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#Reminder that this was right after I caught up to so this was like the third episode tops I watched when it released
milky-aeons · 3 days
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𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄
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˗ˏˋ Gojo Satoru NSFW Headcannons ˎˊ˗
summary: now that you've tried it, you knew you would never get used to the taste of gojo satoru. wordcount: 1.6k warnings: sexual content, exhibitionism, love-biting, marking, possessiveness, pet-names, praising, blindfolding, oral receiving, female reader, mdni 🤍 ✎ . . . requested by lovely nonnie!
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♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ CUFF IT (WETTER REMIX) — beyoncé ꒱ ˎˊ-
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: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who had an exceptionally high sex drive. It did not matter if you had just seen him ten minutes ago or had already collapsed together into bed after two rounds, hot and sweaty. One look at your naked body gleaming under the covers of his bedsheets, or the strong swish of your hips as you walked, or even the scent of your perfume would send blood rushing right down to his cock. And he'd never be subtle about it, typical man that he was. Satoru would press his need against the curve of your back from behind and hum into your neck, kissing skin he'd never get tired of tasting.
Your heart still hammering in your chest from the climax you just came down from, you felt Satoru's arms snake around to circle you from behind. His head buried into your neck, placing little kisses on all the spots he knew you were sensitive for. He pushed his hot, hard cock you had just had inside of you into the ridge of your ass, grinding softly, languidly. Your shock was so sudden it came out as a giggle. "'t-toru...! How are you," You chuckled, deep and intimate, craning to give him better access to your neck. "Did you not... come...?" The words made Satoru release a heady groan. "'Course I did, baby... but seeing you come made me all hard, again~" He nibbled at the lobe of your ear, his hands wouldn't stop roaming against your skin, your sensitive breasts, until his fingers found the heat between your legs and began to massage your sensitive flesh. "You're just so goddamn sexy."
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was not shy about voicing his need for you — no matter where you were; and you were more than willing to satisfy his surprising nature. The wild rush of it made the frenzy of sex more heated for you both, especially when it was in areas where you had to keep quiet. In a public bathroom of an outdoor garden, with your back slammed against the wall of the gym showers, or on the empty terrace roof that overlooked a busy street. Satoru loved watching you repress your mewls and moans so that no one would hear you. He'd lean down to your ear as he thrusted savagely, and you felt his grin against your skin; the words he'd murmur like a tempt into sin;
"Look at you, squirmin' and pantin' for me, hmm? I'd love to fuck you in front of all them, baby girl. They'd all be so fuckin' jealous that I've the most gorgeous girl in the entire world."
: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who revelled in the bruises and bites you left on his gorgeous skin just as much as Satoru loved it, too. He was like a canvas that was yours to paint, to mark, to claim. His neck, the pretty nail marks you created down his strong shoulders — so broad you could never reach all the way across. His favourite place to leave litters of teeth marks on you must have been between your thighs. You were the most sensitive on the inner area, and Satoru just loved to be a tease. Instead of putting you out of your misery, squirming and bucking into his mouth, he would move to kiss there, instead. And when he did, he'd always remind you that they were for your eyes, and your eyes, only.
"Your pretty thighs look so good, baby. I gotta leave a part of myself here, ya'know? Somewhere no other man can see."
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who never let the distance get in between you two. As a teacher at Jujutsu Tech and the strongest shaman the society had to offer, sometimes, Satoru was summoned away. Perhaps to remote country temples where Special Grades had decided to spring up, or overseas to set a mystery that had caught his interest to rest. But even so, late at night when you needed him the most, he would come to you. With one quick clap of his hands, he would transcend time and space just to warp right into your room. Quick and ferocious and frantic, he'd have you against a doorframe or smack in the middle of your floor, before he'd kiss you long and deep and promise he'd be back soon.
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who had a plethora of pet-names he showered you in, and even more deep, guttural praises he muttered against your bare skin;
"Fuuuck, that's it, pretty girl. You want more of my cock? You're gonna have to ask nicely." "What does my princess need?" "You ride me so well, baby. Shit — take what ya need from me, use me as yours, baby girl." "Greedy girl... how bad do ya want me? You wanna come here and fuck yourself on my cock, huh?"
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was born with an other-worldly hold on his colossal cursed energy reserves — but there was those rare moments when he sometimes let his power spike out as he lost control. When you bounced on him a little too good and angled your hips just right, or when you had him in your mouth and twirled your tongue around his sensitive tip — crash! A lamplight would go out. A vase would explode. You would feel the dangerous pulse of power that came from him — and giggle, taking it as a chance to tease the forever confident sorcerer.
"My love, do I feel so good that you just let your Limitless spike out?"
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was so very clever with his hands. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer pushed the Honoured One to train even the more unlikely muscle groups — like those between his fingers or the junction of his wrist. And oh, were you so thankful for it when he had them inside you. He could thrum them against your soft walls at a speed that made your eyes roll back. He could stretch you open, and then lean down and insert his tongue, lapping at your entrance until you clenched around him. Sometimes, Satoru would use his entire hand and palm at your core until you were wet and slippery and all over him, just the way he liked you.
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who always took his morning showers with you. There was an intimacy to it, of course; in how you washed down the centre of his expansive shoulders, or how he massaged the shampoo into your hair. There was also the sight of his gloriously naked body lathered in suds and foam that you would never get tired of seeing. His hair — floppy, soaked, exquisite underneath your fingers when you gripped onto it and pulled him down to your mouth. Your bodies already slick, you would fit against each other perfectly, the soft slapping noises of wet skin would send the both of your smashing through ecstasy together much more quickly than usual.
: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who adored how your boyfriend fucked into you with him on top — but liked just as much when you took the reigns, too. There was just something about having the strongest sorcerer of them all pinned underneath you, huffing and helpless, while you bounced on top of his cock. You would splay your hands on his flushed pectorals, he would reach behind and hold onto the headboard, thrusting his hips up to meet you in kind.
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was a master at shaman energy, and was always finding new interesting ways to utilise it. When you were splayed naked on his expensive satin sheets and him leaning over you — concentrating Limitless into the palm of his hands and running them all across your sensitive skin. The intensity of it — how he was touching you without actually touching you — it sent any and all of your thoughts into a tailspin.
"This is...!" You gasped when he roved over your nipples, the vibrations of the gravitational pull massaging them in a way so unimaginably good. "Improper use of shaman energy—ah!" "Oya?" Satoru murmured, and you could hear the cheeky grin in his voice. He let those terrible, terrible fingertips pass down your naval and to the ache between your shaking legs. "You sound like you want me to stop, pretty girl..." Your eyes knocked to the back of your head. "Don't you fucking dare."
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who had a favourite position, and it involved you flipped over on your stomach and him, leaning over you, thrusting from behind. There was so many aspects that were in reach to him. He could feel the swell of your ass against his naval with every push his hips gave. He could hug you close — impossibly close, one hand braced beside your head, the other curled underneath to massage your bouncing breasts. Not only that, but it was so easy for him to lean down and whisper filthy secrets into your ear from this position — some of them going something like;
"Who's my pretty little girl? You feel so good. You always feel so. Fuckin'. Good."
: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who asked him specifically to use his signature blindfold during sex. It was so coarse and dark — you could see nothing through the fabric, which was exactly what you wanted. All your senses sharpened when one of them was taken away — his touch was magnified, it felt like starbursts along your skin, like little flecks of fire. And when he'd make you come, you would do so violently. Your body would bow up from the bed like the straining bow of a harp. You would bark out his name, until he caught you, until he folded you against his heaving chest and gently lifted the blindfold from your eyes. He would run his fingers across your dazed expression and whisper;
"You are so beautiful. My gorgeous, gorgeous girl. It's okay. Come back down, come back down to me. I gotcha. Won't let ya go."
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same sky | spencer reid
pairing: spencer reid x reader
a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot
word count: 2k
notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter
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“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 
“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  
“Is everyone else asleep?”
“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 
“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 
“How come you’re still up?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”
“Looking up at the stars.”
“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”
“Ha ha.”
“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”
“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 
His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”
For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.
“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 
“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.
“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.
“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”
“Sounds good. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”
“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”
“Less murder now.” 
“Yeah.” 
His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 
You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”
“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 
“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”
“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 
“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”
“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”
You laugh. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re right.”
“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”
“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”
“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 
“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 
“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 
“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 
“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 
“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 
“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 
“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 
You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 
“Spence?” 
“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”
“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 
“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 
“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 
“Man, I’m good.” 
“Mmhm.”
“Going to bed?”
“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 
“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 
“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 
“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 
“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 
“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 
Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 
“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 
“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 
You laugh. “For the whole day?” 
“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 
“Okay, rest day all day.” 
“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 
“Maybe the floor.” 
“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 
“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 
“Say no more.” 
You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 
“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 
“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 
“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 
“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”
“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 
“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 
“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 
“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 
“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 
“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 
“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 
You let out a little gremlin laugh. 
“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 
“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 
“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 
“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 
“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 
“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 
“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 
“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 
“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 
“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 
He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 
“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 
“I’m going to hold you to that.” 
The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 
You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 
“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 
You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 
Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 
“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 
“More like three now.”
“We made time go faster.” 
“We did.” 
“Will you try to get some sleep?”
“Fine. Only because you asked.”
You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 
“And I love you.” 
Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 
Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 
You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 
“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 
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Dead on Main part 6
Masterpost
This town is weird. Jason knows he shouldn’t be one to judge, considering Gotham and his own attachment to it. But this place is like a nightmare, stuck in time backwards-ness intermingled between the people and the place itself. It reminds him of Fawcett, which is not a good thing. He feels judged just walking down the street.
The head into a diner looking restaurant, fast food by the looks of it, that is in fact named Nasty Burger. Jason knows he shouldn’t judge. He’s doing it anyway.
There’s a girl behind the counter who seems to be glaring at Jason. Or Danny, but since he’s Jason right now, he decides he doesn’t need to deal with whatever her issue is. With little faith, Jason tells Jazz to order for him and goes to sit in a booth. 
The couple in the booth next to him watch him as he heads to his booth and gape at him as he sits down.
“Danny, come on.” The guy whines, he and the girl both stand and come over to sit across from him. “What was that? Don’t want to sit with us?”
 Jason tenses. “Uh.” 
“Hey guys!” Jazz says, coming to sit next to Jason. She places a tray with a burger, fries, and a soft drink in front of him and he eyes it warily. “This is Jason.”
They two across from them get these stupid dumbfounded looks. The girl behind the counter is listening to their conversation.
“Jason, these are Danny’s friends, Sam and Tucker.” Jazz motions to the girl and then the boy.
“Nice to meet you.” Jason inclines his head at them, and decides to try a fry.
“Is he…” Sam stops herself. “Does he know about Danny?”
“Not much, but they haven’t officially met yet, obviously.” Jazz is eating her food like it’s normal, so Jason follows her lead on the burger as well. “Danny should be here sometime tomorrow.”
“Where is Danny now?” Tucker asks, concerned.
“With my family.” Sam and Tucker look at him strangely. He can tell they’re concerned for their friend though. “He’s being driven back now, they’re rotating drivers so they don’t have to stop for the night. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” 
“Danny will be fine until he gets back.” Jazz comforts them. “Danny was more concerned about Jason, considering the food at our house.”
Sam and Tucker tense in response. “Right. I’d be worried about that too. Might want to stay at the house after this anyway.” Sam says lightly. Jason can tell he’s being talked around. Can hear them talking about something they don’t want him to know under the guise of their conversation, but he doesn’t know enough to make sense of it. 
“Let us know if anything comes up of course, but Danny won’t be able to hang out for a while.” Jazz smiles at them, but her eyes are concerned.
“Sure thing.” Tucker says. 
“If you guys want to have a chat where you can actually talk to each other, I can leave you along for a bit.” Jason tells them all. 
“No!” Tucker says quickly. They don't seem like they care that he caught on, there's no shame to be excluding him. They all just seem worried about something. “Best you stay with Jazz.” He turns back to her. “The GIW tools were deactivated. The whole fiasco yesterday was a lot for everyone. But they should be up and running again by tomorrow.”
Jazz nods at them and Sam and Tucker leave, whisper-arguing to each other as they go.
They eat quietly for a minute, but Jazz stiffens as she looks at something out the window.
Jason follows her gaze to see her tracking a man outside. He’s pretty smarmy looking. Long grey hair, in a full suit, seems like more Brucie’s crowd than someone who would be in a place called Nasty Burger. But he’s spotted them through the window and does seem to be on his way in. ““Hey Jason, would it be cool if you went to the bathroom for a second? Nevermind, there’s no time, follow my lead.”
The man walks right up to their booth.
“Daniel, Jasmine, lovely to see you both.”
“Vlad, can we help you?” Jazz asks politely, Jason just glares at them man.
“You know I always love to see you, but I would like to speak with Daniel for a moment.”
“Unfortunately, Danny and I have places to be, Vlad. I’m sure my parents would love to speak with you though. Dad has been meaning to stop by.” Jazz gathers the trash and remnants of their meal and stands, going to throw them away. Jason gets up to follow her, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He feels a tickle in his throat and his next breath comes out cold and foggy, visible in the air. 
“Daniel, don’t you want to have a talk?” The hand on his shoulder is forceful.
“Don’t touch me.” Jason turns himself out of his grasp, backing away towards the door. Jazz pulls him quickly back onto the street towards home.
“Who the hell was that guy?”
“Danny’s godfather, friend of our parents. They went to college together.”
They’re walking past an alley when Jason feels that tickle again, he stops as his breath comes out cold, then something rams into him, pushing him to the ground farther in the alley.
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rigorwhoring · 1 day
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SHOULD’VE BEEN A SON, pt. 2
MDNI, corrupt cop/dad!leon kennedy x fem!reader
word count. 3.1k
cws. daddy-daughter incest, noncon, somnophilia, revenge porn, aftermath of past noncon, reader gets recorded, p in v, unprotected, blackmail, leon somehow gets worse, mentions of police corruption, victim-blaming, overstim
note. i will repeat what i said on pt. 1 — you are responsible for what you consume. nobody is forcing you to read (appropriately tagged) fanfiction that grosses you out. anyway, it’s been rlly fun plotting out a series!! kind of deranged but fuck it we ball!!
tags. @bunnyclaire, @leonseyeliner, @sqiim, @xoxostarlet, @d10nyx, @ressespearlz, @shiawaseorii, @wherenymphsroam, @localkiss (i adore each of you omg)
index. [pt. 1] [pt. 2] [pt. 3] [pt. 4] [pt. 5] [Bonus]
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You were fucked. Thoroughly, resolutely, incurably fucked.
It came to you in the shower, somewhere between the scalding water and your stinging skin. Should’ve been immediate — but your head was spinning something horrible. Felt like you were being waterboarded. Hell, you wouldn’t put it past him — no matter how self-preserving the RPD was, fucking your own daughter into the floor was a bit of a bad look.
You scrubbed your skin till it hurt to touch, and then for a few minutes after that. Scrubbed till you saw blood. The blood was good — the blood meant that you’d purged his touch from every bruise, denied him further entry into your body. Your lower belly ached something terrible — couldn’t he have been more careful? If he was gonna rape you, couldn’t he have taken care not to jam his cock against your cervix half the time?
Rape. That’s what had happened. You froze as it settled. Rape had been news reports mama switched the channel from when you were little. The mention that made your brows knit together in compulsory pity. The word that made everyone in the room stiffen up a little, including you. But now, it applied to you, too. Your mind instinctively tried to climb somewhere higher from it. Anything to avoid being a victim. Anything to avoid that label of helplessness, that incessant reminder that recovery couldn’t erase the past. You’d always be a victim, now. No matter how much you screamed, no matter how much you plead, he’d taken away the right to honest denial.
Begrudgingly, you shut off the shower. Had you thinking a little too hard. You grimaced as the biting air hit your skin, bringing forth what he’d done. So many of your marks were far smaller than they felt. You supposed it was mostly internal, wrapping a fluffy towel around yourself for warmth — when you suddenly caught sight of your face in the mirror. Between the bruising around your nose and the tear burns beneath your eyes, you looked just as you’d remembered mama. It took everything within you not to break the mirror right there — realizing the pattern your life was falling into was the last thing you needed right now. But seven years of bad luck and whatever your father decided to do to you over the mirror seemed shittier. You grimaced, huddling into the towel for comfort, and scurried back to your designated bedroom.
You glanced at the clock as you tugged on a fresh pair of clothes, silently reminding yourself to burn the previous. Two hours later than you’d expected. You’d been in that agonizing shower for over two hours, unable to process it to begin with. But, hell — at the expense of your comfort, you’d racked up your dad’s water bill a little.
Yeah, fuck you, dad. You raped me, so now that water bill’s gonna make your wallet hurt. Not as much as it hurt when he choked you. When he used you like a goddamn fleshlight. The more you thought about it, the more your gloating looked pathetic. Shuddering, you tried to curl up in bed, like your blanket was going to protect you from a trained cop. Like you still had any power left.
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Ten days, ten sleepless nights, and countless bouts of panic passed from the incident.
Life trudged on, somehow. You’d never been much of a socialite on campus — you weren’t going into debt for a country club, after all. Sleep didn’t come the night you were assaulted, or the nights that followed. When it did, it was fleeting. Scared of gracing you with its presence, of letting you bask in a moment of relief. Deprivation led you to avoidance and lethargy — but when you were presented with a 42% on a science exam, you knew that something had to be done. Thus, insomnia led you to the nearest drugstore. Emptied your pockets of cash and filled them back up with over-the-counter sleeping pills.
In part, you blamed your social circle, too. When you sent an intentionally vague message, begging for a temporary place to stay, nobody took you in. You saw through the excuses — their boyfriends came over on the regular. Practically freeloaded. It’d been going on for ages. You wished you could testify on if they’d changed, but after moving back home, you’d been largely cut off. Maybe it was the distance, or maybe you’d gotten a little off-putting since your father sexually assaulted you. If the latter was the case, you were happier. Thank God they’d cut you off before you’d given them a piece of your mind.
Still, newfound isolationism had done nothing for sleep — and now, you had no friends or family to call. Just half a grieving mind and an ample dose of paranoia. Your father was still taking the same patrols, lately — you’d jotted each time he’d come home down in the back of your textbook, snapping the lock shut the second his boots resounded down the hardwood. Something in your mind insisted that rape was inevitable, but you were doing everything in your power to prevent it. Safety at the slight cost of your wellbeing. Made you grimace when you thought about it.
“Fuck this,” you muttered after reading the same sentence for the seventh time. You’d gotten through a solid three paragraphs. Productive day. Time to treat yourself for it. You shuffled a couple of the bottles you’d picked out, dumping out three pills from one and one pill from the other. If this made you feel like you’d contracted the plague, at least it’d be an extremely relaxed plague. You popped them into your mouth and curled up into bed, gently humming with the relief that followed. Tomorrow, you’d keep searching for an adequate job. For an affordable motel. You’d make it out of here, soon.
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No click.
