#write a prisoner

[nevvdrinksteaa]

PLEASE Spencer answering a work call in the middle of sex??? Super smutty

just wanna say that this is my first request and it makes me feel special so thank you !!! hopefully you like this <3

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, porn with small plot, afab reader, fingering, p in v sex, post prison spence, riding, doggy style, and missionary (yall were busy), spitting kink !!, spanking (once?), face slapping (i’m not sorry), slight oral (f receiving), lots of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl), let me know if i missed anything !!

word count: 1.8k (got a little carried away)

also note to everyone- y’all absolutely devoured my spencer post the other day, a little less than 800 notes last i checked, and i just want to say i was very caught off guard and appreciate it so much !!

+ i apologize for the overuse of commas & very limited vocabulary,, i feel like i used the same 10 words smh

+ NOT PROOF READ !!

~~~

“i was able to talk to the brass about getting the week off. the past few weeks have been tough and i think we all need a well deserved break.”

you were all gathered in the round table room for a meeting emily called. in the past two weeks, the team had been assigned three back to back cases; which meant three different unsubs, three different cities, and three different hotel rooms. you hadn’t slept in your own bed in fifteen days, already feeling giddy at the thought of snuggling up in your bed, binge watching mindless reality tv, and fueling yourself with nothing but sweet treats.

matt was the first to speak, already standing up gathering his things from the table, “as much as i love you all i’m going to rush home to the wife and kids, i miss their little faces”

you all followed suit, collecting all of your belongings and saying your goodbyes, all of you raving about your week off plans. you walked to your desk, grabbing your bag and keys. you walked towards the elevator, pressing the down button, watching it slowly fall from floor 10 to floor 9, before tapping your foot, slightly agitated about how long it seemed to be taking.

you heard footsteps heading your way, small taps on sneakers on the slick marble floor, before felt a slight nudge at your side “you know, being mad at it won’t make it work any faster”

you chuckle looking up, making eye contact with spencer before giving him a small grin. “i’m just really ready to get home.”

the elevator doors open, spencer waved his hand up, allowing you to go first, before following you in and pressing the main lobby button. “you in such a rush because you have a hot date to get to?”

you looked up at him and grinned, you felt spencer’s hand move to your back, rubbing the center in small circles with your thumb. you felt your face get hot and you allowed yourself to slightly lean into his touch. the elevator stopped at the lobby, a small chime signaling the doors opening, and you felt spencer’s hand fall back to his side before you both stepped out of the box.

you both made your way to the parking garage, spencer walking you to your car before he headed towards the station to take the subway. you got to your car, unlocking it and throwing your purse inside before looking up at him with a slight smirk “text me when you’re on your way”

he shook his head and laughed as he gave you a small wave goodbye and headed towards the subway.

~~~

it had only been three days since you were given the week off, enjoying the company of spencer in your bed two thirds of those nights. he texted you the same night as the encounter in the parking garage, eager to see you in a private setting.

“look how pretty you look sitting on my cock”

you were straddling him, your head thrown back with both hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep a quick pace. he had his hands pressed deep into your hips, helping you move in a fluid motion. you felt him hit your sweet spot every time you made your way down, letting out tiny whimpers at the feeling.

“i love when you use me like this, getting yourself off like a good girl”

you couldn’t hold in the loud moan you had been holding, feeling your stomach flutter at his words. you felt a slight burning in your thighs and you knew spencer’s shoulders held tiny crescent shapes from how tight your grip had become. you felt one of spencer’s hands move to your clit, rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

he grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. you looked at him and grinned, fucked out and eager before you felt a sudden surge against your cheek before he let his hand rest there, rubbing his thumb to ease the pain.

“you gonna cum for me angel?”

“fuck- yes spence, i’m so- so close” you couldn’t even hear the words coming out of your mouth, your heartbeat beating so loud your hearing going out.

you moved your head down pushing your forehead to spencer’s with your eyes tight.

“cum for me baby, wanna feel you tighten around my cock.”

you felt that tight feeling in your stomach, the mix of his skilled fingers and his thick cock rubbing against your walls caused your breath to stop in your throat, your release making you see stars. you stopped your movement, breathing heavily as you leaned down into spencer. you felt soft kisses on your head and face, peppering you all over.

“did so good for me baby, love watching you use me”

you smiled against his neck, starting to do your own kissing. you felt his breath hitch when you found the sweet spot behind his ear, the small mole behind it always guiding you to the exact spot. you took your time, sucking and biting at the spot, grinding your hips, ready to keep going.

spencer gave your thigh a quick tap, before telling you to bend over. you were quick to roll over, propping yourself up on your hands and knees before slowly wiggling yourself back and forth to him.

you felt a sharp pain on your ass, a slight stinging feeling before you felt a tight grip run through your hair. you felt your body being pulled tightly to his, his chest flushed against your back. he moved one of his hands to your chest, a his fingers glazing your nipple, his other moving to your neck, pushing his thumb and middle finger to just the right spot to apply pressure.

“i let you use me, now it’s my turn to use you angel” spencer had leaned down to your ear, kissing your jaw before pushing you back down onto the bed.

spencer leaned down slightly, gripping your ass with both hands before spreading them. he let a trail of spit fall to your eager hole, before he rubbed it onto your pussy, giving your clit extra attention.

you moaned and pushed back into his touch before you felt him enter you quick and unforgiving, your ass jiggling with every move of his hips.

“fuck- so fucking deep” you arched your back, begging your body to somehow take him deeper. you felt his firm calloused hands rub against your back before settling into a position on your hips, his thumbs pressing small bruises into your skin.

“taking me so fuck-”

spencer’s voice was cut off by his phone ringing, vibrating on the nightstand beside you, and you felt his hips slow down, letting out a soft sigh as he was considering stopping completely.

you felt him hesitate but needed him to keep going, pushing your hips back into his trying to keep both of your focus.

“spence, please don’t stop” your voice still unsteady, “just ignore it”

spencer pulled out of you, and you let out a whine as the loss of contact. you rolled yourself over, making yourself comfortable on the pillows expecting him to walk away to return the call.

instead he leaned back over you and pulled you into a deep kiss, holding your face in both hands. your lips parting slightly when you felt his tongue lick your bottom lip, allowing your tongues to meet.

spencer grabbed his dick, rubbing over your clit before he lined himself up with you, gasping when he pushed himself in.

“you’re so fucking perfect angel”

he pulled away, lifting your legs up to your shoulders and latching his hands to your thighs. he found himself moving slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him.

you moved your hands to play with your nipples, rolling the hard buds between your finger tips. he bent down, pushing his weight into you, almost like he was folding you. he pooled spit into his mouth before he let it go to your clit, moving his hand to the bundle of nerves.

“want you to cum again for me pretty girl, want one more before i fill you up”

you let out a moan, sighing before you went to speak “gonna fill me-”

you were cut off by the phone ringing again, the buzzing sound making you forget your thoughts. spencer dropped your thighs and leaned over before giving you a quick kiss before he reached over to grab phone.

“spencer do not answer that”

he moved his finger to his lips, making a shushing motion “it’s emily”

you rolled your eyes, ready to kick him out and finish yourself off before heading to bed when you felt him move again. he moved his hand to cover your mouth before answering the phone.

“doctor reid”

you felt yourself get wetter, the sound of your slick filling the room, your moan mumbled behind his hand. spencer’s motion was relentless, his pace quick and brutal, jabbing your sweet spot with every push.

“i thought we were getting the week off”

your leg was lifted up, making the angle even deeper and you felt your eyes roll back, out of pleasure or annoyance you couldn’t tell. there was no way you were getting called in.

“i can get a hold of her for you, i remember her mentioning something about having a date this week”

you grinned, giggling behind his hand before spencer moved the phone to hold it on his shoulder, letting his now free hand to move back down. he never took his eyes off you, holding a shit eating grin as he felt you squeezing him tighter, squirming at how close you were. you furrowed your brows and pinched your eyes shut.

“i’ll be there in an hour”

you heard the phone beep, signaling the call was disconnected. spencer moved his hand away from your mouth down to your neck, cursing as he heard you gasp.

“did so good for me pretty girl”

his hips stopped deep inside you as you felt his cock twitch, filling you up. he groaned as he felt you cumming again, keeping his thumb in place to help your orgasm finish and you let a loud moan out in response. spencer gave you a long kiss, nipping at your bottom lip before he trailed his lips down your neck. he pulled himself out of you, grinning at the soft sigh you let out. he kept his lips on your body, trailing them down your stomach before reaching your thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

he moved his tongue and licked a long strip up your pussy, sucking on your clit before pulling up to look at you, shit eating grin on his face. “we’ve got roughly 30 minutes, that’s enough time for me to help you clean up, right angel?”

