#(also my writing wasn't as bad as I seemed to think it was back then past me you were doing great)

[midnights-afternoons]

Kyle didn't really talk much about his life before the army. He enlisted when he was very young and didn't have much of a life before. Some puppy crushes and failed career paths didn't make for good stories anyway. So, on the rare and offhand chance he mentioned something, he tended to leave out the time he thought he could make it as a model. Kyle Garrick had always been pretty, but in his late teens he was downright stunning. He had grown fast, his muscles already quite defined beneath his perfect, tan skin that seemed more like molten gold and copper, it was no surprise when a scout for a modeling agency invited him over for a photoshoot. His modeling career was short lived, even though he'd still get some odd jobs in between deployments after he enlisted, but he stopped years ago, right around the time he was placed with the 141. Modeling and the military didn't really mix, even though both tended to expose the dark underbelly of society, be it their own self-destruction or the destruction of others. He also wasn't keen on being teased for it, especially when he was trying hard to make it as a respectable sergeant. Still, Soap had no idea just what he would find when he absentmindedly flipped through some old magazines left behind in the safehouse they were currently occupying, flashes of barely dressed men and women provided little distraction for his tired and stressed mind - until he was surprised with a face he knew too well. Johnny looked up, watching the other sergeant resting against a wall on the other side of the room, he looked down again, the same face meeting him with a sweet smile and bare torso. Fuck, he was aroused. It wasn't hard to excuse himself to the dirty and barely lit bathroom. He, on the other hand, was very hard. In his horniness he failed to notice the knowing glint in his lieutenant’s eyes. Johnny flipped through the dust-covered pages like a hound searching for his prey, palming his erection over his pants as he focused on the soft brown eyes looking at him through the old pictures. Touching himself to pictures of his mate was a bad and dirty choice he'd rather not think about, John McTavish was nothing if a bad and dirty man, but even he could see how attractive his mates are, especially Garrick, - if he could scratch that itch through pictures in magazines, how was he expected to say no? He was fisting his bare cock now, hard and fast, the callus on his hands almost hurting the sensitive skin, he looked at the pictures again and imagined that smile under him, he came faster than he’d like to admit, being careful enough to avoid spilling over the glossy pictures, shame filled his chest when he realized the truth he’d tried so hard to avoid, this could never be a one-time thing. With a flimsy dirt rag he cleaned his hand and body, dressing up again to join the rest of the team blissfully unaware of what he had just done, that’s what he thought at least, but when the crack of the bathroom door revealed Ghost, smoking alone staring at what now consisted of very flustered, very ashamed Soap, he knew he had been caught, but under those knowing eyes Johnny saw something he didn’t quite expect, was Ghost amused by his predicament? “Keep them,” his superior officer said, “I’ve got more of them back home.” And with that he turned his back on the stunned soldier, still holding the magazines opened at the pretty pictures of their teammate, and, just then, Soap realized, every single one of the issues he found had a different picture of Gaz.

———————————————————————————

Guys, I did a thing… this is the first piece of writing I’m sharing, so please be kind; also it’s short, but I had to get this idea out of my head and out to the world, sorry not sorry. Also, English is not my first language, but I’m quite proud of this.

[sscullysglasses]

#okay so here's the post#what i'm trying to say is that time travels are indeed cool but when it comes to characters i personally can see that#the writers didn't account for the time differential. like. I feel like they wrote their stories consequentially#as. in. episode by episode. but they forgot to factor in the time difference.#three years is not a lot of time but it's also not a small amount of time as well

Okay yes to all of this. One of my biggest complaints with this show is that they really struggle to maintain the emotional balance with the timelines (and that they are entirely too proud of themselves for the love triangle/expanded geometry between Jack, Kate, Sawyer, and Juliet). It's incredibly disrespectful to the characters as individuals (and frankly bad writing) that they continue to push this relationship struggle when these are grown adults and three years have passed. Jack and Kate were engaged and raising a child together! I agree with your points regarding cheapening both their characters by making Sawyer the reason they break up. They both have bigger issues going on that it feels like the writers were unable or just unwilling to use.

I absolutely love how complex the timeline is on the show but it's so crazy to me that the first 4 seasons of on island story happens within like THREE MONTHS. And some characters will get over DEATHS faster than the love triangle resolves after THREE YEARS. It's so unrealistic and frustrating. Jack and Kate had a full domestic life together that can't really compare to the situation she had with Sawyer. (and as much as they play up the love triangle in the show it was never super compelling to me. It was clear to me that Kate was always going to choose Jack and a lot of her later interactions with Sawyer were directly because of Jack anyway.)

Yet when the plot needs to move, they continue to revert back to the love triangle to further the story. Like again in the season five with Juliet deciding to help Jack with the bomb instead of stopping him. All because Sawyer looked at Kate. Insecurities aside.... It's been three years for these characters and they've clearly changed. Having years long relationships when the other person wasn't around to factor in, really cannot compare to the couple of months Kate and Sawyer had. It just feels like such a cop out on the writers part to continue to push the love triangle narrative after such a long time as passed for the characters and the audience.

There was so much potential to develop Kate's character that they bypassed for the tired love triangle as well. I always felt that a lot of her internal struggle between Jack and Sawyer during season 5 could just as easily been more related to the fact that Sawyer maintained his relationship with Juliet and not necessarily because she had unresolved feelings for him. Sawyer didn't factor into Kate's decision to return to the island at all. She was there to look for Claire. I don't think old feelings for Sawyer resurfaced just because she was back on the island and around him again. During the scene at the creek in "Whatever Happened, Happened", Kate brings up their relationship and says to him "you seem to be doing ok [in a relationship] with Juliet". You can read that as her asking why they wouldn't have worked out (and the writers likely want you to) but you can also interpret this as Kate wondering why it worked out for them when she and Jack broke up. They could have done a lot of great character work exploring these more grown up versions but the second they return to the island, a lot of that falls away.

Ummm... I need to ask you losties a question.

As you know I'm a big Jack Shepard apologist (he's the only fictional white man that I'll protect at all cost just because we're trauma-bonded) and, although I honest-to-god think that he has a lot of chemistry with Sawyer, I've always loved his relationship with Kate because it's lightning quick but messy, cute but full of unsaid things.

Aside from fanon readings (unfortunately the show has never taken queer relationship to heart), the Jack-Kate-Sawyer love triangle was, more or less, interesting until s2 max s3. After that? It was just a tired trope that they continued to use because the show kept running but they had already reached its resolution and didn't really bother to find more interesting ways to develop the relationship between these three.

Today, however, while I was re-watching "The Little Prince" (S5) I realized one thing: perhaps the reason why it feels like it's a tired trope is because, narratively speaking, it's pretty unbalanced?

I mean, in S4 we see Jack and Kate relationship both on the island and back home. Like, we literally see them as they develop their relationship along two different timelines. In other words, we're given more material and, as I've already said many times, it's clear as day that by S4 the love triangle thing has been resolved.

However, because in S5 time works differently, we keep continuing seeing Jack and Kate's relationship but we also see the last remainder of Sawyer's attachment to Kate. But, by now, 20+ episodes have passed, different timelines have been explored so... the "bond" between these two characters feels... diluted?

As in, it makes sense for Sawyer to still think about Kate because only a few weeks have passed to him. But to us? For us three years have passed + what happened on the island with Jack and Kate in s4 so it kinda makes also sense to us that the love triangle is done.

It's like what I said about Kate and Jack's fight in s4: it makes close to zero sense for them to fight over Sawyer, not because they've just forgotten about him but because we see actual events happening to them in-between those years. And these events are all pretty though so the Sawyer-of-it-all almost pales in comparison!

So what I'm trying to say, I guess, is that while the time-travels storylines are cool as fuck, when it comes to feelings and love... they leave a bittersweet taste after viewing the episodes because the relationships suddenly don't feel earned anymore.

Like, we literally see Sawyer develop a bond with Juliet, open up to her, show his vulnerabilities etc. On the other hand, we also see Jack and Kate being domestic etc. So all the sudden "pathos" between Sawyer and Kate is just... not there?

Up until s3 they were GREAT together but after that? Just too many things happened and their relationships wasn't as "fated" as Kate's with Jack. It would've made more sense if they'd either showed a rekindling that actually made sense or they'd just developeded their dynamics differently.

Anyhoo, I've written too much, I really wanna knw what YOU folks think!

[loregoddess]

When I complete Spirit of Justice, I want to know what you'd like to see in a possible Ace Attorney 7. I know you mentioned you had ideas sometime before and I'm almost at the point where nothing is a spoiler in this series. It's quite exciting! I'll probably have a few ideas of my own for the next entry too. Is it possible Capcom is gearing up for that, since Investigations 2 got localized? If so then... Well. I think I'll have something to look forward to. 💖

Oh definitely, I feel like the fact that Capcom's managed to port all of AA onto current consoles, and even both AAI games managed to make it globally (and significantly more accessible than they had been) gives me a lot of hope we get AA news sometime soon(ish). Capcom's been doing fairly well thanks to RE4 Remake from what I've heard, and the announcement of Okami 2 at the Game Awards was entirely unexpected (I had just assumed Okami was one of Capcom's one-hit wonders, given how Okamiden kinda flopped despite being a decent game in its own right, like Capcom more or less treated Okami like Ghost Trick, a really excellent and beloved game that will not be part of a longer series), so like? Anything's possible.

Now, for what I would like to see in a potential AA7...

The shortest answer possible to "what would I, personally, like to see in AA7" would be a resolution to the loose ends left by AA4 (and 5 and 6, but those loose ends are mostly only loose bc of the loose ends in 4). I want the Forbidden Gavin Backstory (and also for a certain character to get a chance to fucking grieve, and also for the whole Apollo and Trucy are siblings and Phoenix and Lamiroir haven't told them yet thing to uh, finally be resolved, and also for Athena to get some more time as a main character, and...a whole list of smaller things honestly). Realistically I think there's a slightly higher chance of the Lamiroir-Apollo-Trucy family dynamite being A Thing in 7, but this is Capcom and I know their basement is filled with unresolved plot lines and forgotten characters (from games other than AA as well).

But like, the vast majority of my time spent during the height of my AA obsession was going over AA4 trying to figure out what the resolution would have been if the writing team hadn't been changed drastically. Me and a friend of mine spent a ton of time discussing theories and swapping story ideas. So, needless to say, what I personally would be most interested in is the lost story threads surrounding Klavier (I was very, very unwell about him see).

Although there's bits and pieces from 5 and 6 I wouldn't mind expanded either (I'm still so miffed about Clay's death, I'm sorry have the writers seen what spacesuits are like? what they're made of? there's no way that teeny tiny little pathetic excuse of a pocket knife stabbed his heart through a spacesuit. Capcom fight me). AHEM, but realistically? After all these years like, I'm fine to neutral w/ whatever I was dissatisfied with in 5 and 6, there wasn't anything (aside from that stupid little pocket knife) that bothered me enough to stick around in my memory, or, if I do remember it, still bothers me vehemently.

Now, will Capcom return to old plotlines, or will they go batshit and try something new? Well, who knows. I'm a tangential fan to Capcom's Resident Evil series, and have watched RE roller coaster in terms of characters and plotline management, sometimes abandoning beloved characters, sometimes coming back to plot lines or characters no one remembered, so as far as I'm concerned, anything's fair game for any of their flagship series.

Now, I have a ton of documents (theories, notes, story and character ideas, etc.) from the height of my AA obsession circa 2017-18, which this ask prompted me to go and revisit to see what past me was up to, and found I actually wrote up several outlines for potential "AA7 stories" where I did basically just write in everything I personally want (in varying degrees of detail per case). But while I think I had good story outlines (actually I had a ton of fun reading the final outline I had labeled as "the best" and maybe I'll turn it into a whole fic if I ever decide to replay/watch the entire AA series so I can brush up on the lore and characterization), I know it's probably very far off from what we'll get for AA7 realistically.