Leon’s brows knitted together in confusion as he stepped through the door. For the past ten days, he’d heard the hurried thuds of your footsteps once the front door creaked open, followed by the resounding click of your lock. But tonight, he was greeted by silence. A few tentative steps down the hallway didn’t reap any better results.
Being a cop meant adopting hypervigilance, and being a sick bastard meant getting good at it. He’d been observing the little facets of a situation you were just starting to pick up on for decades. Hell, maybe you should be thanking him — you weren’t the spoiled brat he’d largely ignored anymore. It didn’t get much worse than him, so there wasn’t much reason for you to end up surprised when you wound up assaulted in an alleyway. You’d stand up, press the wrinkles out of your skirt, and stumble away — hoping some scumbag didn’t knock you up.
Regardless, he found himself at your door, gingerly testing the knob. Your likeness had started to resemble a stray cat’s around him. Hell, a mouse, even. You practically ran away at the mere sight of him. So when the knob turned, cracking open the door, his eyebrows raised in surprise. But he wasn’t one to stop the crack from widening, raising his rough palm to push the wood aside.
There you were — the daughter who’d made herself scarce often enough to wipe her face from his memory. He remembered the tears, sure. The way they clung to your lashes. The little cries that went muffled by the carpet. But the shape of your nose and the pout of your lips had gotten a little muggy. Felt like some sort of karma — you were pretty enough to make his cock jump. Maybe that’s what God bestowed upon him for treating you like a whore. Forgetting his baby’s face.
It was a fine price to pay, he decided, stepping over to your bed. He kept the tapping of his soles light on the carpeted floor, wanting to take advantage of your inevitable groggy state — when he saw the bottles on the counter. You’d fucked with some sleeping pills. He had a decent idea of how many, given the fact that you were still alive and seemingly well. But that number differed — the lower dosages let you fall asleep, but it was the higher ones that kept you there. He grazed your forearm as a litmus test — nothing.
Nudging your forearm again with a bit more intent, he forced a chuckle back down his throat. You slept like a doll. Forcing women to their knees on the side of the road had been an acquired taste — their cries had taken even longer to internalize into something arousing. But having a warm body, benign to his touch and splayed before him, was a delicacy of sorts. One his treatment of women didn’t often allow him to be served. Unfortunately, you’d remained in his house, and he was due for indulgence.
Palming his pocket, he unlooped his belt with one hand and retrieved his phone with the other. Revenge porn felt a little classier back when it was on digital. But practically mattered, unfortunately, and he needed every pixel of your body he could get — and the fastest way he could, hypothetically, spread it. It wasn’t that you’d done anything wrong recently. Quite the contrary. You’d been good and quiet, and you needed to stay that way. You were a smart girl. A headstrong girl. Sometime soon, you’d get the nerve to leave — and sometime soon, you’d need a little encouragement to stay put and keep your pretty mouth quiet. He wasn’t above zip ties, but those could ultimately be broken. Porn sites couldn’t.
Swiping into the camera, he tugged against the bulge in his boxers for a moment, stifling a groan. Something about your sleeping form had made him hard enough to feel dizzy. Precum dripped down to the base of his cock with every breath you took, pressing his tip flush against his lower belly. Sticky. Like he was in high school again. His rough fingertips padded against your thighs, parting them as he knelt on your mattress. He made quick work of discarding your thin shorts — gently prodding your clit with his index through the fabric of your panties. Your breath staggered, eyebrows slanting a little — good. You reacted like you were being fucked, not raped.
He knew that he couldn’t pass this off as revenge porn if you reacted to it like you had the first time. Sure, men from the dredges of the internet might find your little pleas arousing, but the rational population would pity you. The reaction would be sympathy — motivation to leave and join with your supporters. You had to look like you wanted it, a bit. You had to whine a little, let your lips part, pant in ecstasy. Enjoying it is what brought judgment, and as he thumbed your clit, he knew damn well how to capitalize upon that.
Your thigh twitched, triggered by some sort of nerve within the bud. He knew that he couldn’t do much — you weren’t going to enjoy this if you were awake. But asleep? He felt another dribble of precum kick against his stomach as the wet oval in the gusset of your panties grew, vulnerable and pretty for him. He pressed his thumb against your throbbing clit, failing to still it as your cunt gushed with arousal. With one hand draped beneath your navel, he leaned forward, carefully prying your loose shirt from your body. Could barely be considered porn if your tits weren’t bouncing. You shifted in sleep, and he froze in half a second — but when you settled again, he successfully pulled the fabric away, leaving your breasts vulnerable to the camera.
He gently tugged the gusset of your panties away from your cunt, stifling another laugh. Just as wet as the last time he fucked you. Just as unaware. Slick glistened around your hole as he scissored you open, nudging your folds apart with his knuckles. Shallowly sliding his index into you, he retrieved his leaking cock with his other hand, nearly trembling as it jumped with your whines. Hard to control with the cellphone’s heaviness and the way your hole fluttered before him. Leon slotted himself against you, taking a strange caution to it. If you woke up when he was this far along, he’d have to hold you down and scrap the video. Rendering this useless outside of a good lay. He thumbed the ‘record’ button, nudging his swollen tip into you.
Leon loathed fucking you gently. Every molecule of his being wanted to ravage, to force, to tear you to shreds — but he was forced to hold himself back for the sake of the video. Forced to inhibit the urges that had darkened him so dramatically. Working each inch of his dick into your weeping cunt was torture — save for the way your entire being seemed to hum with unconscious pleasure. A raw, guttural moan rose from your throat as he stilled half his cock into you, hand shaking slightly as his fingers clenched for dear life around the cellphone. Your walls fluttered around him as you whined, subconscious begging to be filled again — and, fuck, who was he to say no?
Problem was, he couldn’t stop. His baby’s pussy felt a little too good when it was clinging to him like that. Wasn’t his fault that his hips started rutting into yours, that he couldn’t control the way his cock forced itself deeper into you. Surely, this was your fault — somehow, you’d willed him to do this. You were far too smart. Far too pretty. He grunted, letting your hips raise a little as his balls met the plush of your ass, a ring of slick forming around the base of his cock. Atta girl, putting on a good show. Stay good and no one’ll have to see it.
And you really did look pretty for the camera. Forced to watch you through it for quality, he silently adored the way your skin shone with sweat. The way your tits bounced with every empathic pump into you. The way your lips were slick with unkempt saliva. Shakily, he pawed at one of your tits, gripping the flesh as he kept the camera steady. Jesus, how had he gone without marking these up last time? You’d gotten these from your mama, too — for a moment, he contemplated waking you, just to inform you of that. Just to kiss that pretty mouth to stifle your bewildered cries, to pinch one of those puffy nipples—
Before he could process where his thoughts had led him to, he was cumming, cock jumping to stuff your cunt. Fortunately, he had enough cognition left to pull out, dick uselessly prodding your clit before he came across your stomach. He tried to regulate his own breathing, camera focusing on the white smeared below your navel. He hadn’t cum this much, or this early, since his twenties. That elicited a grin.
Still, in the wake of his own orgasm, he noticed the way you writhed. The way your hips raised and fell against nothing but the air. The sex tape was good, but it would be even less believable as rape if you came, right? His cum was smeared on your tummy, but if your own cum ended up between your thighs, you’d be written off as a whore. A slut that couldn’t get raped without cumming. And, naturally, he wanted the best for his daughter, so he gently aligned himself between your labia again with a grimace. Stifling a groan, he pumped himself with the same hand, fighting tears of overstimulation to get himself hard again. Eventually managed a heavy semi — fortunately. Save for you, that was less of a given these days.
Silently gasping a string of curses, he rigidly pumped into you, his own cum overwhelming his sensitive cock. His eyes watered as you whimpered in euphoria, fighting off another whine of pain. A few things became apparent in that moment — the most important one being that God was not on his side. For obvious reasons. He’d underestimated the utter torture overstimulation demanded, struggling to keep from writhing like you had. His cock ached painfully in protest, suddenly hardening fully again within you. Your body stiffened, a bead of sweat falling from your hairline to your ear.
Leon willed himself to keep fucking you, letting out another involuntary grunt as you clenched around him. It pained him to pump faster, but pained him worse to hold out for his overwhelmed dick. He never thought he’d welcome your own orgasm, but he did — breathlessly grinning when you finally cried out in the midst of your dream, panting as your own release dribbled out with his.
Without another moment to waste, he gratefully pulled out and stopped the video. Leon muttered something under his breath as he stuffed his cock back into his pants, unbothered to pick his belt back up. You’d put the pieces together tomorrow.
But if you didn’t, he thought, eyes slowly trailing to the polaroid on your nightstand. Wouldn’t this be for nothing?
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Before you processed that you were unclothed, you processed that you were sticky. You woke up sore. Sore and immediately confused. Your hair stuck to your temple with sweat, and your lips felt clammy. Like you were getting sick. You sat up, groggy, silently reminding yourself to refrain from taking so many pills.
And then you caught sight of it — your shirt, draped over the headboard. Right above your head as you motionlessly slept. A cold feeling resonated next to the soreness’ source in your lower gut, your head suddenly throbbing — heart stopping immediately when you caught sight of your unlocked door.
Rapidly realizing what had happened, you froze in shock, angrier at yourself than you were at him. You had a new system in place, didn’t you? One that was supposed to keep you safe. And you’d failed to keep it in place in exchange for rest. The single night you’d allowed yourself the grace of normalcy, it happened again.
In your disbelief, you caught sight of a polaroid — prettily mounted against the lamp on your nightstand. You squinted, blood running cold when you processed the contents of the image. Shakily, you grabbed it, taking in the sight of your nude body — painted messily with your father’s cum. He’d scrawled something on the back, letters blanked in places where the pen was running out of ink.
“Remember that I have the video.”
Another scalding shower confirmed the answer to you: you were fucked.
188 notes · View notes
wheelsupimagine · 2 days
Text
Meant to be -Spencer Reid x Fem!reader
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x FemReader
Word count: 3.2k words
Warnings: mentions of s3 e16 and s4 e24, angst and fluff
Summary: A case reminded Spencer of his past and you the only friend he had in high school, what if one day you two meet again in DC.
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Being a resident genius had its favors, the team bets everything on him and he could always retrieve this but this case was different, it was difficult it got personal.
His edict memory is a blessing but not when a case like this reminded him of his past - Alexa Lisbon.
Then he wished he could forget everything for once in his life, but he will always remember.
When Spencer stepped out of the plane, he felt like he could breathe again, but his mind still raced - this case was an emotional roller coaster for him and the best way for Spencer to calm down was to go to his favorite bookstore.
The moment Spencer stepped into the bookstore he felt relieved, the familiar smell of old books and fresh coffee felt like home and no other person was in sight.
"Hey Spencer though case?!" Miranda the owner of the shop asked.
"Hey Miranda, yeah it was."
"Okay, your coffee will be ready in a bit, the bookstore is almost empty just one more person is here."
Spencer nodded but he was surprised that someone else would be here at this time still Spencer didn’t let himself bother knowing he would probably not even find this person.
Spencer left Miranda and made his way deeper into the bookstore. He was so invested in finding a new book, that he totally forgot about his coffee till he heard his name being called.
"Spencer Reid?" A stranger called his name
He turned his head and then he saw you.
Y/N Y/L/N.
What Spencer didn’t tell Derek was, who got him down from the goalpost back then - it was y/n, after that night you two spent more time together - Spencer could always come to you, and you two never talked about his problems and struggles because when he was with you it didn’t matter, once or twice he talked with you about his mom but mostly he just enjoyed your company and felt like a decent kid with a friend.
When he graduated high school, he never looked back but after 14 years you stand now in front of him right here in this bookstore in DC.
"Miranda asked me if I could bring you your coffee before it gets cold." You said and pointed at his coffee in your hand.
"My god Spencer, I can’t believe it’s you." You continued.
"Thank you y/n." Spencer took the coffee from you.
"It’s been a while, you look good by the way."
Spencer blushed, but he didn’t say anything back.
"Ähm yeah it was nice to see you again, I don’t want to bother much longer." As you attempted to leave, Spencer stopped you.
"Actually I could use some company if you like… Only if you want to obviously, I would understand if you don’t want to…" Spencer
rambled, but you stopped him.
"I would love to keep you company Spencer."
You two sat down and drank your coffee and talked. Spencer found out that you moved here two years ago because you got a job offer at the Walter Reed hospital and nothing held you in Las Vegas. Spencer talked to you about his job in the FBI, you asked him about Diana and it surprised him that you still knew her name, you two had a great time together until you caught Spencer off guard.
"Spencer, how are you really? You have very dark circles under your eyes."
"I…I haven’t slept really, it was this case that reminded me of something in the past." Spencer sighed and didn’t dare to look you in the eyes.
You knew where his mind went, you rubbed Spencer’s arm.
"But look at you now, these High school jerks and Alexa are definitely regretting this now." You looked at your clock.
"Hey Spencer it’s getting late, I have to wake up early and honestly you need some sleep too."
Spencer's mimic changed from happy to sad in one motion.
"Oh, I understand. Yeah yeah, you should leave you need your sleep." Spencer took his distance from you, thinking you wanted to leave because you already had enough of him.
"Spencer hey, if you want we can exchange phone numbers so we could meet again."
Spencer’s lips curved into a smile.
"Yeah, I would like that."You exchanged numbers and you both left the shop together.
Sadly you two had to split ways, Spencer insisted on walking you home but you promised him that it wouldn’t even take 10 minutes till you were home. Spencer started rambling about unsafety and what everything could happen in 10 minutes.
"Wow, now I might think I have to stay with you forever." You joked
but Spencer was stunned and it caused his cheeks to turn slightly pink.
"I just made a joke Dr. Reid, okay. Would you feel better if I wrote you when I made it home save in 10 minutes?" You asked him.
"This would make it slightly better. But.."
"But?" You asked confused.
"You lied," Spencer said.
"What?"
"You first said you would be home in less than 10 minutes now it’s exactly 10 minutes." Spencer smiled and you laughed.
"Come home safe Dr. Reid."You smiled and turned around making your way home.
When Spencer arrived home, he thought about going to bed immediately but you crossed his mind again and when he looked at his phone he saw that you hadn’t wrote him yet. So instead of getting in his pyjamas he sat on his couch and waited for your text.
After 10 minutes and 45 seconds, you texted him letting him know you made it home safe.
Spencer:You are too late.
Y/n:What?!
Spencer:You are exactly 45 seconds too late. Next time I call the FBI.
Y/n:haha. I am so sorry dr Reid, I changed into my pajamas first.
Y/n:You didn’t need to stay awake for me
Spencer:But I wanted to make sure that you save.
Y/n:Thank you Spencer but you also need to sleep.
Spencer:Good night Y/n sleep well.
Y/n:Sleep well genius.
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Over the last few months, Spencer and you met at the bookstore when your jobs allowed it. Otherwise, you two stay connected through messages and phone calls. Even the team noticed a shift in Spencer’s mood and as the man Derek is he asks him about it.
"Hey, pretty boy, who’s got you on the phone like this?"
"What do you mean, I use my phone like I always do."
"No boy wonder, for someone who rarely uses his phone in his free time, you are really caught up in it now." Derek laughed.
"Is pretty boy in love?" Derek asked and wiggled with his brows.
"Derek please can you leave it, it’s nothing," Spencer answered and didn’t dare to look Derek in the eyes.
"Okay Spencer, I let it slide for now but just so you know I care about you and if there is someone in your life that makes you happy, I just want to know."
Paperwork days for Spencer were never a problem, he accepted it cause it needed to be done but now with you in his life, he loved paperwork because it meant he wasn’t away on a case and with you having the morning shift, it gave you two the chance to meet up after work and he enjoyed your time together, he feels like he can be like himself with you and he hasn’t laughed so much since he met you.
But your jobs didn't allow this too much, either you had the night shift or Spencer was out of town for a case and he hated this, he hated when you weren’t around, he hated it when you two were in the same city but didn’t get to see each other and even though he loves his job, he couldn’t wait to come home, to see you - he missed you.
Cases also mean for him that he barely has time to call you.
Currently, Spencer has been away for a week already, this case going longer than he thought it would take, Spencer lay on his motel bed and tried to find the breakthrough for the case but nothing came to his mind.
He put the papers aside and looked at the clock, it wasn’t too late in DC yet, and he was unsure if he should call you, it’s nothing you usually do so that Spencer could stay focused on the case but honestly, he needed to hear your voice tonight, so he tried to call you hoping you aren’t already asleep.
"Spencer? Is everything okay?" Your voice sounds raw.
"Hey, yeah everything is okay. Did I wake you up? I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to, it was a stupid idea to call you, you obviously slept, and your voice sounds raw. I should-."
"Spencer, breath, everything is fine. I didn’t sleep, I - I just rolled around, I was thinking about you."
Spencer was stunned by your confession, he stayed silent but his heart was beating very fast.
"So yeah, what’s on your mind, Spencer?" You asked breaking the silence.
"We don’t come forward with the case and I...I wanted to hear your voice." Spencer confessed.
"Sometimes it takes more time to find the perpetrator but the only thing that matters is that you will find him. I miss you but please stay safe there."
"I will y/n, I promise."
"Hey, Spencer."
"Yes, y/n."
"Why don’t we meet when you come back, we could order takeout and make a movie marathon at my place nothing fancy." You suggested.
"Yeah, yeah I would like that."
"Good, I will see you soon, good night Spencer."
"Good night y/n."
A few days later the team finally caught the unsub.
As the team flew back to Virginia, Spencer wrote you to let you know that he would land in the late afternoon and asked you if you two wanted to have the movie marathon tonight which you accepted.
Spencer didn’t even realize that he smiled like an idiot until Derek pulled him out of his thoughts.
"You pretty boy what got your smile like that?" Derek asked Spencer.
"Uh n-no-nothing," Spencer said but his cheeks turned 10 times darker every second.
"Sureee Spencer."
Spencer didn’t say anything.
"Hey Spencer," Derek said.
"Yeah."
"It’s good to see you like this," Derek replied. He left Spencer alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t wait to see you tonight.
Spencer arrived at your apartment complex 10 minutes too early, he first waited in his car, drumming his fingers on his bouncing leg, trying to calm himself down but he failed miserably, so he stood in front of your door 7 minutes and 43 seconds too early but it was okay, in that time he tried to get his breath under control.
But before Spencer got his breath under control, you already opened the door.
"Man, I thought you would never knock at my door." You greeted him.
"How-how did you know I stood in front of your door?" Spencer asked.
"I saw you parking your car 5 minutes ago, I waited for you.”
"Oh yeah I didn’t want to be late here but I also didn’t want to be too early, I didn’t know if you were ready yet," Spencer explained.
"It’s okay Spencer but next time just knock you could never be annoying to me, even if you're too early you can sit on my couch like right now."
"I will quickly make the popcorn, you can look for a movie we could watch." You suggested and Spencer sat down and looked for a good movie to watch that you also liked, when you returned with the popcorn and other snacks, you sat down next to him but not too close, Spencer still didn’t decide what to watch.