[silentprose]

The devil couldn’t reach me, so he made me watch my favorite person give up on me.

[existennialmemes]

Christmas Movie, but it's from the perspective of Jesus Christ, who sneaks back to Earth, and is immediately confused why everyone is celebrating his birthday in December.

He wanders into a Megachurch on accident, thinking it was a mini mall, and hears an evangelist (who lives in a mansion) taking the Lord's name in Vain to guilt donations out of people. Then he gets arrested for rushing the stage and beating that guy with a whip.

A significant chunk of the movie is just his elaborate escape from prison, wherein he starts a riot upon learning how cruelly the prisoners are treated by a blasphemous carceral system.

The movie ends with him using God Magic on the president of the US, and being formally declared the Anti Christ by the Catholic Church

[tokoyamisstuff]

Random thought how good do you think each invincible variant would be at eating 😺 is there any of them who would be an actual munch

18+ explicit content

Sis, don't- it's not worth it...

Other variants under the cut!

Omnivincible is more skilled than most of them. I just feel like he's got a mature approach and wouldn't just mindlessly delve in like some horny teenager.

He'd take his sweet time, enjoying himself without necessarily wanting something in return. In general he takes great pride in causing you pleasure. Is also pretty creative. After all his strenght allows him to eat you out in positions you didn't even know were possible.

Thought you can only come once at a time? He'll prove you otherwise.

Movincihawk constantly brags about his 'superior technique' but at the bottom line he's not all that good at it, sorry.

It's not like he isn't skilled, but he's pretty selfish and impatient. Any kind of foreplay is not a priority for him in general, he likes to go straight to the point.

Fucks pretty well to make up for it though.

Sinister Mark acts like he's doing you a favor, but with how eager he buries himself between your legs it's evident to say he enjoys this as much - if not even more than - you.

This man pins your thighs apart and eats you out like a man starving. Your taste drives him fucking crazy, so yes it could happen that he bites down harder than he intended to.

Likes to eat you out on your period. No I will not elaborate.

Striped/Target Invincible is super vocal during the whole thing. His grunts and groans vibrate against your folds, he doesn't even notice the effect you have on him.

Hope you're ready for the whole range of dirty talk, mostly degrading but occasionally throwing in words of acknowledgement. Tells you how this is your place - beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Uses his fingers better than his tongue, but is fairly good at both. The combination will send you straight to heaven.

No Goggles Invincible is probably the biggest tease on the entire planet.

This man will push you to your absolute limits, reducing you to a whining, moaning, begging puddle of lust. But he's got no mercy, prolonging your sweet torture for as long as he can - you're only allowed to cum if he says you're done.

With him the thin line between pain and pleasure is blurred into a mixture of pure overstimulation, but goddamn it's worth it.

Viltrumite Mark isn't familiar with earth's customs of intimacy. In their culture, canonically, they solely have sex for procreation. Though we never saw Debbie complaining about Nolan either, so I'm confident he can learn.

Gets the hang of it pretty fast, and quickly grows insateable with this new form of closeness he never got to experience before. He's an absolute mess, almost breaking the bedframe as he pathetically humps the mattress, wanting more more more of you.

Needs lots of cuddles and to be told he did a good job afterwards, pretty please.

Prisoner Mark was in solitary confinement for over a year - prepare to be destroyed. R.I.P.

He'll dive in between your legs and won't leave this place until he's got his fill of you, which could take him a while so get cozy.

Not an inch of your body is left untouched, as if he intents to memorize every detail, just in case you'd slip from his grasp once again.

Be prepared to cum until your body gives up. Man's got to make up for the time he spent away from you.

Unmasked Mark is very gentle, almost cautious in his efforts as if you were a fragile flower one needed to properly care for or it'd wither. He still can't fully believe you're here with him, so he's extra anxious about doing something wrong.

You'll slowly and sensually be guided towards your orgasm, his eyes never leaving yours as he reverently observes your every reaction.

Expect some premium aftercare!

Fully Masked Invincible knows you inside and out, has memorized all the weak spots that make you sing for him. He is completely and utterly devoted to your pleasure, maybe even a little too eager in his efforts since he tends to forget himself in the process.

To him your body is a temple meant for worship, so you'd relentlessly get showered in praise and compliments while he explores your body.

Will initiate at every given opportunity, but never pushes it. He just wants to make you happy, really!

[bunny-jpeg]

honey, i'm home!!, convict!simon r.- you were a bleeding heart, a softie. maybe that was why you took a photo of the flyer taped against the glass wall of a bus stop. it was advertising a service for people on the outside to communicate with convicts in prison. those who didn't have family on the outside. it broke your heart as you thought about it on your commute to work.

these poor people, all alone with anyone to keep them tethered to outside. it must be so isolating, so cold. you knew the risks and when you put in your information on the website, you didn't pay too much mind to the possibilities. you were surprised when you got an email back saying that they had found you a inmate to be a pen pal with.

simon riley - five year sentence for assaulting a police officer. he had no living family and was allowed to join the program due to good behavior during his time in prison. the mugshot of him made your eyes go wide. blond, a smattering of moles and freckles, alluring brown eyes (even in the horrid mugshot light), a crooked nose from multiple breakages and scars on his face.

if your jaw dropped at the sight of his photo imagine the surprise on his face when they gave him all your information. no photo though. but enough about you to pull the convict in. oh, you were beautiful. at least on paper you were.

ideal wife-y material. that made simon chub up in his jumpsuit. he didn't care what you looked like, by the first letter he was already calling you his wife to the likes of johnny. calling you missus riley by the time he had been exchanging letters with you for a month. he learned so much about you, and you became more endearing. you told him your favourite movies, that some flowers made you allergies act up, your love of animals. you even told him about the stuffed animal you 'rescued' from a puddle, washed it up and named it tulip who now sits on your desk at home. it was sweet, you were sweet.

simon near killed a man in a botched robbery and you were talking to him like it was a first date. mind you, over letters but simon loved them. you were advised not to send anything in the mail, your address was obscured with the service's address so simon couldn't find you once he got out. but, with the right words and promises, he had your full name, the location of your job and the address of your home. you were even sweet enough let him put it as his main address once he left prison. already the sweetest thing since honey.

but simon was a greedy man, asked for a few photos of you. while you were shy, he said to you, "wanna know what my girl looks like. wanna know how she looks so when i come home, i'm able to recognize her in any crowd." and you sent a few photos, and to simon's surprise. a suggestive one.

he could see a peek of your breasts and he realized he wanted to get his paws all over them. he wanted to leave pretty bruises on that tender flesh. mark what was his, that was what he learned in prison. in order to keep something he had to keep a tight grip on it. not even johnny saw the photos, you were for his eyes only.

you were nice enough to print them on good quality photo paper, and after that there was an increase in simon's good behavior. he had to get out as soon as possible to sink his achy cock in his missus. and when the day finally came and you came to pick him up. he already felt tight in his jeans.

and not that you were so innocent either, you had your hand on his thigh while you drove home. months of dirty talk over letters, the time simon basically wrote poetry about how he wanted to taste between your legs was still a favourite to read while you were all alone in your apartment. your hand between your legs, imagining a man like simon pleasing you in a way that made orgasm come quick.

your self pleasure was nothing compared to the feeling of simon against your skin. you barely got his scarce belongings into your flat before he was pressed up against your behind. his large, rough hand on your hip, which made your stomach leap. your core got warmer.

he then said to you, "aw, doll. that's not a way to greet your husband. been away for too long, need to feel her." and then dropped his duffel bag in favour of having you pressed up against the door of your flat with your shorts soon around your ankles.