And like? I'll probably be happy with whatever we do get, even if I don't get my long-desired resolution to AA4. It's been so long...

Anyhow, I'd also absolutely love to hear what you'd like to see in AA7, or just ideas for future AA stuff, once you finish AA6 (I will be very curious about your thoughts on the game as well). It's been a while since I talked AA, due mostly to burnout, but I still have a lot of love for the series, kinda remember the spark I used to have for it, and it's been fun getting a fresh perspective from your posts about your experience with the series.

[chemicalarospec]

.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

GAME NIGHT, RUINED

18+ MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (was supposed to be nanny!reader but lit rally no mentions of her being a nanny LOL) summary: one question you refuse to answer gives you the best sex of your life. warnings | an: p in v sex, choking, one bite, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise kink?? hotch profiling reader and its so sexy i want to kith him on the mouth, there is aftercare i just didn’t write it, oopsies, established relationship word count: 2.9k

✧ masterlist

In all fairness, you hadn't actually read the rules of the game before suggesting it tonight. But maybe Penelope had – and maybe that's exactly why she'd wrapped it in floral paper with a gingham ribbon, like it was some sweet little gift and not a trap in disguise.

Because now here you were, cheeks warm, pulse ticking too fast, staring down a question that made your soul want to leave your body.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad.

You liked being manhandled. Liked a little choking – nothing too wild, just enough to feel it. Worst things have happened. Honestly, it wasn't even that big a deal.

Until you looked up... and saw Aaron’s eyes on you.

You swallowed, looking back down at the card again just as a breathless little laugh slipped out.

Name a turn-on your partner doesn’t know about but should.

“Pretty sure we’ve already had this one,” you said, maybe a little too brightly, as you tucked the card neatly under the deck like it was nothing. “Next!”

You barely brushed the edge of a new card before Aaron’s hand closed over the stack, pulling it right out of reach.

“Oh, are we done playing?” you asked innocently, sitting up a little straighter as your hands slid to your thighs. “Good idea.” You were on your feet now. “Pretty sure there’s a pile of laundry upstairs with my name on it –”

“Sit.”

Your hands hovered for a second before landing on your hips, a half-formed protest catching in your throat, but you obeyed, lowering yourself back down onto the couch, trying to act unbothered. Trying to ignore the way your heart had picked up speed.

“We haven’t been playing this game long enough to get the same card twice,” he said calmly, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Really? Huh. Could’ve sworn we already had that one.”

He arched a brow. “What was it?”

“Aaron come on,” you deflected, waving a hand like it didn’t matter. “It was something silly.”

He didn’t say anything, just flipped the deck over in his hand, eyes scanning the top card.

“Name a turn-on your partner doesn’t know about but should,” he read aloud. “Hm. Definitely don’t recall hearing your answer to this.”

“You don’t?” you said weakly.

“Just because you keep repeating everything I say doesn’t mean you’re going to get out of answering.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

“You begged to play this game,” he continued calmly. “And now you’re skipping cards?” He gave you a dry look. “That hardly seems fair.”

You let out a quiet huff and leaned back into the couch, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. Your heart was beating faster than it should’ve been. Not because you didn’t trust him – you did. Completely. You knew he’d never shame you or make you feel small for wanting something.

But he’d also seen the worst of humanity. He’d spent his career staring into the darkest corners of people’s minds. You weren’t sure how he’d feel knowing his girlfriend got turned on by things like rough hands. The feeling of being pinned down and utterly helpless, even when she wasn’t.

It sounded a lot messier out loud than it did in your head.

“I just…” You hesitated. “It’s not a big deal. It’s probably not even your thing.”

“Well, if you’re unhappy in that department, I’d absolutely like to know what it is.”

“Oh my God – no, no. Not at all. I’m not – unhappy.” Your voice pitched as high as your hands flew up in protest, and now you were spiralling. “I’m very happy. I’m, like, obscenely happy. I think your ability to give me more orgasms in one night than I’ve had in my entire life before meeting you should be studied. Or patented. Or possibly banned in several states –”

He blinked once. Then bit back a smile.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do, unfortunately,” you muttered into your palms.

“Then tell me,” he said, voice dipping just a little. “Or am I going to have to profile it out of you?”

You peeked out from between your fingers. “You wouldn’t.”

He gave a mild shrug. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

Your heart thudded.

“You get flustered when you lose control of the conversation. Especially with me. You fidget more. You avoid eye contact like you’re doing right now.”

You shifted almost immediately.

“You like routine and structure. You’re organised to a fault, but the second I step into your space and do something unexpected, you melt.” He tilted his head. “You act like it annoys you, but I’ve watched you for long enough to know it doesn’t. When I back you against the counter. When I pull your hair back mid-sentence just to kiss your neck. When I don’t ask and take instead. You don’t stop me, you lean into it.”

Your mouth went dry.

“You like being told what to do,” he said simply. Like it was a fact. Like it was always obvious. “In little ways. Safe ways. And when you’re overwhelmed, your instinct isn’t to push back, it’s to submit.”

He watched as your throat worked around a hard swallow.

“You like it when I’m in control.”

Your legs pressed together tight. Too late to pretend it hadn’t happened.

He smiled. “You throw around sarcasm, roll yours eyes, push back, pretend to fuss when I get bossy. But the second I tell you what to do – really tell you – you listen.”

You stared at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

“And the truth is, you don’t want to say it out loud because you think it’ll sound messed up. But it doesn’t.” He paused for a second. “I understand you and I’m not judging you. I want to give you what you need.”

Another moment of silence passed before he added, “But if you keep pressing your thighs together like that, I’m going to start thinking we’re done playing this game.”

You let a breath out before speaking. “I…I think we’re done playing,” you managed, voice hoarse.

“Yeah? You sure?”

You nodded before your brain could catch up. “Yes.”

“Then get upstairs.”

You rose on shaky legs and turned towards the stairs, amazed you didn’t trip over yourself on the way up. You could hear him following behind unhurried, while your vision nearly swam from what he’d managed to do to you with just words.

Inside the bedroom, you stopped at the foot of the bed, unsure whether to turn around or stay still. But you didn’t have to ask.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed immediately.

He stepped in close, the heat of him pressing into you just as his hand gripped a firm handful of your hair giving it a tug.

“I can feel you shaking,” he murmured, his mouth brushing against your neck. “You’ve been so worked up since downstairs.” His lips trailed along your jaw slowly, down the curve of your neck, before you felt him bite down gently, his tongue smoothing over the sting.

“Clothes off, sweetheart.” He took a step back, giving you space.

You reached for the hem of your shirt and peeled it up over your head, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes tracked every inch of newly exposed skin, like he was cataloguing every place he intended to touch.

You pushed your pants down next, shimmied them over your hips, then stepped out, standing there in just your bra and panties, chest rising and falling.

“All of it.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached behind and undid your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders. Then finally, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them and standing bare in front of him.

He nodded toward the bed.

You turned and sat on the edge first, heart racing, then eased yourself down, your back meeting the cool sheets as you settled into place beneath his gaze.

It didn’t take long before he was hovering over you, one hand spreading your thighs as he settled between them, the other coming up to rest lightly – so lightly – around your throat.

You whimpered.

“There it is,” he whispered, kissing just beneath your ear. “That little sound you make when you’re starting to let go.”

Then his fingers found your clit, and you arched off the bed with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure landed exactly where you needed it

“I can’t possibly imagine why you’d think this isn’t ‘my thing.’” His fingers kept working you. “Feel what you’ve done to me.”

Your hand moved down between you, palming him through his jeans – and Christ, was he hard. Straining against the fabric, so much so that it almost felt painful.

He groaned at the contact, his hips instinctively pressing into your touch.

“See?” he murmured, slipping a finger inside you without warning, drawing a moan from deep in your chest. “This is exactly my thing. And you—” he kissed the corner of your mouth, “you like this is my thing.”

You gasped, your back arching again, but his other hand was already moving, finding your neck again, pressing down just enough to hold you in place.

He leaned in close, brushing his nose along your cheek, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he added a second finger. “You don’t even realize how pretty you are when you’re desperate, do you?” he whispered. “The way you shake. The way you clench around me when I take my time.”

“Aaron…”

He smiled against your skin. “I could keep you like this all night.”

“Please –” was all you managed, the word falling out in a half-broken whimper.

His hand at your throat tightened just enough to make your breath hitch, the same time he curled his fingers inside you. You clenched around him so hard you thought your body might unravel right then and there.

“Fuck – I – I –”

“What is it? Tell me exactly what you need.”

You bucked against him, unable to stop it, hands flying to his forearms – not to push him away, but to hold on. He didn’t move, didn’t ease up either of his hands.

“Or… do you want me to decide for you, hm?”

You couldn’t answer, not in words. Your mind was a haze of heat and ache, your breath catching somewhere between a sob and a moan. Your nails dug into his forearms, desperate for some sort of release.

“Too overwhelmed to answer?”

And then he stilled.

Fingers deep inside you, his body caging yours, hand still resting at your throat but no movement. No friction. No relief. You whined, your hips shifting in an attempt to chase more.

“I’ll decide, then,” he said softly, like he was offering kindness. “You want release? Earn it.”

He withdrew his fingers slowly, achingly slow, and the loss had you nearly sobbing. But before you could even begin to beg, he brought his slick fingers up between you and pressed them to your lips.

“Taste it,” he murmured. “Taste how worked up you are. Taste what you do to me.”

Your lips parted without thought, wrapping around his fingers. You moaned as your tongue slid over them, tasting yourself on his skin. He pressed a little deeper, a little further down your throat, and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking greedily.

“Good girl,” he whispered, voice rough now. “So fucking good for me.”

He began making his way down your body, peppering kisses over your chest, you stomach, your hips. You could feel him everywhere, his breath fanning against your skin, his hands sliding down your thighs, spreading you open again.

He lowered himself between your thighs, and when his mouth finally met you again, it was everything.

His tongue lapped at you, circling your clit before dragging lower to taste all of you. He groaned into you, the sound deep, pushing you that much closer to the edge.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moving – hips bucking, thighs twitching, grinding against his face, desperate for more. But he only gripped your hips harder, strong arms pinning you down like it was nothing. Like your squirming didn’t even faze him. Like it didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

You whimpered, barely coherent and all you could think about was how badly you wanted those bruises. You wanted to see the outline of his fingers tomorrow. You wanted to remember exactly how they got there.

The pressure built low in your stomach, your thighs beginning to tremble, clenching around his face.

“S’okay baby,” he mumbled against you, voice muffled by your skin. “I’ve got you.”

And that was all it took.

Your thighs clamped around his head, your hips jolting up off the bed, and you cried out, high and breathless, one hand flying to your mouth, the other tangled in the sheets. You writhed beneath him, overstimulated and soaked, gasping through the aftershocks. Your whole body was twitching, lips parted, chest heaving.

He finally pulled back, mouth and chin glistening. “You should see yourself. You don’t even know how beautiful you look when you come.”

You were still catching your breath when you heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt hitting the floor. You reached up to brush a strand of hair off your damp forehead, but your hand dropped the second you felt him between your thighs again, tip dragging slowly along your soaked slit.

Your entire body went still, mouth falling open and he hadn’t even pushed inside you yet.

“You okay?” he asked, pausing just long enough to check in.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes wide. “More than okay. So okay.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Now you want to talk?”

“I’m just –” you started, breath catching every time the head of his cock slid through your folds. “I’m just saying, I didn’t know it could feel like this, and I – God, Aaron –”

And then he thrusted into you.

One deep stroke that filled you completely, stealing the rest of the sentence right out of your mouth. Your eyes flew open, a strangled gasp caught in your throat as your head tipped back against the pillow, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on.

“Yeah,” he gritted out, his voice hot against your ear. “I thought that might shut you up.”

You could only whimper in response, nails digging into his skin as he stayed there, buried to the hilt, giving you no room to think.

