#‘oh I can’t use they/them for you it’s too hard and I don’t see you as an object’

[cloversplace]

“Pony was being dramatic!” “Darry only hit him once!” “You’re telling me Darry never hit him before?” “Johnny gets hit everyday at home and doesn’t complain!”

Shush. Just, stop for a minute. I personally think that Pony’s reaction to getting slapped was justified, and it angers me a little sometimes when people chalk it down to just him being a brat. Ponyboy already thinks Darry doesn’t want him around, Darry’s constantly on Pony for every little thing, being hard on him to keep him from getting taken away. Hitting him is one thing that would get Pony taken away faster than anything else, in doing this, Darry’s accidentally sending Ponyboy a message: He doesn’t just not want him around, he wants to get rid of him as quickly as possible. 

“Oh but Darry probably hit him a lot when they were kids!” EXACTLY. When. They. Were. KIDS. Darry 100% slugged Pony a couple times bc he was being a little shit, but Darry’s stuck halfway between being a father and a brother. He’s not just Pony’s brother anymore, he’s his guardian. Pony explicitly says that no one in his family hit each other, including their parents. Pony says Darry looks exactly like their dad, in that moment, Pony can’t imagine his father hitting him. If his parents had still been alive and his father had hit him instead of Darry, Pony would’ve had the same reaction. Pony’s in shock, when someone is hurt they go into fight or flight, Pony is a track star, and also kinda scrawny. (no offense Pony) He’s gonna choose to run instead of try to fight back. Because in his mind, if Darry hit him once, who’s to say he isn’t gonna do it again?

Now onto Johnny, yes Johnny has it way, way worse at home than Pony does. But he’s also used to it, it’s sad, but true. Johnny’s used to being hit by his parents, Pony isn’t. The first hits are always the worst. We see that in Tex and The Outsiders. There’s no doubt in my mind that Johnny acted like Pony did when he was younger, when he wasn’t so used to his parents hitting him. If Darry continued to hit Pony, Pony would eventually start to act like Johnny. Learn to take it. I also don’t think that Johnny was mad/annoyed with Pony for acting like he did. Maybe Johnny was a little jealous when Pony used to complain that Darry hated him. But that was before Darry hit him, Johnny’s probably a little mad at Darry too, being honest. Darry’s supposed to be the one holding them together. The one refuge most greasers on the East side have. Johnny probably knew deep down that Darry was scared and most likely felt bad and won’t do it again. But you still don’t hit people when you’re scared. Johnny has never been hit out of fear, every time his parents beat on him it’s out of anger. You hit out of anger, you fight back out of fear. 

So no, Pony didn’t deserve to be slapped. He wasn’t asking for it. They lost their parents less than a year ago. Darry is 20 years old for fuck’s sake! I bet some of you reading this right now are either older than that or only a year or two younger. 20 is arguably still a kid, and 20 should not be the age to take on two jobs, maintaining a house, and taking care of two teenagers, plus 4 other teens and oh, I don’t know, almost everyone in eastern Tulsa? That’s too much to ask of anyone. Even if Pony was being a little shit (which he usually is, but in the argument that night I would say Darry kind of instigated it more, at least in the book/movie) that still doesn’t mean he deserved the hit, or shove, in the movie’s case. 

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I really needed to just put that out there. I’m seeing so many people ratting on Pony for the way he acted, especially comparing him to the way Johnny is treated at home. Which isn’t fair in my opinion. Thank u for listening! 💜

@natur3sf1rstgr33n @magefelixir @staygoldspiiderrah @marciavalance @sonnysimagination@polishravagingasexual @dairyfairyy @curtis-brothers-hug @penguinstuff @colequette@therealtwobit67 @far-away-from-tulsa @strxwberry-julius @fawning4leif @im14andivebeen14foramonth @chipperdipperr @stayruby @averagefandomist @johnnycademyschmookie @maxiebearz @totoroboiii

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please give us damian having to tell readers he got moved to smack down and she’s on raw please ❤️❤️❤️

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️some feels, love and angst‼️

stay, somehow

“y/n…” damian starts, his voice tight like a rope about to snap. he won’t meet your eyes. he’s staring at the floor, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides like he’s bracing for impact.

your stomach churns. you don’t like this. damian is always so confident, so sure of himself, but now he looks… afraid.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer.

he flinches. just barely. but you see it.

he exhales sharply through his nose and finally looks at you, eyes dark and stormy “i got the promotion, smackdown.”

for a second, you don’t understand why that’s bad. this is something he’s worked so hard for. countless nights spent training, perfecting his mic skills, practicing new moves until his body hurt.

you should be happy for him. and you are. but something isn’t right.

“that’s amazing!” you say happily “but… why do you look like someone just died?”

and then it clicked.

you were, are on raw.

he swallows hard. his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but can’t “i have to leave you behind.”

oh.

everything inside you goes still.

“what?” your voice is barely above a whisper “no, no damian…you will still see me…not as much as we use to” your heart broke “but nothing will change”.

“it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. if i say no, i might never get something like this again but i can say no. i can ask them to keep me on raw” he knows they don’t have many plans for him on raw but he can stay, for you. he will stay.

it makes sense. of course it does. but logic doesn’t stop the ache blooming in your chest.

“look at me, you’re not leaving me behind” you say, and it’s not a question. you tried to bring him some comfort that was missing.

his hands finally unclench, and now they’re shaking “i have a choice, i can stay on raw.”

you laughed “damian…it’s not the end of the world, we can work it out. we always do.”

you’re going to miss having him driving you to the arena, and then straight back to the hotel. you’re gonna miss him carrying your luggage, him pretending to be annoyed by your whines about how heavy your luggage is.

or the sleepless nights spent together making love in a random hotel room. the sleepless nights spent watching movies that none of you cared about.

but he has this new opportunity and you aren’t the reason he is going to fuck up his career.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

he looks at you like he wants to argue, like he wants to fight back, but instead, he just says, “i love you” he takes a step forward “i do. i love you, te amo y/n. this doesn’t change that.”

“it doesn’t. you are my everything.”

he was going to miss you.

one or two days a week were left for you.

how was he going to survive? how were you going to survive?

he reaches for you then, fingers ghosting over your wrist, hesitant “please don’t hate me.”

your emotions fizzles out just like that, because how could you ever hate him? you’re not mad, you’re a little hurt, but beneath all of it, you still love him too.

so you let him hold you. his arms wrap around you tightly, like if he holds you close enough, maybe he won’t have to leave at all.

you let yourself lean into him, just for a moment.

you couldn’t lie. you were going to miss him. you got used to stay with him everyday, all days.

he sensed you were thinking about the whole situation.

“what happens now?” you ask against his chest.

his grip tightens “i don’t know.”

neither of you do.

but when he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, something in your chest settles. because no matter what happens next, no matter where he goes, you were going to be there for him. even if it meant seeing each other once a week.

and somehow, that’s enough.

[in1-nutshell]

Poll Winners: Maxima and Ophelia

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Familial, Cybertronian reader

RID/TFP

“So… have you told Bumblebee yet?”

Maxima crossed her arms refusing to look at Ophelia. Not that it was hard, she could always look forward and ignore the minibot below. Sadly, the monster truck didn’t have it in her to ignore her, not with the raging storm in her helm right now.

“Not yet.”

Ophelia sighed a bit. “And when are you planning on doing it?”

Maxima shifted the weight on her pedes a bit. “Lia I haven’t even talked to Grimlock about it. I’ll do it but not now.”

Ophelia raised her optics while side glancing at Maxima. “You still haven’t talked to him about it? After everything that has happened, I would have expected that you two would have been talking about it for months. It would have explained the long periods of time without seeing either of you.”

“We were just on patrol.”

“Uh huh.”

Hot warmth flared in her system. “Ophelia!”

Ophelia crossed her arms and looked up at her. “Then what have you two been doing? It can’t be that terrible.”

Maxima coughed a bit in her servo before relenting in a defeated tone. “…Russel showed Grimlock an old TV show and has been begging to watch it after patrol. The show grows on you after the first few episodes, it’s becoming a bit of a tradition at this point—Oh don’t give me that look!”

Ophelia was struggling to keep the chuckles in her, but it was almost laughable. Maxima of Iacon, the daughter of the last Prime, watching old shows with her partner.

Almost laughable, but it was also sweet.

“Softy.”