"simon! ah!" you said as he held you by the shoulders against the door while he got his belt off and his cock out. five years without a hole to call home, but he got out of the pit with a little (future) wife to happily make up for loss time.

when he sank into you, it was a religious experience, "oh honey, i'm home." before he got both hands on your hips and his hips hit up against your ass. there was little time to get familiar, it was a deep seated want. simon rutted against you like a feral dog and the pleasure made you mind race and your knees wobble.

you two couldn't even get to the bedroom, not that simon cared. he'd happily have you over the hood of his car. you knew he didn't have any satisfactions from the outside. you were being good and being his connection to the outside world. it was only fair that he thanked you with all the orgasms he could wring out of you. he'd make sure that the third round was in your soft bed. but his thrusts were heavy and desperate and the uneven pace made your brain become flooded with pleasure.

you tried to find some kind of leverage against the door, but you were simply stuck against him. you were fucked against the wood door with your hips in your convict lover's hands. he may have smudged a little bit of the details of his crimes, but it was alright. you were such a forgiving soul that you let him into your life, into your home, into your womb. he couldn't remember if you still took the pill, but it was too late for that. not while your slick cunt drooled all over his balls.

why complain about a slice of heaven when it was dropped into his lap. he eventually wrapped both arms around your middle and fucked into you feverishly. he felt the excitement in his body as he moved against you. you felt amazing, there was a certain beauty to you as you took his cock was cemented that you were his. you'll have a ring on your finger and a fat belly by christmas. the thought made him twitch.

been too long since he had a homecooked meal, and while having your cunt grasp his cock. he knew that he'd be spoiled with his wife's cooking. if it was as warm as you pussy, maybe it'll reform him more than prison ever did.

after so many years without a touch of a woman, it felt nice. it felt great to work his cock into you. have you squished up against the door as he worked himself into you. breaking in his home, breaking in his wife. what more could he want. even gave that stomach of yours a sweet little pat.

be a good girl and give him a chunky riley baby by new year.

when you climaxed, you basically were limp in his arms and he pressed you further against the door for leverage. he purred to you, "that's it, that's is, doll. you're doing so good, fuck. been wantin' this for ages. good girl, good cunt. all for me. not gettin' into trouble while i was in, right? keepin' yourself for me."

you nodded, cheek pressed against the door as he continued to fuck you. your head felt dizzy. you didn't bother dating after you started your correspondence with simon. no point, he kept your happy. simon knew that loyalty was rewarded, so he did so by shoving every inch of his length inside of you an finishing straight into the back of your womb.

he groaned and gave you a few more thrusts before he pulled out. he patted you on the behind and kissed the back of your neck, "happy to be home, doll. our home. now why don't you show me around." and chuckled when you could barely string together a sentence. he pulled you up against his chest and near leaned over you to kiss you on the cheek, "look alive, sunshine. gotta show your husband his new home. except i think it might be too small. especially when the twins come." and it went in one ear and out the other, you dumbly nodded and simon did the right thing and fucked you over the coffee table until you came a second and third time. it's alright, he'll get a tour of his home by fucking you over every available surface. <3

a/n: happy near year, my dear bunnies <3

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[zorangezest]

(part six) we've got some chill filler chapters to get through before some really exciting stuff can happen!! thank you for reading along!!

once again, tw for blood, violence, and very bad times for this whole series.

the next part will be shorter and very different to give myself a break!

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[mariasont]

SLIDE NUMBER 42

spencer struggles to stay focused during his FBI seminar after watching you accept another man's phone number

pairings: spencer reid x shy!reader warnings: post prison spencer, fem reader, fluffy fluff, pre-relationship mutual pining, jealousy, hot people who don't know they're hot, reader is so oblivious wc: 2.4k request: here

His speech is going fine. Good even, by technical standards. Solid pacing, no detectable tremor in his voice, and the audience seems engaged, or at least polite enough to fake it.

No eyes have glazed into vacant stares of boredom, no one has made sudden exits conveniently coinciding with his most critical points. Someone even laughed at his heuristics joke. Sure, that laugh might have stemmed from social obligation rather than genuine amusement, but Spencer’s ego isn’t picky. Validation is validation, however pitiful its origins.

After a hundred (give or take, but who’s counting? Certainly not him anymore) FBI seminars, public speaking has downgraded itself from gut-twisting terror to something more akin to low-level tinnitus. Persistent, yes, but easily ignored if he doesn’t focus on it.

Today, though, there’s a blemish in his confidence, a nearly imperceptible fissure disrupting an otherwise flawless delivery, and annoyingly, he knows exactly what’s causing it.

Or rather, who. 

It would be easy, tempting, even, to attribute it to jet lag or his questionable decision to skip breakfast, despite knowing precisely how much glucose his brain demands to function optimally.

It’s approximately 130 grams daily, for the record.

But under close examination, these excuses collapse.

His mouth dutifully churns out the familiar concepts — cognitive shortcuts, behavioral reinforcement, and a half-dozen other psychological principles he could probably recite even if heavily sedated.

His eyes, though, are less disciplined.

Spencer no longer pretends he isn’t looking for you. Plausible deniability lost its appeal around the hundredth time, so now he’s squarely planted in the acceptance stage, routinely scanning briefing rooms, glancing down the jet aisle, even sweeping through crowded streets that realistically hold zero probability of your sudden appearance.

Stranger things have happened though.

Your usual chair, predictably front and center, has been taken by someone else. The disruption alone unsettles him, an absurd reaction, he knows, considering the concept of assigned seating vanished after high school.

But worse, far worse, your new seat, slightly further back to the left, is paired closely with a stranger. A male. A male stranger.

Did he mention that?

From this distance, Spencer reads you the way he would scrutinize grainy case footage — frame by frame, microexpression after microexpression. You sit poised, shoulders relaxed in a way that seems sincere, fingers neatly intertwined in practiced, polite calm. The hesitant half-smile on your face is one he’s memorized by now, the kind you deploy when responses fail you but courtesy remains compulsory. 

There’s nothing outwardly troubling. No anxious shifts, no rapid blinking patterns, no unconscious signals suggesting underlying distress. And the man beside you remains scrupulously neutral, displaying no signs of threat or territorial intent. No encroaching hand, no aggressive hand over your chair.

Textbook respectful. Harmless, even.

Spencer hates him, regardless.

Maybe hate is a strong word. Spencer is self-aware enough to admit that. He’s nothing if not precise with language, after all. But the irritation brewing in his chest feels warranted, even if it’s inconvenient and flagrantly unprofessional. 

He should be paying attention to his own presentation, should be demonstrating at least a shred of respect for the material, and especially for the painstaking work you poured into it. 

Last Thursday alone, you spent two entire hours rearranging his deck into a visual narrative.

He had fun watching as you tensed each time his hand brushed yours or whenever he leaned a fraction too close, your shoulders tightening in a way he mentally filed under adorably flustered.

He also (less fun) watched you agonize over font choices as though the fate of the world depended on serif or sans-serif, and the way you had gotten so worked up trying to pick between two indistinguishable shades of blue. 

Eventually, he broke. Softly, half-laughing, he told you, it doesn’t matter which one, I’ll love it regardless because you picked it.

He could almost hear your internal plea for the earth to kindly intervene and swallow you whole. And as usual, Spencer pretended he saw nothing, politely glossing over the obvious.

It had, after all, become his speciality — noticing everything about you and pretending he didn’t.

His eyes focus back on you, in the present to see that there’s a napkin involved with the stranger, accompanied by a ballpoint pen scratching digits hastily onto the flimsy, coffee-stained paper, folded once before sliding across the table.

You accept it without hesitation, slipping it beneath your fingers. To any else, the exchange would seem mundane. And maybe it genuinely is mundane.

Maybe people pass you phone numbers all the time and Spencer’s just blind to it, trapped comfortably back in plausible deniability. 

And honestly, why wouldn’t this be a regular occurrence? He should’ve considered this months ago. From a purely observational standpoint, you’ve practically designed to attract attention. Intelligent. Kind. Beautiful. Very beautiful in a soft, disarming way that defies simple categorization.

He expends enormous effort pretending your very existence doesn’t accelerate his heart-rate into concerning ranges. It’s possible that other, saner men don’t waste precious energy on such fruitless, exhausting self-deception.

Spencer blinks slowly, disoriented by the sudden wave of heat climbing uninvited from beneath his collar. The fabric feels restrictive, as though actively tightening, trying to suffocate him purely out of spite.

For the life of him, he can’t remember which slide he’s on, or even if the current slide bears any relation to the words he was previously speaking. His pointer hand hovers mid-gesture, awkwardly frozen.

There’s a distracting ringing in his ears — no, he corrects himself, not ringing.

Silence.

His own silence stretching across the room as he mentally scrambles to pinpoint exactly when he stopped talking. Judging from the expectant stares, probably mid-sentence.

Your eyes find his almost instantly, brows pinched the tiniest bit, like you’re puzzled but trying not to be disrespectful about it. Spencer can feel the sweat prickling beneath his shirt.

But then you smile and give him a thumbs up.

Big and bright and encouraging like you’re trying to telepathically remind him that he’s doing great, as if this is only a mild, forgivable stumble from a nervous academic tripped up by nothing more serious than transition slide number 42.

