was the expert, right?

At least he sounded pleased. The light breathing became heavier and the hand on your hip lost its innocence. Thick fingers dug into your ass, slowly lifting the thin fabric of your dress until Geto revealed your cute light pink thong. The brush you held between your fingers trembled from the bliss of finally having him beneath you.

Next came the clinking of Geto’s belt unbuckling and hitting the floor, your panties not following long after. He had set the palette down in favor of pulling down the front of your dress to pinch and flick at your nipples.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” He demanded, slapping your ass and humming in appreciation at your desperate whimpers. The paintbrush slipped from your fingers and landed at your feet. “Not your first time seducing an older man?”

“S-Seducing?!” You exclaimed, shifting to sit on his thigh and catch his lust-filled gaze. His lips were hovering over yours, maintaining eye contact as he took your hand and guided it over the bulge in his underwear. Watching your expression, Geto felt your inexperienced fingers stumble and stutter over the length of his cock. He could see the bashfulness seep in until you broke eye contact and pressed your face onto his.

Geto, completely enthralled, gave in to the amateur kiss without any doubts. Easily overcoming you, he guided your lips to smooth over his and pick up the rhythm of kissing. The room filled with hums of approval and the sounds of light smacking from your tongues tasting each other.

“Seducing,” he confirmed, moving his hand from yours to the center of your legs. Finding your clit immediately, he ran a digit up and down your slit. “With your cunt dripping all over my finger. Did you plan this?”

It was a rhetorical question, you assumed because he didn’t pull away from your lips to allow you to answer. Instead, he worked his middle finger in slow circles over your clit, drinking in the sweet moans you gave to him. When you dug your nails into his shirt, all decorum snapped in Geto. Picking you up bridal style, he effortlessly carried you to his desk and laid you down, slotted between your legs.

Feasting your eyes on Geto undressing was a delicacy you didn’t know you needed. He first started with his shirt, loosening button after button and exposing his broad chest. You resisted the urge to sit up and touch, knowing from the look in his eye that he’d disapprove.

“First time seeing a man up close?” He inquired, shedding the thin fabric from his shoulders. Long fingers trailed to his loosened slacks, awaiting your answer.

“Yes sir,” you nearly moaned, drinking in his obvious arousal. The slacks he wore slipped from his hips, boxers following not long after.

His dick was eight inches of perfection. The trail under his belly button led down to neatly trimmed hair, a pretty sight if you had ever seen one.

He gave himself a few languid strokes, keeping his eyes on yours as he lifted your leg over his shoulder.

“I’m assuming it’s your first time,” he hummed, nudging your other leg open slightly. “So I can’t be too rough with you, hm?” His lips gave your ankle a few slow, wet kisses before he started running the length of his cock up and down your slit.

You shivered, watching his cock thoroughly coat itself in your wetness. Geto’s hips rolled against yours, nudging your clit with every push he gave.

“She’s greedy, baby. Look how she’s twitching under me.” His lusty voice deepened as he slapped your cunt with his heavy cock. You gasped at the contact and tightened your grip on the desk, hopes of receiving Geto’s mercy flying out of the window… The sight of your cunt gushing for him so prettily had him completely narrow-minded.

With the tip of his cock pressed to your twitching hole, Geto admires his best work yet. He thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, but being sprawled out on his desk with smeared lip gloss and desperate tears in your eyes proved him wrong.

“Be good,” He cooed, giving your hip an affectionate squeeze. Geto pressed and split you open on his length, watching your mouth open wider the deeper he slid into you.

Any mere passerby could incidentally stroll by the isolated classroom, peek in, and find the usually quiet teacher railing his newest student. They’d hear the crescendo of moans echoing through the room (and in turn the halls) and know how much your sensei wanted you.

Your legs settled on Geto’s rolling hips, the steady rhythm he set shaking the desk with each thrust. One hand remained firmly on your hip, while the other was placed affectionately on your neck.

“Oh, sir,” you encouraged, his eyes holding yours. “Please, just a little tighter?” Taking a hand from the desk, you placed it delicately on his wrist and pressed his hand harder. Geto had to break eye contact to not cum too early, giving you a quick peck on your lips and tightening his grip on your throat.

“You ask so nicely; how could I deny you?” His lips brushed yours mercifully, maintaining the harsh strokes that had your release creeping up on you.

The hand he set on your hip pulled your legs around his waist, a satisfied hmph coming from his throat when you locked your ankles together.

“So demanding, baby,” he cooed as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. “If I didn’t know better, I'd think you’d done this before.”

His hand tightened at the insinuation, but only briefly. You were just too cute under him, writhing with the pleasure only Geto could grant you. His silky hair slipped from the elastic he loosely had tied, pathetically landing on the floor by his feet.

“Eyes here, princess.” His hand left your throat to take your chin in his fingers and make you look at him. His hair was draped over his shoulders and he had the pinkest tint to his cheeks. Geto wanted you to see; he was just as ruined as you were.

“You gonna cum?” He asked, not allowing you to answer. His hips met yours in a quick snap, and you watched a sick grin spread across Geto’s cheeks as your face contorted with pleasure.

Your cunt gushed around him, your wetness coating the art teacher’s legs and causing him to chuckle. He released your neck to prop himself up onto the desk, pushing your legs up and settling himself into a mating press. The hand on your neck trailed down in favor of playing with your clit.

“Watch me,” He demanded, giving you a quick slap on your pussy. “We’ll paint the prettiest picture of this.”

Keeping your eyes on where you connected, Geto painstakingly fucked you with slow, deliberate thrusts. Holding your gaze where he wanted it through the bliss he was giving proved almost too big a task. Every time your eyes threatened to roll back in pleasure, he’d give your clit an affectionate rub.