“You feel that?” he murmured, rocking into you once, slow and deep. “You take me so fucking well.”

You nodded, mouth open, breathless. “I wasn’t done talking,” you managed to whisper.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to drag the tip out to your entrance and paused. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Try.”

“Fuck y–”

He slammed back in, cutting you off mid-word with a thrust somehow deeper than the last.

“Fuck you?” he echoed smugly. “Yeah. I think I will.”

And he did – hips rocking into yours, each thrust pushing you further into the mattress. Then his hand came up, wrapping around your throat again and you clenched around him, a moan escaping your lips. He let out a low tsk, like he’d caught you misbehaving.

He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against yours, his thrusts slowing. They were deeper now, rougher, grinding into you with so much intensity you weren’t even sure where your body ended and his began.

“This,” he murmured, squeezing just a little tighter, “this is what you were so scared to ask for?”

You opened your mouth to answer, to give him something, anything, but he slammed into you before the words could form, another deep, brutal thrust that knocked the breath out of you.

“I—Aaron, I—” you tried again, voice thin.

Another thrust. Harder.

You gasped, your back arching off the bed. “You’re not even letting me –”

He did it again, cut you off with a stroke that had your vision going white at the edges.

“Fuck—you’re doing this on purpose,” you whimpered, dazed and desperate.

“I sure am.” His hand tightened just a little more at your throat. “You want to know what my turn-on is?” he muttered, not waiting for an answer. “Seeing you fucked senseless.”

Another thrust hit that perfect spot, making your entire body jerk beneath him. You tried to speak, to respond, but he snapped his hips again and you mewled out whatever nonsense your uncooperative tongue could muster.

“You want to come?”

You nodded frantically, words useless now, tears brimming from the sheer overload.

“Good. Then do it.”

He reached down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, setting a pace in perfect sync with his thrusts. Your hips began to stutter as you screwed your eyes shut, the pressure building too fast to stop.

It took mere seconds before your body seized around him.

“Jesus – fuck, that’s it,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight when you come –”

His rhythm faltered, stammered and then he was slamming into you one last time, your name falling from his lips as he came.

He loosened his grip on your throat, both hands sliding to your ribcage, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

Neither of you spoke. Both of you were too focused on catching your breath, sharing the same shallow air like it might not be enough.

Finally, after a minute, he leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “Think we should play card games more often.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic

dbf!bodyguard!hotch using food as foreplay coming up next to an alina-blog near you!🌟

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[ssahotchnerr]

possible idea for married hotch since you asked for requests😋 (and cause i love your writing)

maybe one where he gets injured and with the rest of the bau he’s just brushing it off but when wifey pulls up? different story.

he’s just all 🥺🥺 at her and the team is like wtaf?

also can i be 🌊 anon pretty please?

healing touches

i love that 🥺🥺🤕 cw; bau fem!reader, established relationship (hehe they're soooo in love), injury/blood descriptions, aaron being stubborn🙄, playful banter, fluff <333

The first SUV arrived back at the police department after apprehending the unsub. Morgan, JJ and Prentiss walked inside, pulling their vests off in sync.

You might have been mistaken, but their gazes immediately locked onto you as they removed their protective gear. Their stares were almost unsettling, as if they knew something you didn’t, and were waiting to see the rest unfold. Unease filled you from head to toe.

"Hey," you stacked a few files together, placing them down. "How'd it go? Did you get him?"

"Yeah, 'course we did." Morgan sauntered over, dropping his vest onto the table with a thud.

"Well," Emily added, a slight grimace on her face. "Not without putting up a relentless fight. It wasn't pretty, I'll tell you that."

A bad feeling formed in your gut. Even Spencer's attention was gained, his head lifting from his book.

"What do you me-"

Your words were interrupted by Aaron and JJ walking in. JJ, perfectly fine. Aaron on the other hand, was moving at a much slower speed than normal, definitely banged up with a fair amount of blood present on his face.

Your eyes widened in alarm, meeting him halfway.

"Oh my god, Aaron. Are you okay?" You immediately unstrapped his vest for him, tucking it under your arm. The lessening pressure seemed to help some, light tension lifting from his body.

Your hand raised to cup his jaw, moving it gently to observe the damage. There was definitely a developing bruise underneath his right eye, his forehead and cheek were both littered with scrapes of all shapes and sizes. Aaron winced when his head reached a particular angle, and it wasn't a subtle wince either. It was a startling jolt, agonizing pain obvious.

But it was at your touch, and your presence, that his eyes softened. The stagnant sharpness dissolving as he looked at you with a tenderness that was almost too raw to hide. You pulled back to get a better look at him as whole, ensuring he was fully intact.

"He's 'fine', in case you were wondering. Only told us 'bout a million times." Morgan added air quotes, sitting down and kicking his feet onto the table. "Refused medical attention, even."

"Manners." You swatted his foot, causing him to lower them before turning back to Aaron. You tutted at him softly, "You did? After that lil stunt you just pulled?"

"Well... I guess it is starting to hurt more now."

"I wonder why," JJ commented humorously under her breath, hiding her smile with her palm. Additionally, Emily and Derek gave him a look.

You quickly reached into your bag, riffling through it until you found your handy tube of Neosporin. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Aaron didn't argue, didn't utter a single word as he followed you to the bathroom like a lost puppy. Once inside the small space you maneuvered him back against the sink, washing your hands next.

"That was stupid of you." You wet a paper towel, dabbing his cuts and ridding of any dry blood, once again causing him to flinch at the touch. You pulled the towel away, pausing a moment, before resuming gently. "Even if you think you're not in need of getting checked out, please do, for my sake at least. I'd like my husband to stay in one piece if possible."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"We were clearing the grounds and he managed to catch me by surprise," Aaron huffed out, evidently annoyed at himself. "I should have seen it coming. Seen him in the shadows, reacted faster."

"Baby, you may think you have the invincibility of Superman, but you don't. You're human, it's okay to miss things every once and a while." You reassured him softly, tossing the towel aside and moving onto the Neosporin. After dabbing some onto your index finger, you began blotting it thoroughly onto the cuts. "Which I'm fine with, by the way, you're much better looking."

"Yeah?" A laugh escaped Aaron, but his chuckle was interrupted by the twinge in his ribcage, the entirety of it shooting up in pain.

"I'm sorry," you gasped gently, guilt sweeping through you.

"It's fine, 'm fine." He breathed out through his teeth, his jaw clenching momentarily, until the pain subsided. "I'm okay sweetheart. Now c'mon, your face is far too pretty to look that worried."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes frantically searching his face.

"Really. So I'm a little bruised up, I've been through far worse."

You sighed, not entirely convinced. "Fine. But when we get home tomorrow," your eyes narrowed slightly, pointing the Neosporin at him as a 'threat'. "You're resting. Come hell or high water."

"Deal."

"I'm happy you're okay." Suddenly emotional, tears dared to spill from your eyes. They stalled at your waterline, completely blurring your vision. You hated to see him in pain, and the reminder of past events didn't help. "Don't scare me like that."

"C'mere," Aaron raised his arms, gesturing for you to come close.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"Come here."

You took a step forward, not raising your arms to potentially inflict pain, but rest your body against his. Your face found home in the crook of his neck, while his arms did wrap around you. Not as tight as usual, but enough to hold you and not hurt.

"I'm fine," he kissed the side of your head. "And I have my girl to thank for that. Although, you did miss a spot."

"I did? Where?" You pulled back, beginning to unscrew the tube's cap but Aaron's hand stopped you.

"Right here." He pointed to his lips, playing up the 'anguish' in his eyes. "Hurts real bad."

Your lips tugged into a smile, leaning in and offering him a short, sweet kiss.

"That's all I get?"

You playfully rolled your eyes before giving his lips another quick kiss. He chased your lips, but you pulled back, keeping just out of reach.

"Want a longer one? Get medical attention next time."

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[enhani-ki]

マスターリスト m.list

most of my fics are suggestive (jokes/mentions of sex & skinships) or nsfw/smut (+ these are not proof-read too) but they also include plenty of fluff, angst, and crack so let me know if there's a specific genre you'd like me to do!

my biggest opp

[enemies to what?, most popular work, smut] 3.7k wc ; ni-ki was on the verge of losing it, just holding himself back from strangling you, while you, on the other hand, were so close to running him over in the parking lot—if only the security cameras weren't around. one late night, when the office was supposed to be empty, you thought you were the last one left until you realized a crucial file of yours was missing.

fuckboy!ni-ki part i

[fluff, most popular work, smut] 6.4k wc ; meeting you made the fuckboy stumble and wanting a change. he went on a mission to prove he wasn't as bad as you thought. be careful though... change doesn't come without risks.

fuckboy!ni-ki part ii

[fluff, popular work, smut] 1.9k wc ; consequences of being a fuckboy in his past, ni-ki does everything to make you feel special, though he sometimes can't help but to add on his naughty streak.

Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend

[fluff, most popular work, ni-ki's slightly sadistic, smut] 1.1k wc ; how ni-ki is as your boyfriend and your unforgettable firsts with him.

caught

[aphrodisiac induced, popular work, smut] 1.6k wc ; you got caught... why'd you do it without him?

duck and his duck plushie

[jealous ni-ki, popular work, smut] 1.3k wc ; ni-ki felt ignored, neglected, and betrayed by the duck plushie he gave you. he's jealous that you cling to it instead of him.

aftercare and pillowtalk with bf!ni-ki

[fluff, popular work, suggestive] 506 wc ; anonymous asked: could you write a fluffy aftercare and pillowtalk with riki after doing it? ; your boyfriend, who works hard, needs to be taken care of too.

tv off

[fluff, popular work, suggestive] 534 wc ; anonymous asked: can we get ni-ki and reader cuddling? ; unintentionally tempting your tired boyfriend while you're asleep.

random texts with bf!ni-ki

[fluff, smau, light smut/very suggestive, popular work] 14 images ; long-distance relationship is hard but he's harder.

snitch

[fluff, popular work, suggestive] 2.6k wc ; your best friend's annoying younger brother kisses you out of nowhere...

touché part i

[popular work, suggestive] 1.2k wc ; "just please give me a sign. waiting way too long, i think it's time." loose by ENHYPEN, where riki's been making eye contact with you a lot lately.

touché part ii

[fluff, popular work, suggestive] 1.1k wc ; relationships grows, so does his need for you. you realize that you're never really ready for how much the guy wants you.

i've been waiting for you

[popular work, smut] 1.1k wc ; your boyfriend woke up from his nap annoyed because you came home late. he's been waiting for you, tired, and hungry for your attention.

jealousy, jealousy

[crack, jealous ni-ki, popular work, smut] 1.9k wc ; your coworker seemed a little too comfortable with you in your boyfriend's eyes.

Nishimura Riki as your (pervert) classmate

[down-bad!ni-ki, smut] 2.2k wc ; a good boy who's down-bad for his mean, rebellious, and delinquent classmate. ni-ki's attentiveness and persistence might just be the thing that will break through your tough exterior.

exes

[angst, fluff, suggestive] 2.6k wc ; they say exes can't be friends but can they even be strangers though?

like i need u

[angst] 1.6k wc ; ni-ki brings you along on his overseas schedule that's full of excitement and promises but the trip quickly turns cold as he's swept up in work and starts pushing you away... just boys being boys.

pacify her

[slight dacryphilia, smut] 1.4k wc ; anonymous asked: what about riki teasing reader till she's about to cry and he notices and feels bad so they make out and he gives her head while teasing her all the while? ; ni-ki pushes your patience with his teasing and gets turned on. even though he makes you frustrated and emotional, he'll always finds a way to make it up to you. you cry because you love him, it's natural.

part-timers!ni-ki & reader

[pervert!reader, suggestive] 1.1k wc ; you never showed it, but you like ni-ki—maybe too much. his cryptic texts feel like he's been trying to say something to you too all along.

part-timers!ni-ki & reader part ii

[smut] 2.3k wc ; you told him your dirty little secret. ni-ki didn't freak out, instead, he asked to watch and help.