It’s not funny. He tells himself that with conviction. But there’s some part of him that wants to laugh anyway, if only to release the pressure building inside him.

Instead, he settles for a restrained nod, stretches a smile over clenched teeth, pretends it feels natural then regains his place in the presentation.

Guilt rushes in on the tail end of his anger (anger? jealousy? — the terminology feels suspiciously accurate, but labeling it as so feels premature and vaguely terrifying). He’s uncertain what specific transgression triggered this, but his nervous system apparently feels apologies are overdue, regardless.

Possibly because his thoughts are increasingly heading into Neanderthal territory with every look the man gives you.

Thankfully around halfway, maybe just past that mark, the nameless man beside you rises. It’s discreet, he simply leans in toward you, exchanges some hushed, unintelligible words, then slips away.

The second the chair beside you empties though, that pressure in his chest loosens like a long-held muscle finally unclenched. Like oxygen flooding back into a room that had been vacuum-sealed.

Spencer rushes through his concluding remarks, murmuring a perfunctory thanks to the audience and moves swiftly off the stage.

No handshakes, no small talk, no waiting around to see if anyone has further questions. Frankly, he doesn’t have the bandwidth to pretend he cares.

His mind is fixated solely on you, his priority laser-focused on bridging the gap he’s spent the past hour actively trying not to acknowledge, intent on reaching you first before anyone else gets the chance.

You can’t help yourself from smiling the instant he comes into view, then immediately worry that it’s too much smile, a full wattage beam reserved for grander occasions than a simple post-presentation hello.

But then again, this is Spencer.

Spencer, who just minutes ago had half the room on the edge of their seats, eyes round with wonder, absorbing each detail like children watching a magic trick unfold.

You’re fairly certain he would appreciate that comparison.

“You were incredible,” you say, feeling a little winded by your own excitement. Hopefully, that accounts for the weird expression you’re pretty sure is plastered all over your face. “Seriously, you sounded so confident, and that one part, the twins with the shared delusion? You could hear everyone holding their breath.”

Spencer holds your gaze, expression carefully blank, as if he’s momentarily forgotten how to react. He finally swallows, glancing downward briefly before forcing his eyes back to yours. 

“Thanks,” he says, “to tell you the truth, it felt a bit… off.”

“Really?” you blurt out. “It was probably the slides, honestly. I knew I should’ve picked the darker blue for the headers. The light blue looked fine on my laptop, but projected up there it looked way too… fluorescent. Sorry if it threw you off, or you know, temporarily damaged your retinas.”

His lips curve into something resembling a smile, but there’s a noticeable emptiness behind it, a shadow of the quietly affection grin he saves for Garcia when she insists on inventing some silly nickname for him, or that gently softened look he gives you when you ask him to double-check emails you’re irrationally convinced you wrote incorrectly.

This one feels different. More distant, maybe.

Was that too much? Did you overshoot the tone? Did you mistake his pause for an opening and trample right through it? Did the slides really throw him off? You don’t know, but your mouth is already moving again.

“I mean, no one probably even noticed the color thing. I just… I did. Not that it mattered. The content was what people were paying attention to. Your content, not mine, obviously. Just — sorry, I —”

“The slides were perfect,” he cuts in, shaking his head. “Really, thank you for putting them together.”

Warmth blooms aggressively across your cheeks, spreading upward to your ears until you’re positive they must be visibly burning.

You nod vigorously, maybe too much so, because words seem hazardous at this point. You’re 90% sure the only sound you would make is some kind of mouse-adjacent squeak.

He nods toward the row of now-empty chairs.

“Next time, would you mind sitting a bit closer?” he asks. “If there’s a technical glitch, having you close by could save me from another awkward pause.”

“I was planning to.” You let out a laugh, ducking your head. “But someone got there first and I thought it’d be weird if I challenged them to a duel or something.”

He laughs at that and your heart reacts accordingly.

“Tell you what,” he says, “next time I’ll reserve your seat myself. No need to resort to sword fights on my behalf.”

A chair scrapes violently a few feet away, loud enough to startle you mid-nod. You flinch, pivot slightly, and your purse, which was balanced precariously on the back of your chair, swings off and to the floor. 

Lip balm tubes, scattered pens, mint wrappers, crumbled receipts, and a pitiful handful of coins erupt from the bag like tiny projectiles, landing messily at Spencer’s feet.

You’re halfway through an apology that’s shaping up to be spectacularly frantic when he crouches beside you.

“It’s fine —” he reassures, patiently herding your scattered belongings until his hand stops dead, hovering oddly over something.

A folded napkin. He picks it up gently, like he’s trying not to crumple it, and you immediately recognize it, the paper, the stupid casual tilt of the handwriting. The guy’s phone number paired with an invitation for coffee or drinks or something similarly forgettable.

Honestly, you barely registered it at the time, dismissed it entirely after a polite smile and obligatory nod. It meant nothing then. It means even less now. 

Your brain lurches, caught in a panicked tug-of-war between explaining yourself, pretending nothing happened, or diving headfirst into an apology (your well-worn, anxiety-ridden default).

Because it all suddenly feels painfully amateurish, unbelievably unprofessional, especially in the relentless spotlight of being the newest face, the eager-to-please media liaison who occasionally gets mistaken for someone’s assistant or coffee-fetcher at least twice per conference. 

You already feel like you’re playing catch-up to the rest of them, especially him.

And now, somehow, you’ve inadvertently become the girl who collects phone numbers at work functions. It’s not that you wanted it, but refusing just felt unnecessarily harsh.

And what were you supposed to say? 

Sorry, but I’m secretly nursing a hopeless infatuation for the lanky genius on the stage with an alphabet soup of degrees, beautiful hands, and a voice you would happily let narrate even your most tedious existence? 

Arguably even less professional.

You take the napkin from his hand quickly, tucking it deep into your bag like maybe that’ll erase the last thirty seconds.

“That wasn’t, um, supposed to be…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Spencer interjects, gaze lowered, “I imagine it happens often.”

You press your lips together. Nervously, you steal a glance at him, noting the clench of his jaw and the almost angry crease between his brows.

“It doesn’t, actually.”

Both of you straighten at once, shoulders grazing clumsily as he smooths down his sleeves.

You silently wish, not for the first time, you could translate his face into something tangible. Profiler by osmosis, apparently, isn’t a thing.

“Well,” he says, like he’s still thinking it over. “They’re clearly behind the curve.”

Your stomach dives into freefall, landing roughly somewhere near where your purse had just been. Still, you muster a breezy smile, hand flicking dismissively.

“Oh, um, you don’t need to say that,” you say lightly, even though your mind is already sprinting between seven — no, eight — different theories on what exactly he meant by that. “But thanks.”

“I think I kind of do. Because if anyone’s asking for your number, I think it should be at least someone who —”

“Dr. Reid?” Someone interrupts, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Do you have a second to talk about the regression data on slide 19?”

Spencer nods, starting to turn, but not before his eyes catch yours again. Just once.

His mouth curves into the slightest of smiles, teasing in a way you’ve never seen, as though he’s entirely aware of the words left unsaid and exactly how they’re going to occupy your thoughts in the meantime.

You despise this new smile. You adore this new smile. You’re doomed, either way.

Without a second glance, you fish the napkin from your purse, walking to the nearest trash can and dropping it inside. 

You wonder if he’ll circle back. If he’ll finish the sentence.