“I—you-- …Yeah…”

The two chuckled before falling once again into silence. Ophelia looked up at Maxima with knowing optics. A lot had changed between the past few years. From being in a war, losing father figures by the end of it, adjusting to peacetime, and finding partners. If you’d tell them both that these events would happen, Maxima would have probably been on the floor laughing while Ophelia might have commed in Ratchet to get you checked up.

The minibot was happy with her Conjunx, Steve. Maxima had been over the moon hearing that she was going to go through with the rites. Ophelia only wished her the same happiness.

“You know, if you are having serious thoughts about going through with it, you need to talk to him about this before anything else. And if you need pointers, Steve and I would be happy to help, right?” Ophelia remarked.

Maxima flashes a grateful smile and sits down next to the minibot. She did the same.

“Don’t go dragging your poor Conjunx into a mess he doesn’t know about.”

“Steve will help you if you need it, Maxi. Seriously, you say the word, he’ll help with whatever he can.”

Maxima hummed at the comment. A heavy silence blankets them both. The taller bot sported a nervous and concentrated look while staring at the ground as if it were the most fascinating thing in the universe. Ophelia just waited patiently; she would tell her eventually.

“… It’s a big leap…” Maxima whispered as if saying it too loud would set something off.

Ophelia just nodded in agreement. “I know.”

“A big commitment…”

“I know.”

“And what if he doesn’t want it? What if it’s too soon? What if it scares him off? What if—”

Ophelia stood up and waved her servos at Maxima to calm down.

“Woah, woah, woah! Calm down Maxi.” She placed her servos on her side and looked at her in the optics. Maxima slowly quieted down while fidgeting with her digits. The minibot took her servos and held them. It was almost comedic seeing how stark was the size difference.

“Calm?” Maxima could only shrug. Good enough.

“Now, it’s fair for you to have these feelings. It’s totally normal. While the ‘what if’s’ can be useful, they aren’t right now. Also, are you telling me Grimlock would say no?”

“He could!”

Ophelia gave her a deadpan stare. “The green dinobot, who’s had optics on you since you came here? The same bot who is practically attached to your hip and ready to do anything you want to do? That Grimlock, really?”

Maxima huffed and crossed her arms with a bit of annoyance. Ophelia continued.

“Just at least try asking him. That’s what I did, and I turned out just fine.”

Maxima gave her an unamused look as it got quiet again. If any other bot besides Ophelia and Bumblebee saw Maxima go quiet for this long, they might have been concerned. Not that she wasn’t, but there was a difference in silences coming from such a lively bot. Thankfully this wasn’t one of her ‘vengeance’ silences, but more reflective ones.

After a bit, Maxima stood up with a confident look on her face. Ophelia could only smile back; the monster truck always did have an infectious smile.

“You know what? I’m going to do it! Right now! Go ahead and make those calls Lia, we are going to have them come over no matter what! Thanks Lia!”

Ophelia only chuckled as Maxima walked off with a new wave of determination and slight bounce in her step. She chuckled a bit before heading to the main console. If everything went according to plan, she would need to make those calls… and would also win the bet she had with Steve.

BING!

Perfect timing!

“Hello? Yes, yes, it’s great to hear from you all too. Listen-- yes, it’s been a while but I’m calling about Maxima…”

…

She could do this.

She could do this.

She could do this.

Maxima kept on repeating it to herself. All she needed to do was find Grimlock and tell him. That was it. She fought Decepticon armies, Megatron and literal Predacons. This was going to be simple. Just let the words spill and wait for the results.

Simple!

Just tell him about how she wanted him to be her partner, for life.

Tell him about the plans she had already thought about their Conjunx Rites. Obviously while also asking for his part and opinions on it, it was going to be his ceremony too.

She could do this. Just talk to him.

Maxima found Grimlock in his dino mode carefully balancing Russel on his head while they were singing off key to one of Denny’s playlists.

Spinning on his pedes, he caught sight of her, a giant smile quickly forming on his face. He waved at her happily.

“Maxi!”

… Oh, Primus she couldn’t do it! Abort mission! Abort! ABORT! ABORT!

With a nervous smile she waved back.

“H-hey Grimlock. H-how are you?”

She internally screamed at herself for stuttering and just awkwardly waving. What was she a youngling?! Hopefully she could just bounce back from this—

“I’m doing fine! Russel and I found this rock.” He held the small rock in his digits and carefully placed in in her servos.

“I thought you’d like it!”

Maxima just swore that her father and the other Prime’s were just playing a cruel joke at this point. How in the world was she supposed to talk to him about the rites with her helm and spark all mushy!

Smiling weakly, she stuffed the rock into her subspace. Grimlock raised an optic at the smile.

“Umm… You, okay?”

Maxima let out an involuntary squeak noticing how close Grimlock was. Face plates literally inches apart. There was confusion and slight worry in his big optics. He placed a servo on her helm, copying that thing that humans did when they got sick.

“You feeling, okay Maxima?”

Oh, sweet Alpha Trion, she was in over her helm…

“I-I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle as the humans say!”

PRIMUS WAS THAT A VOICE CRACK!!! ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION! ABORT!

Grimlock looked unconvinced. He lowered his helm, letting Russel slide off. The human looked at her worried.

“You want me to call Fix-It?” Russel asked.

Primus the boy was sweet to offer help, but she was 110% that Fix-It wouldn’t be able to help her with this.

She smiled at his concern. “I’m fine Rusty. I… I just need to talk to Grimlock about something in private.”

The boy nodded and walked off, probably to go find Sideswipe.

Maxima turned back to Grimlock and all her nerves came back full force.

Oh boy…

“What ya wanted to talk about?”

She began fidgeting with her digits again and looked down. The action alone set off silent alarm bells in Grimlock’s helm. There weren’t too many times that Maxima looked small. Being one of the biggest bots on the team, it was hard thing to do. But now, she might as well have crawled into a fetal position. And because of him! Did something happen? Did he do something to her? He couldn’t remember doing anything wrong… or maybe that’s why she was like this!

Maxima let a shaky vent out before looking at him.

“Grim… I… We…”

Oh, to the Pits with this! She took a deep vent and continued.

“Grimlock… We’ve been together for a while. Had our ups and downs. Though, I haven’t had many bad moments with you. Frustrated and sad, yes, but never bad. I love you with all my spark and more than I can possibly put into words. You’ve changed my life for the better and I want to thank you for that, truly. Heh, I would have never thought I’d be in this position a couple years ago, but that just proves how much love can do to a bot… I guess what I’m trying to say is… Grimlock would you do me the absolute honor in being my Conjunx Endura?”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. He only blinked and stared at her with a dumbfound look on his face. Maxima was slowly starting to regret ever opening her mouth.

“Grimmy… this is the part where you say something… anything… please…”

“…Me?” He pointed at himself. Maxima blinked in confusion.

“Yes you?” Grimlock blinked several times before pointing to himself.

“Me Grimlock? Me? You want me to be your Conjunx?”

Maxima nodded still waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I do… listen Grimlock if you don’t—EEP!”

CLANK!

Maxima was literally swept off her pedes bridal style as Grimlock threw his helm back and laughed. He swayed them both back and forth in a happy rhythm. She never heard this laugh before… it was nice.

“YES! YES! YES! YES!!!”

She was glad that her faceplate was semi-smooched against his chassis as the tears of relief and happiness began to spill out. Laughter began spilling out of her lips as she tried wrapping her arms around him. She readjusted herself so she could try and wrap her legs around his midsection. They only managed so far in his dinobot mode. With all the swinging around, the dinobot accidentally tripped over his own pede and sent them both to the ground.

Grimlock laid down on his back with Maxima securely wrapped in his arms. He looked up at her with a blinding yet loving smile. She reached and booped his snout, a dopey smile adoring her face.

“I love you Sweetspark.”

“I love you more!” He pulled her closer at the end of that sentence. She snuggled closer than she thought was possible.

Looked like everything was going to be alright.

…

Bumblebee knew he should have suspected something was going to happen when Ophelia refused to answer his questions. Mainly the one’s surrounding Maxima’s whereabouts. Sure, it wasn’t exactly his business, but he was team leader. What kind of leader doesn’t know where his team was?

But no! He had better luck asking a brick wall for directions than asking his pseudo sister again.

Ophelia managed to avoid answering the question all day. Normally, he would go ask Grimlock about Maxima, but he was also missing. Last he heard the dinobot had been with Russel, but the boy was with Sideswipe and Strongarm now. Drift was trying to meditate with his minibots and Fix-It not too far away. Denny had just woken up from his afternoon nap.

“You, okay Bee?”