BMF part i

[down-bad!reader, dry humping, smut] 2.1k wc ; you've been in love with ni-ki for a long time now, and recently, it finally felt like all your patience, all your hard work, was already starting to pay off.

BMF part ii

[down-bad!reader, smut] 2.5k wc ; ni-ki might just buy you more lingeries...

overthink this, overthink that

[angst, fluff, suggestive] 5.9k wc ; slow-burn, loving too much, not being taken seriously, letting go, and the soft ache of being seen for the first time.

ni-ki's reaction to getting slapped

[smut] 339 wc ; no words, just... why?

he knows (featuring jake)

[angst, cheating, light smut] 4.5k wc ; right and wrong was blurry until their friendships starts to crack.

love at twenties ?

[fluff, suggestive] 2k wc ; a continuation of snitch. just established relationship and full of yearning.

random texts with fwb!ni-ki

[fluff, light smut/very suggestive] 14 images ; sneaking and playing with ni-ki, your good friend (with benefits)

not-so-big surprise

[birthday special, fluff, texting] 520 wc ; long-distance relationship. ni-ki stays up just to be the first to greet you for your birthday.

double take

[fluff, male!reader, suggestive] 1.4k wc ; your childhood best friend, the one you used to dance with, just came back as an idol. he's now tall, hot, and way too touchy for your peace of mind.

dating and talking stage with ni-ki

[fluff, smau] 10 images ; just random texts with nonchalant riki.

ENHYPEN AS YOUR "HOMEBOY"

[fluff, little suggestive, ot7] enhypen members as your homeboys and the platonic friendship you share with each of them.

*to be continued

also read the < important notes > about this blog & content. message me or send an ask if you want to be mutuals ^_^

© ENHANI-KI : ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Eight

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Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven

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A/N: I think I went too hard on this, but I also feel like it wasn't enough. I really wanted to play around with dialogue more. I was going to have the Bats hit Smalltown in this, but I think it would be best if the confrontation(s) had it's own chapter. Let me know what y'all think!

A/N: This is my longest writing yet. Just a heads up. Hope that's all good!

Warnings: Yandere themes, alluded murder, platonic bed sharing, OC usage.

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The way the raindrops on the windshield seemed to chase each other didn't even registered to you as your heart continues to palpitate in your chest. Your hands shaking on the steering wheel as the numbers on the mile markers continued to change, and they weren't growing any steadier with each passing one. The way the excitement to gyrated inside your chest as the old truck continued on the patch-work road made you feel lightheaded. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could get addicted to.

It didn't stop the nausea curdling in your stomach, but you chalk that up to this being your first true act of rebellion. Even if you felt it was justified. It wasn't like they were going to chase after you, though. They had made their priorities clear. Clear as Gotham's smog filled skies. You weren't going to allow yourself to waste away in that manor filled with more secrets than people when there was a life outside of it that you had once been a part of.

It wasn't until you were certain a full day had past that the storm had finally dissipated, both over Gotham and over your mind. The trepidation in your belly at long last fading into a sense serenity. Even if it was only a fleeting thing. Water rarely stays still for long when the storm comes.

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Back in Gotham the family had finally dragged their bone-weary selves back to the cave. Some collapsing in the nearest got. Some dragging themselves upstairs for their comfort of their bed. But, surprisingly, it's Damian that drags himself to your room. The past two days had worn him down and he just wanted his sibling, even if it meant disturbing them. Even if they were mad at him.

It doesn't register to him that your bed is empty. That some of your things are missing. He crawls under the covers and curls into the pillow like a temperamental cat. Resting his eyes temporarily he says. You're his sibling, you shouldn't mind. (He had heard you laughing on the phone about how your other little brother used to do this on occasion. He wants to know what that’s like)

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As everyone rest their heads back home, unaware that the worse was yet to come even after the lighting had passed, you start to turn down familiar roads. Roads you had memorized every bump of once. The roads that lead you towards a home you had missed and things you used to know.

There's a few new bumps and pot holes that you don't recognize, but you're too excited to see them as the warnings they were.

As you pull into the driveway of Nana and Grand Daddy's house, you can see Nana standing outside. Waving for you in front of the two-story bedroom house Daddy had designed and built for them years ago. The place was well cared for despite the creaky steps on the front porch that you had spent many hot summers on. Blowing snow across the yard to keep cool.

When you finally park the truck and hop out Nana's already rushing towards you with surprising speed for her old age. Already your arms are opening for her when she suddenly scoops you up and locks you in an tight embrace.

"I missed you." You mumble into her shoulder. Trying to fight back a few tears as the scent of her bitter perfume fills your nose.

"I missed you more. We all missed you more, sugarplum." You hear the gravel in her voice as she gives you one last squeeze. Holding you so tight that for a moment you feel you can't breath. But, before you need to gasp for air, she pulls back slightly. Her aged brown eyes looking you over appraisingly. "You sure ya' don't wanna rest up a bit? You look thin, sweetpea."

A soft noise escapes your lips in a puff.

"I'm sure. Still too wired from the drive." You reply as you wipe those few stray tears that somehow trickled down your cheeks. Your best efforts to keep them contained failing.

Everything around you feels different. It's home, but there's something about it that is different. The smells are the same, the sights are the same, even the sounds are the same. But, you chalk it up to the way the Gotham air still clings to your skin and the silence of the manor that has left your ears sensitive to the slightest shifts in change.

"I… I kinda feel bad about leaving how I did." Comes your immediate confession as she continues to hold you like you're made of soft gold.

Even if it seemed unnecessary to say, it felt nice just to blurt out how you were feeling to someone who actually listened. Besides, Nana had always made you tell her what was bothering you if there ever was something. It was a habit to tell her things by now.

"Leaving Gotham, I mean…. running away in the night without warning, Nana."

"Nonsense, baby." Already she's brushing your cheek and trying to soothe the worry and fear. Holding your face between her hands so all you can focus on is her.

"You ain't done not a thing wrong. They was being unreasonable. Besides, you can just call them later and tell them your alright." For a moment, you feel like she's lecturing you. Like she used to when you where little. About being safe and staying near her at all times when you went out into town with her. But, now you're grown and she still does it.

"Are you sure, Nana? Because I know You, and Momma, and Daddy used to get on to me about asking permission before doin' things-"

"Ah-ah," She irrupts your before you could finish, "This is one of those incidents where it's better to ask for forgiveness, I promise. Besides, I know you asked first. Not your fault they was being unreasonable. Not your fault at all, baby." Nana's voice going from stern to a soft coo as she starts to lead the way into the old house.

You take a breath of the place, smelling the seasonal candles that you usually had lit this time of year. Noting the slight changes in decor. Projects that Nana probably had Grand Daddy completing while you were gone. There's even more pictures on the walls. Some more of Momma and Daddy, and even more of you. Nana had even printed out the ones you had sent her on your phone while you where in Gotham.

It was nice she missed you so much that she made you the center piece of the picture gallery, but still it felt odd. You had been hoping to see more pictures of your brother, Jean Luke. To actually see what memories he had made without you. But, you don't comment. You just head towards the kitchen. Sitting in your usual spot at the counter to continue talking with her.

You can smell her cooking. Nana really wasn't the best cook, but she went all out making a few of your favorite dishes with as much effort as she could muster out of her bones.

"So, how's Lukie been doing?" You mean to start conversationally, but your tone drifts to sounding more concern when the reminder about the lack of pictures on the wall crosses your mind and the thought that maybe he actually hasn't been coping well since you’ve been gone pops into your head as well. "I know what he tells me. That he's doin' fine when we’re on the phone, but how is he actually doing, Nana?"

"He's doing better." She replies while checking the oven, a slight sigh in her voice. She caught your tone of concern. "Still misses your Momma and Daddy. Bless. But, he's doing better. He'll probably feel ever better now that your back." She gives you a grin before sliding you a cutting board and a knife.

Already you fall into step, peeling and chopping the things she hand you.

"I'm not actually back, back." You mention, biting your lip when you catch her freeze.

"What you mean, baby?" Her soft voice doesn't match her tense shoulders. The lines on her face growing taunt.

"Well, it's just I kinda feel bad about how I left things with Bruce and 'em. And, I still gotta finish high school." You start to explain. It is true. You had a whole day to try to think about your actions. Getting out of Gotham had helped you process your feelings about the place. You still didn't like Gotham, but you'd been told all your life that family was important. You just didn't know that the family that had told you that wanted you to put them before all others.

"Oh, baby, you won't be needing none of that. Besides this is where you belong. We need you here. Them city folks just don't understand you, baby." You're about to protest when she continues on just before your lips could part to speak.

"Besides, Tanner's really been missin' you. He about turned himself into a frog when Mae showed him a picture of you in that pretty little outfit she made for ya’. The boy about croaked." Nana gives you that meddlesome look you knew to well. The one she gave you when she spoke about her church friend's grandson's. The one that always made you bush.

It was a clever distraction, and not at all a lie. Nana had watched Tanner turn green with envy at the sight of you in that dress and with your date. And, he about sang when he heard about your date's death right after. The town all had to forcefully stop him from driving back to Gotham to just to comfort you.

"Nana, you're being silly again. He don't like me like that." You brush off the flush with practiced easy, giving her a stern look of your own.

"Things change, baby. You're grown now. Everything's gonna be different, but just the same." She muttered that last part so low you could hardly hear it. Just as your about to question that statement, she changes topic once more.

"Now, you wanna stay we me and your Grand Daddy tonight?" The question stunning you for a second. You hadn't even thought about where you were going to stay when you started your way back here. But, the longing creeps back into your chest once more.

"Actually, I want to stay at the old house. I- I miss my own bed." You once again find yourself confessing, though it goes much deeper than that. Nana likes it when you let her see even surface level things, usually she's able to draw the proper conclusions from them. However, this time Nana tenses for the briefest moment, but then relaxes almost instantly after. You nearly miss it.

"Of course, baby. Of course. Take Lukie with you. It'd do him some good and I'd hate for you to be alone all up in there. The loneliness might get to ya." She seemed to place a bit too much emphasis on bringing your brother with you. But, you weren't going to complain.

After all, "It already got to me, Nana. It already got to me." You whisper to yourself before letting Nana regale you with all the latest town gossip.

It's not long until you're making plans to help set up for your brother's and by extension your own birthday tomorrow. Happily chatting away until Grand Daddy and Jean-Luke walk in the door.

Instantly, receiving a soft kiss on the forehead from Grand Daddy along with a tight grip on your shoulders and a firm, "Missed you, sugarplum." Before he slowly lets you free to help Nana and quite speaking to her.

You turn to your brother, little Jean-Luc, and reach for him with the swiftness of a breeze. He seems to hesitate before returning your hug with an almost intense ferocity that strangely makes you think of your last hug with Dick. Like he doesn't want to let go. Like he's almost scared to let go.

You let him hold you a good long while, standing there in the kitchen. It should feel like a relief to hold him again. Yet, you have the sudden urge to carry him away. Something that makes the winds inside your chest tell you to flee. You mange to swallow it down, but not the tears. Those freely pour down your cheeks as you both whisper about how much you missed each other back and forth. You notice how oddly quite he is. It's easy to blame that on the grief you both still feel, but it's different.

Sitting at the table and enjoying the meal feels different. Everything is different. Including the way Jean-Luke grips your hand when you tell him your going to stay at the old house and how he can come if he wants.

You almost want to laugh at how fast he leaps into the front seat of the truck. The grin on his face the most genuine you've seen since you got here.

Driving up to the old house made you ache. A deep ache that you felt from you chest to your palms. The dirty from the buried grief you felt being disturbed. As you glanced at your little brother’s face, the one that looked so much like Momma’s, you could tell he felt it too. Which bothers you because he shouldn’t have had to bury his grief like you did yours.