"I-I don’t know what to watch, movies that I like are mostly not the type from others," Spencer admitted.
"Okay mhm, what do you think of Star Trek?"
"What?!" Spencer was completely shocked.
"Ähm okay was that a bad request?"
"No, no it’s- it’s great actually, I love it, I didn’t think you would like these types of movies," Spencer admitted.
"I am full of surprises Spencer."
So you watched the Star Trek series and after some time you both fell asleep, no one knows who fell asleep first maybe it was you or him but for sure was that you both bumped your heads, after a phone went off - it was Spencer’s.
"I’m sorry, I’ve got a case, is your head okay?"
"Yeah, yeah is there enough time for coffee or do you have to leave immediately?"
"No, it looks really important I have to leave now, but at least the case is here."
"Okay, good luck, be safe."
"I will be." As Spencer was about to leave he turned around once more.
"Hey y/n?"
"Yes, Spencer."
"I had a lot of fun last night."
"Me too, maybe we couldn’t do it again sometime?"
"I would love to, bye y/n."
"See you soon doctor, come home to me in one piece."
Just when the door felt shut, your phone started ringing, it was the hospital.
"Hey, y/n. Is it possible for you to fill in today, maya is sick."
"Yeah sure, I am on my way."
Spencer just visited Abby one of the remaining survivors, in the middle of their conversation Abby got aphasia, which scared Spencer, this stain kills people in a short amount of time and right now he couldn’t do anything.
Then he thought about you, and he had the urge to talk to you, even though he may get in trouble for this he needed to know you were okay.
"Spencer, is everything okay?" You said quite in panic.
"Yeah, yeah sure why wouldn’t it be… I.. I just wanted to hear your voice and I wanted to know if you are okay."
"Everything is okay, besides I have to work today."
"What !! I thought it was your free day?"
"Yeah, change in plans, one of my colleagues is sick and they asked me to fill in, but it’s fine, it’s a quiet day." You lied to Spencer, nothing was quiet on this day.
Hey, Spencer, it looks like I’ve got to go out there again. Look out for yourself and maybe if you’d like we could out soon.. like on a real date, maybe?"
"..I would like it, yeah, that would be great."
"Good, stay safe Spencer. Bye"
"Goodbye, Y/n. Take care of yourself. See you soon."
You both hung up with a smile and at least forgot the scary situation for a few seconds, before you got out again and took care of the anthrax-infected patients.
Spencer and Derek made their way to Nichols a possible suspect in the anthrax case. When they arrived Spencer had cut himself briefly on the thorn bush but it didn't stop him and continued to walk with Derek closer to the house.
Before Morgan and Reid entered Nichols's private lap, Derek got a phone call, Reid made his way into the lab and left Derek behind.
As Derek ended the call, he realized Spencer was not behind him. Derek ran towards the house calling for Reid and just when he arrived at the house, Spencer closed the door from the lab and told Derek he couldn’t get in there just then Derek saw the broken test tube with Anthrax in it.
Spencer was a step closer to death.
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You took the mask from your face and took a deep breath and you finally broke down, you started crying, it was too much for you, seeing all those vulnerable people and you can’t do anything to help them, you can only try to make this stay as comfortable as possible.
You knew what this job meant, you can’t save everybody but this is not fair, how can a human being so heartless and let these people perish?
You took another deep breath and then you thought about Spencer, hopefully was okay, far away from this situation but deep down you knew he wasn’t, he is in the FBI of course he is involved but please let him be okay.
You needed to hear Spencer's voice, so you called him.
"Y/n…" Spencer began to cough.
"Spencer.. what's happening. You don’t sound okay."
"Everything is fine." Spencer coughed again.
"Spencer…no matter what is happening…"
"Y/n listen." Spencer cut you off.
"I love you Y/n… everything is gonna be okay but I've got to go now. Then Spencer hung up and you didn’t get to answer him.
You tried it a few more times but he didn’t pick and now it felt like your world broke down, you burst into tears knowing couldn’t do anything.
After Spencer and Dr. Kimura may have found the cure for this anthrax, Spencer finally gets to go out of the lab and go to the shower, but as Spencer untied his tie, Dr. Kimura sees the cut Spencer got from the bush and the situation just got more dangerous, hopefully, the cure was in the inhaler.
When Dr. Kimura came in with a newly infected anthrax patient your heart skipped a beat - it was Spencer.
He was in an awful state and for a moment you didn’t know if he would survive this.
The situation finally got under control with the confirmation from the lab that the cure was in the inhaler, the last survivors and Spencer were able to be cured and now it was a matter of time before Spencer woke up.
When you walked towards Spencer’s room, you saw a man sitting by Spencer and eating his jello that you put on his table, just then Spencer woke up and immediately asked if there would be more jello.
As you arrived at Spencer's room you couldn’t hold back anymore.
"Hey." You've said as if a stone fell from your heart.
"Hi." Said Spencer with a smile on his face.
You both wanted to say so much more but with this muscular man in the room who you didn’t know - there was an awkward silence there.
"Okay, I think it’s my time to leave. Have fun lover boy." The man said and left you too alone.
"You’ve scared me, Spencer." You sat down on the bed and took his hand in yours.
"I didn’t mean to do this and I am sorry for what I said, I would understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, I mean with what I said I took this.." Spencer rambled.
"I love you too Spencer."
"WHAT?! Really?"
"Yes Spencer, of course I do, I've loved you since we first met back in Las Vegas."
Spencer cupped with both hands your face and you leaned in and then you two kissed for the first time.
"So you still want to go out with me?" You asked.
"Of course Y/n." You both hugged and Spencer's face was crooked in your neck.
"Hey, Y/n?"
"Yes, Spencer."
"Before we go out on the date, can I have some of this jello?" Spencer asked shyly but you just started laughing.
"Of course, my love, you can have as much jello as you want."
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Man - when I wrote this it felt from length okay but now I feel like it’s a little rushed maybe you could give me feedback if I should get more in detail with the story and the conversations.
I am still very new to writing and it feels super though to write Spencer so that he still has his character traits and doesn’t sound like a totally different Spencer.
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strangererotica · 3 days
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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI
Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader | This is a very long chapter!!! | I don’t even know the word count, but it’s a LOT…
PART ONE | PART TWO
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The previous night had been one of the worst in Jim Hopper’s life. He’d endured the long hours till morning with the company of cigarettes and alcohol, ruminating on the way he’d potentially ruined his life the night before. How could he have allowed his obsession with you to sink this low? To the point of revealing his secret in the most damning way possible, literally caught with his pants down (or at least, undone). Hopper had gone to your home last night with the plan of seeing you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. To satisfy his curiosity about the relationship the two of you had together. Was Steve really as perfect as he seemed? Were you genuinely happy with him? Or, more pressing on Hopper’s mind, was Steve Harrington able to satisfy you?
Hopper had gotten more answers than he’d expected however, when he’d accidentally stumbled upon you and Steve sharing an intimate moment together. Nothing, especially Hopper’s barely existent sense of shame, could have stopped him from watching. He’d certainly felt shame after being caught, however. The expression in your eyes when you’d spotted him was…impossible for Hopper to read. You hadn’t looked embarrassed, or horrified, or even surprised, at least as Hopper had perceived. It’s possible, he told himself, that you were exceptionally good at hiding your emotions. Or maybe…maybe you’d known that Hopper was watching all along…?
The thought had occurred to him at some point during the night, after yet another failed attempt at sleep. Hopper stared up at the ceiling of his trailer, naked and drunkenly sprawled on his couch. He was surrounded by empty beer cans, a cigarette burning down between his lips. He watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, coiling above him in an almost hypnotic spiral, at least to his alcohol-soaked perception. The image above Hopper perfectly mirrored his life spiraling-out-of-control, and he chuckled darkly at the irony of it. Hopper thought again of your eyes, their expression which completely eluded him. And then…a new possibility occurred to him. What if you hadn’t been shocked at all by his behavior, Hopper wondered? What if the secret of his obsession was something you already knew about? Had you realized Hopper wasn’t what he seemed, that Hawkins’ Chief of Police was actually less a servant of the community, and more a slave to his own perverted impulses?
Hopper found a sick sort of comfort in this new theory, in the idea that you might have already known his secret. If you’d known he was watching you last night, along with the reason why, perhaps you’d have less reason to be shocked at his indecent behavior? Your expression had appeared so vague to Hopper, maybe because you’d known he was there watching all along? Hopper lay on his couch, wondering…if maybe you’d left your curtains pulled on purpose? Had you wanted Hopper to see your boyfriend fuck you?
The character profile Hopper had constructed of you was of an innocent girl yet to be corrupted. If he’d been wrong all this time, and you were actually as deviant as he was, then the possibility of Hopper having you became more real to him. Maybe you liked the idea of being watched, of being obsessed over? Had your innocent behavior around Hopper been an act this whole time, a game you were playing at his expense? Did you get off on knowing he wanted you, but couldn’t have you?
The sun was rising, reminding Hopper of the time. He checked his watch, realizing he’d have to leave for the station soon. Facing you would be much easier if his theory about you was right. Part of him knew it was a long shot, but fuck, Hopper needed this fantasy, the hope that you secretly liked his lusting after you, that you wanted to be wanted by him…?
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The drive to the station was relatively easy for Hopper, considering the fact that he’d had zero sleep the night before and his hangover was getting progressively worse. Regardless of how awful he felt, Hopper was impatient to receive some kind of feedback from you, whether negative or positive. Not knowing how you were feeling about last night was tying a knot in Hopper’s stomach. And as soon as he entered the station, that knot in his stomach tightened.
A young woman Hopper didn’t recognize was seated at your desk. He stopped in his tracks, surprised and growing increasingly worried. Where the hell were you?
Hopper approached the secretarial desk. “Uh, hey,” he began tentatively. “Where’s (y/n)?”
The young woman smiled back at Hopper, and in spite of his anxiety, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was.
“(y/n) called in sick this morning,” the young woman replied. Hopper took a deep breath; his fantasy that you’d be alright with his deviant behavior was more than likely only that: a fantasy. You probably thought Hopper was the lowest scum on Earth, and couldn’t bear the thought of coming into work today and having to interact with him.
“Did she-uh-.” Hopper paused, clearing his throat. “Did she say what’s wrong, exactly? Anything specific?”
“No, but maybe she caught the flu?” the young woman replied. “I mean, her voice sounded okay over the phone. But you never know with the flu; it could be affecting her stomach-.” She looked away awkwardly, flustered and embarrassed for rambling.
Hopper took a few seconds to consider the new layer of shit he found himself in. At this point, he was sure you’d told Steve what had happened. Because, after all, Steve was your boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you tell him?
Then again, if you had told Steve, why wasn’t he at the station right now kicking Hopper’s ass? Maybe you’d begged Steve not to tell anyone, afraid you’d put your job in jeopardy?
The temporary secretary cleared her throat to get Hopper’s attention. Her big, expressive eyes drifted up and down his body, a curious smile on her face. Hopper tried to focus on her smile and not his anxiety, grateful for the distraction when she extended a pretty hand to him. “We haven’t met before,” the young woman said. “I’m Mary.”
Hopper took her hand, which disappeared in his. “Jim,” he said, adding, “Mary. That’s a beautiful name, Mary.”
She dropped her eyes bashfully, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks. Hopper already knew Mary wanted him to fuck her; it was more than obvious. Having her would be easy for several reasons. Mary was obviously young, likely nineteen or twenty, Hopper guessed. And from experience, he knew that younger women were easier conquests, because they tended to be inexperienced and therefore, attracted to someone mature and in a position of authority like Hopper.
One of the reasons Hopper was so enchanted by you was the fact that you were the exact opposite of a girl like Mary. You were young, but not so young that you automatically came with the prepackaged naïveté Hopper had grown so bored with after years of fucking women barely old enough to drink. Women who’d maybe had one or two partners, if any. Virgins were easy for Hopper to fuck, but they bored him. He needed a woman who would let him do unspeakable things to her body, not teach her how to fuck in the first place. He was too lazy for that, too selfish. Hopper wanted you, a woman who looked sweet and innocent in public, but could handle the dicking-down he intended to give you in private…
Hopper realized his thoughts were drifting again, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction in front of him: Mary. Secretary Mary. The fact that her name rhymed with her job might help him remember it for a change, Hopper realized. Usually, he didn’t waste time cataloging information about the women he fucked; it was too much of an effort for Hopper to keep track of them all.
He’d likely never see Mary again, after today. You’d be back at the station tomorrow, and Hopper could make things right with you…at least, he hoped you’d come back. The possibility of never seeing you again was something Hopper couldn’t handle right now. He needed to see you, to talk about what happened.
Mary’s pleasant voice pulled Hopper from his thoughts. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “If you need anything…” Mary held the pause in her statement long enough to make sure Hopper understood the full extent of her meaning. “…You know where to find me.”
Hopper nodded politely. He knew he’d have her in the backseat of his Blazer by lunch.
“Likewise, Mary,” Hopper smiled, his voice soft and authoritative, laying the charm on thick. Mary’s subtle change in posture, the way her shoulders went back slightly, accentuating her breasts in the most innocent way possible, confirmed Hopper’s suspicions. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them. Mary’s breathing changed instantly; Hopper could practically hear her pulse quicken. “Hey,” he whispered, a friendly grin on his lips. “I take my lunch at eleven; you wanna get out of here for awhile?”
Mary’s answer, predictably, was yes.
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Hopper had assumed correctly that Mary-the-Secretary was a virgin. She’d blurted it out as soon as he touched her, as if confessing something. Hopper didn’t react, because of course he’d already known. And he may have been compulsive when it came to sex, but he wasn’t a monster; Hopper never planned on putting his dick inside Mary. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to make her first time a painful one. His only purpose in doing anything with Mary, or any woman at this point, was to use her body as a substitute for yours…
Mary had a pretty pussy and tasted sweet, so it was easy for Hopper to pretend she was you. He ate her for twenty minutes or so, and didn’t pull her panties back up for her till she’d come twice. He looked at his watch, noting that his lunch break was nearly over. Hopper gave Mary’s thigh a hearty pat and informed her it was “time to head back,” walking around to the front of the car and waiting for Mary to do the same. She of course took a bit longer than Hopper, being unsteady on her feet. Climbing into the passenger side, she closed her eyes and leaned to rest her head against Hopper’s shoulder. He grimaced, frowning at the road ahead, but Mary didn’t see his expression.
Another problem with virgins, Hopper was reminded: They get too attached and usually, right away. Especially the younger ones, who seemed to demand a dual role of Hopper that he wasn’t willing to waste time or effort to play: the role of a father figure as well as a lover. There was nothing about any of these girls that Hopper wanted to nurture, and he tried to convey that message early on with his behavior. But sometimes, the message wasn’t received, and Hopper had a broken heart on his hands that he’d never meant to break. He didn’t mind the slight guilt it caused his conscience this time, because Hopper knew he’d probably never see Mary again. Broken-hearted girls were easy to ignore when Hopper could avoid interacting with them.
He caught a glimpse of Mary’s face in the passenger side mirror. She was positively beaming, glowing… Hopper realized she’d probably never had an orgasm before today. He sighed to himself; she was definitely attached. Hopper didn’t want a puppy, but he seemed to now have one on his heels. Mary tried to get Hopper’s attention all day after lunch, making frequent trips into his office with one excuse or another, cheeks flushed rosy, giddy with excitement at just being near him. By the time Hopper got off duty, he was more than happy to be parting ways with Mary. She saw him leaving and trotted after Hopper to his car, asking if she could see him later tonight.
Rather than give her illusions of anything further happening between them, Hopper decided to rip the emotional bandage off quickly, and be done with it. “No, Mary,” he said over a cigarette. She watched him turn his key in the ignition, her smile softly fading. “I can’t see you tonight,” Hopper continued flatly. “I have a date.”
Mary’s sweet features melted into a look of sorrow that Hopper was familiar with. He didn’t enjoy hurting young women, but delivering a well-intentioned lie was better than handing out false hope. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road that ran through downtown Hawkins. It would take less than three minutes for Hopper to get to your house. He was tempted. The urge to know what was going through your head right now was eating him up inside.
As usual when it came to Hopper, temptation did get the better of him. He began to feel angry at you for denying him a response. How could you not let him know where your mind was at, after what happened last night? The anxiety of not knowing was making Hopper miserable, emotionally sick. His dick had barely gotten hard when he was eating out the temporary secretary, even though he’d mentally replaced her with you.
An ugly sense of rage began to boil in Hopper’s gut. How dare you avoid him…how dare you pretend that everything was okay, that the world wasn’t caving in, making up some absurd excuse about being sick to avoid Hopper? His grip on the steering wheel had tightened to the point of discomfort, but as with his obsession, Hopper couldn’t. let. go.
The sun was setting as Hopper pulled down your street. It reminded him of where he’d been exactly twenty-four hours ago, driving from Steve’s house to yours, and how everything about his life had changed in the hour following. Hopper saw Steve’s car in your driveway, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to get an answer, to get some kind of reassurance from you that everything last night was real, and not the result of a drug-induced dream his subconscious had conjured up. Hopper knew he had to control himself, to stuff his rage deeper lest it take hold of him and guide his mind in a direction that would cause even more harm than he already had.
Hopper pulled to a stop in your driveway, rather than parking further down the street like he had last night. What was the point? Hopper planned on being confrontational, on getting the answers he was owed. A thin line of sweat dripped down his chest as he put the Blazer in park. Hopper’s deep blue eyes were darker than usual when he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was reminded briefly of those cheesy horror movies where a character in the film becomes possessed. Their eyes were always depicted as changing color, going a darker shade, as if the demon that had overtaken them was seeping through the very windows of their soul. Hopper’s reflection was slightly jarring. He wondered what was possessing him? His answer came easily; Hopper was possessed by you.
He threw open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut. Hopper wiped the sweat from his forehead, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette, quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want anything distracting him, not even a cigarette. Hopper decided he could smoke after he’d handled you. He could have rang the doorbell, but opted for the more aggressive option, banging his fist against the door in three firm, thudding knocks. A muffled voice from behind the door called out, “just a sec,” and Hopper cursed under his breath. It was Steve.
The front door pulled back and Hopper found himself once again in the presence of “King Steve,” Harrington. “What an honor,” Hopper sarcastically muttered. Steve didn’t hear, as he was too busy adjusting the t-shirt he’d obviously pulled on in a hurry to answer the door. It was on backwards, tag visible on the neckline. Steve looked less like a king and more like a pauper at the moment, his shorts crooked and hair a mess. Hopper took in the sight of the younger man, the rapid pace of his breathing, perspiration glistening on the end of Steve’s nose.
Except, it wasn’t sweat. Hopper could smell sex all over Steve, and he swallowed, hard. That was you…your sweet scent radiating from Steve’s body, covering his face and neck. Steve must have realized he looked a mess, because he quickly pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “Uh-hey Chief,” Steve said distractedly. “What’re you doing here?”