And if he doesn’t, well, you’ll be thinking about it anyway.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanded! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[wordsofwhimsy]

did somebody ask which version of mark is puttin it down best?

guess i'll give my analysis 😮‍💨

main!mark is all about pleasing you, sooo he's definitely giving the other boys a run for their money. his oral & finger game? UNMATCHED. he's not dumb and aggressive about it like the majority of the others. he keeps it slow, intentional, so dedicated, living in your pleasure. the more praise you give him the better. his sex game tho takes awhile to come up to par - he's so scared of hurting you for soo long that he just takes it too easy, or doesn't take the lead at all. once he learns the fine art of blowing your back out without killing you tho? 😏

mohawk!mark is soo aggressively fun, but he's really only in it for his own pleasure. he kinda just assumes (rightly so) that you're gonna feel good either way but he never bothers to actually check in with you, see how you're doing lol it's probably also a MUST for you to suck his dick every time, forcing your head down and then mocking you when you gag or gasp for air. he doesn't care to return the favor too often but if you whine too much he will. it's not really that great tho - he's rushing and careless, just trying to move on to the main event

viltrumite!mark takes some teaching. he's of the mindset that sex is just for procreation, and if this is a scenario where he's taken you back to viltrum he's not going to really feel the need to view it any other way. but if he's staying on earth with you? well, sex sells baby and the influence is all around. he starts noticing things in movies and in songs, stuff on the internet--hell even billboards and magazines. don't be fooled his dickin is good even when it's boring missionary but once he starts coming around to trying all the other fun things? oh lawd have mercy

omni!mark is an interesting mix of dominance without aggression, no dirty talk. all business, really but this man IS in the business of pleasure - for you at least. he struggles to let you take the lead though which is kinda boring sometimes, and anything kinky? like spanking or choking? absolutely not. you're not some scallywag hoodlum (LMFAO) and he's definitely not going to treat you like one. buuut if you start talking dirty and cussing? he might be flustered, and maybe even a little more turned on than usual (he'd never admit it)

sinister!mark is all about HIM HIM HIM. but the caveat of this is he needs to know he's GOOD at what he's doing - which means you need to feel good too. he's so unbelievably aggressive and doesn't do missionary. you are not coming away without bruises and marks every single time. i think he likes to make you dance for him too beforehand. that's his idea of foreplay - something that reminds you both who's in charge and who it's all for. you better hope he's not in the mood to go down on you cause that bitch bites 😭

no goggles/lensless!mark is probably my fav 🤭 is literally 100% about whatever it is you're into. i guess except missionary whoops. like he's fine throwing it in there occasionally but not a chance he's opening or ending in that position. in fact switching positions is HIS personal favorite thing. honestly his oral is so-so. he's just too damn talkative and can't focus on the task at hand. he also doesn't take it well either - the man's LOUD. and honeestly busts pretty quick but that's okay! he bounces back quicker. viltrumite stamina is crazy and his libido just adds to it

shiesty!mark has probably fucked more people than all of them combined so, yeah, he's got the practice and experience. he KNOWS his dick is phenomenal and tbh if he's not really into you he's letting you do most of the work. he thinks he's doing YOU favor by letting you ride it. but if you were hard to get? ohhh he's got something to prove now, and trust he will. this man reaches spots none of the others even knows exist, uses his strength in a way that is just chefs kiss - pinning you without hurting you, playing with your nipples and the other sensitive parts with expert care. and probably my fav thing about him is that he's the only one (except maybe main!mark) who ever thinks to put on musiccc

moustache!mark is 😛 father dearest. TOTALLY showing you what it feels like to be owneddd - unquestionably, but not in the way sinister does. he does it with affection. you know, like a 'pet' and all that jazz. he's got this way of making you feel simultaneously small and like the most important person in the world. and when he goes down on youuu? THE TICKLE?? biiitch stop. he also is the one who appreciates the thickies the most ughh like he NEEDS all that ass in his hands, in his lap, on his dick. the love handles? the tummy? give him alllat - trust ☝️ he can handle it

prisoner!mark is an interesting one. if we're talking straight out the pen? he's an ANIMAL. i'm talking y'all are going at it aaall night long, him painfully impatient through every little break you insist he gives you. he's also physically the strongest of them all, and, yeah, it shows. all that body pressed into you? those arms? 🥴 idk how anatomically that would even work but for some reason i feel like he'd have a thicker cock too. he'd be so deep and guttural with his groans, all in your ear with it. no holding back. after some time though i think he'd be focused on you and learning what you like - buuut at the end of the day, he still is the most deprived and wants it ALWAYS

[bagboys-posts]

How you doing beautiful I seen you in liked you but I'm 27 years old 6'5 African women.

@racheal thompson

..Corrlinks.. Rachael Thompson 32769-074 FCI Tallahassee 501 Capital Circle NE Tallahassee, FL 32301

Age: 39 Hair: Black Eyes: Brown Weight: 140 Height: 5'1" Divorced 2 children, Daughter 19 Son 13 Release Date: Dec. 2016 Race: White

Hi! My name is Rachael. Family friends call me Rae. I was born and raised in Myrtle Beach, SC. I think of myself as a fun loving, hard working country girl. I have a good sense of humor, easy to get along with. I love to laugh and have fun. I love the outdoors. I’m one to try new and exciting things. I’m looking forward to a new and fresh start at life. I’m looking for someone who shares the same interests. I’m also willing to relocate, but my home is beautiful just the same. smile emoticon If you’re interested, please contact me at the address listed. I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Your friend to be, Rae heart emoticon

[clairewritesfanfics]

Mark Grayson Variants as Husbands

Characters: Emperor Mark, Mohawk Mark, No Goggles Mark, Omni-Mark, Prisoner Mark

Emperor/Target Mark

Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t have any concubines. He is mature enough to know that he doesn’t have the capacity to manage a harem of alien brides. Despite his occasional childishness, he is devoted to you and you alone and takes great pride in his monogamy. He would be lying if he said he doesn’t want a harem composed of versions of you though.

He can be, for lack of a better term, a brat and insists on “my way or no way.” But in the end, he always buckles to what you want, because he hates upsetting you.

He values your opinion. You are his consort, his only equal. He will always seek your advice before he makes any major decisions, especially ones that may affect the empire.

Mohawk Mark

Reads all the books you like to read, and even the fanfics you deemed “shameful.” Though he teases you, he never mocks you. 

He’s a philosophy nerd–actually, he’s a total bookworm who’ll read anything, from The Nancy Drew Cookbook to the Kama Sutra–but he has a soft spot for Camus and his peers. He talks to you about the inherent meaninglessness of life while you two eat pizza and watch TV.

He loves seeing you use and wear the stuff he buys you. It’s rare for him to actually make a purchase with the intention of getting you things, but he always thinks of you. Even when he isn’t thinking of you, he can’t help but think of you. 

One of his favorites is the heart-shaped locket which contained braided locks of his hair. He has an exact replica of that locket that contained your hair, too. 

No Goggles Mark

Resembles a puppy dog who loves his owner too much. A cute, obsessive, six-foot-tall murderous dog. His day starts and ends with you.

He would probably be your devoted househusband if he had any choice in the matter, but you don’t like him being alone. 

Out of all of them, he’s the reddest flag purely from the fact that he has difficulty, or rather, has zero interest in interacting with others when you’re not around. 

He’s also one of the more competent fighters, but he always comes home bleeding and bruised. It’s because you fuss over him. More blood means more affection. 

He doesn’t get the human concept of the “nagging wife” because he relishes in your voice, in your undivided attention. It doesn’t matter if you’re reprimanding him or praising him, whether you throw flowers or dirt, life with you is one big, beautiful garden. 

Omni-Mark

Appears cold and distant to outsiders, to the point that they can’t even picture him smiling or being all cuddly, but he’s just a man who knows when and how to separate business from pleasure.

He is very observant. He repairs any problems in the house before you even notice, like a leaky faucet or a squeaky door hinge. 

A man of his word, he prioritizes his commitments to you over everything else. If you two planned a vacation together on the other side of the world, then he is ignoring any and all calls from work. 

He has endless time, but time with you can only be for so long, which makes it all the more precious than the lives of everyone else in the universe. 

Prisoner Mark

The actual househusband.

He gets super competitive when it comes to cooking and maintaining the house’s cleanliness, which, while you do appreciate, concerns you a bit. You don’t want him to get too obsessed with the housework because it means he always finds an excuse to stay at home. Granted, he’s an ex-con, but you still want him to interact with other people.

Despite his rough exterior, he is still a sweetheart. When random thugs aren’t making trouble for him, he is pretty chill.

You find that you have nothing to worry about when you discover that he is on a first name basis with the cashier lady at the grocery you two frequent, is affectionately called “Boo Radley” by the neighborhood kids, feeds the ducks and pigeons near the park, and is loved by every dog and cat that crosses his path.

author's Note: I'm so lonely.

Masterlist | request rules | ask box Husband headcanons for: Cap Mark, Full Mask Mark, Maskless Mark, Shiesty Mark, Sinister Mark, Viltrumite Mark

Disclaimer: The images above are not mine but are screenshots from the Invincible TV series.

[papayasector]

Aura.

[navybrat817]

Give Me One More

Pairing: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You don't need Bucky. He's going to prove you wrong. Over and over and over...

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: DUBCON to be safe, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, masturbation, established and slightly toxic relationship, pet names, possessive behavior, family drama, betrayal, threats (not against reader), loose backstory, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit mean, okay?).

A/N: I spoke about prisoner!Bucky ages back and I couldn't let this go. Especially not when I'm looking at that beautiful edit by the more beautiful @nixakimbo! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own (but thanks to @whisperlullaby for discussing this man with me!). Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You pushed the curtain aside to look out the bedroom window, the clouds dark and thick in the sky. Your home used to be your safe haven, a place of comfort, and all you wanted to do now was escape from your prison of sorts. Not the kind of place your boyfriend, Bucky, spent time in. The bars that kept you in couldn't be seen by the naked eye.