Bumblebee jumped a bit when Steve placed a servo on his shoulder. Despite having a vizor for optics, it was clear that there was some concern behind them. A couple years ago the thought of the Vechicon being one of his closest friends would have sent him to the med bay for laughing too hard.

There was a bit of a rough start between the two mechs, with the whole ex-con thing. The rift opening wider he found out Ophelia had chosen him to be her Conjunx. Everyone said they saw it coming from miles away, but truthfully, he never saw it. Bumblebee made sure to give Steve a version of ‘The Shovel Talk’ away from prying optics or audials. Maxima found out about this and after a swift hit to the back of the helm, gave him a through talking about giving the Vechicon a chance.

…

Bumblebee remembered seeing Maxima leaning against a nearby wall looking at Ophelia and Steve. The couple happily chatting about the ceremony and what they were going to get for their new home. The pair completely missing the somber look not too far away.

He remembered jumping when Maxima suddenly spoke out loud.

“The last time I saw her this happy was a week before the hearing at the Senate.”

Bee calmed his racing spark and stood by her side with his arms crossed. It was always  that the pair had known each other about as long as Optimus had known Megatron.

“Megatronus let her win during a play fight while I had managed to clip him in the face. Orion offered to get us some fresh rust sticks for ‘defeating the mighty Megatronus in combat’. She was gripping Megatronus’s helm with sticky digits while I was trying to convince Orion that I was strong enough to carry him all the way back home.”

She laughed a bit at the memory before going quiet again. He spoke up. “You’re worried about her too?”

“Of course, I am. But I trust that Lia knows what she’s doing.”

Bumblebee looked at her in disbelief. Maxima rolled her optics at him. “Its her life Bee Bee. If she believes that Steve is Conjunx material, then I believe her.”

“DO you think he is?”

She chuckled a bit at the statement making him huff in annoyance. “I’m serious Maxima.”

“Bumblebee, Ophelia’s wants and needs are not the same as mine. I do know that Steve is a good bot though. He’ll treat her like a queen.”

“And all thanks to my talk with him.” Bumblebee said proudly. Maxima squinted her optics at him before lightly slapping his arm.

“Scaring the poor bot is not something to be proud of Bee.”

The smaller bot crossed his arms fraying annoyance but took in the words of the monster truck.

“So, we just have to trust her then? That’s it?”

Maxima nodded her helm. “Yeah, and it also doesn’t hurt to actually get to know Steve you know.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.”

Maxima shrugged. “Only so much I can do on my end. See you in a couple hours Bee, I got some work to do in restoration.”

She only got in a couple of feet before he blurted out. “Wait!”

Maxima looked back. “Yeah?”

The younger bot suddenly felt embarrassed by the question in his helm… but he really did want to know.

“What are you looking for a Conjunx anyways?”

Maxima laughed loudly at this. “Oh Bee, I’m not looking for anyone right now. Not that I think someone would come along anyways… BUT since you asked and I’m in a good mood… I think I’d be pretty happy with a bot who respects me and can make me laugh. I think I can handle a goof ball. I mean I’ve had to deal with you for years.”

“Hey!”

…

And she was right. It took some time, but the distrust fell and up rose the trust in the ex con.

“Bee?”

Oh yeah, he still hadn’t answered.

“I’m fine. Just worried where Maxima and Grimlock went off to.”

Steve waved his servo off handedly. “I’m sure they’re alright.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Steve looked at him, confused. “…You do remember that they are the team’s heaviest hitters, right? I think we’d know if something happened to them. Like a big explosion or something.”

Bumblebee was about to respond when a loud crashing sound along with yelling was heard. The noise catches everyone’s attention.

Strongarm pulled out her crossbow. “That sounded like Grimlock and Maxima!”

Bee quickly got out his Decepticon hunter and activated it.

Most of the team had already started towards the noise when Grimlock came in running with Maxima in his arms. Fearing for the worst, Bee tried to look over for any signs of injury or struggle.

“Grimlock what happened!?”

“I SAID YES!”

…What?

Everyone was confused by the sudden statement… except Ophelia. The minibot had dropped her data pad and held a bright smile.

“She did it!? She asked you!?”

The dinobot happily nodded nuzzling Maxima’s helm. The poor bot hid her face in her servos and refused to look at anyone.

“Don’t worry, she’s just a bit shy.”

…huh?

Maxima ‘The Last Prime’s daughter’/ ‘Oldest of the youngest’/ ‘I laugh in the face of danger’… SHY?!

Bumblebee’s thoughts were interrupted by Ophelia squealing in glee. She turned to Steve.

“I won the bet! I told you she could do it!”

Steve hung his helm a bit but was still overall happy. “Yeah, yeah you won--”

“CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON!?”

The young leader was so tired and just wanted to know what in the name of Ratchet’s rusty knee joints WAS GOING ON!

Sideswipe piped up. “Yeah, I think we are just as lost as Bee. What are you talking about Grim?”

“And what do you mean by yes?” Added Strongarm.

Grimlock carefully placed Maxima back on her pedes while swinging an arm around her shoulders. Her servos were away from her face, but the flustered look was in full display. Something very few bots and humans could say they have seen. One of Maxima’s servos reaching to intertwine with the dinobots. The action only seemed to widen his grin.

“I asked Grimlock to be my Conjunx.”

“And I said Yes!”

…

“WHAT!?”

“HUH?!”

“REALLY?”

“I KNEW IT!”

Maxima and Grimlock laughed at the surprised and shocked look on the team’s faces. In the wave of shock Ophelia and Steve made their way over to congratulate the couple.

Ophelia winked at Maxima. “See, what did I say?”

Maxima huffed playfully before kneeling to hug the minibot tightly. Ophelia smiled and hugged back… just as Grimlock grabbed them both and Steve on a giant hug.

“Grimlock!” Steve yelped surprised.

Sideswipe grinned at them “Guess you got another thing in common with Grim, Steve.”

“You mean besides going after the daughters of the leaders of the Great war?” asked Strongarm.

“Nope.”

“Choosing a significant other from the same faction?” Drift added.

“Nope, its catching Bee off guard. Look at him, he’s going to catch a bird with his mouth open like that.” Sideswipe pointed at the gob smacked leader in yellow.

Bumblebee snapped out of his trance and coughed. “I saw this coming.”

Maxima snorted from her spot. “Sure, you did Bee Bee.”

“Hey!”

“Umm, what’s Conjunx?”

The bots momentarily turned to the two humans watching the reactions carefully.

“Maxima asked Grimlock to be her Conjunx. Which if I am not mistaken is asking someone to be their spouse.” Drift answered looking at Bumblebee for confirmation. He nodded.

Denny and Russel’s eyes went wide.

“Wait your getting married?!” Russel exclaimed.

“How does that work? Is it like human weddings or is there something else.” asked Denny

“You’ll have to ask Maxima, she already had most of the ceremony planned already.” Said Ophelia as Grimlock finally let them go from the hug. His servo noticeably lingering close to Maxima’s servo

Maxima looked at the minibot with a mix of betrayal and embarrassment. “Ophelia!”

Grimlock hugged her from behind, making her squeak again from the sudden attack. “Aww you shouldn’t have! You must really like me a lot!”

Sideswipe and the minbots giggled at the squeak. Maxima wished that the ground would swallow her whole. But what was worrying her the most was the teasing glint on Ophelia’s optics.

“I made the call Maxi… and they’re coming!”

Maxima’s optics went wide in surprise and excitement.

“They are?! When?!”

“In a few days they’ll be in the city.”

Maxima grabbed Grimlock’s servo and pulled him along. “C’mon we got to start getting everything ready!”

Grimlock, despite not knowing where he was going, was just happy that Maxima was holding his servo.

Once the pair had left, Bumblebee turned to the minibot. “Who’s coming exactly?”

“Well since we don’t exactly have any communications with Cybertron, I can’t exactly call in Team Prime for the ceremony. However, we do have other members here on Earth. So, I took the liberties of calling them to see if they were interested in coming to observe the ceremony with us.”

Bumblebee suddenly went pale at the end of the sentence. Mainly because of the cross look on Ophelia’s face.

“Did it never occur to you about contacting them since you got here? Really Bumblebee?”

“I- I just—It never came up— How come you didn’t?”

“Because I thought you already had, and they didn’t want to come around because they have other things in life!”

Denny raised his hand. “Who exactly is coming?”

Ophelia smiled fondly. “The human members of Team Prime, of course.”

Happy Valentines day!