Hopper chewed his tongue so hard it hurt. How he wanted to end Steve Harrington, to shove past him and into your house. Hopper would find you and finish the job for Steve. And he’d do it better, too…
Hopper realized you must not have told Steve about last night, and that the time to confront you was not now. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard (y/n) called in sick today,” Hopper said quietly, then cleared his throat to speak more clearly. “Just checking to make sure she’s okay.”
Steve leaned an elbow against the doorway, nodding quickly and assuring Hopper in a flurry of words that you were “fine-just fine,” and “I’ll let her know you uh-you stopped by-.” And then, the door closed in Hopper’s face…
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Hours passed.
Hopper drank.
The Hideaway stayed open till three AM on Mondays. It was a clever business move designed to entice customers in after what was typically the most stressful work day of the week. Right now, Hopper was just grateful to have a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The location didn’t matter; he would have gladly laid his cash and self respect on the bar of any nearby watering hole. Luckily for Hopper, The Hideaway was only a few minutes drive from your house, which made it the perfect place to kill time.
He checked his watch more often than he needed, drinking shot after shot of whatever contained the highest percentage of alcohol. After his encounter with Steve that evening, Hopper needed this. If he was angry before, he was furious now. That bastard had literally been fucking you in the next room right before answering the door. Hopper threw back another shot of vodka, sucking the last of it from the glass. The bartender had been watching him for some time now, taking note of how much alcohol Hopper was consuming. He’d known Hopper long before he was ever an officer, or an adult for that matter. Randy had known Hopper his entire life. He understood the pain Hopper had endured, from his time in Vietnam to the death of his daughter, and the eventual breakdown of his marriage. Randy understood how a man like Hopper could be motivated to drink in excess, turning to alcohol to quiet the memories that haunted him, like so many others who visited the bar. Although Hopper was an adult now, Randy still kept an eye on how much alcohol he had while in his establishment. It was one small way Randy could still take care of him. And he decided that Hopper had had enough.
“Hey Jimmy,” the old man said, approaching Hopper from behind the bar. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, drying it as he spoke. “You driving tonight?”
Hopper shook his head ‘no,’ and then laughed. Why should he lie? He was the Chief of Police, after all. But to spare the old man any worry, Hopper didn’t retract his lie. Instead, he doubled down on it, telling Randy through a series of slurred words that he’d walked there tonight, and planned on walking home. Randy wasn’t convinced; he knew Hopper’s trailer was all the way out by Lover’s Lake. Too far for anyone to choose walking into town over driving. But there was nothing else the old man could do besides refuse Hopper anymore alcohol. “Regardless,” Randy said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Jimmy.”
Hopper groaned, rising from his barstool. He opened his wallet and removed more than enough money to pay his tab, leaving it on the bar. “Keep th’change, Randy,” he drawled, adding “Thanks for always lookin’ out for me.” Hopper staggered to the front door, leaning on it for support as he pushed it open. The night was beautiful; the cloudless sky an inky canvas, sprinkled with stars that were easily visible. Hopper stood in place but swayed on his feet, staring up at the moon. He wondered if your bedroom curtain was open tonight, letting the moonlight in? Hopper decided to find out for himself…
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You’d said goodnight to Steve around eleven that evening. After a long bath, you’d climbed into bed with a good book, read for awhile, then switched off your bedside lamp to go to sleep. Your mind, however, had different plans for you.
It had been nearly impossible to stop thinking about Hopper since last night. He’d been on your mind so often throughout the day, you’d swear he’d taken up residence inside your head. You knew he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon, claiming he wanted to make sure you were feeling better, or something to that effect. But you knew the real reason Hopper had shown up at your door, and that he was also worried you’d told Steve, maybe everyone, about last night. Your absence at work must have confirmed Hopper’s worry.
The truth, however, was much more complicated. You knew Hopper was sick. You’d known for awhile now. You’d seen the way he looked at you, sensed the energy coming from him. You’d recently become aware of Hopper’s compulsive masturbation in his office, ever since you’d taken his trash liner out (as you did with all the bins at the station before clocking out every night). At first, you’d been shocked by your discovery…but you quickly became intrigued. You wondered why Hopper needed to come so often…if maybe the way he looked at you was an indication of where his need was coming from?
The possibility of Chief Jim Hopper wanting you that desperately was…intoxicating. You’d had a crush on him from the moment you met, and in spite of your relationship with Steve, your crush had flourished into a kind of obsession. You knew exactly which cigarettes Hopper smoked (Camel’s, that was his preferred brand) how he liked his coffee (black with a spoonful of honey on the side), that his beer of choice was Schlitz. You’d purchased an aftershave that smelled like Hopper and made Steve use it. You’d snuck a peek at the tag on the navy jacket Hopper wore, and purchased one for yourself.
A favorite ritual of yours was to lay in bed wearing Hopper’s jacket and nothing else. You’d sprinkle a few drops of his aftershave onto your chest, and touch yourself. It wasn’t the same as having Hopper, but…it was enough to get you through the nights when Steve couldn’t satisfy you. Of course, your boyfriend made you come, and often. Steve was amazing in bed, and the sex you had with him was nearly perfect. The one fault you had with Steve (and it was major) was his sex drive. He simply didn’t need sex as much as you did, as often or as rough. Sometimes, you’d convince Steve to play rougher and he would, but not without asking a million times afterwards if he’d hurt you, if he’d made you feel cheap or used, or unloved? Steve was sweet, but his sweetness often got in the way of pursuing rougher intimacy, the kind you craved.
Like last night…Spitting into your mouth, and fucking you in the ass, were acts Steve never would have initiated himself. He preferred gentle, tender sex over anything. While Steve was content to be making love, you needed to be fucked. You wanted a man like Hopper to hurt you and not apologize for it. You wanted him to pump and dump you, leave you split in half and covered in his cum, and to never once say sorry…
You knew Hopper was sick, and you didn’t judge him for it. Because what no one else knew, not even Steve, was that you were sick, too. You couldn’t get enough sex, and Steve wasn’t meeting your needs. You’d kept your crush on Hopper a secret, resigning yourself to good, not great, sex.
When you saw Hopper standing outside your house last night, you made the spontaneous decision to dance for him. And when Steve appeared in the doorway, you realized an even better opportunity to ‘perform,’ for Hopper had presented itself.
Making sure to stand directly in front of the window where you knew Hopper could see everything, you’d let Steve fuck you. Knowing that Hopper was watching in secret made you unbelievably aroused. Seeing him coming all over himself afterwards was the confirmation you needed that Hopper wanted you. The visit he’d made to your home earlier had only been the beginning. You knew that if Jim Hopper wanted to fuck you…he’d be back.
The sound of your front door being unlocked startled you. It must be Steve, of course, since your boyfriend is the only other person with a key to your house. At least, that’s what you thought…
“Steve?”
The door slammed shut. Footsteps on the stairs told you immediately that this was not Steve. You knew his gait, the sound of his walk. You’d heard your boyfriend go up and down those stairs dozens of times. These steps were heavy, uneven. The intruder paused at the sound of your voice, when you called out “who’s there?”
Hopper stepped through your bedroom doorway, making you jump. “S’okay, it’s alright,” he said, lifting his hands to show you he meant no harm. “I just wanna talk, okay? We need to fuckin’ talk…” Hopper sat on the end of your bed, his weight shifting the mattress under you.
“I don’t want to talk,” you told him, to which Hopper immediately replied, “I understand. You’re probably very confused about last night, but you don’t have to be embarrassed.” You tried to interrupt, but Hopper wouldn’t let you get a word in. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me.” His voice was intense, darker. “You don’t show up at work- What am I supposed to think?!” Hopper slammed his fist against your bed, making you jump. “That my life is over? That I’m never gonna see you again?” Hopper’s speech was slurred, but you understood exactly what he was saying.
He was staring you down, his eyes lingering over the sheet concealing you. Hopper wanted so badly to rip the fabric back and see your body beneath it. All of his strength was focused on controlling himself, because despite the alcohol slurring Hopper’s words, he was very much aware of what was happening, and where he was. He was sitting on your bed, the most intimate place in your home. The place where you laid your head each night and dreamed, where you likely touched yourself. You were so vulnerable like this, Hopper realized. If he lost control right now, and let his darker impulses take hold of him, he might do something even worse than he’d done last night…
“I don’t want to talk,” you repeated, and Hopper laughed darkly. “Well that’s just fine, because I AM gonna talk and you’re gonna fucking LISTEN-.” Hopper grit his teeth, his jaw tensed. He wanted to punish you right now so badly, for making him endure the torture of your silence, your absence. You sat forward in bed, the sheet concealing your body falling aside. Hopper’s features softened, his lips parting slightly, eyes fixed on your exposed breasts. You watched as Hopper’s body language shifted, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed. He was obviously aroused by your nakedness, and for the first time all night, Hopper was at a loss for words.
Taking his hand, you placed his palm over your breast. Hopper drew in a deep breath, staring at his hand cupping your tit, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You repeated the same words, but slower. This time, Hopper knew precisely their meaning: “…I don’t…want…to TALK…” Hopper understood. You weren’t interested in talking. You wanted him to fuck you.
Hopper’s lips replaced his hand over your breast. Latching onto your nipple, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it before circling and sucking. Your surprised whimper at his intensity made Hopper’s cock stiffen, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He sank his teeth lightly into your breast, grunting into your tit when a low moan escaped your lips. The sounds you made were divine, even prettier than Hopper had imagined.
His hands gripped the flesh at your hips, groping along your belly to your thighs. His lips crushed against yours as he used his hands to spread your thighs wide open. Hopper felt your cum on his fingers, and put them to his lips. His tongue swept over your slick once, twice, three times, because to Hopper, you tasted like God. The scent of you hadn’t done justice to the divinity of your taste. Hopper sucked his fingers clean before grabbing your legs and tugging your ass down the bed toward him. You gasped, smiling, that smile Hopper could never get tired of seeing, all innocence and corruption at the very same time; a smile that looked angelic on a mouth built for nothing but sin…
Nestling between your legs, Hopper rested his cheek against your inner thigh. He wanted to savor these sensations…your cum slicking his cheek where it rested against your thigh…your scent vanilla sweet, just inches from his nose…the view of your soaked pussy glistening wet and warm…
Hopper lowered his face and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your clit. Your skin tasted so sweet, like a ripe peach waiting to be bitten. Hopper couldn’t go a second longer without your cunt in his mouth. With his big hands clenching your hips, Hopper pulled your cunt over his lips. Your back arched as Hopper flexed his tongue inside you, curving it around your g-spot.
Your fingers latched onto Hopper shoulders, bracing yourself as your body shivered. No one had ever licked your cunt like this, eating you from the inside out. You twisted and writhed, your lower back lifting off the mattress. If your hips hadn’t been anchored down by Hopper’s hands, you were convinced you’d be floating by now. It already felt like you were. Hopper was licking places so deep inside you, he forgot to breathe. His nose was pressed flush to your clit, his chin rutting against the curve of your ass. Hopper never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt, not even for air. He pressed two fingers inside you and with an almost hypnotic pace, Hopper expertly fingered your cunt. He spread your slippery lips apart with his tongue, honing in on your clit. Wrapping his mouth over the raised pink bud, Hopper sucked in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.
Your eyes were on the ceiling, but you didn’t see it. You were floating, melting, dissolving under Hopper’s lips and around his fingers. The sopping wetness of you sprayed over Hopper’s face, your pillowy walls sucking and contracting around his fingers as you came. Hopper lapped at your cunt like a thirsty animal; he’d never been so drunk on a pussy that he’d blacked out like this, lost track of time and space and everything in between. Your cunt in Hopper’s mouth was like a strong hit of the best drug he’d ever tried. He was addicted instantly. No other pussy would be able to satisfy Hopper after this; he was sure of it. Hopper rubbed his face into your cunt, smearing your cum all over his face. He knew now why Steve was always covered in you; Hopper understood completely. Your cum smelled like every good pussy Hopper had ever had, combined.
As your hips stilled, Hopper lifted his face to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, a thin sheen of sweat coloring your cheeks ruddy, eyebrows cinched together. Your voice was weak, but you managed to softly whimper “more…” and pressed Hopper’s face into your cunt again. He took another hit, another drag, another shot of you. That euphoric bliss went straight to Hopper’s cock, and his climax took him by surprise, filling the crotch of his jeans with cum. You came harder this time, losing yourself for a moment in a black pool of pleasure, your eyes on the ceiling but not in this world anymore.
Hopper rose up from between your thighs, cum dripping off his chin as he hovered over your body. He smacked his palm against your pussy and you choked back a sob, a pain that Hopper was as quick to rub away as he was to dole out. He alternated between spanking your pussy with a force so brutal it shook the bed frame and made you cry, then rubbing his palm against your abused cunt till you were crying in pleasure. Hopper forced three fingers from one hand inside your sopping cunt and hooked them around your insides, ramming into your pussy as hard and as deep as he could, his knuckles disappearing inside you, fingertips nudging your cervix. All throughout this beautiful torture of your insides, Hopper continued to spank his other palm against your cunt. Your lips were already swollen but now, they were twice as puffy and twice as tempting to suck. Hopper removed his fingers from you and pushed his face between your legs again, growling into your plump heat, his spent cock stiffening again inside his cum-soaked jeans.
He pulled your lips between his, suckling at their pillowy softness. Hopper gulped your cum as you squirted again, sealing his open mouth over your pussy so he wouldn’t miss a drop. His stomach was full of cum, his tongue thick and heavy, and Hopper had never been a happier man. You pressed his shoulders back, and he let you climb on top of him. You rubbed yourself against Hopper’s crotch, the bulge in his jeans wet with both his cum and now yours. Speeding your lips around the outline of his cock, you humped Hopper through his jeans. The weight of you on top of his cock made Hopper groan, the rocking of your hips as you rutted over and over again along his clothed erection pushing Hopper over the edge. He came inside his jeans again, grunting through his climax as you never stopped humping him, as you drained every drop from Hopper’s cock and refused to climb off till you’d come again, too.
Despite the fact that he’d already come twice, Hopper couldn’t stop getting hard again within five minutes of coming. He pulled his cock from his jeans, shaking it by the base, letting his cum fall off his dick and onto your stomach. Hopper grabbed your hips and flipped you over, spitting on your asshole and rubbing his fat tip against it. Without warning, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open just like you wanted. You yelped in pain; Hopper’s hand found your mouth, cupping around your face from behind. “Bite down,” he ordered, shoving his fingers between your lips. Hopper fucked you harder as your teeth sank into his skin. The pain in your asshole began to subside as you braced your teeth around Hopper’s fingers. His cock was stretching your asshole beyond its capacity to hold him; but with every punch of your guts, the pain got easier and easier to take.
“I’m gonna come-,” Hopper panted over your back. “I’m gonna come again-FUCK!” Hopper emptied his third load inside you, painting your asshole with semen. His body shivered, trembling, and you felt the vibration through his cock, still hard as a diamond in your ass. Sweat dripped from Hopper’s chest onto your back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, sucking the small bit of blood off of them. Hopper lazily humped the soft curves of your ass, pushing his cum deeper as his cock softened inside you. “You did so good,” Hopper murmured against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl…”
You tilted your head back, lips parted in a contented smile. Your hair was drenched in sweat, wispy strands sticking to your forehead. Hopper took his time kissing each one, letting his cock linger inside you, making sure every single drop of his cum was deposited there. When he did pull out, Hopper trailed kisses along the curve of your back, gently removing his cock from inside you.
“Is there a mess?” you asked, and Hopper smirked, looking down at his dick.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, reaching for a tissue box on your nightstand and using them to wipe his cock clean. You realized the sun would be coming up soon, and that you’d both have to get ready for work. “How about a shower and some breakfast?” you asked, and Hopper smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.
After showering, you showed Hopper where the kitchen was and he made you both scrambled eggs and toast. He needed to leave a little early to go home and change into his uniform. You kissed Hopper goodbye and watched him walk to his vehicle through your front doorway. And it occurred to you that this…all of this…was absolutely going to happen again.
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@mrshopper84
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breeloveschris · 10 hours
Text
If Only You Knew Pt 9
Pt 8
Pairing Matt Sturniolo x Reader
Summery: Y/n has the biggest crush on Matthew Sturniolo but Matt doesn’t know she exists until Y/n’s video goes viral and everyone tags him in it
Warnings: cussing
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I ended up falling asleep in the car as Matt was driving. I was rudely woken up by Matt’s hand shaking my leg.
“We better be getting into a crash or your bleeding, if your waking me up” I said before I even open my eyes.
Matt laughed and let out a breath, “oops” he said as he continued to laugh. I finally open my eyes and look around to see that we were in the canes parking lot.
“What are we doing here?” I asked while I yawned, “I’m sorry, what?” Matt said with a laugh and a confused face.
“I said, why are we here” I repeated myself looking over at him with a sign. “Remind me to never wake you up.. ever” he said with a laugh.
“Deal” i said shrugging, “get me chicken tenders and fries, please and thanks, my money is in my purse.. feel free” I said pointing down in the floorboard and turning over facing the door with my knees to my chest.
“What if I wanted to eat inside, and your not paying” Matt said as he opened the door, I quickly turned to him and shook my head “I don’t wanna, let’s go back to yours and we can like watch another movie or something.” I said quickly.
“That was the plan babydoll” he said with a smirk, “well minus another movie, and being at my place” he continued as he shut the door.
“The fuck? That was the exact opposite of what I said?” I said to literally no one but myself.
I pulled out my phone and looked through my notifications because for some reason I always have my phone on do not disturb.
I got a bunch of text from Nia that I didn’t feel like reading so I just called her. And she answered immediately.
“Hey, did you tell Chris about what happened before you left?” She said rushed, “No? I haven’t seen him, why?” I asked rolling my eyes. Nia always gets caught up in two boys at a time.. always.
“Cause he’s texting me on some weird shit” Nia said with a sigh, “well-” I started almost immediately but got interrupted by Nia.
“He keeps asking me if there’s someone else” she said with what I could only assume to be an eye roll.
“Yeah well Matt’s coming back, but I hope I never see that random ass man in my house ever again. Your gonna fuck everything up” I said I was I quickly hung up after.
Matt wasn’t actually coming back yet, I just didn’t wanna be on the phone with her anymore. I hate that I lied and said he was coming but I seriously don’t even wanna think about the fact she’s two timing chris right now.
I was scrolling through TikTok when Matt opened his door making me jump and my phone fall. He laughed and shook his head as he put the bag of food on my lap.
“You’re so jumpy” he said as he got in and shut the door, “yeah well I was focused on the TikTok I was watching” I said with a huff.
“Was it an edit?” He said smirking as he pulled out of the parking spot, I rolled down the windows as I started yelling out the lyrics “Go go go, head so good she a honor roll, she ride dick like a carnival”.
“Andd she’s back” Matt said with a laugh, “that was the edit you were watching?” He asked taking a quick glance at me.
“I wasn’t watching no edit of you” I said rolling my eyes and taking out my phone to watch the edit again, which he took a quick Look at my phone.
“Bro! You’re so obsessed with me” he said smirking which made me burst into laughter. “I’m not obsessed pretty boy” I said smirking and shutting off my phone.