“Can't stay in there all day,” Bucky said from the hall, his deep voice reminding you that you weren't alone.

You’d never be alone again.

“Yes, I can,” you called back. You had been in your bedroom for well over an hour since you snapped at him and left him alone in the living room. If staying in there meant avoiding him, you were fine with that.

You half expected him to stomp down the hall, but he only said, “You’re being a fucking brat.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as anger flowed through you. “Leave me alone, asshole!” You shouted, feeling every bit like the brat he said you were.

You weren’t sure what set you off today. It could've been because you were still angry that Bucky used you. How long did it take for an empire to fall? In your case, six months.

Half a year ago, Bucky Barnes bumped into you at your favorite coffee shop. Literally. He was large, built like a powerhouse, but his grip that kept you from falling was so gentle. One look in his cerulean eyes and you were a goner. He easily charmed his way into your life and bed. He treated you like a princess, better than any boyfriend before, and you naively believed it was fate that brought you together.

You should’ve known it wasn't the beginning of a happy new chapter in your story. It was a clock winding down to your doom. More specifically, your father’s doom. Because Bucky wanted to destroy the man who helped land him in jail.

The White Wolf, a nickname for Bucky you recently learned about, wasn't a good man. Far from it and far from being a reformed criminal. He took it personally that your dad got him put behind bars for a short time. So he tore his life apart. Took his job away. Urged his friends to abandon or turn on him. Got him put in jail. Bucky even rubbed it in his face that he fucked his daughter. All in six months.

It would almost be impressive if you weren't the one living with the aftermath.

Had your dad known exactly who you were seeing, he may have tried to stop you.

“Asshole,” you muttered.

What Bucky didn't plan on was falling for you or so he said. You were, apparently, his chance at happiness. Because of that, he wouldn't let you go. And he expected you to just forgive him and move forward.

How could you forgive him?

He promised he’d hunt you down if you tried to leave him. You naturally tried and didn't get very far. The sick part was how much you enjoyed him chasing after you and bringing you back. After he fucked you where he found you.

As if he read your mind, he called out, “I know you're frustrated. Bet if you sit on my cock you'll feel better.”

Your cheeks flamed, your panties damp. Damn him for still arousing you with so little words. “Go fuck yourself.”

That actually wasn't a bad idea. He was right. You were frustrated and itching to get out of your own skin. Maybe if you got yourself off, you’d feel a little better. Not happy, but better.

“I don't need him,” you said.

That was what you told yourself as you stripped down and got on the bed. But as you ran your hands along your breasts, gasping as you moved one hand lower, it didn't feel right. The normal fire within you didn't burn. Didn't even a flicker. A raw ache instead outweighed the pleasure you tried to give yourself.

“Damn it,” you muttered.

You heard Bucky’s dark chuckle from the doorway and made the mistake of looking his way. You weren't sure how long he'd been standing there, but his cock was free from the confines of his pants and he lost his shirt at some point, too. He didn't attempt to hide the array of scars and tattoos that littered his torso. Ones you traced with your fingers and tongue more times than you could count. Back when you weren't a pawn in his game.

But if you really were a pawn, why did he have your name tattooed over his chest?

“Looks like you need a hand,” he said, brushing back his long hair as his eyes moved along your body from head to toe.

You ignored your racing heart as you said through your teeth, “Go away.”

He tore your life apart like a tornado, leaving destruction where there was once calm and beauty. Instead of letting you pick up the pieces, he continued to wreck everything around you. He broke you, too, but you were also the only thing he put back together.

The smirk he gave you was one you used to adore. “What’s wrong, princess? Still mad at me?”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Yes, I’m fucking mad at you.”

“Still mad about the past? Or is it because you can't get out of your own head long enough to make yourself come?” He taunted, slowly stroking his thick cock. “Did you ever actually get yourself off before me? Or did you not know what an orgasm was until I gave you one?”

You watched with a lustful gaze as his hand moved up and down, your eyes not leaving the sight as you desperately tried to get some sort of relief. “I had plenty before you showed up,” you hissed, sliding a finger into your tight hole.

“You know, all you have to do is admit that I'm right: That I've ruined you and all you can think about is how good it feels when I'm fucking you. Admit it and I’ll get you off.”

Pushing another finger inside yourself, you refused to admit that he was telling the truth. Nothing felt as good as he did. And that was the problem, wasn't it? You shouldn't want or need him. Not after everything he had done to your family.

He groaned as he watched your fingers sink in. “You're so pathetic laying there. My pretty little slut wants to prove the impossible. Just wants to prove that she doesn't need me when we both know that's a fucking lie,” he grunted as his cock twitched, making you clench in want despite your anger at his words. “Better hurry up and say it. Otherwise I'm going to come all over you and you're going to be left begging to come and not get off at all.”

You whined as a tear fell from your eye. “You're an asshole. The lowest of the low.”

He chuckled as he brushed his thumb along the tip, watching as your eyes followed the motion. “Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings and that's mean, princess. That isn't you. I'm the mean one in this relationship.”

Your fingers froze as you narrowed your eyes. “Relationship? Don't you mean your prisoner?”

Your breath caught in your throat when he smirked, something darker than before. “You think you're a prisoner? You have no fucking idea. I’ve been to prison. This is a fucking walk in the park,” he said, pouring more salt in the open wound when he added, “And your dad knows all about prison now, doesn't he?”

You choked on your next breath. “How dare-”

“Relationship, prisoner, my girl. You're still fucking mine,” he snarled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “And I'm still right. So just say it. Tell me you need my cock and I'll get you off. Fuck that pretty pussy so good you cry for me. Won't even make you apologize for repeatedly calling me an asshole.”

“I wish I never met you,” you blurted out.

Guilt churned in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. Why did you still care after what he did? Why did he matter to you? “You don't mean that,” he whispered before he blinked, ice in his gaze. “You’re just being a fucking brat.”

You let out a small scream of frustration when you removed your fingers and reached for your side drawer where you kept your vibrator. If Bucky was going to keep being an asshole who wouldn't get you off, your toy would. But he didn't let you get very far. Not when he was on you in a flash, throwing the toy far behind him and pinning your wrists above your head.

His breathing was almost as heavy as yours.

“Oh no, princess. You're so confident you can come without me then that must mean you don't need any help at all coming,” he smirked, gripping your wrists tighter as you squirmed beneath him. You didn't dare look down when his cock brushed against your skin. “It's cute that you think you're stronger than I am. That sexual frustration must really be fucking with your head. I can fix that.”

“You're fucking sick. I don't… I… I don't need you,” you said, not having to see your eyes to know your pupils were blown with lust. Your tongue darted out to lick bottom lip before your gaze settled on his, challenging. “You need me more than I need you. What was it you said? That I was the best pussy you ever had? And you’d be happy to keep your cock in me all day every day?”

“Just like my cock is the best you ever had.”

You opened your legs a bit more when he clenched his jaw. “And you don't want to finish on me. You want to be in me. If it were any other guy, he'd-”

He growled when he grabbed your chin. It was a reminder of just how strong he was and how he could hurt you if he wanted to. “There are no other guys. Do you fucking hear me?”

It was your turn to smirk. Bucky was a lot of things, but he never strayed. Not once. He would forever be faithful. “You sure about that? Maybe I can't relax right now, but if you won't fuck me I’m sure I can find someone who-”

He flipped you on your stomach and gripped the back of your neck before you could finish that statement. “If you think I wouldn’t kill any guy who touches you, you’re out of your fucking mind. Keep pushing me, sweetheart. See what happens.”

You bit back a moan at the gravel in his voice as you turned your head to the side, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. It was dangerous to poke the bear, but you were past the point of caring. Especially when fury looked beautiful on him. “What's wrong, Bucky? Don't like the taste of your own medicine?”

He leaned down, his breath harsh against your ear. “I prefer the taste of your pussy. Always so good for me. You wanna hear that I need you? Fine. I fucking need you,” he rasped, biting at your earlobe. “Happy?”

“And that you’re sorry?”

“For hurting you? Yes,” he whispered, nosing along your neck. “Never meant to hurt you.”

You shuddered, almost delirious from needing to come. And the fact that he admitted that he needed you. That he was sorry for hurting you. But you weren't ready to play nice. “I'll be happier when you finally decide to fuck me, but you're just a fucking asshole, aren't you?”