[dioslesbianwife]

hiiii can i request the jojos with a reader who is really kind and polite but has a really scary and powerful Lovecraftian-like Stand, and the reader doesn't like bringing their Stand out a lot because they don't want to be seen as a monster?

yep totally- thanks for requesting and hope you enjoy!!

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan is incredibly kind and understanding about your fears.

"You are not a monster. A monster is defined by their heart, not their abilities."

He would never pressure you to use your Stand, but if you ever needed to, he would be right beside you offering comfort.

If anyone ever insulted or feared you because of your Stand, he’d get genuinely upset.

He’d hold your hands gently and reassure you:

"No matter how terrifying others may think your power is, I know the truth- you are one of the gentlest souls I have ever met."

Joseph Joestar

Joseph freaks out when he first sees your Stand.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"

But once he realizes it’s your Stand, he completely changes his tune.

"Ohhh, never mind! It’s cool when it’s on our side!"

He totally hypes you up.

"You have one of the scariest Stands I’ve ever seen! That means no one’s gonna mess with you. Isn’t that great?"

But when he realizes you’re self conscious about it, he gets more serious.

"Listen, I know you’re afraid of what people think, but you’re still you. And that Stand of yours? It’s part of you too. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re the nicest person here."

Jotaro Kujo

His reaction is just a slow blink.

"Hmph. So what?"

Jotaro doesn’t care what your Stand looks like- he only cares about who you are as a person.

When he realizes you don’t like using your Stand, he never pressures you.

But if someone ever makes you feel bad about it?

"Tch. Who cares what they think? If they judge you over something you can’t control, they’re idiots."

Lowkey keeps an eye on you to make sure you’re not afraid of yourself.

He’s blunt but genuinely supportive.

Josuke Higashikata

Josuke is shocked the first time he sees your Stand but immediately tries to act cool about it.

"Whoa! That’s… uh… that’s actually kinda sick!"

Once he realizes you’re insecure about it, he gets really gentle.

"Hey, hey, don’t look so down! You’re, like, the nicest person ever! No one who meets you could ever think you’re a monster."

If someone insults you or calls your Stand creepy, Josuke’s not afraid to throw hands.

"Say that again. I dare you."

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno is completely unfazed by your Stand’s terrifying appearance.

"A Stand’s appearance does not determine its worth. Only its user does."

He’s incredibly understanding of your feelings and never forces you to use it.

But if you ever start doubting yourself, he’ll cut that off immediately.

"You are not a monster. Your kindness is what defines you, not the power you hold."

Lowkey thinks your Stand is beautiful in its own horrific way.

Jolyne Cujoh

Jolyne immediately loves your Stand.

"Holy shit, that’s badass!"

But when she realizes you hate using it, she dials it back.

She gets it, she’s been judged before, too.

"Look, I know it’s hard not to care what people think, but screw them. If they can’t see how amazing you are, that’s their loss."

Becomes your personal hype woman whenever you feel self conscious.

Johnny Joestar

Johnny is wary at first, but once he sees how kind you are, he stops caring.

"I’ve seen a lot of terrifying things in my life. Your Stand doesn’t even make the top ten."

He really understands feeling like an outsider and is always patient with you.

If you feel like you’ll be seen as a monster, he sighs and says:

"I used to think people only saw me as weak. But I realized the only opinion that matters is my own. You should think about that, too."

Would defend you if anyone talked badly about you.

Josuke Higashikata (Part 8)

Josuke is so chill about it.

"Oh, your Stand’s scary? So what? That doesn’t change the fact that you’re probably the nicest person I know."

He never acts weird about it or makes you feel bad.

If someone ever insults you, he just gives them a deadpan look.

"Okay? And?."

[more-sonorous]

rag, boy, rag (can you teach me how to play?)- davey angst

(been thinking about David playing piano at a jatherine wedding pretty much nonstop recently so have a sliver of the long dissertation I wrote about it)

…..

The first time David Jacobs ever wanted to flat-out refuse to play the piano came when he was twenty years old on a lunch break between lectures, sitting on a bench in New York City with Jack Kelly by his side and a pretzel in his hand.

“Hey, listen, Dave– I’m real glad you could find some time to meet me.” Jack said almost seriously, absentmindedly brushing a few strands of his dark hair away from his perfect eyebrows.

“Of course. Though– I don’t see why this couldn’t have waited until Friday, you know it’s Kathy and I’s book club night.” He glanced up at his friend rather admonishingly as he tore a piece of his pretzel off, trying not to focus on how beautiful Jack’s honey-brown eyes looked in the sun.

David had planned to stop doting on this boy quite some time ago, but he’d done a rotten job of kicking his affections down. It seemed that at twenty he was more in love with Jack than he was at seventeen, which was simply no good because he was in love with Jack’s fianceé, too. There was no woman more beautiful than Katherine Pulitzer, and David stood by that belief. He also believed that there was no man more lovely than Jack Kelly, and so he found himself hopelessly head over heels despite his own reservations.

Jack’s easy smile turned almost nervous. “Well, it’s about the wedding, so I sorta wanted it to be just us.”

“Oh.” David felt his own smile slip and falter. He’d been dreading this moment and their intense eye contact instantly became too much. Jack was going to want to talk about his wedding eventually. He and Kath had been planning for weeks and according to Racetrack, they were both knee-deep in it and very excited. It was honestly a miracle neither of them had brought it up yet. Squirming in his skin, David firmly directed his sights on his own scuffed shoes. “Alright, what about the wedding?”

“Well– I want ya’ to be my best man.” Jack said, very simply, and when David didn’t smile or react at all, really, he cleared his throat. “Y’know, since you’re my best friend and all. You’re my best man day-to-day, so why shouldn’t ya’ be in my wedding?”

He swallowed the hard lump in his throat as his traitorous brain slammed him with images of Jack and Kath, happily dolled up in white and black, enjoying the best day of their lives as David wallowed in misery by Jack’s side. Just the thought made him feel a little bit nauseous, and that nausea only grew as he imagined himself having to stand up and give a speech about how happy he was for them. Of course, David was happy for them. He loved them, and they were happy, so how could he not be happy?

He was happy, but he was jealous and lonely and miserable too. There was no earthly way he’d give a speech that did Jack and Katherine justice. In fact, he’d been considering not attending the wedding at all. Finding an excuse. He didn’t need to be in the picture— he was horrible at masking his emotions. He’d just be a sad, morose lump, sucking all of the fun out of the night. They didn’t deserve that. But Jack was looking at him so hopefully and he knew that skipping his best friend’s biggest day was an offense he couldn’t commit.

David dug the toe of his boot into the brick beneath them. “I… I can’t make a speech, Jack.”

“That’s fine!” Jack reassured nearly instantly, grabbing Davey’s pant leg with fervor and leaning in like this was the most important thing he’d ever done. “Seriously, Dave, fine by me. No speech!”

How could he tell Jack no more firmly? He was starting to spiral into panic. “I can’t– I can’t stand up there in front of everyone at the wedding, either. I’m not– I’ll panic, and that’ll ruin your big day.” Now Jack looked positively distraught. This was falling apart fast. David gritted his teeth tightly and awkwardly, painfully took Jack’s hand in his own. “Jackie, I’m still going to be there–”

“But I want ya’ in the wedding, Davey. Not just at it–”

“I– um– I was thinking–” He was blabbering before he could think, some subconscious part of him trying to soothe Jack’s miserable expression. “Well, I was thinking before you asked me about this, that maybe I could just play piano for you? So… so you don’t hafta hire some other musician. And if it’s me, you can tell me all the pieces you want to hear sooner than you could tell a stranger…”

Jack seemed to pause, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hair. “You mean that?”

“Sure.” He steeled in a deep breath and tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes. He did not want to be a part of this wedding at all– he’d been planning to watch the ceremony and escape after a few minutes of the celebration afterwards– but he did owe it to them. They’d been nothing but good to him for years. “Besides, um… I think Crutchie’d murder you if you didn’t give him the best man spot. Or Racer. He’d kill you faster.”

“Pfft, Crutchie and Racer can kiss my happy ass.” Jack rolled his eyes as if to affirm his point, giving David’s hand a heart-wrenching squeeze. Something akin to hope was brightening his face, dimpling his cheeks, and David sort of wanted to disappear. “But… if– if you’re sure ya’ don’t mind playin’ for free, that’d work. Shit, it would really work. And Kath loves your music, Dave. Honestly, she’d be honored to have ya’ play– we’d both be.”