“Not yet” he said shortly with a shrug, “what!?” I yelled laughing softly. “Nothing, we’re almost there tho” he said smiling, “yeah? Where is this “there” you keep talking about” I said turning my head to look at him.
“You’ll see pretty girl, you’ll see” he said taking quick glances at me, he grabbed the bag that was in my lap and put it in the floorboard keeping his eyes on the road.
He put his hand on my thigh once again squeezing it and rubbing up and down cutting it very very close. I eyed him trying to figure out what game he was playing at.
“Are you gonna over analyze everything I do? I can practically hear your gears turning up there” he said with a laugh.
“Obviously.. like just the other day you didn’t want me going to your house and now you’re being all over me and taking me out on a date” I said shrugging.
“It’s not that I didn’t want you to come to the house it was just that we barely knew you guys” he said sighing, “and I never said I wasn’t attracted to you?” He continued on removing his hand from my thigh taking a left turn.
“Yea but you did say that we were just friends” I said watching his arms as he kept them on the wheel, “because we are, for now at least” he said smirking as he parked. “We’re here by the way” he said unbuckling his seatbelt.
I looked out the windshield to see a dark mountain.. the only lights being the lights shining off the stars. “No way this man hit all the right first date ideas” I said whispering, “I’m still here pretty girl” he said smirking.
“I don’t care, this is crazy Matt!!” I said whipping my head around to face him. He just smirked and opened his door, I was putting my shoes back on when Matt opened my door with his hand sticking out for me to grab.
“Shut the fuck up” I said with a soft laugh, I grabbed his hand and jumped out of the car hugging him tightly.
He hugged back almost immediately putting his hands around my waist. I pulled away and looked up at him as he looked down at me with a smirk on his face.
I leaned up and left a kiss on his forehead, left check, and right cheek.
My face went red and I turned around fast towards the car, I started getting the bag out but before I could get the chance to Matt grabbed my waist and turned me back around.
He looked at me for a brief moment before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on my lips. It was a slow kiss. My brain is running a mile right now, is this too soon? Is this gonna ruin everything?
He pulled away and put his hand on my chin, lifting my face up to look at him. “Stop thinking doll, everything will be alright” he said smiling down at me.
How the fuck does he always do that, like he always knows. “Y/n!” He said with a soft laugh, “sorry!” I said with rosy checks.
“Just get the food” he said with smirk, as he turned around and walked towards the back of the car.
I turned around putting my phone in the glove department. And grabbing the food and taking it to the back of the car where Matt was sat on a blanket on the ground.
I put the bag down in front of Matt and sat beside him with our knees touching. “How did you even find this place?” I asked bringing my knees up to my chest.
He just shrugged before giving me a response, “we come here to film sometimes when all the parking lots are full” he said as he opened the bag and started to pull out the food.
We ate and talked, and laughed. It was a good ending to our night.
We were 15 minutes into our 30 minute ride back to his house because even tho it was 12:30 neither of us wanted to go our separate ways so we just decided to go back to Matt’s place.
Matt got a call when we was about 15 minutes away from his place. “Hello?” He said as he kept his eyes on the road, “don’t take Y/n home yet, y’all need to come straight here” Nick said over the speaker.
I looked at Matt confused and he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “How did you know I was with Y/n?” He said with furrowed eyebrows, “just come home Matt” Chris’s voice came through the phone.
Matt just mumbled a quick “ok” before hanging up, he looked over at me and let out a loud sigh and shook his head. What’s going on?
Breespeaks: they kissed?? Also how tf did they know Matt was out with Y/n??
Taglist: @stuniolobbg @iloveneilperry @freshloveforthefit @nicksmainbitch @junnniiieee07 7 @sturniolosreads s @novasturniolo03 @robins-scoop @jennss23 @hearts4chriss @creamoncreamoncream2 @tcvazq @bunbunbl0gs @lacysturniolo @chrisloyalgf @lilsstvrn @youaremyfiveever @whicked-hazlatwhore @gnxosblog @annamcdonalds67 @1blowyourmind @ilovedasturniolos @bellbottombaby @pinklittleflower @dlyansworld @sleepdeprivedandinsane @sttzee @sturniololol @emerald-09 @kqyslyho3 @beardedstudentsuit @ifilwtmfc @sturnssmuts @luverboychris @bitterspoons @jada-lockwood
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versethetic · 1 day
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NOT PERFECT. JUST LOYAL.
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i like to keep things real here so i tend to share my slight struggles with loa so that others who’ve gone through the same thing don’t beat themselves up over it.
but i’ve actually only fully understood what it means to live in imagination for a little while now;, and then put it to good use just a couple weeks ago.
despite knowing about the law for over a year…💀
OVER. A. YEAR…💀💀💀
even then, i got so caught up in making the images in my head perfect, or making sure i’m “saying the right affirmations" which obviously didn't help my case
i love reading loa posts because they make me feel nice and inspired and just remind me of my power but i somehow equated that as me overconsuming info and then i would spiral within my own head.
i would barely think of my desires as mine and when i did for only a day or two, i’d then turn around and believe that i wasn’t doing enough, that i need to affirm more or visualize for an hour and walk through every step of my day in my new perfect life or else it wouldn't manifest.
loyal according to merriam webster is "unswerving in allegiance"
all the way up until a couple weeks ago, i was not loyal to the idea that my imagination is all i need. i was not loyal to the idea that the 3d means absolutely nothing in terms of “getting” what you want, because there was nothing for me to get. now, i have become loyal to already having my perfect life.
i am that bitch. i am the prettiest princess. i am the smartest in school. i am the most famous. but i didn't need to have the perfect mindset with loa to realize it.
do you see where i’m going with this?
IMAGINATION IS ALL YOU NEED
granted, i had my days after this realization where i still struggled with techniques or accepting my new life as mine, but now i know that if i don’t identify with these things, it has not a single setback on my manifestations.
no matter what i was feeling, i told myself “i have it, my life is perfect, i am calm, i have it in imagination, the old senses are dead to me, i know what’s in my mind is the real truth”
when loa blogs say that you know you have it, it’s not some cheap trick they spew out because everyone else is saying it. if you imagine what you want, it’s officially set in stone. what you think comes to life.
the 3d is the afterimage, the product of a movie you directed, wrote, produced and starred in. you just need to stick with this fact through thick and thin, sleet or snow.
YOU are what the 3d answers to.
YOU are what the mirror reflects.
YOU decide how simple things are for you.
if you woke up and the old senses in front of your human eyes still show something you don’t like, are you gonna take that as a fact?
when you know and are loyal to the fact that your godly brain is showing you that devoted sp you have? that grand big mansion you live in? that whole new life you’re dwelling in?
NO. you’re not. think of you and you're 4d as BFFs who'll never separate, who tell each other everything and have those bff necklaces and go everywhere and do everything with each other. or imagine you're a ceo and your 4d is a loyal secretary who never asks questions and simply obeys whatever you tell it to do, because it trusts YOU. it works for YOU. however you wanna see it, you and your 4d are locked in 🔐🤞, okay? it is not separate from you, it does not seek guidance or information from anywhere other than YOU.
IT IS YOU.
and it took me a long time to see that.
it might be hard at first and the acceptance might not always be there. but i am making a conscious effort to at LEAST continuously tell myself that my imagination is all that matters. to at LEAST believe that what i want is already mine, and that’s the LEAST you can do as well.
your journey does not have to be perfect. your mindset does not have to be perfect. your feelings do not have to be perfect. mine definitely weren't. you just need to be loyal to your imagination.
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izvmimi · 2 days
Text
All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter I
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cw: no specific warnings for this chapter. Please see masterlist warnings. Masterlist
It’s a spring afternoon, sunny and bright, the kind that you associate with youth, longevity, happiness, and hope, and rather than strolling through the park or having a picnic just before sunset, you’re thankfully at the tail end of a work schedule from hell, nearly an entire hour behind in your clinic and your emergency 3pm iced coffee is already wearing off. 
Your assistant pops in from the doorway and you see her in your peripheral vision quietly allowing you to take a moment to breathe, and suck down the dregs of your drink through a straw. Swiveling in your chair, making sure to care that your white coat doesn’t get caught in the wheels you glance at her. 
“We’ll survive,” you remind her. Your face is tired, but you keep your expression determined and Junko nods, affirmed. 
“Your 4pm that came late is finally here. Will you see them?”
You glance at the clock. It’s 5pm now, but you’ve never been one to turn away a patient, particularly when you’re running the pediatric clinic. The people that come to you come for uncontrolled quirks and odd conditions, and many wait weeks to be seen by you before a tragedy strikes, so you empower yourself to push through for another hour. After all, you’re finally doing the thing you dreamt of doing for nearly a decade.
“Of course.”
Junko offers you a smile, and disappears, and you take a few moments to gain your composure. After slipping a piece of caffeinated gum in your mouth and chewing rapidly for a moment before spitting it out in the bin next to you, you force a smile on your face, and then it soon becomes natural. Not too long afterwards, Junko brings in a small boy, no older than four years old, and a harried-appearing woman in her late 30s, possibly early 40s, presumably his mother. She’s whispering to him to behave already, and he has a small pout on his face. They share the same inverted checkmarks for eyebrows and sapphire blue, wavy hair, and you glean as much information from the way that she settles him before her, hands pressed carefully but firmly on his small shoulders, and bows to you before you can bow back.
“Thank you so much for being willing to see us, doctor.”
“It’s no worries! I know that you’re coming from afar - traffic is often bad, and if you had come earlier, we would have had you wait anyway, a few small things came up with a couple of patients before you,” you admit, with a polite laugh. That’s an understatement - between the teenager whose quirk, uncontrolled with puberty, left a hole in your waiting room ceiling, and the weird odor in one of your examination rooms, you’ve had a day and a half. You keep your smile friendly and big but the woman before you appears too distressed to smile back, hurriedly bringing her son to sit next to her in the pair of chairs Junko designates. Junko gives you a look with raised eyebrows when she finally makes her way out of the room and you take it in. 
It’s a warning that this case will not be an easy one. 
High acuity was all the information you were given, and nothing more. If there was anything you’d learned from your couple of years of experience was that the more information you got, the more likely the quirk was manageable, and the less information you got, the more danger you were in. 
The primary examination starts with just looking at the patient in a comfortable setting. The young boy is about the right size for his age, and his feet dangle normally off the chair as he twiddles his thumbs. He looks upset he’s here in the first place, as if he’s been scolded, but from the way his mother gently rubs his arm, you can tell she’s a loving parent. All of his features and hers are completely humanoid from what you can see - parents will sometimes worry about sudden mutant quirks in their children and require extra counseling - although they are both wearing shoes, and thus you can’t evaluate him there. He sneezes and sniffles with his mouth open, and you whisper a “bless you” with a gentle smile.
You start the interview.
“What brings you and little Kazuo-chan today, Ms. Minamoto?”
Mrs. Minamoto sighs and runs her hand through her hair. Kazuo looks at her then pouts, crossing his arms, but she rubs his knee as she leans forward to explain. Again she looks severely distressed, and you nod to encourage her to keep talking. 
“I’m not sure if I know how to explain this,” she starts. You continue to nod, clicking a pen. It’s for show, you tend to listen well enough to remember and recall most details, but you’ve found people feel more engaged when you write, like the severity of their issue is better captured on paper. You write the young man’s name down, and cross your legs.
“We can do our best to try to understand each other,” you reassure her. She laughs nervously, crossing her own legs at the ankles. Her mouth moves awkwardly for a moment as Kazuo, large-eyed as he senses his mother’s discomfort, watches her, and then she looks at him.
“Honey, just show her.”
Kazuo’s head tilts for a moment, but his mother has given him permission. Part of you braces yourself, with your own fortifying quirk - you’ve been punched suddenly and electrocuted enough times by now to not be prepared - and Kazuo jumps off the chair and approaches cautiously. 
He extends a hand awkwardly, and you look to his mother before looking back at him. You smile, although a bit nervous. 
Mrs. Minamoto encourages you to take it.
“He won’t hurt you, don’t worry,” she says. Kazuo looks expectantly at you with sea-green eyes you can practically see yourself in, the thumb of his other hand in his mouth. You take his hand. 
A few moments pass quietly, where nothing is heard except the tick-tock of the overhead clock. You feel your heart thumping, but there is no strange sensation. No electricity coursing through your veins or loss of perception, or sudden illusions. 
And then suddenly - 
Kazuo’s eyes turn white, and his hand goes limp in yours. You gasp, but he remains steady, and by the time you blink, his eyes are back to normal. 
But then, when you look up, there is a sudden burst of light, a sensation like a gash ripping into the ceiling above you, and your hair, on your head, even the fine ones on the back of your hand feel pulled  to the ceiling.
You look up, and before you realize a body is falling through the rip in the ceiling with a scream. 
You scream as well, but you’re not fast enough to try to break its fall. The body drops like a sack onto the floor of your examination room, then rolls into a sitting position, the sounds from it loud and shocked, while Kazuo scrambles and jumps into his mother’s lap. You look frozen in shock at the new person in the room who has finally stopped screaming, their wide eyes mirroring yours.
It’s not just the eyes that mirror yours.
Everything does. The curve of your lips, the bridge of your nose, the slope of your neck into your shoulders, the intonation and timbre of your voice as you utter the same phrase.
“Oh my goodness.”
Carefully, you approach each other, step by step. The woman stands at the same height as you, as you rise to meet each other, in different clothing - a pair of joggers and a loose, baggy shirt stained with some strange red substance that’s less blood and more likely ketchup. Her cheeks are slightly fuller than yours, her hair unkempt, and her skin not evened out and brightened by smooth foundation like yours is now, but it’s unmistakable.
You’re staring at someone that is not a clone, and not a doppelganger, but another sloppier, and similarly surprised version of yourself.
---
Your clinic visit ends with not one alternate version of yourself, but ten. 
Five yous, that aren’t exactly you, but are about your size, your shape, respond to your given name, and speak with your natural voice, sit in your break room, and are all talking at once. The first ‘you’ that fell out of the ceiling, the one who watched Kazuo make 4 more gashes in the time space continuum and force 4 more terrified women with roughly your appearance and temperament to tumble out, sits at the head of the table, and shakes her head when you finally close the door behind you. All you could do by the close of the visit was to dismiss the child and his mother with a year’s prescription of quirk stabilizers - it will be a temporizing measure for this universe-bending quirk while you come up with a long term plan on how to manage the quirk’s use.
“So why did you need this baby to use their quirk 5 times to make a diagnosis?” she asks, before you can even find a place to sit among your… contemporaries. You stop in your tracks, surprised, and she looks at you, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised as she, or rather you, waits for an answer.
Stung despite the situation, you’re immediately defensive.
“Well, I wasn’t completely sure what was going on and didn’t want to make any rash decisions.”
She snorts, and opens her mouth to say something else, but realizes that it’s only ridiculous to be arguing with yourself, then shakes her head again.
“I wouldn’t have done it,” she murmurs, and the fourth-realized you in the room shrugs.
“It’s not unreasonable to be overly careful sometimes. In my practice, I actually let most of the kids wear out their quirks completely,” she says without looking up. This version of you, surprisingly defending you, is dressed in clothing that is still casual, but less casual than the your first alternate version who must have been lounging about at home when she materialized in your universe. She’d fallen through to your world holding a cell phone in her hands that no longer works, and is still trying to find a way to get it to turn on when your head turns her direction. You anoint her with the name Text Message in your thoughts.
“I think you should just give up on that,” the third extra you says. She looks like you but somehow more exhausted, if that is possible, dark circles lining her eyes, and it reminds you to drink water and sleep at a reasonable time tonight. You give her the name Beauty Sleep. “If we’ve already established that we’re in an alternate universe, I’m pretty sure whoever you’re desperately trying to contact is going to have to wait a while.”
Text Message frowns then pushes her phone aside. Her legs cross at the ankles first, but then she sits cross-legged on the seat, mirroring the action of the first annoyed appearing version of you - Salty - but she looks more worried than anything. 
“Izuku and I were in the middle of a text conversation and stopped in a bad place, he’s going to be worried,” she murmurs in a quiet voice, leaning forward in defeat and pressing her chin to the table.
The mention of this name is sudden and unexpected enough that it startles you, but not as much as the fact that every other you in the room’s attention is suddenly captured.
“Oh shit, he is going to panic,” the quietest version of you in the room finally speaks up. She’d appeared with damp skin, a towel wrapped around her body and a plastic cap over her head, just fresh out of the shower, and the embarrassment she’d experienced as she scrambled to not expose herself to a bunch of strangers, including a child, prevented her from talking until now. Shower Cap is now dressed in a disposable medical gown that Junko offered her and looks concerned.
“He won’t die, he’s just dramatic,” another you pipes up. She’s the closest to you in appearance, nearly dressed in the exact same outfit, down to the white coat, except she opted for a bright red blouse, a color you wear rarely, over your more muted soft pink. 
“I mean we all know that,”  Salty starts, her voice flippant, “but I don’t think you not answering a text for an hour is that big a deal.”
“Plus, he’s probably working anyway,” Beauty Sleep chimes in.
Text Message frowns. “You’re acting like you don’t know his tendency to assume the worst, and I literally stopped talking mid sentence...”
Beauty Sleep and Salty both grimace, while Bright Red snorts.
“Kind of wish I could follow you back to your world just so I can see that search party.”
You continue to watch the other yous chatter and joke about Izuku in particular in confusion, without a word to say. It’s not odd for them to all know Izuku, after all, you went to high school with him and parted ways after graduation; you see him on every channel, every two billboards sport his million-watt smile, and you have his number in your phone even if you won’t call it, but the rest of your entities are preoccupied with him in a way much more than befits a high school friend whose paths no longer naturally cross. 
It’s only when you see the glittering rock on Red’s hand, the facets reflecting the overhead lights, and realize that more than one of these women has a variation of this exact engagement ring, that you start to wonder. Your heart thumps.
“Hold on, who is Izuku to you guys?” you ask, your look directly on Text Message first who appears genuinely appalled by the question. She stares at you wide-eyed, then to Red across the room, who tilts her head as she looks at you. Salty leans in and whispers something to Shower Cap.
One after the other, each responds and your stomach twists more with every single response.
Husband. Fiance. Live-in boyfriend. Husband. Husband.
You grimace, frankly somewhat stunned, but now they’re looking at you strangely, as though you’re the odd one in the room. 
Salty tilts her head. “Wait, what happened in this universe?” she asks. Beauty Sleep slaps her hand gently then hisses but it’s loud enough that you can hear.
“What if he died? It could be a sore topic!” she hisses. You look at her exasperated, reminding her that you can hear her.
“He didn’t die, we’re just…” you pause, unsure what to say next. You’re not friends, you’re not acquaintances, you’re just… not important to each other in this universe you think. Realizing that you had been standing the entire time, you slip into an open chair, and sit down. You run your hands through your hair for a moment, then sigh, then look up.