He let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I'm a fucking asshole.” He nipped your earlobe roughly again in retaliation before settling between your legs and teasingly brushing the tip of his cock along your folds. “And I'll fuck you when you say you need me, too.”

You tried to push back to take him in, but he kept a firm hold on your hips. You tried to wiggle out of it, but it only brought you frustration as you groaned. “If you're really going to make me say it, don't hold your breath. You can't threaten me, Bucky. You're all talk. And guess what?” You said, smiling sweetly. “I can find another guy to fuck me better than you can.”

You couldn’t see the thunderous look in his eyes, but you heard the low and menacing chuckle in his throat. It sent chills down your spine. Maybe you pushed too far this time, but you didn’t care. He deserved it and worse.

“You're trying to piss me off and I want you to remember that you pushed me to this,” he said more to himself than you before sheathing you in one hard thrust, your mouth falling open in a cry at his sudden intrusion. “Hope you enjoy the bed since you won't even be able to walk out of this room.”

You stared at the wall, your eyes unseeing as Bucky tore you apart. Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. The sound of his grunts from behind you filled your ears, along with the brutal slap of skin-on-skin. Your body burned, the overwhelming stretch from his cock making you lose sense of yourself. You told yourself he’d finish fucking you soon, but that felt like ages ago.

You also told yourself there was no way you’d have another orgasm, but he proved you wrong. Climax after climax, your release practically flooded around him. At this rate, you really wouldn't be able to get out of bed.

“Bucky,” you gasped, trying to grip the sheets for purchase as he pulled out and slammed back into you. “Please…”

You were boneless, exhausted, and he just kept going. “Oh, no, princess. You wanted to get off.”

Tears of ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, whimpering when you felt yourself on the cusp of another orgasm. How was that possible? How many had he given you? “Bucky, I…” you moaned as you clenched around his cock again.

He cooed, a taunting sound when you choked on a sob. “So good, but I want another.”

“I don't… ” Your eyes rolled back, your head spinning. “I can't.”

You’d seriously lost count at that point how many times you’d come. And your whimper didn't stop Bucky from mockingly cooing again. “Aww, you don't think you can? My poor little fuck doll can still talk which means she hasn't had enough yet. This pussy is so fucking wet for me, so swollen,” he taunted, reaching underneath you and flicking your overstimulated clit as a choked moan escaped you, your walls tightening around him once again. “See? Your greedy little cunt can't get enough of me.”

Why did your body need him so badly? “I can't…” you whined as he licked one of your tears away, seemingly unbothered by the sheen of sweat on your face.

“You think anyone else can do this? Work your body up like this over and over again?” He grunted against your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut at his harsh panting, his pace not slowing. “All you had to do was say that you need me. But no. You just had to be a fucking brat.”

You practically wailed as you teetered on the edge of another orgasm. “I-I need you. Just you, Bucky,” you said. At least, you thought you said it. You had a tough time stringing any thoughts together with his cock splitting you open.

But his thrusts don’t slow. They were just as relentless as before. “Oh, no. You had your chance to say it,” he snarled, leaning up to pull your hips back against his. “And my pussy is telling me all I need to know. So just lay there and give me another.”

The pleasure bordered on the edge of pain as a sob escaped. There was no possible way you could come again. As much as you thought you couldn’t take it, your body tensed. You still craved him and wanted to give him one more. So you did. You shattered. It was almost too easy that he managed to pull another orgasm from your pliable body.

Or maybe you were just easy for him.

Bucky smacked your ass hard enough to make you cry out, his hand kneading the flesh with a delighted groan. “Fuck, each one is better than the last, princess. You want me to fill you up huh? You wanna feel me dripping from you?” He chuckled darkly, finally slowing down as you let out another sob. He shushed you before he put a hand on the back of your neck and kept you down. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’re gonna take it. Then, I'm gonna lick you clean until I'm satisfied.”

“No…”

He gave you one more smack for good measure when you made a sound of protest. “C'mon, princess. Beg for me to fill you up. If you can talk.”

You didn’t know if you could. You were practically a drooling mess as he drove in as deep as he can go. “Pl… Pl… Bu…” you tried to moan, another tear falling as he shushed you again.

“Got you cockdrunk, didn't I? Need to be pumped full? Then let me give you every. Fucking. Drop.”

A tired moan came out when he filled you up, giving a few slow thrusts as he finished. Your body trembled beneath him, a whiplash of chills and heat. You barely registered him pulling out before he flipped you onto your back. Glassy and unfocused eyes. Makeup smeared all your face. Tears stains on your cheeks. You must’ve looked quite the sight.

He relished in ruining you.

And the beautiful bastard didn’t even look like he broke a sweat.

“Should I call you a dog? You’re drooling, princess,” he smirked. You didn’t have it in you to argue as his eyes drifted down to your pussy. It was still twitching and leaking with your mixed release. He licked his lips as he slid down your body more to fully take in the sight. “And you look good enough to eat, so I think that's just what I'll do.”

“What…” you gasped. He couldn't. Not after all that.

You whimpered as you tried to push him away with a tired hand, but he grabbed your wrists with a tsk. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You keep your hands to yourself. I told you I wasn't done with you and it's rude to keep a man from his meal.”

You were still floating from the multiple orgasms he gave you when he took his first lick. Your shivers picked up again and he groaned at your taste before diving in. Any strength you had to try to push him away depleted immediately, even with how sensitive your walls felt. You couldn't stop him.

You’d never be able to stop him.

After a minute, your eyes widened when you felt him build you up again. “No,” you moaned, but the sight of him between your legs, eating you like he was starving, was too much.

He just hummed against you. "Give. Me. One. More.”

Your back arched when his lips latched onto your clit, forcing the orgasm from your worn out body. You weren’t sure if you made a sound, but you trembled as your release went on for what seemed like forever. Bucky’s tongue lapped it all up, humming before he sat back and looked at your wrecked form again. He made a show of licking the shine from his lips and looked just as proud as ruining you with his tongue the way he did with his cock.

“If you ever try to threaten me with another man or refuse to admit you want me again, I'll make sure to tie you to this bed for a week and refuse to let you come even if you beg for it. And I shouldn’t have to mention what else I can do. Do you understand?”

You trembled, knowing exactly what Bucky was capable of. While he never laid a hand on you to inflict pain, you knew the damage he did to others. Like the bodies buried and cold in the ground because of him. Not to mention the connections he still had at the prison. All he had to do was say the word and that would be the true end of your dad.

With unfocused and teary eyes, you gave him a nod. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered.

“Now tell me you love me and that you’re sorry,” he ordered.

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. “…Love you. I’m sorry.”

His smile was tender and for a second you forgot about everything else. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, your heart betraying you like your body did when he kissed your lips. “And I love you, too.”

You whined as he left your line of sight, but he came back almost right away to sit beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Drink it, princess,” he urged, his voice gentler than before he helped you take a sip of water. He even smiled again when he wiped another tear of yours away. “We can go back to the way it was before, you know. When you were blissfully unaware and we just quickly fell in love.”

The pain in your heart came and went as your breathing evened. You wished you could go back to innocent movie nights and meals. To waking up beside him with a smile on your face. To making love so passionate that you believed you were made for each other. There was no changing anything or going back. You could only move forward with him by your side.

Bucky sighed when you didn't say anything. “I know I’m a piece of shit, but I won't stop loving you. And I think you learned your lesson.”

You blinked a little as you took another sip, on the verge of passing out.

“You’re mine and I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, brushing the gentlest of kisses against the top of your head. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

So... I know he isn't all good, but I had fun writing this and I hope you lovelies enjoyed it! Would love to hear your thoughts and maybe I'll expand on this? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tokoyamisstuff]

Invincible Variants x Pregnant! Reader

Request from Ao3: I would love to seriously see how the evil Marks would react to getting reader pregnant. There has to happen at least at one point! I can totally see them all collectively freaking out! I seriously hope there is one that goes "Our baby needs a bed fit for a Princess/Prince...you know what, let's just build them their very own castle! Fill it full of toys! Make it a castle playroom!"

...you don't really think this was an accident, do you?

Omni-Mark has been planning to babytrap you since day one. He's prepared every detail of this kid's life way before you were even expecting, from the place you'll give birth until the day their powers kick in everything is carefully thought through.

That doesn't mean he'll completely disregard your wishes, though the crucial decisions are set by himself. But he'd love to prepare the nursery according to your taste and wouldn't mind picking out names together either.

Just because he's overly composed on the outside doesn't mean he isn't secretly overjoyed, he's just bad at showing it.