Then Jack squeezed his hands again, and David felt even closer to throwing up than he did before as he managed a stilted, awkward little smile. “You… you don’t have to make a big deal out of it. I’ll take any excuse I can get to play ragtime.”

“Wait, I thought ya’ meant just the ceremony.” Jack’s brow furrowed. “I want’cha to enjoy the party after.”

“There’s nothing I enjoy more than playing the piano. Especially not parties. I hate parties, you know.” He insisted, carefully, firmly. This was a truth– a universal David Jacobs truth– and playing the piano would be the only way he’d be able to distract himself from the misery of their perfection. “Besides, I know Katherine likes Brahms waltzes, and I’d– well, um, I’d be honored to play during your first dance. So… you’ve got me for the ceremony and the reception.”

“Gee, Dave.” Jack’s smile softened into something heart-wrenchingly personal and David looked away, at the pedestrians on the street and the shouting vendor they’d purchased their lunch from. “That means a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well…” He swallowed again. Harder. “Yeah.”

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

I think God instructing us not to go to sleep while angry at somebody is partially in case you wake up still mad at them. Unfortunately sometimes I am foolish. Anyway I’m angry at my mom and want to metaphorically throw rocks about it.

[pilonciillo]

on another note

[milflewis]

.

[exopelagic]

honk shoo.

[draculacunt]

not bad for just my fingernails

[roastedoatmilk]

Arcane Women Strap Hcs

characters: sevika, vi, caitlyn, mel, ambessa

A/N barely proofread sorry, also my first time writing for arcane please be kind 🙈 i hope y’all enjoy lmk your thoughts :)

Sevika

first things first she has a dark purple strap i’m talking almost the same color that shimmer is and boy does she know how to use it

whenever she pulls the strap out be prepared to not be able to walk the next day

she prefers to fuck you in missionary but if she had to choose a different position it would be fucking you from the bottom, she just loves to be able to see your face while she pleasures you

her strap game is DIABOLICAL, she always makes sure to hit that spot inside you that makes you let out a squeal and causes your toes to curl

honestly she could just cum from fucking you alone but if you feel up to it once she’s done with you she loves when you eat her out after

“that’s it baby, you’re taking me so well just a little more”

Vi

vi screams black strap to me like it just makes sense

she prefers to fuck you slow and DEEP, i’m talking girly lifts your hips off the bed and grips them so hard that you can feel bruises form

shes so cocky about it too like she knows she’s good

vi’s another one that could cum from pleasuring you alone and 9/10 times she does, however the one time she doesn’t she will literally sit on your face once you’re well enough to take care of her

“that feel good pretty girl ? yeah i know it does, you’re always so good for me”

Caitlyn

dark blue strap sorry yall i don’t make the rules

caitlyn loves when you’re on top and she’s fucking you from below

she revels in the sight of you falling apart above her while she’s gripping your hips guiding you

she’s 100% a brat tamer and you can’t tell me any different

“oh darling is it too much ? you shouldn’t have behaved like that if you didn’t want me to fuck you like this”

Mel

HEAR YE HEAR YE she has a gold strap idc idc

mel also likes it when you’re on top however she prefers to gently guide your movements while she praises you

don’t let that mislead you tho shes a HUGE tease

she can and will make you edge yourself until you’re literally crying begging her to let you cum

“ my love you look so beautiful when you ask nicely like that, go ahead and take what you need”

Ambessa

ruby red strap that’s all imma say

the cruelest of the bunch, she’s not afraid to leave you dry while she takes what she needs

another brat tamer yall you love to see it

she doesn’t make love she FUCKS, be prepared to constantly be buying new headboards

she makes you suck on her strap NEXTTTTT

“sweet girl did you think i’m finished with you ? no no we aren’t done until you can’t remember anything but my name”

[tonycries]

Never Ever Seen This Before!

Synopsis. There’s a first time for everything - including trying out dirty little kínks with them.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cóckwarming, mating press, oral (female + male receiving), manhandling, marking, spitting, bóndage, spanking (Nanami’s), dynamics, degradation, cúmplay, squírting, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. *sigh* can’t believe I deleted this before. If you know, then YOU KNOW.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Stay still, goddammit!

Was being stuffed full of your boyfriend’s thick cock at all times really too much to ask? You think not. 

Toji, however, really didn’t see the point.

“But, doll.” he groans, dragging his tip lazily in-between your swollen folds. And it was so sloppy - slick trailing down his length, smearing across the sheets. “Jus’ wanna fuck your pretty lil’ cunt.”

It’s not that Toji doesn’t like the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. No, he loves it - is addicted even. And he loves it especially when you attack him in the morning like this - his pretty girl, all splayed out on her side, barely even blinking the sleep out of her eyes before you ache for his dick. 

But, really, what’s the use of staying still - he’d rather fuck you till you’re breathless and creaming around his cock.

“Toji, you promised we’d try. Jus’ want to be stuffed full of your cock.” you pout, batting your lashes behind at him. “Don’ make me go on a sex ban.”

Oh, you little minx. He knew all your dirty tricks - yet, fell for them each time anyway. “Fine. Then fucking-” he lifts your legs a little higher, hips pulling back ever-so-slightly. “Take it.”

You barely even hear the rest of his sentence because Toji’s immediately bullying his throbbing dick into your pussy. Pushing against the resistance as you struggle to take his thick cock, not stopping till he’s buried all the way in your wet cunt.

Smirking at the way you mewl and grind your hips back into his, he wraps two muscled arms around your waist, holding you still on his cock. Murmuring in your ear, low and gravelly, “Not s’pposed to move, doll. Remember?

God, he knows you feel the way he twitches inside your dripping cunt at the way you whisper out a shaky little, “Y-yeah. No moving.”

And stubbornly you grit your teeth, being able to do nothing more than clamp down so deliciously on Toji’s pulsing cock as you stay still, relishing in the burn of him stretching you impossibly.

And maybe it’s been minutes - or even hours, because God did it feel that way to Toji as he watched you being broken by the mere feeling of being split apart on his cock. Patience slowly waning, he snakes down a hand to your poor, forgotten clit. Index tracing lightly over the sensitive bud. 

“T-Toji what-” you immediately jolt, finally getting an ounce of the friction your cunt has been aching for this whole time. Mindlessly grinding into his erection - only to be stopped by a large hand on your hip. 

“No moving, doll. Remember?”

“But-”

“Didn’t say anything about playing with your pretty lil’ clit now, did you?” he hums, knowing you were playing right into his hands. “Now. Don’t move.”

Ah, you can do nothing but lay there and take it as Toji presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Fingers starting to press, frantic, hard little circles on your swollen clit. Over and over- Like he was fucking you with his fingers the way he couldn’t with his dick. 

Ugh, damn him. Damn him and his fingers that knew you so well.

It was maddening.

“Toji- please.” you sob out, powerless against the bruising grip keeping you in place. You wanted to move. You wanted him so bad. 

“‘Please’ what?” he grunts. Clearly torn between focusing on drawing steady, agonizing patterns on your clit and fighting that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy over and over. Not stopping till you were cockdrunk and crying to cum.

“Please just fuck me- ah!”

Oh, you didn’t have to tell Toji twice. Because in one, fluid move, Toji’s pulling back, fucking you with harsh, jerky little movements of his hips. Twitching balls smacking you with each thrust. Not even caring to wait and let you adjust because fuck cockwarming, he’s wanted this so long and your needy lil’ pussy is milking him so good- “Shhh, it’s okay, doll. We have lotsa time to practice.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - So mean!

Nanami Kento was a gentleman. Always holding the door open, guiding you through crowds, gifting you bouquets even when there wasn’t a special occasion. 

The only problem was that Nanami was a gentleman even when you didn’t want him to be. Even when what you really wanted was for him to push you down and tease you till you were crying and begging for his cock. 

Like right now - kissing softly down your neck, large hands trailing across your skin as he lays you gently on your bed. Long fingers dipping into your soaked panties, drawing delicate patterns on your quivering thighs. But you’re not in the mood for delicate.

“K-Kento!” you whine, hips bucking into his featherlight touches. “Can we ah- do that thing we talked about?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, darling.” he murmurs against your skin. 

You let out a pouty whine, one that you knew would make him break. “But I want you to, Kento. Wan’ you to break me. Please.”

He lets out a resigned sigh, running a hand through his hair. A loaded second of silence passes. One. Two. And just as you’re about to admit defeat, surprisingly, it’s Nanami that breaks the silence. “Fine then. Face down, ass up if you want to act like such a lil’ slut.”