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Back at the manor, in the short time it had been since Damian rested his head on your pillow. He noticed it was too still. You were always moving in the manor. Always breezing through the halls. Yet now things had gone still. Not just in your room, but through out the manor.

His green eyes had opened, and sharpened. You should be here resting with him. Where were you? He hadn't bothered to keep track of your belongings before, but some things felt out of place. After a brief scan of the room, he made his way towards the cave. His senses on high alert for you. Straining to overhear your usual chattering on the phone or your pattering feet on the carpeted halls.

But, there was nothing. Most everyone was asleep or dozing and the stillness bothered him. The cooling realization filled him with each step as he walked down into the cave.

Sitting at the computer, Bruce goes over the footage of the previous nights. The storm was suspicious, and the churning in his gut and the way his hair stood on end didn’t help those suspicions. But, when Damian had entered the cave, those suspicions went from whispers to screams.

"Damian, get everyone to the cave. Now."

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"Missing? What the hell do you mean missing?" Dick was the first to respond to the news, standing at attention and livid despite having recently been woken up by an anxious Damian. Well, as anxious as Damian would physically allow himself to be in front of anyone.

"Damian brought it to my attention and the truck is gone from the garage." Bruce replied. Normally, this would sound like his usual paranoia flaring, but no one questioned him this time. Just the grim look on his face and the way his shoulder's tensed let everyone know that this was a completely serious matter.

Exhaustion immediately melting form everyone as the mission suddenly shifted.

"Barbara, pull up the manor security cameras from the night first night of the storm."

She speedily rolled her chair over to the computer and started pulling up the footage. It was only because she had years to develop her self control that her fingers didn't shake as she typed on the keys.

I should have been watching them. I should have checked on them.

The footage begins to show the exact moment that their sweet sibling left their room with a large bag of their shoulder and a excited grin on their face.

Why are you smiling like that? Why are are you happy to be leaving them? Why are you leaving? Why are you leaving?

A million thoughts flash through each of their heads. All filled with variations of despair and worry. Those are quickly amplified when the camera video finally goes out due to the multiple lighting strikes that hit the manor and the generators.

"They left right when the manor's and cave's generator were hit." Tim jumps in into detective mode right away, not wanting to linger on the disparaging thoughts in his head. And, the budding anger in his chest for allowing this to happen. And, for you leaving them. Him.

"Why are their eyes glowing?" Duke points out, coming out of his head finally when his eyes catch the flicker of a glow on the screen. It was a blessing that the cameras were so state of the art.

"What?" That snaps everyone else out of their heads. All of them moving behind Barbara to see what he's talking about.

"Their eyes," He bends forward of the keys, lightly pressing his finger to where you face is on the high definition screen. "They're glowing."

"Babs…" Dick murmurs into her left ear, his eye's never leaving your frozen smiling face.

"On it." She nearly hisses right back. Fingers actually shaking this time as she zooms into your face and changes a few setting of the camera to see the light waves that were captured.

And, right there on the screen, was the hint illumination in those large eyes of yours.

"Holy shit, you're right." Stephanie is the first to speak. Stumbling back as she starts running a million different scenarios through her head. The other's following. Some still sitting enraged or worried about what this might possibly mean.

Possible hypothesises start being blurted out.

Mind Control?

Hypnosis?

Magic?

God, I hope not.

Aliens?

Even worse than the magic.

"Maybe someone from that town manipulated them?" Cassandra suddenly suggests, having silently watched the footage of you play over and over again. You looked excited, genuinely excited, and it broke her heart that you did. But, there was a part of her that was still hopeful. That maybe you left because you didn't know any better. Didn't realize how much they adored you. They'll fix that. They fix that as soon as they get you back.

"Was anything tampered with when that asshole dropped off the truck?" Jason grumbles while rubbing the bridge of his nose. Of course he is livid. You fucking left. Sure, he liked putting the fear of God into you and could even tell you were unhappy at times, but you're an idiot if you think it's safe out there. And, you need to come home. Fuck, he'll even apologize and make up for scaring you. Please, just come back.

"No." Tim knows this because he made sure to check. Bruce may not have wanted to touch the truck and forbid them from messing with it. But, that didn't stop Tim from snooping on you at the very least. He just wanted to pretend he was in your fondest memories. Only until he could help you make newer better ones.

"Maybe a drug? Some chemical compound?" Duke eventually suggest, praying it isn't so.

"We could run a test? Just to check." Already Barbara begins pulling up the programs necessary, while Tim sets up the lab equipment. Dick is already running up to your room to grab any strand of hair he can find that might have been left behind. And, maybe checking to see if they were all wrong and you really didn't leave them. Him.

"Run them all."

That draws everyone's attention back to Bruce. The man had been standing stoically in silence. Brooding in silence as his thoughts overwhelmed him.

You left him. You left because of him. This wasn't some disagreement on how he did things as Batman. This wasn't because you were trying to get back at him. You left him willing because of what he had done as your father. No one has ever willing left him like this before. Not his children. Not his parents. Not anyone he has ever allowed himself to actually care for. It makes him mad, but more than anything it makes him want to collapse in on himself. He won't. Obviously. But, he's going to bring you back home. He's going to fix his mistake while he has the chance and you will give him that chance.

"Bruce… That includes a DNA test."

"I said all of them."

"What?" It's Damian who finally speaks up. For the first time since he alerted the other's of your disappearance. "Why would you do that? It's unnecessary."

It's a betrayal, he thinks. Not on your part. You may be too soft and too kind and too fragile and too simple minded. But, he knows you’re his. He may have gotten over his obsession with the blood in his veins, but the blood in yours connects you to him in a way none of his other siblings can have. He doesn't even think to question it. Doesn't want to. And, for a moment, he feels utter betrayed by his sire for thinking to doubt it.

"Damian."

"NO. It is unnecessary." He doesn't glare, but the anger is plain on his face. How dare father question?

Regardless of what Damian wants, Bruce nods to Barbara and Tim when a downtrodden Dick reenters the cave with a hairbrush in hand. You really were gone.

"Do it."

"Father-"

"Damian. They are our family, regardless of the results."

Bruce will love you regardless. He did a DNA test all those years ago. He knows your his, but he needs to make sure your still his. That something didn't change you or take you from him.

For Damian it's a tense minute. He knows you'll be family. No matter the results. But, he wants to share something with you that only an exclusive few people on this Earth or in this life ever will.

"Fine."

After that, it's silence for the next forty-three minutes. The programs running on the BatComputer dinging softly as each one is completed. Barbara's fingers rub together as she watches each one.

Tim doesn't bother looking, too anxious to sit around and wait. Already, he is on a spare computer looking into God knows what. Whatever it is, the rest of them can tell it's about you. Just by seeing the way his pupils are blown wide and darting about his screen.

Dick stands tense. Normally he would move about. Pace or do something. But, it seems wrong right now. The discomfort in the stillness is nothing compared to his current distress at knowing you're gone.

Stephanie debates internally on ripping the spare computer away from Tim. Wanting to see what he's found on you. Wondering if he knows if you're alright or not. Wondering if he's just watching looped footage of you and not sharing.

Duke is thinking. Really, he's contemplating what's happening. This is going to spiral into something. He feels it. He might not be the most experienced or most trained, but he knows something is changing. And, for once, he's not scared of the idea. Mostly because he knows by the end of this you will be back home. They won't allow you to stay lost.

"DNA test shows their a match to you, Bruce. And, we compared them to your old test of them too. Still a match."

Damian nearly beams, but manages to hide his relief under a smug smile.

"I told you, father."

"I didn't doubt." And, it is true. He never doubted you were his. But, he is still searching for an explanation.

"No drugs. No anything in their system that would register, but-" Barbara stops when she notices the screen. The anomaly on it. The one test that triggered. A question being possibly answered from the result and a million more arising if true.

"Oh."

"What is it?" Jason breaks the silence that's once again gone over everyone. The sense of unease bubbling through them all.

"I ran their DNA through all the usual test, and there was one single positive one."

"Which one?"

"Meta gene. And…"

Oh.

"It's active."

"Son of a bitch."

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As your brother and you start getting settled in for the night in the old house, airing out the stale air, pretending the dusting isn't there, you wonder around a bit. Similar to how you would back at the manor. Only this time there's no historical paintings on the wall. Just pictures of your own history laid out before you.

You'd never been more grateful for all the photos taken by you mother. All the times she would chase you down with a brush or comb in hand yelling at you, "You need to make sure you have nice hair for the picture. Or, the one's with terrible hair will be the one's that forever."

"But, what if I want them to last forever?" Your voice had been young and cheeky then.

"What if I just want them to last a little bit longer?" Now that voice was older and much more solemn.

Quickly, you shake the thought from your head. Setting your bag back in your old room for the night. A quick glance at the old space shows that someone's been in it recently. Probably your old friend Mae, judging by the amount of clothes spilling from your closet and dresser. She was always stuffing things in here for you. It makes you smile fondly to know that she missed you despite your phone calls early every day.

As you walk back down the hall, you find Jean-Luc standing outside your parent's old room.

"You wanna come with me to see them?"

"Yeah." The word soft, full of unshed grief as you both walk out to the back. There's an old live oak with Spanish moss out there, and two dead people that were loved and buried underneath it.

"Daddy always liked it when you made it rain when it was sunny out." Lukie whispers, recalling all the times you won the water-gun fights.

You remember the summer showers. The snowy Christmases. The way you used to blow the pollen away. The hurricanes you tamed. The tornadoes you saved the town from . The memories make causing the rain difficult. But, when you walk through the slightly overgrown grass towards the two stones the tears fall easy while the rain falls hard.

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"I pulled up all the weather patterns for that region and the theory is starting to look more factual by the second." Tim's already taken the helm, old weather radar scans on the screen. Files on Smalltown and it's people pulled up for display.

And, an entire screen dedicated to you. You. You. YoU. yOU. YOU? YOU

"So, it's confirmed they caused the storm. But, why?" It's Stephanie that asks while pacing back and forth next to the all of gear. Her worry and disbelief illuminated by the display lights.

"Princess was probably pissed." Jason says while cleaning his guns. The parts neatly laid out on the table while he shines and greases each piece. Twice. Thrice. Over and Over.

"But, why?" Dick is finally in motion, tapping his foot as impatiently. He knows they need all the information and a plan before they can get you back. But, the wait is straining him.

Barbara gives him a single look in reply. One that they've all shared often enough to know the meaning of.

"They hid it pretty well." Duke mushes. Strangely enough he's happy with this information. Everyone else in this family is technically a normal person, just with maxed out skill stats and trauma. Now, you two can both be normal childhood bros and meta buddies together.

"Cass, did you suspect anything?"

"I didn't ask." Which translates to, she knew, but didn't want to say anything that would drive you away. Seems kind of pointless now that you're gone, though.

The bitter silence reigns once more, before Tim speaks up.

"Incoming. The Asshole is getting a call from Nana." A few clicks and they're listening to the sound of your old childhood crush and your dearest Nana speak. The topic? You.

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That night you curled up with Jean-Luc in your parents old bed. Like you both used to when nightmares made cowards. You had to dig the old bedding out of the storage. The scent of the detergent Momma used to use faint on them. But, the two of you burrowed underneath the duvet like you were trying to hide from the world.

"How you feelin'?" You whisper to him, the room only illuminated by the stars in the window and the faint bathroom light.

"It's weird without Momma and Daddy. Everythin' is weird now and scary." He mutters in reply. He practically plants himself into your side.

"I know. I feel that way about it too."

"No, I mean… here. In town it's weird. Eveybody be actin' weird since you left." There's something in the way his voice shakes that makes you think he's not making this up

"What do you mean about everyone actin' weird, hun? I thought you were spendin' time with everyone. Nana said you were hanging out with Mae and Tanner. I know Mae is odd, but-"

"Nana's being weird too. And, Grand Daddy. She don't let me do nothin' fun at all these days. Says everything's to dangerous, and if somethin' happened to me you'd be upset." The child interrupts, sounding remarkably like his age with his complaints. But the low sound of his voice sounds less like mutterings and more like a cautious whisper.