“Relationship issue?” Shower Cap asks, sympathetically. “We had a lot of those before we got married-”
You glare at her, and she falls silent. Salty’s hand goes to her belly for a moment, and she doesn’t say it, but the glow of her skin, the rounder cheeks, baggy clothing and snappy behavior now register to you as pregnancy. You hold your breath for a moment as this occurs to you, then irritation fills your throat instead.
“Enough about Midoriya.” You check your wall clock. Kazuo’s quirk, according to his mother, creates these clones for about 90 minutes, which gives you about a half hour to learn as much as you can from them. Rising again, you dig for five sheets of paper in a cabinet, and place a small stack with a pen in front of every version of you.
“Tell me everything up to today. Where you were born, family members, how your quirks work, etc. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Text Message gives you a sympathetic look, and you wonder if she can tell that you’re a bit shaken, then remember that of course you are, because you are her and she is you. 
You make your way out of the room quickly, and don’t return until they’ve vanished. The medical gown you gave Shower Cap lays crumpled in a chair, and Text Message’s phone is gone. You pick up 5 narratives, and prepare to go home for the night.
By the time you get around to reading those narratives, it’s ten p.m. and you’re sitting cross-legged on the chair in your home office, not unlike the way Text Message was earlier. It’s uncanny at first glance just how similar just the handwriting is, although you can detect some differences - Beauty Sleep’s handwriting appears sloppier and her words are more disjointed, and Salty’s handwriting is much more compressed, as though she had a lot running through her mind. They all wrote in the form of a letter, although you didn’t ask them to, but you’d imagine you would have to if you were put in their situation. Shower Cap signs off her name with a heart, like you often did in high school, and Bright Red signs her name with her first and last unlike the others, but the last name is Midoriya, and it makes your stomach turn.
You let out a deep breath and start reading. All the narratives are essentially the same, same family, same Quirk, same schooling in both length and general trajectory, with small differences. In Shower Cap’s universe, you have not started your clinic yet, and took a couple extra years for a postdoc degree in America. She returned to Japan just a few weeks ago. In Bright Red’s universe, your clinic is partially funded and owned by All Might’s memorial agency (he is thankfully still alive) and is much larger and well staffed than your clinic now. Beauty Sleep had a child a few months ago and has taken a leave of absence from both hero work and medicine. Salty did not start a clinic and did an accelerated medical program and instead works as a Support Type Hero on the field full-time, although now in a leave of absence due to her pregnancy. She’s thinking of a name. Text Message was the closest to choosing to leave Hero Work and medicine completely, despite the fact that she seems to live the most parallel life to you up front, and when you read her narrative more closely, it’s because she was practically killed during the war about a decade ago. It takes you a moment to recollect yourself as you read her narrative, tears pricking at your eyes, as you remember your own trauma that is nowhere close to hers. You were not on the front lines.
Multiverse theory on TV and cinema had never been that exciting to you, but you have to admit that seeing it in real life is a blow to the psyche.
As you continue to analyze, you can tell they attempt to not center their narratives around Midoriya, all except Shower Cap, who seems a lot more carefree than the rest of you overall, but there’s not much they can do to avoid discussing him when he’s their partner. This part confuses you and makes you uncomfortable. It’s not that you find Midoriya unattractive - in fact, you find him very attractive, and your crush on him was not particularly subtle in high school, but it never went further than a few pointedly kind words, enthusiastic smiles, the stutter when he approaches anyone of the opposite sex fading over time when he spoke to you. You became friends, close in the way that people who go through the same trauma of growing up and having to save the world do, but not close in the way soulmates or best friends are. After all, he had a soulmate, and he had best friends, and anything you could offer was already available.
And even that had trailed off over time as you got busier and life got more demanding.
Your last real conversation had been somewhere near the end of high school; you’d considered telling him you liked him, more than a little bit, but by then he’d appeared so far out of reach. Your window was closed and thus you stowed away your feelings. You had a short-lived high school romance shortly thereafter, a boyfriend from the support class, who you’d also ended up parting ways with just months after graduation. You’d launched yourself in your studies, cultivating your friendships with your family and best friends instead, unwilling to chase boys.
Unable to notice if you were being chased.
At the end of Salty’s narrative, she states that she understands why you’re confused. She’d also not expected to fall for Midoriya in any serious way, but the cards fell as they did. She reminds you that if it’s different for you, not to force it -
Not to let anyone else convince you that your life is anything less than it’s meant to be.
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dulc3vida · 22 hours
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durazno
pope heyward x lamb!reader
content warning: a peach gets violated, blasphemy, the good stuff. 18+ read at your own risk.
2.4k words
Pope Heyward is not a religious man. He’s a man of science. He likes tangible things that can be studied and understood.
No matter how much he tried explaining that to Heyward, it didn’t matter. As long as he lived under their roof it meant he had to put on his best dress shirt and slacks every Sunday to go to church. It wasn’t all bad. Everyone was really nice there and the music was pretty good.
His favorite part of church is you. The preacher's daughter. Always at the front of the choir, soft voice singing “Christ Be Our Light” and other hymns. You’re truly an angel. You always helped lead the kids out of mass into their Sunday school classrooms. You always volunteered with the food bank and at the animal shelter. You even tutored after school at the public library.
It’s a self indulgent fantasy, Pope thinking he could have you in any way. You’re kook royalty, right up there next to the Camerons. Even if social status wasn’t an issue, a girl like you would never go for him. He reminded himself of that fact every time you caught him staring and smiled demurely from across the pews. You’re a nice girl, you smile at everyone.
Pope, unfortunately, always managed to look away before he could catch your eyes lingering and your teeth sinking into your plush bottom lip as you stared at him with curiosity.
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After hurricane Agatha, you suggested to your father the church should gather resources to help with relief. You were surprised at his reluctance and you recited bible verses until you turned blue, not taking no for an answer. “Love thy neighbor, daddy. You taught me that.” He held out for a while, but nevertheless he agreed so long as you helped organize.
You rallied the support of all the kooks, gathering donations. They could never say no to you, even if they didn’t necessarily want to help provide aid to the inhabitants of the cut. You got on your dad’s boat with a group of volunteers from church and set sail for the mainland, returning with tons of food and other necessities. It took an entire day for your group to get all the care packages ready and to assign groups to specific addresses.
When delivery day came around, you made sure one specific address was reserved just for you. Your dad made himself clear that he didn’t want you wandering around the cut by yourself but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, you thought to yourself as your bike rode up the gravel driveway of Heyward’s. You prayed the night before that Pope would be there and God answered. Pope was on the dock, spraying some buckets clean with a hose. His striped button down open and his bare chest on display, making your heart pound in your chest. He doesn’t turn around to look at you when he hears you approaching.
“Almost done, Pops. Just got a few more.”
“Hi, Pope.” You greet, lacing your words with sweetness.
Pope whipped around at the sound of your voice. “Hey-Hi.” His face burns as he stutters over a basic greeting. It didn’t help that you were staring into his soul with your big brown eyes like a lost little lamb. “Can I help you with anything?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He almost thinks you’re checking him out.
“No.” You shake your head, soft waves cascading over your shoulders. There is an awkward silence, neither of you knowing what to say until you remember the bags in your hands. “I brought this… For your family… It’s from the church. You know, relief. It’s not much-”
“This is great, thank you.” Pope took one of the bags and then noticed the other one in your hands. “What's that?”
“Uhm… Peaches. For you.” You held the bag out, intentionally letting your fingers linger on his. “My dad went to Georgia last week for a church thing. These are my favorite.” You licked your lips as you watched him pull one out of the bag and dig his teeth into the flesh of the fruit. You wondered what it would feel like to be the peach.
Pope didn't know if he just wanted the fruit to taste good or if it was actually that good because he practically moaned at the taste. “This is the best peach I’ve ever had.” It made you laugh and it sounded like a melody. He could only imagine that you tasted just as good. “Thank-”
The sound of JJ hooting and hollering alerted both of your attentions. “Come on, loverboy! We gotta get a move on!” He called from the HMS Pogue.
“I should go.” You smiled at him warmly. “Bye, Pope. Have a blessed day.” You called out to his friends, waving as you turned to get back on your bike.
“You too, sweetheart!” JJ called back, earning a slap to the arm from John B.
“Don't be a creep, dude.”
“What? I was just being nice?”
Pope watched you swing your leg over your bike, the wind catching your skirt and blowing it upwards just enough to reveal your cotton white panties. JJ nearly broke his neck trying to get a better look.
“Pervs…” Kie rolled her eyes. “That's the preacher's daughter, you know that right?”
“I know.” A smirk spread over JJ’s face. “Church girls are always the freakiest. You know, pent up sex feels? Bet she humps her pillow every night starin’ at a cross-”
“Okay, that's enough.” Pope finally turns around once he is sure his hardening dick isn’t visible. “Let's go.”
“Ooh, peaches?” John B wiggled his fingers together and reached for the bag but Pope yanked it away. “Oh come on, there's at least 12 in there. Are you on your way to be in a math problem?” Pope sighed and tossed one at John B. He turned to Kiara and JJ who were sitting on their knees, groveling like dogs. They each get a peach tossed at them.
“That's what I’m talking about.” JJ bit his peach. “She's totally into you.”
“No, she's not. She's just being nice.”
“Hey, John B? You get any Georgia peaches in your care package?” He looked at the label on the fruit before biting the peach again.
“Nah. You?”
“Nah. Want my advice?” JJ tossed the pit of his peach into the water.
“I really don't-” Pope shook his head, taking control over the wheel of the HMS.
“Try that door. I guarantee it's unlocked for you.”
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Pope was usually a sound sleeper. His dreams were never too scary and he was always able to fall asleep once he focused on his breathing for a bit. Tonight was different.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw you.
He couldn’t help it. You invaded his mind the second he stepped into your fathers church. When he raised his hand in worship it was always for you. As far as Pope was concerned, God wasn’t real. You were real. Someone he could genuinely worship and devote himself to completely. Selfishly. You were the lamb and he was the pathetic, cowardly lion.
Pope sat up in bed and looked around his room tiredly until his eyes stopped on the bag of peaches. He wasn’t sure why he brought them into his room but he knew he would regret it in the morning. He got out of bed and grabbed a peach before lying back in bed. He pressed a finger against its center, obscenely digging his finger inside and pulling out the pit.
Juice dripped onto his chest and onto his chin as he sucked all the fruit off the pit before tossing it aside, moving the peach down his boxers. It was a tight fit and it made him screw his eyes shut. It didn’t help.
All it took was 3 strokes and the image of the faint outline of your pussy through your panties and he was biting his hand to muffle the sound of his orgasm. He set the peach on his nightstand feeling the need to take a cold, cold shower before he went to bed.
In the morning, Pope felt guilty. Pope is not a religious man but something about what he had done made him feel the need to seek penance. He needed to face some kind of punishment, even if it meant confessing that he fucked a peach to the thought of the preacher’s daughter.
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The only spot in the world where you could truly be yourself was the confessional. No one came to confess as much as they needed so it was only really ever used on occasions that called for it. You liked coming to the church on the days where no one was there except your father doing paperwork in his office. It was the perfect place to read books your parents wouldn’t approve of. From medieval torture methods to smut. Anything mildly taboo that you could sneak out of the public library. You always returned the books and repented.
Today, you were halfway through A Certain Hunger when you heard the doors of the church creak open. You peek out of the door and immediately close it. Pope is making his way towards the booth.
He steps inside and closes the door, not daring to look towards who he thinks is the minister. Instead, he closes his eyes. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” Pope inhales sharply when there is no response. He takes it as permission to continue. “I gave into temptation and lust. I… I…” Pope didn’t know how to describe it. “I… committed a sex act… with a peach. I feel incredibly guilty and it’s not the act that I feel most guilty about but who I was thinking about during it. I feel like I violated her in some way and-”
“Was it me?” Your soft voice made his heart drop. He thinks he’s hallucinating. It was silent for a minute before you repeat yourself. “Were you thinking about me, Pope?”
Pope took another moment before responding. “Yes.” He was mortified at your silence. “I’m really, really sorry-” He was cut off by the sound of your door opening and shutting. His mind raced with the possibility of you running to your father ready to tell him what a sick deviant he is.
Instead, the door to his side of the confessional opened and you closed the door behind yourself.
“Hi.” You practically whispered, a smile playing on your face that you were trying to hide. “Did you, really?” He nods, afraid to speak. “I’m sorry.”
Pope has to blink a few times to digest your words. “Why?”
“I was tempting you.” You confess, thinking on everytime you would give Pope a coquettish glance or your bold move wearing a skirt you knew would show your panties off with one breeze. He stared at you inquisitively. “I’ve been trying to seduce you. I’m sorry I led you to sin.” You knelt before him. “Recently, I have been overcome with lustful thoughts about you. I… I use the thought of you for pleasure.” Your confession was sending all blood in Pope’s brain straight down to dick. “I don’t think you deserve any penance.” Your voice quieted to a whisper before you carefully reached to touch his bulge. Pope made no move to stop you.
“What are you doing?” He questions, voice strangles at the feeling of your hand rubbing against his dickprint. You looked up at him, the same way you look when you take the body of christ into your mouth.
“Paying my penance.” You slip your hand down his pants and stroke his already hard cock. His skin is soft and it’s a little bit curved. Your mouth waters at the feel. You do what you read in your books, pumping your hand up and down slowly. You were enjoying this.
Pope’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Wait… Are you sure we should do this?”
“I can stop if you want…” You pulled him out of his pants, admiring how pretty his dick is in your hand. “But, remember Pope… The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want. Neither should you.” You sink your mouth onto him and he feels like he is in heaven. “We can always repent. Love covers a multitude of sins and God loves us.” You reassure him, taking him back into your mouth.
Pope feels like he’s on fire from his head to his toes. His head rests against the wall as you bob your head up and down his length. He’s not a religious man, but this is the closest he has come to truly feeling God’s presence. He looks down at you and you are already staring at him, mouth full as you choke down as much as you can. You gag around him and come up for air, gasping as you kitten lick his tip before taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.
You look beautiful. Your eyes never left him. Your hair stuck to your forehead from sweat and your eyes were all watery and glassy. You even had your heel between your legs, rocking back and forth on it. You moaned and it sent vibrations all through his cock. He wanted to worship you the same way you were worshiping him. He was praying for the strength to stay silent as his eyes roam the walls, staring at the intricate cross motifs carved into the wood panels. He had never felt the watchful eye of God until now.
It was truly a miracle he lasted as long as he did because it didn’t take much longer before he was trying to pull you off. “I’m gonna-” He panted out, breathing becoming ragged. You didn’t want to come off though. You forced yourself down until your nose touched the base of his cock. You could feel him pulsing as it all shot down your throat.
Pope almost screamed when you kept sucking after he came. You came up, pressing kisses against his dick. Neither of you spoke while you put him back in his pants and then nuzzled his leg, wanting attention like a needy lamb. He pet your hair, tucking it behind your ear.
“Did you throw the peach away?” Pope shakes his head no. “Can I have it?”
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this was unhinged and very self indulgent :p hope u like!
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queen-haq · 2 days
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Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 4
Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)
Spoilers: S3 released scenes.
Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.
Excerpt:
“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”
“Of course you would think that.”
“What else is this if not punishment?”
Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)
“Unhand her now, Colin!”
Penelope jumped at the sound of Anthony’s voice, panicked at the thought of being caught. Colin must have felt the same way as he finally loosened his grip on her waist. Immediately she distanced herself from him, a heated blush creeping across her cheeks at the sight of the Viscount and his wife standing a few feet away. While Anthony was busy glaring at Colin, Kate Bridgerton’s eyes studied her with concern.
Although he had never been unkind to her, a part of her had always been intimidated by the eldest Bridgerton sibling. While Benedict was affable and charming, Anthony was the opposite and his stern demeanor tended to make her nervous. So to be caught by him in such a shameful manner – Penelope wanted the earth to swallow her up, she was too embarrassed to speak.
“What is going on here?” Anthony demanded, glaring at Colin. “Did you hurt her? Are you alright, Penelope?”
“Stay out of this, brother!”
“I’m fine.”
She and Colin replied in unison.
Penelope cast Colin a quick glance, warning him silently to go along with the lie. “My dress had a tear in it and Colin was helping me.”
Neither Anthony nor Kate looked like they believed her. Fortunately, they did not push back.
“You both know better than to be alone out here without a chaperone,” Anthony chastised. “If anyone were to see the two of you-”
“Fortunately, it was only us,” Kate interjected, approaching Penelope with an assuring smile. “Anthony, why don’t you and Colin go back in and fetch us some champagne? After I help Penelope with her dress, we can meet you inside.”
“Pen and I still have much to discuss,” Colin said in a firm tone.
She threw an irritated glance at Colin. While he was within his rights to argue with his family, she certainly didn’t have the same privilege – and it brought further attention to how oblivious he was when it came to her.
There was a time when she used to believe all of his gestures of intimacy were indicative of his love, but since the night she overheard him it became clear that had never been the case. His words – “you do not count, you’re Pen” – was how he truly felt. She wasn’t someone he viewed romantically, rather he didn’t view her as a proper lady at all.  It’s why he never worried about others misconstruing their relationship, why he never hesitated to spend time with her unchaperoned, why he kissed her tonight with such recklessness when he would never dare to do so with other young ladies of the ton. And even though he wasn’t purposely being hurtful, it still angered her to recognize how careless he was with her. In the past she was too much in love with Colin to worry about her own reputation but now she couldn’t afford a scandal. Not when she was so close to gaining freedom and living the life she wanted. “There’s nothing further to say.”
“In that case, brother, you and I shall head inside,” Anthony ordered sternly. “And Kate and Penelope may join us when they’re ready.”   
Colin turned to her, peering at her, demanding silently that she meet his gaze. “I will call on you tomorrow,” he stated angrily when she refused to look at him.
“I have a prior engagement,” was her immediate reply.
“With whom?”
“Now!” Anthony barked.
Finally Colin tore his eyes from her and stormed away. He didn’t wait for Anthony, instead marching past his brother.
“I apologize for his behaviour.” Anthony shook his head. “If my brother has said or done anything to harm you-”
“He hasn’t,” she replied quickly. “As I said, he was simply assisting me. But you are right, we should not have been out here without a chaperone.”
“Rest assured it won’t happen again.”
Then his attention darted to his wife, and it was as if the Anthony she had known since childhood was instantly changed. In his place was a soft and tender man, eyes flooded with love as his gaze swept over the Viscountess. They were simply standing there yet Penelope felt like she was intruding on a private moment between the couple, the affection between them so potent. And seeing them so much in love filled her heart with joy, but there was also an aching sadness that pricked at her. Because she knew Colin would never look at her that way or love her as fiercely as his brother did Kate.
“Are you alright?” Kate asked.
Realizing her face must have given her away, Penelope quickly composed herself. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, Viscountess.”
“I shall see you inside,” Anthony said softly before taking his leave.
“I’m fine, truly. I just need a few minutes of fresh air and I will go back in,” Pen said in a rush, feeling nervous around the other woman.
“I require some fresh air myself. I hope you don’t mind if I keep you company?” Kate smiled.