You scramble to do what he says, mind reeling from the fact that oh this was Nanami - the same Nanami who’d never raised his voice or ever called you anything other than terms of endearment.

“Hm, good.” he grits out.

And that’s all you hear before a deafening rip! rings through the heady room. Looking back in shock, you realize with a jolt that Nanami had your tattered panties in his hands, your dripping cunt on full display for him. 

As he positions himself behind you, resting his swollen cock the curve of your ass. Mindlessly, you push back against the feeling of Nanami’s achingly hard cock, hot and heavy on your skin, precum smearing everywhere. “Ken-”

Smack!

“Not Kento, darling.” he murmurs, palms smoothing over your ass. Lips kissing down your spine, in a way that would be so sweet if it wasn’t for the way he had you under his mercy. 

You let out a strangled moan at the sharp sting, his large handprint searing into your skin.  “S-sir?” you whisper, almost-experimentally. And oh was it the right answer - because he groans appreciatively, dick jumping so animalistically at the term leaving your swollen lips. 

“Oh? So my slutty girl does know how to be good, huh?” he murmurs, voice so uncharacteristically dangerous. Hands spreading your swollen folds to take in the sight of your wet pussy. “Shit. Since m’feeling so nice, count to five n’ I’ll fill that tight lil’ cunt with my cock.”

You barely have the time to wonder what he means before you feel a sharp slap against your ass. Forcing you to yelp out a strained little, “O-one, sir.”

Nanami hungry eyes greedily take in the fat tears clinging to your lashes, hips bucking into his for more. Your mouth dropping into such a delicious little oh! as you’re torn between pain and pleasure. 

You were so sweet falling apart underneath him that he can’t help but do it again. Smack! And again. Smack! 

“Two. Hah! N’ t-three.”

Good, now it was time to put his good girl to the test. 

With a low hiss of appreciation, he drags his throbbing cock across your wet folds, gathering your sweet juices on his tip. At the same time, Nanami’s hand connects with your ass again. Hard. Smack! 

“Ah! Oh-”

“Count.”

“Four! Ngh- four, sir.”

Nanami’s amusement spikes at the way you were so desperately rutting into his cock. And, well, what his pretty slut wants - she gets, right?

Several things happen at once,  he swiftly raises his hand for a final, hard smack. Hips reeling back ever-so-slightly to ram his cock into your snug cunt at the same time. Smack! 

“Ah! Kento- Kento hgnh- shit feel s’good inside me.” you mewl, drunk off both the sharp sting on your ass and Nanami bullying his thick cock into your tight pussy, filling you up so good. 

But not for long - because as soon as he was stuffing you full of his cock, Nanami’s pulling out just as fast. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you whirl behind to pout at him. Only for whatever whine to get stuck in your throat at two fingers shoving something flimsy and wet in your mouth. Forcing you to taste yourself.

Gagging around your soaked panties, a jolt runs down your spine at the positively feral glint in his eyes. Blinking away the tears in your eyes to take in the cruel little smile playing on his lips as he leans in closer to whisper, “My lil’ slut can’t even seem to remember what to call me, huh? I think she should be punished.”

Oh.

What have you done?

♡ GETO SUGURU - Drown me in it!

Geto Suguru has done it all - folded you in half, stuffed you full from all ends, had you begging and crying for more underneath him. He can confidently say that he hasn’t shied away from ticking off everything on the list.

That is until one random night in the shower, when he gets an epiphany - oh shit, Geto hasn’t made you squirt yet. Yes, it was the sudden image of you covering him in all your sweet juices. But more importantly - how dare he let his pretty girl go so long without cumming so hard you see the pearly gates of heaven? 

So - like any good boyfriend - Geto has you splayed out on his navy sheets, your legs in the air, his painfully hard cock buried in your dripping cunt. 

“Hngh- please. Shit shit shit m’cumming-” you whine, hips bucking wildly into his. Tears streaming down your face, clenching so hard around his dick that it makes it hard for Geto to thrust in and out at his steady, torturous rhythm. Fucking you through- which number orgasm was this again? 

Ah, it doesn’t matter - because you didn’t squirt. Again. 

“Awww…” you can barely hear his words over the blood roaring in your ears. “Didn’t squirt on that one either. C’mon now, my love, I know y’can do it f’me.”

Not wasting a second, Geto’s ramming his cock into your snug cunt once more. Heavy balls stinging your ass with each thrust - not even easing you into it any more because oh your little sobs were so pretty. Squirming and bucking into his touch despite your protests. “S-Sugu- I hah-, can’t-”

Now, as much as Geto loved your smart mouth - he loved it even more when you’re cockdrunk and babbling underneath him. Huffing out a laugh, he murmurs in your ear, “Yes, my love?” Veins grazing that one spot. Hard. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t cum anymore!”

Well - greedy gaze drinking in the way your swollen cunt swallowed him up so well, slick dripping down to his twitching balls - Geto begged to differ.

“Shut up. You will.” he mutters, shifting the angle to hit that one spot that has you gasping and bucking your hips for more. Your fists bunching up the soaked sheets below you, fucking yourself desperately into his throbbing cock. Curling deftly against that one spot. Over and over-

“Close, my love?” Geto sing-songs, “Think this could be the one?”

And oh does he find out. Because you’re cumming again - stars behind your eyes, walls clamping down so sinfully as he fucks you through your high. Your nails claw at his shoulders in an effort to get him to fucking slow down - but no, Geto is ruthless with his abuse. Hips faltering only once you show signs of your high bating. 

And before you can even react, your boyfriend’s starting his movements again. Milking himself on your heavenly pussy. 

You can’t even form coherent sentences at this point, only fucked-out whimpers leaving your swollen lips - it’s been like this for hours now. You’ve cum more times than you can probably count, yet here Geto was - not even once tonight. A slow, agonizing torture for the both of you. All because he wanted you to fucking squirt.

His thumb was ravaging your sensitive clit, pleasure nothing more than tingles now as Geto fucking ruins you. Hips bullying his thick cock into your heated pussy, thrusts no more than sloppy little movements. Your pussy dripping onto your bedroom floor.

Unforgiving. Geto Suguru was absolutely unforgiving. 

“C’mon, my love.” his words were so sweetly whispered in your ear - barely audible over your cries. Geto nips at your earlobe, purring lowly, “Squirt on this one, n’ I’ll fill your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum like you want s’bad.”

And then, it happens - something snaps.

Your orgasm crashes through you. So violent and hard that you see flashes of white behind your eyes. You cry out, trembling as your sloppy pussy squirts all over Geto. Covering him in all your sweet juices till his abs are glistening with your slick. Dripping down his body and absolutely soaking the sheets below.

And oh how he was entranced. Geto barely registers his own orgasm, hips faltering as he pumps thick, hot ropes of seed into your quivering cunt. Cumming at the mere sight of you creaming on his cock. His pretty girl was so gorgeous squirting all over him.

It was so so worth edging the both of you to the brink of insanity. He thinks his only regret was not having you squirt all over his face too.

Well…now he only had to see if he could do it twice.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Lollipop!

Shit, you thought your best friend would have a huge dick - but this was ridiculous. 

So intimidatingly long and pretty, swollen tip flushed your favorite shade of pink, matching his blushing cheeks. Beads of precum leaking down, down, down the side so mouth-wateringly as you seat yourself in-between those sculpted thighs.

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” Choso hisses, despite the way his cock throbs animalistically in your soft hands. 

You raise a brow, batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently. “Are you sure, Cho? S’your first, after all.”

He should say no. He should laugh it off as a joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his dick. Have you choking and gagging around him. So, any rationality thrown out the window, Choso nods slowly. Entranced. 

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, hot breath making his angry cock twitch “Thought so.” 

“But are you su- hngh!” Whatever sentence at the tip of his tongue is cut off as you spit on his length. Once. Twice. Your palms smearing the saliva along his throbbing length. Enough of an answer. And then there’s no more talking. 

Choso’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief as your tongue darts out to collect the saliva and precum pooling at his head. 

Moaning at his slightly salty taste, you take in as much of him as you can - inch by fucking inch. Not stopping till your nose meets the small tufts of black hair at this toned pelvis. Because this was your devastatingly sexy best friend and he deserved the best. 

God, Choso already thinks he could pass out. 

Heavy balls squeezing so painfully, his veins graze against the roof of your mouth as you start bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless pace. Milking Choso’s pretty cock for all he’s worth. Not even easing him into his first, because fuck only one taste and you’re already addicted. 