“You’re mine, you know that?” He looked so primal, hair shadowing his face as he watched you nod your head furiously. “My pretty little wife. How clichè is it that we met in class?”

His newest name for you went straight to your cunt, both of your imaginations running wild with thoughts of domesticity and late nights of lovemaking. You couldn’t hold on much longer; before long the thumb Geto worked over your clit and had you squirting on his cock. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as he continued fucking you, mumbling praise as his own orgasm rushed through him.

Geto couldn’t resist giving your cunt a few final sharp thrusts as he painted your walls white. The muscles in his arms flexed, his eyes shut tightly and he let out the prettiest moan under his breath. The light sheen of sweat glistened under the dull schoolhouse lights, making the thought of being Geto’s wife impossibly more digestible.

“Ah, I’m surprised the desk held up,” He sighed, slowly pulling out of you. Warm cum dripped from your hole, only to be scooped back up and pushed back in even deeper.

“Can’t let it go to waste. We’ll try as many times as we need to, hopefully at mines next time?” He climbed off the desk and offered you a hand and a kiss on the forehead.

“I love to,” you stood on shaky legs, leaning on the desk for support.

With his cum running down your leg and his hand mark imprinted on your neck, ArtTeacher!Geto impatiently waits for the portrait he’ll paint of you pregnant.

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wolfiafuntime · 7 months

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Trick-or-Treat Trip

Headcanons in which you go trick-or-treating in the human world with Lucifer, Mammon, Asmo, and Beel

Published: November 24, 2023

Words: 880 (205 per character save for Beel; his got a bit away from me)

Pages: 2.5 (0.7 per character)

Lucifer:

Neither of you know how you managed to convince him to go Trick-or-Treating with you. Let alone go up to the Human World to do it. But you did!

You spent the majority of Halloween day getting into your costume. Because Lucifer was coming, he had made sure that whatever you were going as would be one of the best. 'One of' because his costume- a Vampire one- would also be the best. It was something you couldn't deny after seeing it.

Before you left, you set up a candy bowl with the classic 'only take one' sign. And to make sure that other trick-or-treaters complied, he cast a mild curse on the bowl that would scare anyone who tried to take more.

The actual trick-or-treat trip was very fun. While Lucifer didn't (he refused to--) bring a candy bag of his own, it didn't matter. You were just glad he came, and glad the various people you visited gave you candy. You had gotten a pretty good haul by the end of the night, with the only 'bad' trick-or-treat-ee giving you money. Lucifer smiled as he imagined what Mammon's reaction would've been if something like that happened for him.

Mammon:

Free candy?! Sign him up! It doesn't matter if you asked him this a few days before Halloween, or a few weeks. He's going to demand that you summon him, so you two can go shopping for the best pair of costumes. If you do summon him, know that he'll refuse to leave until Halloween has passed. And that, unfortunately, won't happen, because Lucifer is going to come and drag him back to the Devildom in a few hours. Maybe several, if you can talk the first-born into it.

But don't worry! You can just summon Mammon again when Halloween actually comes. You'll spend the day watching horror movies-- something the beloved idiot suggested himself-- and getting dressed up in your costume(s).

He'll be so jumpy during the trick-or-treat trip. Every fake hand that jumps out of a candy bowl. Every person pretending to be a manikin. He'll even be scared of the kids screaming with joy! You laughing at him won't help; it'll only fluster him. But don't worry, all fear and embarrassment will leave him when you get to that one house that gives out crappy presents. A toothbrush?? Seriously?!

Asmodeus:

Isn't surprised that you invited him to come, but that doesn't make him any less excited. Similarly to Mammon, he's demanding you summon him, so you can go costume shopping together. But there's no way you guys are dressing as anything scary! Why? Because those costumes require masks, blood, atrocious makeup, and/or ugly outfits.

You summon him again the morning of Halloween, you guys spend a good few hours picking between the costumes you bought a few days prior. These consist of a nurse and doctor, a maid and master, and a princess and knight. (Can you guess who's who?) After choosing, you spend the rest of the day getting dressed up. When you're finally done, Asmo sets up a bucket of nail polish next to your bucket of candy. He's got a pretty sign for it two, covered in glitter and hearts, asking for only one to be taken.

He isn't jumpy like Mammon when he gets jumpscared, but he'll still jump into your arms. He, of course, preens from any compliments he gets, and always tries fishing for more. Gets so salty at any crappy treat-givers, and will definitely use his charm on them.

Beelzebub:

A night of constant candy? With you? That sounds like paradise to him. You're gonna have to remind him to get a costume. And you're probably gonna have to do it a couple times, because every time he goes shopping for one, he gets distracted by food sales. But don't worry, he'll manage to hold off his hunger when you tell him that only people in costumes get candy.

The day of Halloween, it doesn't take him long to get into his werewolf costume. So, depending on what you're going as, and how many details there are, he'll probably be waiting for you to finish. He could help you if you want? If not, then he'll be munching away on the bags of candy you bought for him. And on that note, you're gonna have to command him to stay away from one of the bags if you want to set up a free candy bucket. Because it'll be long gone by the time you leave.

Actually trick-or-treating is pretty peaceful and fun! His bag remains empty throughout the night, because everything that goes into it goes into his stomach shortly after. As for the crappy-treat-giver? You warned him about them, but he still goes into a rampage. You have to command him to stop and walk away, and he only calms down when the next person gives him some more candy.

On the bright side, you think the fake "treat-giver" is going to be handing out actual treats next year.

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