“Of course not, Lady Kate. It would be a pleasure.”
“Kate. Please. And I hope you don’t mind if I call you Penelope?”
“I would like that.”
“Perhaps I can fashion something out of my shawl for you,” Kate said, removing the fabric around her shoulders and draping it over Penelope’s. After a few seconds of trifling with the material, she stepped back to examine her handiwork. “Yes, that looks quite pretty. Don’t you think?”
Penelope glanced down at herself. Not only did the fabric hide her torn sleeve, but also the marks on her breasts. Bite marks left by Colin when he’d laved her skin with his tongue and teeth, same marks that must have been visible to Anthony earlier. Shame flooded over Penelope, she wanted to die.
“Shall we take a stroll around the maze before we go inside?” Kate suggested.
Penelope nodded, too embarrassed to speak.
Looping her arm through Penelope’s, Kate started walking alongside her. “I admit I don’t know Colin very well. He started his travels soon after the wedding and we didn’t have much time to get to know one another. However, I’ve always found him to be witty and good-natured.”
Penelope remained silent.
“Which is why the last few days have been such a surprise. He has been unusually agitated and others have noticed as well.”
“Have they?” Penelope muttered. “He’s probably having difficulties settling back into his old life after his recent adventures.”
“Yes, Benedict thought so too.”
“They are quite close as brothers.”
“True, but I suspect it has more to do with matters of the heart.” Kate paused in her tracks. “Perhaps you’re the reason?”
Penelope shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“He seemed quite upset just now.”
“Not because of me, I’m sure. I’m incapable of eliciting strong emotions in Colin.”
Kate gave her a curious glance. “Why do you say so?”
Penelope shrugged her shoulders. “Because Colin and I are friends. That’s all.”
“Your rendezvous with him tonight would suggest otherwise, Penelope.”
“You would think so, but it doesn’t.” She sent Kate a bitter smile. “I’m Pen. His friend. And that means he doesn’t view me in the same light as he does other ladies. Normal rules of society don’t apply to me.”
“That can’t be true.”
She leveled the older woman with a pained gaze. “Colin would never exchange private letters with any of the young ladies of the ton, he’d be too worried about jeopardizing their reputation. And he certainly wouldn’t cause a scandal by spending time with them unchaperoned. Yet here I am, recipient of both.”
Kate looked taken aback by her words. “That doesn’t sound like the actions of a friend.”
“I assure you Colin isn’t a duplicitous person, he genuinely doesn’t mean to cause harm. However, he’s oblivious when it comes to me. I might as well be invisible to him.”
“I see male idiocy isn’t reserved for Anthony alone,” Kate sighed, resuming their walk again. “In my experience tihe Bridgerton men can be quite… foolish when it comes to romance.” She squeezed Penelope’s arm. “But once they get over their stubbornness, they are fierce with their love.”
“I will have to take your word for it.”
“Have you talked to Colin about how you feel? Perhaps if you-”
“Lady Kate, I don’t mean to be rude.” Penelope smiled stiffly at the Viscountess. “But there’s no point in discussing this any further. How I feel about Colin doesn’t matter.”
“You care deeply for him. I can see that.”
Penelope paused. The only person she’d ever confessed her feelings about Colin was to Arthur Debling and even that took a while.
“You shouldn’t deny your feelings, Penelope.”
“I’m not denying them. I know how I feel, and I recognize my feelings will probably never go away. But that doesn’t mean I have to wallow in heartache.” She stared out at the garden, ruminating on the measures she’d taken to secure the life she wanted. “I used to think I would only be happy if I married Colin, but I’ve come to realize that is no longer true. There are other forms of happiness, little things that can bring a lot of joy if one is open to it.” She graced Kate with a shy smile. “I intend to move on and pursue some of my other dreams. Maybe even have small adventures along the way.”  
“Is that what you would like?”
Penelope bit down on her lip. A part of her felt anxious about sharing her secret desires but the kindness in Kate’s eyes made her think that not only would the older woman not mock her but she might actually understand. “Very much so.”
Kate returned her smile. “In that case, I hope you get everything your heart desires.”
“Thank you.”
“But I feel I must warn you.” Concern shone brightly in Kate’s dark eyes. “The look I saw on Colin tonight, it’s an expression I’m familiar with having seen it on my husband’s face many times. I don’t think my brother-in-law will go quietly into the night. He may make it difficult for you to move on.”
“That’s not who Colin is.” She reached out to touch her neck, only to remember that there was now a scarf covering the area. Her skin still burned with the memory of his mouth voraciously roving over her, hot and urgent. She dropped her hand immediately. “As soon as he realizes things have changed between us, he will move on. And there will not be any shortage of ladies vying for his attention. It’s only a matter of time before I become a distant memory to him.”
“You underestimate your own worth,” Kate replied, a hint of sternness in her voice.
Pen shrugged to herself. “I only speak the truth.”
Kate didn’t respond, instead squeezing her arm. They made their way back inside, both women deep in thought.
***
Later that night Penelope was waiting for her carriage outside while listening to the nearby chatter of a group of gentlemen who were gossiping idly. Often her biggest source of news were men of the ton themselves. While there was no doubt women liked to gossip, they were far more discreet than the opposite sex, something Lady Whistledown benefitted from. She was busy cataloguing the topics they were discussing when she suddenly found herself with company. Her breath halted in her throat when Colin appeared beside her.
“You’re avoiding me,” he said quietly, sounding both hurt and angry.
She kept her voice deliberately steady. “It’s late, Colin. I wish to go home.”
“We need to discuss what happened tonight.”
Her stomach clenched at the thought. “I’d rather not.”
The intensity within him clamored for her full attention even as his entitled words filled her with rage. There was a respectable amount of space between them but it was as if he was pressed against her like before, heat emanating from him. And the way he was looking at her, eyes burning bright with emotion as they swept over her skin, pausing on the same spot where he left bite marks -  she couldn’t think around him. She desperately needed an escape.
“You owe me the truth, Pen. I demand it. You must tell me who the gentleman is.” He took a step closer. “I have a responsibility to protect you, to keep you safe.” Another step. “Your reputation could have been compromised-”
“You didn’t seem to care about that earlier when you followed me into the garden,” she fired back at him. “What if someone had caught us, Colin? Do you even know what that would’ve done to my reputation?”
He stiffened. “We would have been forced to marry.”
She noted the immediate panic that flitted across his face, his voice drowning in misery at the thought of marrying her.  It was clear the idea of a romantic bond between them horrified him, and even though she’d come to accept that fact already it still felt like someone had ripped her heart out and stomped all over it. But she would die before letting him see how much his rejection hurt. Straightening her back, she gave him a cold glance. “You don’t need to worry. I would never force you into that.” She turned to look at the carriage that had come to a stop in front of her. “I think it’s best if we keep our distance going forward. Good night, Colin.”
He offered his hand to help her into the carriage but she ignored it. However, he didn’t step aside. “This conversation is not over. I will call on you tomorrow."
“And I will not be available.”
Before he could say anything further, she slammed the carriage door in his face.
To be continued...
A/N - Thank you for reading. If you care to share your thoughts, I would be grateful :)
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lenny-1of2dads · 2 days
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As a 45 year old married man with three kids my life one endless task of work, family, and chores. I love my wife and kids but the responsibility is killing me. My wife and I are both accountants and met in college. I went into private practice while she joined a firm. twenty years later. She runs the firm and works fifty hours a week. She also makes twice the money that I do. We are very well off, and yet I am miserable. My friends at work would suggest it was time to think about cheating. They are only my friends because we have drinks after work two or three days a week to talk about this kind of stuff.
Pete suggests I find a local with a on a dating app to hook up with anonymously as a one time thing. Just to see if I can do it. This is where my story takes the left when it should not. This is an example of how nothing goes as planned in my life. I get a burner phone to keep in my car away from my wife and create an account Sweet&LowDad. My logic was I was willing to pay a little to get what I want, Dad meant my age, and discretion was needed. I snap some pics at the gym, realizing for the first time why guys might be doing this so much. I cut my head off in all of them. So no head shots or my one an only tat.
Not sure how or why I skipped the preferences tab. The local onlys gave me video feeds of girls and boys in all various stages of naked. Approaching left turn. There in front of me was my college age son, John live from his bedroom. In the house we all live in. Doing something on camera that I once caught him doing at the age of fourteen maybe. This time was for money. I closed the app and started to cry. First time since my parents died fifteen years ago. I had too many questions. I thought somehow I had failed him. Why would he hide this from me of all people.
I opened the app back up. Some guy gave him tokens for showing his butt to him. I get a text to turn on my cam. Instead I ask for a private chat. Fifty bucks for thirty minutes. I ask questions. Some of them stupid, but he always told the truth. He is not out of the closet. There is no pressure to do that, he would like to have a boyfriend first. He uses the money for college, and savings. Saying it not as much as you would think. He said he likes my pictures but he would like to see my face. With my time running out he suggests the same time tomorrow. I say I will try. Realizing now I have to go home and see him in person. Not sure I can do this. Hey son found out you are gay for pay on the internet, while I was trying trying to cheat on your mother. Not happening.
As a dad my job was to provide solutions, give advice and some direction. Let them make their own decisions and be there when they pick wrong. I was reminded of a sponsorship opportunity for my practice. So I made a few phone calls. The pride committee at Johns college need money and a truck to pull a float with the name of my practice on it. The idea is there was going to have a bunch of guy guys dancing to music blasting from an electrical connection to a sound system in the trailer I was towing. A dance floor on wheels. I asked John not to make plans I need him to help move some stuff in my truck from the office. He said he had plans for the afternoon could we do it early. I said seven AM.
Having info on John changed the way I looked at everything. He shows up to move stuff looking too cute for his very straight dad. He freaks when we enter the parade route. Paranoid and yet excited I told him he was their to protect me from thousands of gay guys. He asks me Who is going to protect me? I replied I have your mother, you are nineteen and need to get laid. He looked at me as if to question, turned to look out the window saying. You are right about that. We find our place in line and two minutes later he was surrounded by gay guys that I introduce to him. Thirty minutes later the line starts to move. We get in the cab. I am driving at five miles an hour at best.
If my life could not get any weirder. Student69 and a follower of JohnBoyCPA2026 recognize each other. Pretty much fall in love talking through the window of my truck. John ignores the fact I am sitting there and asks how can you afford to tip like that? Student 69 alias Tim tells John I been in love with you for months name your price. Give me a chance to prove it in person. Go out with me. They start kissing through the window as I am driving at five miles an hour. A distraction causing me to tap on the brakes harder that needed. The dancers in the back got up close and personal hanging on to each other. I am now at a full stop. John turns to me say best dad in the world can I explain all this later. I say go for it, and get a kiss good bye from a nineteen year old boy trying to become a man. John and Tim both closed their accounts days later. I went to close my account and found a message from JohnBoyCPA2026. It simply said
I love you dad ?
It was a question I could see on his face from that minute on. I declined to answer until years later after his mother had pasted. I mailed him the burner phone all charged up with our fifty dollar conversation. He and Tim took three days off work just come visit me. Reminding me I am single, and there are dating apps out there.
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daydreamingyuta · 1 day
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could I request like female idol x jaehyun idol going to a bruno mars concert in Korea together
And the song finesse comes on and you know the part that goes fellas grab ur lady if ur lady fine😭 and he does that😝
and somehow it gets dispatch finds out
Finesse | Jaehyun
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summary: fluff, drabble, dispatch exposing your relationship with Jaehyun after getting caught attending a Bruno Mars concert together. wc: 809 a/n: Hi! Thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long but I had sm fun writing this because it reminded me how good Bruno Mars songs are! (Also in one part I mention that y/n is in aespa, I hope that's ok!) <3
“You make me feeell like I’ve been locked out of heaaaven for too longgg.” You and Jaehyun sing in unison, not caring a single bit if you were in key or not. 
When Jaehyun had asked you if you wanted to go to the Bruno Mars concert with him, you couldn’t say ‘yes’ fast enough. Countless dates with Jaehyun have ended in the car singing his songs at the top of your lungs with the windows down, the wind not even close to drowning out your passionate singing. 
You had been a little nervous about going since your relationship with Jaehyun was not public yet, but he assured you that you didn’t have to worry. You both wore hats that covered your faces pretty well and your seats were out of view from most people in the audience, so you really thought you didn’t have to worry. 
As “Locked out of Heaven” ended, Bruno Mars switched to a slower song “It Will Rain.” Lights lit up all around the arena from the flashlights on everyones phone. You both joined it, swaying your phones along with the crowd and singing, “There’ll be no sunshine if I lose you baby” 
At the very end of the song, Bruno Mars stepped away from the mic and let the crowd sing the “oohh” part, and it was magical. You and Jaehyun laughing at each other when you saw that you both got goosebumps from the beautiful moment. 
Just when you thought the concert couldn’t get any better, you hear the beginning notes of Finesse, one of your all time favorite songs. Using a half empty water bottle as a microphone, you and Jaehyun sing and dance along. 
You sing, “Fellas grab your lady if your lady fine.” while Jaehyun grabs your waist and pulls you in close to him, swaying to the music. Your cheeks hurt by the end of the song from smiling so much, you truly didn’t have a single care in the world and it was easily one of the best concerts you’ve been to. 
──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────
The rest of the night you were on that concert ‘high’ that you always get after a fantastic concert. You didn’t feel a single negative emotion, until the very next day when you were woken up by Jaehyun’s manager calling him. This wasn’t too uncommon of an occurrence, so you closed your eyes again and tried to go back to sleep until Jaehyun shot up in bed right next to you. 
He involuntarily grabbed your arm as he listened to his manager. They talked for a while and when Jaehyun hung up, his face was pale white. Still, he smiled at you and stroked your hair like he always did when you woke up next to him. 
“Is everything alright?” You ask, sitting upright alongside him. 
He nodded his head, but when his phone dinged with a text from his manager, he let you see for yourself what was happening. You grab Jaehyun’s phone and click the link to a Dispatch article. 
The bolded title read: “NCT’s Jaehyun and aespa’s Y/n go Home Together after Attending a Bruno Mars Concert.”
The first photo attached was a blurry picture of you two getting in the same car. “You can really tell that’s us.” You say, trying to think positively. 
Jaehyun hums in response as he watches you scroll some more. If you thought there would be room to deny the allegations, you were proved very wrong when multiple videos started playing of you and Jaehyun dancing together, specifically during the song Finesse. 
There was more to the article but you set his phone down in your lap. A million emotions were flying through your mind, but after a couple of moments you found yourself laughing. Jaehyun laughs along with you too, because of course this would be how your relationship leaked. 
You had both spent so long being so secretive about everything you did together and now that it was finally out, you couldn't help but feel relieved. 
“Am I wrong for being kinda happy about this?” Jaehyun asks you. 
“Honestly I think I feel that same way.”
Jaehyun scoots closer and wraps his arms around you. “I hate hiding you from everyone.” He whispers, kissing you on the cheek. 
“Me too” you say, leaning your head against the bed frame and looking at him. He kisses you and you both melt into each other, feeling like a million years worth of stress just flew away. 
Obviously you were still going to have to deal with the consequences of this coming out, but you had this weird feeling that everything was going to turn out alright. You and Jaehyun will have each other no matter what, and you knew that he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of what you two have. 
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devastator1775 · 2 days
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How to deal with your teenage daughter while also dealing with a virus
“Are you sure I don’t need to come over and take of you?”  N – or rather: N in the little box in the corner of Uzi’s vision – asked.
Uzi rolled her eyes – the little video call box rolled around as well -, quickly followed by a coughing fit. She couldn’t help but to feel endeared by her husband’s concerned look.
“I’ll be fine, N.” She assured, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. “It’s just – “
She started coughing again. She grabbed the bottle of vitamin coolant off the table and quickly took a large swig. She slammed the bottle down, wiping her mouth. “It’s nothing.”
“You caught a virus, Uzi.” N emphasized. “Just let me tell the guys there’s an emergency at home and-“
“N, you’re a leading figure in the Copper-9’s Planetary Security Force. You can’t just leave. Besides, it’s only for a few more hours ‘for your shift ends.” Uzi reminded him. She resisted the urge to giggle when she saw his sad expression. “I’m feeling fine, you big goof. I’ll be bright as snow in a couple of days, you’ll see.”
N stared her down, his expression frowned, but after a few moments he let out a relented sigh. “Okay, I’ll yield, but if you start to feel worse-“
“I’ll call, I promise.” Uzi giggled. “Now get back to work, honey.”
N smiled. “Okay. See you tonight.”
“Can’t wait.” Uzi replied, smiling brightly as she waited until N would end the video call. The moment the little box vanished from the corner of her vison, she let out a long groan and let herself fall backwards on the couch. Her processor felt like it was gonna pop out of her visor, the way it was aching. She didn’t like to lie to N, but he already could be such a worrywart on normal days – even if it was something she loved about him, the silly man. It was true she was gonna be fine in a couple of days, but she was far from feeling anything close to fine right now.
Honestly, she felt like crap.
It was a new type of virus that had been popping up with mostly the newer generations of Worker Drone frameworks. It wasn’t anything dangerous – in fact, it was pretty much harmless – but it would wreak havoc on a drone’s primary systems, like heating regulations, coolant regulators, fluctuating energy surges and involuntary steam discharge in the nasal sensors.
Basically, it was the Drone’s version of what humans would call ‘having a severe cold’. A patch was being developed to help combat this, but the effectiveness wasn’t anywhere near being perfect. It had 50-50 percent chance of catching on, and even then there was only a 30 percent change of successful deletion of the virus.
And it seemed that Uzi had all the bad luck with the patch she was given.
She groaned again, reaching behind her head to fluff up the pillow. The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught her attention, followed by a grumbling female voice.
“-stupid homework, stupid TJ that won’t stop flirting with me, stupid-“
“Nix?!” Uzi called out. “Something wrong?”
“Mom?” the voice answered in surprise. A young female worker Drone peeked her head into the living room. Uzi and N’s 16-year old daughter: Nicole “Nix” Doorman. Her straight silver hair with streaks of dyed fuchsia reached to her shoulders and seemed to dance with every movement she made. She wore her favourite jacket – which coincidentally and “totally not by choice, dad” looked like a shorter version of her father’s trademark fur collar coat. She wore Uzi’s old necklace around her neck. Her warm amber eyes looked surprised at her mother, which quickly turned to concern when she noticed the state Uzi was in.
“Mom, what are you doing here? You look sick. Are you sick?” She let out a frightened gasp. “Am I gonna be sick? You’re not gonna die, right? Where’s dad? Is he coming home soon? Can you help me with my homework later?”
“Nix, calm down.” Uzi couldn’t but laugh at her daughter’s antics. “Gosh, I swear, you inherited too much of your father’s code. The two of you are so much alike sometimes.”
“Should I take that as a compliment or do I need to go ‘angsty teen mode’?” Nix asked, but the glint her visor betrayed her amusement.
“Take it as a compliment, I don’t have the energy to deal with moody teenagers anymore for today.” Uzi joked.