So, really, it only makes sense that Choso was the same. “Oh- Oh fuck! Feels s’good hngh-” he babbles, hips bucking up involuntarily into your warm, plush mouth. “Shit shit shit oh-.” 

Was this what heaven felt like? He really was missing out.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, feel s’good around me, sweetheart.” he groans, as you tongue at his sensitive slit. Fingers digging into the soft armrest while he tries to keep himself together.

You notice - of course you do - because soon enough you’re grabbing his arms to rest on your head, teary eyes blinking up at him so sinfully as you suck the soul out of him. 

In a split-second, Choso’s carding his fingers through your hair, holding you steady as he rams his cock down your throat. 

“Fuck- m’s-sorry, sweetheart. S’too ngh- fucking good.” his words slur together, drunk off the way you gag around him. Letting yourself be so used as he fucks your mouth so ferally. Not half the man he was just a moment ago.

By God were you a vision, he thinks deliriously - tears stinging your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, lips stretching so lewdly around him as you take him in and out in and out in and- And if he angled your head just right he could see the bulge in your throat. Him - all him. “Sorry- ah! s’pretty hgnh- pretty when you’re full of my cock.”

“Gonna be m’first, huh?” he moans deliriously, “”Gonna let me fuck up into that pretty lil’ mouth whenever I want?” 

The only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles, and the smacking of his heavy balls hitting your chin. This was heaven and you were an angel.

And that only makes Choso speed up his sloppy thrusts more. Each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Balls tightening, feeling his sanity crumbling away each time his throbbing erection hits the back of your throat. Over and over-

“Ah! Sweetheart- m’not gonna last long. M’close-” he lets out a guttural groan, tugging on your hair to pull you away.

But alas, you seemed every bit intent on ruining him. Because the only response he gets are your nails digging deeper into his milky hips, leaving angry, red marks in their wake. Ones for him to remember you by - not that he thinks he could ever forget this.

And that itself is enough to have Choso spilling into your mouth. Shooting thick, hot spurts of seed down your waiting throat. 

Messy. It was so fucking messy.

Heart in his throat, breaths ragged, Choso has to blink his vision back. And if he thought he was going to pass out before then he wasn’t ready for you to proudly stick out your tongue - showing absolutely no trace of his cum. Swallowing everything he gives.

“I-I think,” he starts, voice shot, “S’time for me to return the favor.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Drunk on you(r cunt)!

Why the hell would the King of Curses ever kneel down to anyone? 

Why would he ever wrestle your legs so shamefully open, dive nose-first into your pretty pussy, and tease you with his tongue for hours? Ignoring his angry, achingly hard cock for the sole purpose of making you cum and only making you cum?

But, well, that’s exactly what happened. 

“Oh- Kuna! Please-” you mewl, big fat tears dripping down your face at this point. Not knowing whether to move your hips away or buck up into his tongue for more more more-

“What now, brat?” he hums into your dripping cunt, vibrations making you squeal. “Complained that I don’t eat out your pretty lil’ cunt n’ now you’re acting so spoiled?”

Ah, there it was - that offhand little remark that got you into this mess. “B-but,” you whine, stars behind your eyes each time Sukuna laps at your sweet juices. “Didn’t think you’d be so mean-”

All you get is a dark chuckle as Sukuna sucks on your throbbing clit, so sensitive from his relentless abuse. Rolling his tongue over it so teasingly. 

Now, this might be his first time eating you out, but he knows exactly what you need - what you crave. And the way your body trembled under his touch told Sukuna everything about how you were brinking so dangerously close to the edge. Too close. 

“Please, Kuna! Wan’ cum s’bad.” you cry out, broken little moans of pleasure leaving your swollen lips. Ones which quickly turn into disappointed whines as he pulls away. Again.

“M’not being mean.” he murmurs in your ear, drinking in that adorable little pout on your face. 

In the haze of your lust-addled mind, you barely register the way he flips you two to lay on his back. Manhandling you further up the mattress you to be splayed out so sinfully above him - thighs straddling his devastatingly handsome face, hot breath hitting your dripping cunt.

“See?” Sukuna hums, tongue darting out to catch the obscene drip! drip! drip! of your slick. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “M’the best fucking boyfriend you’ll ever have.” And with that, he’s bullying his tongue through your swollen fold. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over-

“Ngh- feels s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Sukuna’s tongue. 

Why was he so reluctant again? Something about stupid fucking pride? Fuck that, Sukuna would be on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal.

God, you were pretty sure you’d be collapsing onto him if it wasn’t for the strong hand holding your hips. Grip almost bruising as he rocks you harder - more obscenely - on his tongue. The other snakes down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your swollen clit - as if you weren’t losing your sanity enough

And maybe if you were in a better state of mind you’d have noticed that Sukuna was, too. Eyes half-lidded, slick glistening down his jaw, pussy-drunk and watching awe-struck at the sinful sight of you. Devouring the sight of you the way he was with your cunt. 

Fuck, why does this feel so good? He wasn’t even fucking getting off, but the more he made out with your sweet cunt, the more he could feel himself edging closer and closer to the edge. Rock-hard cock angry and leaking precum all over his abs. The great Ryomen Sukuna cumming in his pants from eating his pretty girl out? 

Shit, Sukuna thinks deliriously, he was gonna have to make you cum. Soon. 

“Kuna- m’close.” you whimper, voice so soft as if you were afraid of being teased again.

“Oh yeah, brat?” he mutters into your folds, “Want it s’badly, huh? Wan’ cum on my tongue?” 

The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Yes yes yes! Can’t take it anymore, wan’ cum. Make me cum, please!” you keen. Fucked-out little whines of Sukuna’s name leaving your mouth as he speeds up his movements.

“Then cum.”

And you are, clenching so lewdly around his soft tongue as you ride out your high on his face. Your juices glossing his lips so prettily. And oh Sukuna’s so entranced by you creaming around his tongue that he almost misses the feel of thick, hot spurts of his cum now pooling on his abs. Fuck, he was going to have to do this very often.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Break him!

Gojo always fucked you like his own personal sextoy. And now, it was only time for you to pay back the favor. Which is why you had him handcuffed to the bed, shirtless and splayed out to absolutely fucking ruin. 

“Hah, don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle.” Gojo chuckles, tugging on the metal cuffs. Still so cocky despite the way his throbbing dick was leaking all over his sculpted abs, twitching at the mere sound of your voice. 

“How nice.” you hum, sliding your pussy across his swollen cock, drenching him in your juices. “Because I won’t be.” And before Gojo can retort, you’re sinking down on his achingly hard cock, squeezing him inside your tight cunt as much as you can. 

“Shit shit shit, yes. Your pretty lil’ pussy feel s’amazing wrapped around me. You sure you can handle it all, baby?” 

You waste no time. Slamming down on Gojo’s leaking cock in one, abrupt motion, walls burning at the stretch as your ass meets his heavy balls. They twitch against you as you start moving in steady little bounces, sliding his thick cock in and out of your dripping cunt. In out in and out in and-

“Shit, baby. Fuckin’ me s’good ah! Hngh-” Gojo’s sinful moans come in ragged bursts. Fucking up into your pussy in shallow, defiant little thrusts to bully himself deeper and deeper inside you. But not for long - because you’re pushing his hips down, nails digging into the milky skin of his hips.

“Nope.” you hum, grinning at his pout. “Not till you admit defeat, Toru.”

“What defeat? That all you got, baby?” Gojo scoffs.

Stubborn bastard.

“‘What defeat’, huh?” you taunt. Leaning down so your breath fans his pretty face, “Said I couldn’t- handle it-” Each word is punctuated by you slamming down hard onto his swollen cock. Snug cunt massaging his veins as you pull up all the way - till his leaking tip is just kissing your sloppy hole, rocking your hips down hard at a punishing pace. “Look at you now, huh?”

You risk a glance into his eyes and oh- he liked it.

The great Gojo Satoru - revered like a God since birth - liked being treated like a mere fucktoy at your hands. Loved it even - if the way he twitched inside you was anything to go by it. Oh how you enjoyed being the one to bring him down to his knees.

Immediately, your hand reaches to grab the blindfold hanging haphazardly on his neck. “C’mon, Toru.” you warn, breaths ragged at the way his fat tip kissed your cervix. Tugging - hard - Gojo breath hitches in his throat as you whisper, “Jus’ give up.”

His pretty lips part slightly as you speed up your movements. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out. 

“God, fuck- hah. Nah, more talk than walk, huh?”