After the initial shock Mohawk Mark is absolutely delighted. Never thought about the possibility before, but if it's with you, he's so ready to be a dad!

One might think his erratic and almost childish nature indicates he's not cut out to be a father, but he pulls himself together the second he hears the news. Gets advice from the few people he trusts on how to parent in general, but will mostly just wait and see.

Maybe that's a good thing, he'll keep you from overthinking too much with his silly behavior, but he also reminds you that you're in this together and you'll figure it out no matter what.

Buys all the toys. Seriously, this guy will be the greatest playmate for your kid, it'll be incredibly heartwarming to see him tend to his little buddy. He's really trying, give him credit.

Sinister Mark is utterly appaled. This is a literal nightmare scenario to him.

He is insane, but self-aware - and honestly, he's sure the last person who should have children. Not to mention, what if it turns out like him?!

His reluctance mostly stems from his antisocial personality. It was hard enough for him to accept this weakness that is his love for you, but letting another person into his rotten heart seems like an impossible task.

Can't bring himself to leave you, but throughout the whole ordeal he'll nag that this is a horrible idea and you both will have to suffer the consequences (when in reality he is just anxious to fuck everything up). Refuses to look at ultrasounds or involve himself in any planning, but is always vigilant about your well-being and makes sure you got everything you need.

As soon as he is persuaded unto holding it for the first time though, he's completely changed. "I only knew them for a day but if anything happens to them I'll kill anyone here and then myself" kinda way.

Hopefully they take after you, since you're the only person he could ever tolerate.

...of course you are? That's what you're supposed to do: give Target Invincible an heir.

Orders his subordinates into providing the literally best care in the entire universe for you and the unborn, and fulfills your every wish throughout your circumstance.

He's very thoughtful to the point of being controlling. You'll have a strict schedule, excercise and meal plan to stick to if you want to grant him peace of mind.

During this whole time he'll be unusual compliant and gentle, not once raising his voice or criticize you to spare you two any stress. Instead he showers you in praise for granting him this greatest wish of starting a family with someone he deemed worthy to carry his children.

Thats the first time you see No-Goggles Invincible serious. No laughter, no snarky remark, he just stares at you like a deer in the headlights.

Starting a family was never really on his mind, after all it was already out of character for him to stay in a - more or less - serious relationship with you. But hey, as random as he can be, he quickly grows fond of to the idea and adapts surprisingly well.

Keeps his cool for the most part and doesn't really seem to take this seriously. Finds it absolutely hilarious if you yell at him in your hormonal state and may even let you use him as a punching bag before shutting you up with a kiss.

He also really enjoys putting an ear on your belly to talk with his little one, and this continues even after birth. Poor baby never has a moment of quiet.

Due to his mission to repopulate his kind, having children with you has always been on Viltrumite Mark's To-Do list. It's a little early, but he ain't complaining.

From the very moment that he finds out about the pregnancy, you're not allowed to lift a single finger. Prepare to get coddled relentlessly.

Get's super clingy during the process, his hands are on your belly 24/7 even long before you start showing. In general his mood shifted, barely noticeable through his stoic nature but you know him well enough to know he is definetly excited.

This certainly won't stay your only child.

Viltrumite Mark is not surprised. This guy has the biggest breeding kink ever, and he always knew you were the one for him, so...no use for protection.

He's got a huge community of loyal followers who got experience and are willing to help out with anything, but otherwise he's more the easygoing kinda guy. Is convinced a loving environment is all a baby needs and anything else you'd just take as it comes.

Literally worships you even more than usual. Indulges you by getting you any craving from earth, gives you as many back and foot rubs you want, carries your belly if it gets too heavy...

Just can't wait to meet his mini me and take them out on adventures!

To Unmasked Mark you're all that matters, so he will go with whatever choice you make.

It's already hard enough to see you - his heart - walk outside of his body, but another person he will most likely love to death, so small and even more vulnerable? A frightening thought.

Being a man with countless enemies, he feels like good things only happen to him so they can be taken away again as punishment for his sins. Really, he doesn't think he deserves such a blessing after all the evil he's committed in the past.

In the end this is only one more reason for him to keep living and strive to become a better man - and hopefully a father your child deserves.

Fully Masked Mark seriously doesn't know whether to be thrilled or terrified.

After all, pregnancy can be a great burden on your health and in some cases even lethal! He'll frequently spiral into absolute horror scenarios of how this could end up, so you need to help him focus on positive anticipation instead.

But aside from his usual worries this is a dream come true! Being reunited with the love of his life was already a miracle itself, and now he even gets to start a family with you?! He's just so unbelievably thankful that you're doing this with him, and constantly reminds you how he would do anything for the two of you.

Begs you to name it after his mom shall it become a girl.

It takes two to achieve this, but you'll never hear the end of it with Veiled Invincible.

Won't stop nagging about not being cut out to change diapers or missing the patience to endure a screaming kid day and night. He's got a point, dude barely can take care of himself, all he knows is fighting and having a good time.

Reality only sets in when he hears the child's heartbeat for the first time, and damn this guy cries like a kicked dog. You've seriously never seen him like this before. Hard shell soft core or so they say...

Childbirth really shifted his whole perception of how much you mean to him, he absolutely panicked seeing you suffer like this and not being bale to do anything about it.

Will thank you eternally for for convincing him to the best decision of his life and swear that despite of his many shortcomings, he will always keep you two safe and happy.

[bunny-jpeg]

you really thought you were a saint huh? it wasn't your fault, you just happened to be with someone in the program who shouldn't have been in there. simon riley was a bad man, but he showed promise. the prison threw him a bone and allowed him to be part of the pen pal program.

poor guy had no real connections on the outside. so of course you were a welcomed addition to his life. and maybe it was because you were too naive or simon was too cunning but, you really believed you were making a difference in this man's life!

too bad every letter you wrote often got stained with simon's cum after he masturbated to your pretty handwriting, delicate words and the little bit of perfume that lingered on the paper.

he told you all the pretty things you wanted to hear, about how he'd change for you, be the man that you deserved. that you made him better, more eager to right his wrongs. pages upon pages upon pages of promises.

but simon had no interest in that. why would he? he was a career criminal and good what he did, if it wasn't for graves he'd still be out on the streets. he was a ghost after all. he remembered the first photo he coaxed you into sending, you were even sweet enough to put it in a ziploc bag to keep it from getting ruined on its travel to him.

kept that little picture on his wall. he was eyeing it every day when he was in his cell. when he did his work-outs, when he was alone in his cell, especially when he was masturbating. within a few weeks he was asking for another because, the first one got a big ruined. his excuse was water damage in the cell, but the white stain across the printed image told a different story.

you were loyal to him, hung onto every word. you were so compassionate, loving and kind. you were an angel to his devil, you fixed him. you made everything better with kind words. simon liked the kind words, he also liked imaging breaking apart that little gag reflex of yours. re-shaping the virgin cunt to his liking. simon learned from a very young age that in order to keep something, he'd have to sink his teeth into it.

and you were easily between his jaws when you wrote, "you can put me down as a permanent address when you get out!" lucky, lucky simon, found himself a wife.

now that he was home. well, things were going to be a little different. his hand idly touched your middle while he stood behind you, you showed him around, but simon could only think about the future swell in your middle.

proper little wife. he didn't realize how small you were. fragile like butterfly wings. he didn't want to hurt his missus! no, no, never. but there would be some aches and pains in the next nine months. he didn't realize how easy it was to breed you. you let him have sex with you raw. he promised to pull out, but just like every other promise he made, it never really panned out.

"don't worry, lovie." he said after he finished inside of you, "we'll be a right family." his large scarred hand across your naked middle. promises. promises.

it wasn't your fault, it really wasn't! you tried to make a difference. but when they locked simon riley back up again for armed burglary, you were going to have his son only a few weeks later. <3

[sunlight-shunlight]

it does still make me wonder how the bioware writers managed to throw in "anders was in solitary confinement for a year" as like an offhand line, rather than something that should shape his entire character and that other people would react to. and then frame solas being put in a similar state at the end of vg as... uhhh... optimistic and plausibly sustainable...

like the ENTIRE veil hinges on this one guy not getting depression too badly after [indefinite number of years] in forced isolation? and no one thinks this is both really precarious on an objective level, and a morally fucked up thing to do to begin with?

weird ass game. unsettling implications. i don't usually like to assume anyone's political views from their work in that way, but do the writers think people in solitary confinement are just chilling? especially in the sort of medieval dungeon type of thing anders would've been in/whatever torment nexus solas is supposed to be in?