"Well, that's cause Nana loves you. She don't want nothin' to happen to you, baby." You try to reassure him, as you've always done.

"But, she's always going on and on about you. She's almost as bad as Tanner." The way he says that name makes you pause. Tanner's been mention quiet a lot since you've been back. And, you've only been back for a couple of hours.

"Tanner's gone on about me?" You try to sound bashful, try to sound like its a compliment. But, the blush doesn't come.

"Yeah." Lukie practically roots himself into your chest where your heart is beginning to pound. "Always going on about you and the future and ranting about Gotham. He… he's kinda scary. I saw him and Grand Daddy a few months ago dragging something into the swamp. It looked… it looked about as long as a gator, but it wasn't a gator. It had clothes on."

"Baby, what do you think it was?" You somehow keep your voice steady as your arms wrap around him. Clinging to him and shielding him.

"I don't think I wanna remember. I just want everything to go back to normal."

After that, you let the wind outside the house howl. The way it blows through the trees with your fear keeps you up. Eventually you force the rain once again. Trying to lull Lukie-boy and yourself to sleep. For a brief moment, a flicker of a thought before you drift off into an uneasy slumber you think...

Should I have stayed?

And, your not certain if your talking about here or Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I'd say there's about two more parts of this left, then we'll be really focusing on Pregnant!Reader for a bit. Got a blurb list in the works for it and a few ideas. And, I really really really need to clean out my ask box. Oops.

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Taglist

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury @lilyalone @addie-r-u-ok @space1crow @imaginarydreams @dhanyasri @rosalietodd013 @rissareader @rando2509 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @interobanginyourmom @heyitsaloy @myanyan-me @animegoddess15 @resident-cryptid @schaarfyx @skwunkler @erikasurfer @enchantingarcadecreation @redkarmakai i @be3b0o @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @ratchetprime211 @labryel l @kawaii-cakes @linaisadream @vanessa-boo @m0063576 @oooof-ifellforyou @minkyungseokie @theseustimes @the-ruler-of-death @blueberry19000 @ghostdoodlen @victxria024 @nebulousmoon3990 @bad4amficideas

[sturniolohouse]

That's Life - M.S

A.N: After the stream where Matt said he liked the name June– which has been a name on my baby list for YEARS now – I couldn't stop thinking about this scenario, so I decided to write it. Sorry if it's bad. (I'd also say they are still very young in this, maybe 23/24. But imagine any age you want, I don't really specify.) Hope you enjoy!

summary: dad!matt - a cute snippet of Matt and y/n becoming brand new parents and Chris and Nick meeting their niece for the first time. mainly fluff :')

warnings: none, really. maybe swearing and mentions of blood? (also use of y/n because apparently that is hated? idk)

word count: 2.4k

"Kid, hold her fucking neck." Matt panics as Chris readjusts in his seat on the couch.

"Matt shut the fuck up, I think I know how to hold my own niece." he retorts.

"No, you clearly don't you idiot."

I peer to my left, he holds her with one hand under her head and one hand under her butt, propping her in front of him on his lap. She's perfectly fine, Matt just worries.

"Look she's fine. She's with uncle Chris." Chris looks at her adoringly but Matt cautiously watches, biting his nails.

"How are you feeling?" Nick asks beside me, rubbing my shoulder as I eat my burger. I was starving and the first thing I wanted after giving birth was In and Out, so Matt made sure Nick and Chris brought it for me.

"I'm so tired but just relieved everything went okay."

It was a long labor, almost 20 hours and about an hour of pushing. I waited to the very last minute to get an epidural and Matt almost passed out once he saw what it actually was.

-

"That goes in your fucking spine?" He squeaks, his face turning pale as he nearly keels over.

I'm sat up with the anesthesiologist behind me prepping the needle. I grab Matt's forearms and bring him to stand between my legs so he's hunching in front of me before I collapse my head into his chest and groan.

"Don't fucking look at it, hold my hands." I seethe through the pain as I wait for the contraction to pass.

"I'm so sorry," He says into my ear as they stick the catheter into my spine and I stay as still as possible.

"I want In and Out after this is all over," I breath out, beginning to feel my lower half go numb.

"I'm getting you whatever you fucking want, sweetheart." He looks me dead in the eyes.

-

"It's kinda fucking nuts that she was just inside you, how the fuck did you like..." Chris speaks up looking between the baby and me. "Push her out..." He hesitates and I burst out laughing as Matt throws his arms up and shakes his head at him, stopping himself from knocking Chris' shoulder.

"Well, it wasn't easy." I wipe my tears from my eyes due to my laughter and Nick gives me my water so I don't choke on my dry ass fries.

"Women are the strongest people on the planet." Nick chimes and Matt smiles proudly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's fucking right. So much respect after all I witnessed." Matt rubs his eyes, seeming to be mentally reflecting the past 36 hours.

"She's so fucking cute, looks nothing like Matt." Chris comments, a small smirk growing on his face at the playful jab.

"Okay, give her back you're pissing me off." Matt quickly but gently takes her back even as Chris protests and pouts, sulking back into his chair.

"Lost your baby holding privileges," Nick points at him as Chris makes a face and sticks his tongue out, a throaty bellow echoing in the hospital room.

Nick immediately hushes him. "Can you not act like a barbarian? Fucking idiot." He scolds him.

Matt cradles her softly and my heart still melts at the sight of him holding her. It makes everything I went through so worth it. The both of them do.

-

I lay there in shock with a wailing baby placed on my chest. I look up at Matt on my left and he's got his hand over his mouth and tears brimming his eyes, staring at our baby with so much love.

My chest blooms with warmth and I look down at our daughter. Anyone else would look at her and think she was gross, being purple, covered in goop and blood, but she was quite literally breathtaking. Matt blubbers and bends down so he's more level to me.

"Oh my fucking god," he laughs through his emotion, wiping his eyes quickly and placing a hand on her blanketed back, her cries dying down.

"How the fuck did you do that? You're amazing oh my god." He rambles, kissing my sweaty hairline and I shake my head not really knowing how I did this either.

They let Matt cut the umbilical cord before taking her off me to bathe her quickly.

Matt grabs my face checking in on me. He scans all over my face,"You okay? You did so good, oh my fucking god." I nod quickly, feeling my adrenaline still rushing. It's a weird feeling to describe, but I am so happy.

"She was so tiny, did you see her?" I ask him, my voice a little shaky and he nods laughing, tears still shining in his eyes.

"I did, I did. She's perfect. Thank you." He kisses my lips this time and then looks over to the nurses bringing her over to him.

"You want to hold her, dad?" The nurse smiles and he visibly pales but nods nonetheless and takes her into his arms.

He looks at her and begins to tear up again, having to compose himself by looking up shaking his head. When he looks back at me, I'm sent me over the edge into my own fit of tears.

I would relive this day over and over again to just see that look on his face.

-

He walks over to Nick who's still beside me, bouncing her slightly.

"Nick, cmon. You've yet to hold her." Matt nods toward Nick to take her from his arms. Nick immediately shakes his head and steps back.

"No she's too fresh and tiny. I don't want to break her." He declines.

"Chris get him the pillow. Nick, hold her. You won't break her I promise you." I give him a reassuring rub on the arm and his eyes widen.

"I'm scared," He squeals quietly as he sits down in the chair and Chris sets up the pillow in his lap. Nick covers his mouth as he watches Matt walk over to him. 

Chris puts a hand on his shoulder, "Nick it's gonna be fine." He giggles at his antics and I stifle my own laughter.

"Dude c'mon, I'm telling you to hold my kid not a bomb." Matt rolls his eyes and Nick flips him off.

Matt places her carefully so she's snug in Nick's arms and he freezes immediately.

"What do I do?" He looks up at me in fear.

"Just that. You're doing fine. See, she's perfectly content in your arms." I tell him softly and grab Matt's arm so he stands next to me.

I kiss his forearm and he looks back at me with a warm smile, wrapping his arm around me and sitting beside me on the bed. He pulls me in gently before kissing the top of my head.

"I'm trying to see any real defining features in her but she quite literally just looks like a baby," he studies her face as Chris takes photos of them.

"She definitely looks more like y/n," Matt says, rubbing my arm lightly before stealing one of my fries from my tray.

"I think she has my nose for sure. She hasn't really opened her eyes yet, maybe you can try and wake her up. The nurse should be coming soon to help me feed her."

"I just realized, what's her name?" Nick asks, lightly rubbing her cheek with the back of his finger to try and wake her.

"Yeah, have you guys finally decided?" Chris sits down next to Nick on the couch.

Matt and I look at each other. We had been debating her name since we first saw her face. Of course we had a list prepared but we didn't want to settle on a name until we could match it to her face.

It was hard agreeing on names at first as we had very different tastes but there was one that kept coming back up in conversation and once we saw her it was a no brainer.

I nudge Matt, "Go ahead, tell them." I lean my head against his shoulder.

"Her name is June," They 'aw' in unison.

"June Iris Sturniolo." Matt tells them her full name and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. 

"I love that, such a sweet name.” Nick smiles down at her.

"Does it have a meaning? Or did you guys just like the name?" Chris pulls back her hat.

"Holy shit, she has a lot of hair." he comments.

"Explains all of my heartburn." I huff and Matt giggles beside me.

"We liked the name and we were looking at lot of nature names, month names, classic names. We landed on June a few times when going over names but didn't want to make it official until we saw her." I start and Matt nods before speaking up.

"Well, we had some music playing during the whole labor and everything but after Y/N started pushing, our playlist ended and started playing whatever. And right before June came out, the song That's Life by Frank Sinatra played. And in the song, there's a line that goes: You're riding high in April, shot down in May but I know I'm gonna change that tune when I'm back on top, back on top in June. Right when we heard that and then we saw her face, we knew that was her name." Matt concluded and I tear up.

"That's so fucking cool," 

"Stop I have chills, oh my god."

"And Iris was my grandmothers name, but we also liked how it sounded with June. It was proven really hard to find a middle name that sounded good with June and Sturniolo." I laugh.

“I love that her name has a cool story behind it that you can tell her one day.” Nick says and I get emotional thinking about telling my daughter the day of her birth.

"Hi June, you gonna wake up for us?" Chris speaks softly to her. She stays put as Nick and Chris look at her expectantly.

"I wouldn't want to open my eyes either if I were just in a a warm dark place for almost nine months and all of sudden I'm in a bright ass hospital room with a loud idiot." Matt speaks looking directly at Chris.

"She must take that after you," I say playfully and rub his chest. He rolls his eyes.

"Aw, a little Mattitude." Chris uses a baby voice, tickling her belly playfully. “Look she even makes Matt’s stank face he does when he’s mad.” He points.

“Oh my god she does,” Nick exclaims.

"Not to be weird, but you are all basically her father since you have identical DNA. Also if you guys have children one day, they'll be genetically June's half-siblings." I state my fun fact and all their faces drop.

Nick gasps, "Wait, that's actually crazy because I was just going to joke around and say 'aw she has my eye-bags'." His eyes widen and I shrug at him proving my point.

"That's so fucking weird." Matt shakes his head in realization.

Chris acts repulsed, putting a hand up. "Yeah, I don't like thinking about that. I'm no one's father, thank God." He does the sign of the cross.

"Yes. Thank God for that." Matt says shortly.

"I don't know, I think Chris will be a good dad one day." I defend him and Matt gives the side eye. 

"Thank you y/n," He says with a hand over his heart.

He walks over to me and gives me a side hug. I kiss his cheek, offering him a fry and he takes it appreciatively.

"I'm definitely staying the fun uncle." Nick states, turning his attention back to June. "One day, you'll be big enough to stay at Uncle Nick's and I'll get you anything you want without your parents knowing," he says quietly to her but we can all still hear him.

She begins to stir in his arms and he freezes again.