“So, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just caught that new kiddie virus at work.” Uzi replied. “Got a bit to careless around the sick kids at the clinic and, well, you see what happened.” She rolled her eyes at her daughter’s concerned look. “You’re showing your fathers code again, sweetie. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
“You sure?” Nix asked, wringing her hands together. “I mean, you look like crap, mom.”
“Thank you for your brutal honesty and yes, I’m sure.” Uzi smiled reassuringly at her daughter. “My anti-virus software is a bit outdated, so it’s taking a bit more effort for to fight it.”
Nix took a step forward, but stopped herself. “Uh, it’s not contagious, right?”
“No, you’ll be safe, Nix.” Uzi reassured with a warm smile. “The clinic has given me their latest version of the med-patch, so at least we won’t- OOF.”
Nix had thrown herself into her mother’s arms, giving her a tight hug. Uzi smiled softly, caressing the young drone’s hair with one arm, while returning the hug with the other. “So, how was school?” Uzi asked. “Was it as bad as your grumbling made it seem?”
Nix let out a frustrated groan – Uzi immediately felt like she was looking at her younger self – slouching backwards on the couch. “Just the usual. Class felt like going on, like,  forever; some classmates find it so funny when I’m eager to answer the teacher’s questions; and oh yeah, I called the teach ‘Auntie Liz’ again.”
“Well, she is your aunt, Nix.” Uzi shrugged. “Honorary or not. I’m sure Lizzy found it quite endearing.  And what was I heard you say about TJ?”
“Like I said: ‘the usual’.”
Thad Junior, better known as TJ, was a young drone who went to the same school as Nix and had recently developed a bit of a unreciprocated crush on her. He was quite adamant to show her his affect, despite being a few years younger than Nix. It was actually somewhat cute. Uzi chuckled, which even intensified when her daughter shot her a look of betrayal. “Sorry, dear. Is that boy still so hung up on you?”
“Yeah, and no matter what I say, it won’t go through that thick cap of his that I am out of his age range.”
“You want me to talk to his father for you?”
Nix bounced her feet up and down, almost like she was considering the option. She let out a sigh. “Nah, it’s fine.” She answered. “TJ is annoying, but he’s a good kid. But he needs to realize that I don’t even…”
Uzi noticed how her daughter’s voice trailed off and the way she was kneading her jacket. “Nix?”
Nix sighed, giving her mom an exhausted look. “Being a teenager who’s still figuring herself out stuff is hard…”
Uzi smiled warmly at Nix, gently placing her hand on her daughter’s cheek. “Believe me, it is hard.” She pulled Nix against her, her core purring as the latter snuggled up against her mother. “But you got a good head on your shoulders and loving parents to help you whenever you need or want it. You’ll figure things out, Sparkplug.”
She gave her daughter a final squeeze and proceeded to shoo her off the couch, covering her mouth as she felt another series of cough bubble up. “Now, I need to rest and I believe I’ve heard you grumble something about homework as well?”
Nix’s shoulders dropped. “Yes, mom…”
“But before you do that, could you be a dear and heat me up some vegetable oil soup?” Uzi asked as she laid herself down on the couch.
“Sure thing, mom!” Nix answered enthusiastically with a salute – a near spitting image of N, Uzi noticed. She spun around and made her way to the kitchen.
“Oh, and could you add a shot of gasoline?” Uzi asked, grinning. “Don’t tell your dad, you know he doesn’t like it when I drink …without him.”
“’kay!”
“It’s un-“
“Under the cabinet with the family pictures, behind the box with Grandpa Khan’s lucky wrench, I know!” Nix froze, like someone who knew she had said a bit too much. “Oh ..cr-“
Uzi slowly sat up, her gaze slowly turning towards her daughter. “Nix, how do you know where your dad and I keep our liquor?”
Nix slowly turned around, a sheepish grin on her face and digital beads of sweat running down her visor. “Uh…”
“Answer your mother, Nicole V Doorman.” Uzi commander sternly, but calmly.
“I …know …because ….I …tried some?”
“You what?!”
Nix squeaked. “Before you get mad, we only tried a shot of the bottle of Lighter Fluid Cider, and –“
“Who’s we?”
“Eep…me and Avery…”
“Avery too? Nix …” Uzi facepalmed, feeling a headache coming on. “When did this happen?”
“Okay, okay, it was a couple of weeks ago, when Aunties V and Liz were looking after me while you and dad were on your date but it was actually Avery who found it – I told them she shouldn’t be snooping around, but you know them - and they asked their mums if they could try it, and Auntie V said ‘sure, you’re old enough but only a little bit’, so actually you should be mad a her, and- and -and …
Uzi held up a hand, shutting Nix up. “Me and V are gonna have a serious conversation about this…” She took a deep breath. “Have you since then drunk it again?”
“No, I didn’t really like it.”
“And nothing of the harder stuff?”
“No, honestly!”
“Have you considered it?”
“…uh, once or twice?” Nix answered truthfully. “BUT I DIDN’T-“
“I believe you, I believe you.” Uzi quickly said. She crossed her arms, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh.
“Am I in trouble?” Nix asked nervously. “Please, don’t tell dad…he’s gonna give me those sad eyes he does whenever he’s disappointed in something.”
“Oh, believe me, your dad is gonna hear about this.” Uzi assured. She couldn’t help but smirk when she saw her daughter stammering and trying to come up with a reason why he shouldn’t know. She sighed. “However …considering V and Lizzy said you could and were when it happened, and it was something light as that ….I’m just glad you didn’t go for the hard stuff.”
“Avery tried, but Auntie V caught her before she could take a sip.” She chuckled nervously. “She’s normally so …mellow. I didn’t know she could get angry like that….”
“Oh, she can….” Uzi gave her daughter a stern look. “Listen, you’re 16 years old, and I’m not gonna pretend I never did anything stupid at your age.”
“Yeah, I heard the story of how you and dad met, mom.”
“Really not the time for sass, missy.”
“Yes, mom. Sorry, mom.”
Uzi couldn’t help but grin. “What I’m saying is ….if you feel like trying something stupid …I rather you’d do it at home, where me and your father can keep an eye on things, than out there, okay?”
Nix smiled. “Okay, mom.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Attagirl.”
“Does that mean I could try some magnets?”
“Don’t push your luck, Nix.”
“Kidding, kidding.” Nix let out a sigh of relief, presenting her mother a wide smile. “How about making you that soup, eh? I mean, if you still want it….”
“That’d be great, Nix.” Uzi replied with a soft smile, which quickly turned to a stern expression. “And then: homework.”
“Yes, mom!” Nix disappeared into the kitchen, humming a cheerful song. That was another thing that showed she was truly N’s daughter as well: her ability to just …deal with certain situations quickly. A whole lot better adjusted than Uzi was at that age.
Uzi sighed and while Nix was busy in the kitchen, she opened up her internal texting app and started sending messages to N.
U: [N, you’ll need to come up with a few extra chores for Nix this weekend.]
N’s reply almost came immediately.
N: [Oh no, what did she do? Not the trash compactor again?]
U: [No, not that. I’ll tell you later, but I dealt with it for now. We’re gonna need to have a talk with V and Lizzy, though.]
N: [Oh, boy…]
U: [As for Nix, I already put the fear of robo-God in her, so try to go easy on her.]
N: [Uh-huh, of course you did. (sarcastic)]
Uzi giggled silently.
N: [Okay, see later. Give Nix my love, will you?]
U: [I will. Say ‘hi’ to Dad for me.]
N: [‘kay. Bye! ;-)]
U: [Dork]
N: [Short]
Hubby has left the chat.
Uzi bursted out in giggles, making a curious Nix pop her head out the kitchen. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, just your dad.” Uzi replied, a sly grin forming on her face. “He sends you his love and says that you’re are in heap of trouble, young lady.”
By the smirk that was forming on Nix’s face, Uzi could tell she wasn’t buying it. She let out an exaggerated wail, falling on her knees and threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, why, cruel Robo-Jesus, have I both been blessed and cursed with attentive parents who want nothing but the best for me?”
“And the award for best performance goes to-“
The two ladies started laughing. Nix scrambled up, dusting off her legs. “Anyway, the soup is heating up on the stove and I’m gonna get started on my homework. It’s about “The rise and fall of JCJsenson” and its connection with Copper-9’s independence.”
“Oh, you better get started, then.” She shooed her away with a smile. “Go on, off with you.”
“Going!” Nix spun around and walked in the direction of her room. “Just yell if you need something!”
Uzi smiled warmly as she watched her daughter disappear from sight. She had no doubt that Nix would be better than herself and N combined. With a heavy sigh, she laid back down again, her head still aching.
She hated being sick. That virus could bite her.
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Caught - l.paul
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This is my fic. Please do not repost this (reblogs are good). Do not copy my writing. Do not steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing and my original character(s).
WWE Masterlist
(warnings: some angst)
(pairing: logan paul x f!reader)
(word count: 1.1k)
Logan Paul hadn’t seen his girlfriend, (y/n), for two days, which felt like an eternity for him. As they finally reunited, he noticed a red mark on her neck that resembled a hickey. Surprised, he tried not to let it bother him as they embarked on what was meant to be a beautiful date.
Throughout the day, Logan couldn’t shake off the sight of the mark on (y/n)’s neck. He found himself being more clingy than usual, showering her with affection, but underneath, his mind was consumed with questions. Was she seeing someone else? Was this a sign of something he wasn’t aware of?
As they arrived home, Logan couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling gnawing at him. The sight of (y/n) turning on her camera only added to his growing suspicion. He tried to brush it off, reminding himself of their strong bond and trust, but the red mark on her neck lingered in his mind like an unspoken question.
Silence filled the room as they settled in, the air thick with unspoken tension. Logan couldn't help but steal glances at (y/n), his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Was this all coming to a brutal end? Was their relationship even as solid as he believed it to be?
Sensing his unease, (y/n) finally broke the silence, her voice laced with concern. “Logan, you’ve been acting different all day. Is everything okay?”
Logan hesitated, his gaze flickering to the mark on her neck before meeting her eyes. “What is that?” he asked, his tone softer than he intended.
(y/n)’s expression faltered for a moment before she composed herself, her eyes locking with his. “It’s nothing, just a mark from...from something else,” she replied, her voice faltering slightly.
As (y/n) faltered in her response, Logan’s heart sank further. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that gripped him like a vice. He needed clarity, he needed honesty.
“I need you to be honest with me,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “Is that or is it not a hickey?”
(y/n) hesitated, her gaze faltering for a moment before meeting his eyes defiantly. “Logan, it’s not a hickey,” she insisted, her tone firm. “How do you not trust me after all this time?”
Logan felt a surge of frustration welling up inside him. They had been together for four years, four years of laughter, love, and countless memories shared. Yet, in that moment, it felt like trust, the cornerstone of their relationship, was slipping through his fingers.
“Four years, (y/n),” Logan countered, his voice tinged with hurt. “Four years we’ve been together, and you expect me to believe it’s just ‘something else’?”
(y/n)’s expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. “Logan, please, you have to trust me,” she pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm.
But Logan recoiled, his defenses still firmly in place. “Trust goes both ways, (y/n),” he said, his voice strained. “And right now, I’m not sure I can trust what you’re telling me.”
The words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the rift that had formed between them. (y/n) searched his eyes, her own brimming with regret.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “I never meant to make you doubt me.”
Logan’s resolve wavered at the sight of her vulnerability, his anger dissipating like mist in the morning sun. He reached out, pulling her into his arms, their bodies melting together in a silent embrace.
“I’m sorry too,” he murmured against her hair, his voice laced with regret. “I just...I need to know the truth, (y/n).”
Logan took a deep breath, his heart heavy with a mix of emotions. After a moment passed, he released the breath slowly, trying to steady himself amidst the turmoil of doubt and uncertainty.
“So explain it to the non-obvious camera, babe,” he finally said, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of resignation.
(y/n) met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She nodded, understanding the weight of his request. With a trembling hand, she reached out to the camera, her movements hesitant yet determined.
As the camera’s red light blinked steadily, (y/n) began to speak, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She confessed to the elaborate prank she had orchestrated, her words tumbling out in a rush as she laid bare her intentions and fears.
Logan listened intently, his eyes never leaving her as she spoke. With each word, the tension that had gripped them began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of understanding and forgiveness.
When (y/n) finished her explanation and turned the camera off, she turned to face Logan, her eyes searching his for any sign of forgiveness. He held her gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He reached out, cupping her cheek tenderly.
“I can’t believe you actually got me,” he chuckled, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “You’re something else, you know that?”
(y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, relief flooding through her. She leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand against her skin.
“I’m sorry, Logan,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Logan shook his head, his smile widening. “I know, babe,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
Logan’s playful tone cut through the lingering tension, his words drawing a surprised laugh from (y/n). She felt the weight of their previous conversation lift, replaced by a sense of relief and warmth.
“Can you wipe that off so I can give you some real hickeys now?” Logan asked with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
(y/n) couldn’t help but blush at his suggestion, a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation flooding through her. She swiped a hand across her neck, removing the remnants of the fake hickey, and looked up at Logan with a shy smile.
“Maybe later,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Logan’s grin widened, his eyes dancing with mischief. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased, pulling her close for a lingering kiss.
As they melted into each other’s embrace, the echoes of their earlier argument faded into the background. In that moment, all that mattered was the love they shared, stronger and more resilient than any moment of doubt or uncertainty.
And as they surrendered to the sweetness of their reunion, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable and their love unwavering.
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Sigh.... I'm a woman lover, but right now, I'm falling heels over head for a man. Also unfortunately this is very specific to me so I'll be writing- I know, I know, - Fem reader.
Fem!Reader x Toji (JJK) || NSFW || Warnings: daydreaming, Toji being himself, at least from what i know of him, grinding, riding, belly bulge, lowkey crack treated seriously, masturbation, secret phone masturbation ??,😨 getting caught and bottom reader (i know, who even am I?)
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Fuck.
You check the time again: it's 12, and you haven't gotten up yet.
You're starving, you're dehydrated, and honestly, you've gotta piss, but the insistent throb of your clit and the nasty images your mind keeps conjuring up keeps you chained to the bed, an unwilling prisoner to your desires.
You flip over on your back, hands moving to hold your breasts as air rushes over your soaked cunt. Why him? Why did it have to be the most cruel, useless, broke and lazy man you know? Was there no one else? Were you really that desperate?
Another scene pops into mind. It's Toji holding your breasts. His weight holds you down as he grinds his cock up and down your pussy, agonizingly slow. He was teasing you, and his cocky smirk paired with that unwavering gaze proved it.
Your back arches, your clit getting particularly sensitive as he grinds down harder, pinching at your nipples to coax little sounds out of you. The flex of his abs as he rolls his hips proves hypnotic, and before even you know it you're begging him to put it in, to fuck you stupid and fill you up with his cum. But oh, he's deaf to your pleas, dragging orgasms out of you from his torturous humping alone.
"Ughhhh." You huff and turn on your side, feeling your stomach growl.
God, you wish he was deep in your stomach right now.
Fucking you from the side just like this, your leg over his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist as you scream, eyes rolling to the whites as he abuses that sweet spot inside you.
You're so wet you can hear the squelch of it all when he thrusts inside. It's coating your stomach, your thighs, overflowing around his thick cock and leaving a lewd ring around it. You're gonna have to throw the sheets out. You've never been fucked this good in your life.
And he knows it.
He reminds you when he leans down to whisper in your ear, his right hand leaving your hip to hold your face, dragging a calloused thumb across your bottom lip. "See how perfectly it fits inside?" He says. "Do you feel it?"
And you cry as you let out a warbled, "Yes,"
"I don't think you do."
He removes your hand from the death grip it has on the sheets to your stomach, and, for fucks sake, this idiot wasn't lying;
You really were feeling it now.
With each mind numbing thrust, a bulge could be felt. It was him, stupidly deep inside of you, leaving his mark so that no matter who you take after him, you'll always remember this spot as his.
Your phone goes off, and you think you might cry. Lying butt-ass naked in bed, pussy overflowing onto the sheets, clit begging to be touched, even just a little bit– and somebody has the audacity to call you? Didn't they know you were busy getting dream fucked?
It takes a lot of willpower, but you answer it.
"[Name]."
Of all fucking people.
Toji's deep rumble rolled out of your phone speaker like incoming storm clouds. You could feel another gush of arousal pouring out of you, and a sickening idea crosses your mind.
Fortunately, he doesn't comment on it. "Just waking up at this hour? I thought Miss Goody Two-Shoes would be up at 8am on the dot getting shit done on a Saturday like this one."
"He- hello, cough, um." Oh my fuck did you just SAY cough?!
You sit up, back to the wall. Your head tilts up as your hand creeps down your skin, it's goal burning hot with desire.
"Shut the fuck up, Toji... What did you need? You don't... Call me, ever, actually." Focus. You just need to keep him talking. And try not to make it obvious you're riding your fingers.
There's a bit of silence from him, probably confusion at your airy tone and disconnected speech. Then, "Tsk. I can't call a dear work buddy on our day off? I thought maybe we could go out, get to know each other-"
The only thing you wanted to know is if fantasy lived up to reality, but you digress. "How much do you need?"
He chuckles, and you have to bite back a moan. You're three fingers deep and it's still not enough, but you can't risk going to get anything bigger. As wet as you are, he'd hear the sounds and clock your shit instantly.
"Straight to the point. I spent my cut from our last job on.... Well, I'm sure you can guess." You can basically hear him wink. Ugh, why him? "I'm not much in the mood for cup noodles today. Slide me a couple bucks?"
You place the phone between your cheek and shoulder so your other finger can show your clit the appreciation it deserves. Your fingers match each other's pace, and soon you're rutting into your hand like a proper bitch in heat as his voice fuels your movements.
You try to groan, but it sounds frighteningly like a moan. Probably because it was a moan, but, you digress.
"Is this good enough, [Name]?"
You slide from the wall to the bed, letting the phone fall next to your ear. You were so close, just a few more minutes, you just need to hear him say your name.
He chuckles, and in the back of your mind you think you hear yourself say his name.
You choke, both on your shock and the force of your orgasm. It shoots out of you in the form of squirt, soaking your bed and covering you in your own sinful fluids. Your fingers keep going, the pleasure as torturous as it is addictive.
"It was cute, hearing you try to hide your moans."
Your hips aren't your own– rather, they have a mind of their own, rutting into your hand as long as they please, regardless of how hard your legs twitch or how loud you cry.
And there he is, right in your ear, even better than you imagined.
With a gasp, your legs give out and finally, it's over.
Your vision is blurry, and for a few blessed moments, it's silent on both ends. Then, you hear him slurping a straw from a very obviously empty cup.
"That's worth a couple hundred at least, right?"
You sigh. Yeah. Yeah it was.
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A/N: I wrote this but I guessed his speech pattern solely off what I know about his character sooooo. I'll be back to see if I can improve. Otherwise! Bone apple teeth:D
Sigh. This isn't as good as my other writing, but it was made with both love AND cum, I promise.
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