Your hand tightens around the delicate blindfold, relishing in the wet little gurgles that leave him at the pressure around his throat. Balls squeezing painfully as you hypnotize him with your heavenly cunt. Alternating between agonizingly slow strokes and a sloppy, erratic bouncing - edging him closer and closer to the edge. Only to shatter his orgasm and his ego. Fuck.

“I know you want to cum, Toru.” your sweet voice snaps him out of his reverie, and Gojo stares up into your hazy, powerdrunk eyes. “Just admit defeat.”

“No.”

“Toru.” you start, sultry and dangerous. “Admit it.”

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out through those long lashes. “No.” he repeats, jaw clenched tight.

A hand wraps around his blindfold, pulling him impossibly closer, not even a hair’s breadth between your sticky bodies. “Admit defeat, Toru.” your lips ghosting his, nipping at his bottom lip. “Admit defeat, n’ I’ll make your cock cum hard enough to see stars.”

And finally, “I hah- a-admit defeat.”

“Louder.”

“I was wrong! Was wrong, m’girl. Lemme cum please lemme cum-”

Throwing his head back, Gojo’s hips buck wildly into yours as you let him bully his dick into you with reckless abandon. Over and over- Using you just as much as you were using him. Not even an ounce of the God he was raised to be.

And oh does Gojo see stars - and you do too. Because with a strangled gasp of your name, he’s painting your snug cunt white with thick, hot ropes of his cum. 

Fucking his seed deeper and deeper, he fucks you through your high. Dazed blue eyes widening at the way your tight pussy was so overfilled, sticky seed dribbling out of you.  The sight of you creaming around his cock has his balls twitching exhaustedly. Fuck it was all too much. Flimsy handcuffs shattering with one pull, Gojo mutters raggedly, words sending shivers down your spine, “My turn, baby.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[shiftthemoon]

reality shifting isn’t hard. you’ve been told it’s hard because everyone’s too scared to admit it’s not. they cling to their 800-step methods, their must-have crystals, their perfect conditions because they think that if they let go of that control, they’ll fail. but here’s the thing: the more you try to control the process, the more you convince yourself it’s out of your control. and that’s the problem. that’s why so many people feel stuck. shifting isn’t some big, far-fetched thing. it’s just you. it’s always been you.

we’re conditioned to think we’re powerless. think about it—school, work, society, all of it drills this idea into us that everything has to be proven, earned, validated. so, when you hear about shifting, your brain freaks out and says, wait, wait, this is too easy, this can’t be real. and then you spiral. you overcomplicate it. you make yourself think you need the “perfect” script, the “right” subliminal, or that you have to meditate for three hours while the stars align perfectly. like, no… you don’t. all of that? it’s fluff. it’s noise.

at its core, shifting is belief. just belief. no, really, let that sink in. you don’t need to “do” belief perfectly. it’s not something you master through sheer willpower. it’s something you already have. you’ve believed in things your whole life. you believed in gravity without needing proof. you believe your favorite songs are beautiful without needing to explain why. belief is natural. it’s effortless when you stop overthinking it. that’s the energy you need to bring to shifting—trust. trust that your mind knows what it’s doing, and that if you let it, it will take you there. every single extra thing you pile on? the overthinking, the doubt, the need for guarantees? that’s what’s slowing you down. not the “lack of progress,” not some mythical “block”—it’s you convincing yourself it’s harder than it is.

and let’s talk about social media for a second. oh my god, the shifting community on social media… i get it. it’s comforting to see other people on this journey. but let’s be honest—how much of that content is actually helping you? like, really? 90% of the time, scrolling through shifting advice isn’t inspiring; it’s overwhelming. everyone’s got their own opinions, their own “best methods,” their own rules. one person says scripting is a must, another says it’s a waste of time. one person swears by affirmations, another says visualization is the only way. and before you know it, you’re sitting there questioning everything you thought you knew, wondering if you’ll ever get it “right.” spoiler alert: you already know how to shift. you don’t need a thousand voices telling you what to do. in fact, the more you listen to them, the harder it becomes to hear yourself.

take a break. seriously. log off the apps. give yourself space to breathe and think. ask yourself: why do i want to shift? what’s stopping me? what feels right to me? no tiktok trend, youtube guide, or reddit post can answer those questions for you. only you can. and i know that sounds scary. we’ve been conditioned to think we need external validation for everything, but shifting is a deeply personal thing. you don’t need a step-by-step tutorial. you need to trust your instincts. that’s it.

and let me be clear: i’m not saying methods or subliminals are bad. they’re fine if they help you feel aligned. but they’re not what makes shifting happen. you are. methods are just tools. if you use them, great. if you don’t, that’s great too. because the truth is, shifting isn’t about doing things “right.” it’s about letting go of the idea that you need to.

so let me break it down for you. the only things you really need to shift are:

1. a desire. you have to want to go to your desired reality. no brainer, right?

2. belief. this is the big one. you have to trust it’s possible. no “what ifs,” no “but hows.” just trust.

3. persistence. if it doesn’t happen right away, that’s okay. don’t give up. if you’ve ever learned to ride a bike, you know that falling doesn’t mean you can’t do it—it just means you’re learning. shifting is the same.

that’s it. no fancy rituals, no endless research, no “perfect” conditions. the process is simple because it’s natural. you’ve probably done it before without even realizing it— the only reason it feels hard now is because you’ve convinced yourself it has to be.

stop making it harder than it needs to be. shifting isn’t this unattainable, mystical thing reserved for “chosen ones.” it’s something anyone can do. you can do it. your mom can do it. that anti-shifter lurking in every crevice of shiftblr could do it. you’ve always been capable. but you have to stop getting in your own way. stop doubting yourself. stop relying on others to tell you what’s possible. this is your journey. own it.

and above all, be patient. shifting is not a race. it’s not about how fast you can get there or how perfect your dr is. it’s about trust, intention, and focus. log off, tune into yourself, and let it happen. shifting has always been yours to claim. it’s not something you need permission for. it’s not something you need to earn. it’s just you, your mind, and your belief. always has been, always will be.

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

No one has been more convincing about encouraging me to play fallout new Vegas than the queer people in my phone. Literally every straight man I know in real life could not be half as convincing as the autistic queer people on this website

[readwritealldayallnight]

“I just can’t believe it Si…”

“I know, lovie. Me either.”

“They’re so perfect…” you mumble dreamily, only half aware that you’re still going on about the sight in front of you, an overjoyed smile stretched across your lips as you lean back against Simon’s strong, muscular chest. He has his arms wrapped around your middle, chin resting atop of your head as he also gazes down before you both. “I can’t believe we actually made them. We made these perfect little things…”

“Dunno about we, I think you’re givin’ me too much credit there.” He admits, adjusting to press a quick kiss into your hair, craning his head so that now his cheek is smushed against the crown of your head.

“Don’t sell yourself short mister,” You laugh, leaning your head back to try and catch his eye, reaching a hand up behind you to run your fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, earning a satisfied hum in return, feeling the vibration of it going through his chest into you. “You definitely were a part of the process, Simon. Couldn’t exactly have planted those seeds myself.” You add with a wink.

“Oh I remember, love, I was there.” He chuckles as well, his eyes meeting yours, the overwhelming feeling of pure contentment radiating off you both, the love he has for you reflected back at him in your own shining gaze. “You that did all the hard work though. Growin’ ‘em til they were ready.”

“Yeah but they’re our babies, Si.” You insist, his grip tightening around you at yours words.

“That they are. That they are.” He agrees, glancing down at the baskets set before you.

A moment passes where you continue to hold onto one another, enjoying the bliss that is existing alongside each other, feeling the other breath, heart beats falling into rhythm, both simply appreciating the view in front of you. Though you can’t see him behind you, Simon’s smile is wavering, unsure how to pose his next question, not wanting to sound as though he’s making fun of you.

“We are going to use them at some point though, right?”

“Eventually.”

“M’not sure how long berries last, lovie. And Johnny’s countin’ on that pie we said we’d-”

“Simon,” you cut him off. “Johnny’s damn desert can wait. I’m admiring my children.” You decide, casting another glance towards the baskets full of fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries you’d spent so long growing, the very literal fruits of your labour, the first successful pickings from the garden you and Simon planted outside your new home.

“Oh, so they’re your children now, are they?” He teases.

“If you’re talking about eating them so soon then yes, I will take custody.” You joke right back.

“Why’re you so gorgeous when you’re bossy?”

“Probably a side effect of the military, my love.”

“Well maybe we can look at having me plant a different kind of seed soon, aye? Kind that takes about nine months to grow?”

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)