"Oh no, she's waking up. Is she gonna cry?" he panics. "Matt quick, take her."

"She might want the boob," he says taking June out of Nick's hold.

She begins to fuss and squirm but Matt calmly shushes her and begins to bounce lightly.

"It's her feeding time in 15 minutes, should I try without the nurse?" I look up at Matt and he shrugs.

"I don't see why not. She's clearly hungry now."

"Uh, should we leave?" Chris says awkwardly and I wave him off.

"I'm gonna cover myself don't worry. Unless you want to leave," I say nonchalantly, not having a care in the world after just about everyone in this hospital has seen me naked. But of course I won't be flashing anyone.

"Junie don't cry, here's mama. She's got the food." Matt tells her quietly, bringing her to me as Chris clears my lap for me and goes to sit down next to Nick again.

"My baby," I pout as I grab her and her little cries die down once she's in my arms. "You already know the deal sister, let's see if we can do this." I talk to her confidently hoping I can do this on my own.

Matt stands beside helping me cover up and get June in the right position.

"There you go, all better." Matt speaks to her softly as she latches on and I exhale in relief. "Good job, mama." He runs his fingers through my hair and rubs my neck.

The nurse walks in mid-feed and praises me. "Looks like you've got it under control here." She smiles and checks my vitals quickly before stepping back out of the room.

Once June finishes eating I burp her upright on my lap, facing her towards everyone. At this point she's wide awake and everyone is staring at her.

"Oh my gosh, her eyes are like, gray," Nick says. 

"Can she see me?" Chris waves at her, shaking his head and sticking his tongue out.

"Her eyes will most likely change color, they can change up until she's a year." I tell them. "And she can probably see you as a blob, Chris. Stop dancing." I tell him and he stops mid griddy. 

"Oh..." He looks defeated and she burps loudly in that moment, making him laugh. "Why does she burp louder than me, she's like 12 hours old." he jokes.

I feel Matt's hand on my shoulder again and he gives me another squeeze. I look up at him and smile tiredly, he leans down to give me a kiss. Something we rarely do in front of others because we hate PDA. But we can't help it this time.

 I hear a snap of a camera and we both look to see Nick with his film camera.

"I couldn't resist. First family portrait." he smiles softly. "I can't believe you're a father, Matthew."

"Believe it, kid."

"Nick, will you actually take our family photos when we get home." I ask rubbing Junie's back. 

"The fact that you even asked that," he says looking offended and everyone laughs. "Of course I will, though."

[bunni-v1]

HIHI! Before I make my request, I just wanna say that I absolutely ADORE the way you write the crk characters! The posts you have about Shadow Milk are scarily accurate. On another note, I really enjoyed the Burning Spice x reader hcs, and for my request, could you maybe do some Burning Spice NSFW hcs?🤧🙏 I haven't seen many people do requests for him, so I figured I'd step up and ask!

Burning Spice NSFW Headcannons

🍓Girl, I gotta clear out my askbox AGAIN. I clean it out and then y'all come back with a vengeance. Anyway, you were the first person to rq this, so congrats, you get the special answered ask! Yay! Anyway, Burning Spice is SUCH a challenge for me because we have virtually no content of the guy. This is 90% guesswork on my behalf, so please give me grace lol. Sorry if these are short and kinda bad, my motivation is low rn lol

Tw: NSFW; Rough Sex; Marking (like, bruising and biting); blood mention; predator/prey dynamic mentioned

Info: Burning Spice Cookie x Reader; NSFW

-Burning Spice Cookie is surprisingly lax about sex. It's not something that interests him too much, because once you've done it so many ways, you cannot do much more spicing it up.

-Pre-corruption he had sex semi-frequently with various different partners over a long period of time, but the closer he got to corruption the more... boring sex became. There wasn't much appeal other than dominating his partner, and even then, once he did that it was kind of nothing.

-He's experienced and he's very good at what he does, but he doesn't really care to initiate in most cases. Despite what most might think of him, he values the time he spends with you. Sex seems like it would be a waste of it, so he just doesn't bother with it.

-Unless, of course, you seem to be into the idea. Then his tune changes. Oh, his little warrior wants to try something different? Alright, sure, but he won't hold back on you. (He does, of course, because he can't have you crumbling on him.)

-Your first time with him is... interesting. He is, in all meanings of the word, considerate of you and your well-being the whole time. But, he's also doing everything in his power to see what makes you tick. How far can he push you this time before you need to tap out, how many orgasms can he get, how hard can he get your legs shaking?

-He likes to push you. A big part of his style of sexual intercourse is dominating. In most cases, he likes to go as hard as he can as fast as he can, but he has an inhuman tolerance when it comes to you. So he takes his time figuring out how to dominate you.

-He likes things that puzzle him, he likes having his mind challenged, he likes to have something for his mind to do. With sex, this is especially important. He gets off on the thrill of figuring you out, he wants to see the way you react to everything.

-He's big on predator/prey dynamics, like, really big on them. He likes to set you loose and give you a fixed amount of time to throw him off your trail. Run, hide, set traps, and he'll come after you like a wild animal starved for weeks. You always think you've got him, but he waits until you're comfortable to strike, and he takes you wherever he finds you - so hiding in public isn't a smart idea... or it is... depends on what you're into.

-Speaking of, he is a big proponent of public sex. Like I said in his initial headcannons, he loves to show you off. You both have a lot of pride in being the other's partner, so why not show it off in every way possible?

-Usually, this manifests as him having you bounce on him on his throne while loyal followers come and praise him. They'll be showering him with flowery words and begging for his acknowledgment, but his eyes are only on you. He soaks in your nervous expression, loving the way you shy away from the other cookie's eyes.

-It also can be more ritualistic. What I mean is that, he very well enjoys having people watch, so why not make a festival out of it. The two of you will be on a huge platform, surrounded by rich silk sheets and the eyes of his most loyal followers. They cheer the two of you on, shouting praises and exclamations of joy as you reach your climax.

-Do not think that this means he's in any way okay with sharing. He is not, it's a one-way ticket to get crumbled. If any cookie is foolish enough to even propose the idea they don't live to tell the tale. Look, enjoy, but don't touch.

-A lot of sex with him actually starts as sparring. You are very weak compared to him, so he rarely goes out of his way to spar with you, but he does. When he does, it always ends with you bent over and babbling his name like a mantra.

-He can't help it, the way you fight him with such a cute determined little expression really makes the cogs in his head turn. Flushed face, chest heaving, oh you look heavenly. Wouldn't you look nicer with him splitting you on his dick? Yes, he seems to think so.

-He likes it when you fight back against him, make him work for his own high. It's just what he wants. Kick and bite and punch and scratch as much as you can, he wants to see the marks you leave on him. He wears them with pride, just like you should his.

-And he does mark you up, very well. Your body is littered with bites from him, and you have several new bruises where he restrains you. The most prominent ones are on your thighs, the perfect outline of his fingers practically burned into your dough.

-You always bleed when he bites, his teeth are sharp, and he never cleans it up. He likes seeing the crimson jam dribble down your body. It's a beautiful sight, the very essence of you leaking out for him to see. When he's feeling particularly romantic, he'll smear it across his lips like makeup, and kiss along your body leaving a trail of blood-soaked kisses in his wake.

-Something else to mention, he very much likes to see the two of you connected. He enjoys watching himself sink into you, and he does it in silence. To him, it's beautiful to see your bodies meld together. Even more so, he likes to see evidence of himself in you.

-So, he always cums inside and he never uses protection. He likes to see his cum leak out of your abused little hole, he'll scoop it out of you after the fact with a scary reverence in his eyes. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but he cleans you up well, so it's best to let it be.

-He also likes to feel himself while he's inside you. He'll press on your stomach so he can enjoy the way he fits more directly. If you squirm, it just makes it all the better for him. The pleasure is only heightened by your wiggling, so keep it up.

-Okay, we have to acknowledge his size. It's impossible not to do so with how big he is in the game - he is significantly larger than every cookie we've seen so far.

-His dick is large, like very large. It's more... normal... than Shadow Milk Cookie's, but it's not regular by any means. It's big, nearly eight inches long, and about five inches thick. It's the same color as his dough all the way up to the tip, which is a deep reddish-brown color.

-The tip is flat and wide, and it's the same thickness along the entire shaft. The first push-in is always the hardest, but as soon as you adjust, it's easy to take the whole thing... well... what you can fit at least.

-Oh, one last thing, his dick is ribbed. Several bumps line the shaft in a nice pattern, and it rubs you inside like a dream. He knows the effect it has on you too, and he uses it to get you to melt against him like butter.

-He's rough, and he goes rather hard and fast, but he can slow it down sometimes. It's rare, and it isn't something he thinks to do in most cases, but occasionally... just sometimes, you'll get a sweeter side to him.

-That doesn't mean it isn't intense, though. It is intense, even more so than his other style of sex. But it's for different reasons this time.

-Instead of fucking he is making love to you, which seems to be out of character, but I promise you it's not. He loves to show you his devotion to you, and a great way of doing that is through sex.

-If you are, for any reason, feeling insecure he uses sex as a means of expressing just how much you mean to him. Words can only do so much, gifts and mortal possessions are meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but this? The physical connection between the two of you? It's something more, something deeper than anything else he could give you.

-He holds you close, usually facing him on his lap, and slowly ravishes you. There is to fighting or bruising or biting like this, just raw passion that he has for you. Not an inch of your skin is without his burning touch, the heat between the two of you fogging your mind until you can no longer think.

-The pace he sets is slow and deep, each thrust and movement a deliberate show of his admiration for you. It's only then that you'll hear him praise you, words of affirmation spilling from his lips like warm honey, encouraging you to keep going for him.

-What is the most intense, what gets you shaking, is the way he looks at you. His eyes are unblinking and affixed to your face with nothing but sheer devotion and love. He doesn't let you shy away either, you need to look at him, to see how much he adores you. Only once you are jelly against him will he be satisfied that he has done his part.

[meganegatari]

before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS

ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc

apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.

covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.

you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.

watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.

the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”

you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.

“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”

she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.

she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?

you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.

she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.

“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.

“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.

“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.

you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.

your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.

you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable. 

your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.

she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord. 

“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her. 

you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.” 

she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.

flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away. 

you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip. 

“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman. 

you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.” 

you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”

some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?” 

and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense. 

you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-” 

your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.

after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.

you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.

she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.

she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.

she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both. 

your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.

she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.

fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.

trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?

you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times. 

ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place. 

“holy shit.” 

im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)

yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr

[hxney-lemcn]

Care for Yourself my Love — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: taking care of yourself wasn't your best skill, thankfully you have someone to help you build it up.

tw: unhealthy eating habits! If you're sensitive to this please don't read this fic! I'm not glorifying or romanticizing this, I just wish I had someone to help keep me on track (you'll notice I make the reader actively try to better themselves). mentions of depression/depressive traits (leona, idia).

a/n: I wanted to write something, ik people have done this already but here's my two cents because I've delt/deal with this too

wc: 1.7k (~250 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

You don’t try to be so forgetful, it’s just you're either always running late or you find yourself procrastinating to the point you don’t have time. Unfortunately, your carelessness has gotten to the best of you and you found yourself nearly passing out while preparing for the upcoming unbirthday party. Even more unlucky, you swayed dizzily in front of Riddle, nearly toppling over and knocking over paint buckets. At first he felt his temper flare, that paint wasn’t cheap and now they’ll have to get more. Not only that, but now your shoes, socks, and pants were covered in red paint. But then he noticed the concerned look on Trey’s face and how you held onto him for support while holding your head, eyes closed tight. That was when the worry set in, were you alright? Why had you been so clumsy in the first place? You apologized to the two, casually bringing up how you can’t remember eating anything yet and that was most likely the cause. After that, Riddle tried keeping track for you, scolding you anytime you mumbled about forgetting to eat. How could you forget something so important! You couldn't learn properly if you didn’t take care of yourself. Not to mention the heart attack he nearly gets every time he recalls that moment of you nearly fainting in the rose garden. He doesn’t want that to happen again, so he’ll continue to help you out until you learn to take care of yourself better.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

Honestly…I think he’s in the same boat. People call him lazy, selfish, and rude, and his only escape from all his problems is his dreams. Where people love him, where he’s important, where he’s cherished. So this can go one of two ways. 1) You both feed into each other's bad habits and become worse. Or 2) you notice his bad habits, and in trying to correct them (Ruggie helps tremendously with this…he also gets free food so he doesn’t mind) you find yourself improving on your own. Leona lets you take however much money you want, little does he know, most of that money is being used on him as well. You end up buying matching water bottles on a whim and you find yourself actually drinking a healthy amount of water now. This also goes for Leona, as every time you get food, you bring some for him, every time you go to get water, you bring some for him. In fact, he actually uses the water bottle you bought him, but it's only cus it reminds him of you…not that you’ll ever know. Slowly over time, you both improve each other, and you find yourselves feeling more healthy than ever before. Especially when Leona decides to have you join him for his spell drive training, making you participate in it as well. Not because he hates you, but he sees what you’ve done for him, and wants to help you in his own way in return…he just makes it seem and feel like a punishment. 

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is a sharp one that never lets a detail go. He noticed your bad habits from the start. It only bit him back when he started to genuinely care for you. He felt his mind want to tear itself apart when you came by the lounge after school, immediately being placed in his VIP room, and him hearing your stomach growl. When he asked if you wanted food you denied, stating you didn’t have the funds. That made him want to rip Crowley apart. Instead of letting that anger show, he only smiled, making up some bullshit about how its on the house today. Azul made sure that the Leech twins kept an eye on you, and if your self-destructive habits got too out of hand they would step in. At first you were apprehensive when Jade would randomly appear, asking if you’ve eaten or drank anything recently. Azul nearly broke down in tears when one time you shrugged nonchalantly, asking if it mattered. It was then that you realized that your habits not only affected you, but the people you cared about as well. So you promised him you’d try to better yourself. If you forgot breakfast you at least had a granola bar on hand. If you forgot water, Floyd would throw a water bottle at you. It was a slow process, but after a while you started taking better care of yourself, and all Azul could do was breathe a sigh of relief. He was not going to let someone he cared about become their own greatest downfall. 

❥ Jamil Viper

At first, he’s annoyed. Out of spite he won’t help you, his gray eyes watching to see you stumble with slight gratification. Those feelings soon crumbled the closer you two got, and that gratification slipped into apprehension. Jamil was going to lose all his hair at this rate. So when you forgot to buy food, or used all your money for other necessities Jamil started packing you a lunch alongside his own and Kalim’s. He quickly grew annoyed at how pleased he felt when he watched you scarff down his food, exclaiming how great it was. You forgot how warm the Scarabia dorm was and were currently sweating to death beneath all your layers? Don’t worry, Kalim had bought you tons of outfits already (no matter how much Jamil tried to stop him), he’ll take you to a spare room for you to change. You start feeling woozy, there’s a seat nearby and he’s already got water and a snack. Even though he’s still a bit annoyed he had to do all this in the first place…you had managed to wiggle your way into a soft spot in his heart. So for you, he doesn’t mind taking care of you. Not as long as you promise to try and learn to take care of yourself as well, because he’s not sure how much more his heart can take seeing you accidentally hurt yourself in one way or another. Plus, he won’t always be there to stabilize you…not unless you choose to stay by his side. 

❥ Vil Schoenheit

This mf knew right away. He could tell with the way you cared so greatly for others, that you had no room to care for yourself. Vil makes a whole schedule for you, when you should eat, drink water, and exercise to be your best self. You are now an honorary pomefiore student with the way he treats you. Even with the added slack of not living on the dorm grounds…you’re still not safe. Vil gets spider senses with you slacking on self care and sends Rook to check in on you. He makes you set alarms, gets you a fashionable yet hefty water bottle for you to carry around. Honestly…he works the best when it comes to self care. He doesn’t even have to text you anymore, you’ll be slouching and he’ll pop in your mind and you fix your posture. Talk about living in your mind rent free. He’s also the harshest, his whole thing is being your best self and he’ll be damned to see you hurt yourself because you weren’t thinking clearly due to not eating enough. It all comes from a place of care though, he’s just not the best at expressing that. Just know that every time he scolds you it’s because he cares about you. If it gets too much though just tell him, he’ll pamper you a bit with a self care spa day sometime soon. At the end of the day, he wants to see you thrive, not survive. 

❥ Idia Shroud

…worst person. Sorry. He’s worse than Leona. At least Leona is a part of a sport and still has to slightly take care of himself because of that. Idia has no motivation whatsoever. He is in his room nearly 24/7 with barely any contact outside. Never drinks water, barely eats (it's mostly snacks at that), and does he even sleep? Ortho is the one who does constant check-ins and brings him food and water. Although Ortho keeps constant health checks, he can’t help but be sad everytime he sees his brother push food to the side and forget about it. So if you’re looking for someone to help you with your habits I’m sorry but Idia will feed into your bad ones. If anything, it's Ortho helping you out. One time, you and Ortho had a little cooking hang out, and you brought a portion to Idia, and he ate it right away. It was then that Ortho found out a way to make you and his brother eat more. So expect more invites to cook with Ortho. In fact, he even got Idia to join! How fun! Even though the outcomes were more or less mid, you all had fun while making it. It got to the point that you and Ortho would keep challenging yourselves and would have Idia be your taste tester. Besides, how could he say no to you when you stared at him so expectantly? Just don’t ask why he never rates your food under a 7 out of 10. 

❥ Malleus Draconia

Fae’s and humans were similar and different. One big difference was how much one needed to consume in order to sustain themself. You’d think a dragon fae would need to eat a lot in order to sustain such a powerful body, but they actually eat less. So if anything, Malleus didn’t see anything abnormal about how little you ate or drank. So when you immediately fell back in your seat after attempting to stand up, Malleus had rushed to your side, unsure what was wrong. You smiled in a carefree manner while trying to wave away his worry, explaining how you probably should’ve eaten more. It was then that he realized he had been negligent about your health and went to Lilia for answers. He visibly paled when Lilia told him humans needed to eat at least three times a day and drink tons of water. Now you have a dragon fretting over you 24/7. He knew humans were fragile, but every day he finds out they’re more fragile than he originally thought which caused him to fuss over you. You needed to eat more, child of man, he doesn’t want you leaving him earlier than expected. Humans die if they don’t drink water for three days? He now carries a water bottle for you everywhere you go. You’ll never have to worry about forgetting to eat again…in fact, you’re probably pleading with Malleus to give you a break, you’ll die if you overeat too…which causes him to spiral again…

[mariasont]

Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right - A.H

a/n: my girl sabrina can do no wrong and i have been listening to this song on repeat since it came out so i just absolutely needed to write a fic about it

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events

warnings: angst (sorry in advance), aaron is like not a great husband, reader is also an imperfect character, reader is a girl boss though

wc: 1.2k

You were in your best dress. More expensive than you'd ever think about buying for yourself, but it had been a gift from Aaron. You had fought him on it, scolding him for spending so much on a dress you were sure to only wear once. But he had insisted, telling you that this opportunity was once in a lifetime and that it would be a sin for it to not be celebrated with a dress that made you shine like a ruby.

He was right, partly, you were shining--glowing, sparkling, glittering--as you moved through the library. It was beautiful, to say the least--all opulence and history that was almost too much to absorb. The marble floors almost seemed to amplify the conversations around you, the clinking of glasses, the swish of overpriced gowns and tuxedos.

Your eyes settled on the tiered desks fitted with bronze reading lamps, now repurposed as a station for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The circular arrangement of desks, once centered around knowledge, now facilitated hushed gossip and the discreet laughter of society's finest.

You could almost hear what they were thinking: there she is again without her husband, that poor thing always by herself, and your personal favorite—does he even exist?

You wanted to be angry, to scold their prying eyes, for putting their noses into something that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. But could you really blame them? Every event you attended you told the same story--my husband is a busy man with an important job--a line you had grown tired of repeating. 

And that was all true. He devoted most of his time to saving lives--how could you find fault in that? How could you complain to having a husband whose very essence was self-sacrifice and heroism?

This evening was set to be an exception; he was in New York for a case, and the Pulitzer Prize ceremony was not something he would miss. He had given you his word.

You understood his passion for his job, completely, because you held that same passion for your own. You dedicated years of your life to your journalism, investigating corruption at its highest levels. This is exactly how you ended up here tonight, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for that very work. A Pulitzer Prize.

The term once seemed like a fantastical concept to you, a lofty accolade reserved for the likes of JFK, Bob Dylan, Robert Frost--icons, not someone as ordinary as you. Yet, against all odds, you find yourself among the select few, a nominee for an honor that has only been won by 1,512 individuals since 1917, a fact Spencer had supplied you with.

Someone was speaking to you, saying your name. Almost without thinking, your hand found a flute of champagne, taking a generous sip before turning to face them.

"You look stunning, and a well-deserved congratulations are in order. Everyone back at the office is cheering for you." It was your boss, her stilettos adding inches to her already imposing frame.

The flattery didn't quite mask her usual coldness, it was all too artificial. She wasn't your biggest fan, and she had made that clear from your first day. Still, you mustered a smile and thanked her anyway, taking another sip of champagne, hoping to drown away her nauseating voice.

"It's too bad your husband couldn't be here," she began, and you had to resist the urge to rip out her extensions. "This is an incredible accomplishment, but he's quite the busy man, as you say."

"Yes, he is busy, but he'll be here tonight," you replied, flashing her your best smile as you smoothed the red fabric that suddenly felt too tight. "He's actually here in New York on a case."

"Oh, how great. I can't wait to put a face to the name." You could tell by the look she shot her own husband that she didn't believe a word from your mouth. "Anyway, I have to go speak with an academy representative, but I'll see you and your husband at the ceremony?"

You responded with a nod, not dignifying her with words as she left, her giggles a bitter sound. You hated her. And you were ready to make her eat her words when your husband, who looked absolutely incredibly in a suit, showed up.

But then it was dinner, and you found yourself alone, surrounded by a table of important people whose names you couldn't remember. The seat beside you was empty and suddenly that omnipotent, cloud-nine feeling you had vanished with the time that passed.

The text you sent piled up, feeling a little juvenile, like you were back in high school again getting stood up at prom.

Let me know when you're close!

Is everything going okay?

Call me if you can.

An onslaught of anxious thoughts skyrocketed around your mind as you mechanically chewed the fancy food that only seemed to upset your stomach further. What if something happened? Was he okay? Did the case go wrong? Did he get in a car accident on the way here?

You were a bundle of nerves, gnawing on the inside of your mouth as your heel tapped up and down against the floor. But this wasn't borne from concern for his well-being; deep down, you were certain he was fine. The truth was simpler and sharper: he wasn't coming.

You should have been prepared, should have braced for this, but you were convinced that this time, this occasion would be an exception.

You name was being called, but this time not by someone wanting to extract prying information or stir speculation, no, this time it was carried across the crowed, wrapped in the microphone's static hum.

Your head snapped up, fingers ceasing their fidgeting as you struggled to mask the shock and avoid the gaping, breathless look of a fish out of water.

You had won.

People were clapped, but it seemed far away as you made your way to the stage, hands coming from all directions to offer pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations.

You had won.

Your feet were carrying you up a small set of stairs. You were trying to remember how to walk--left, right, heel, toe. There was a bright light on you now, prompting a slight squint and you worked to keep a smile on your face as you accepted the award.

You had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no other explanation.

You were on display now, under the intense stage lights. Your body was on autopilot, stepping behind the podium, words flowing out of your mouth--a speech you had rehearsed over and over again in the slim chance that you would win. And here you are.

But the more you spoke the more you seemed to deviate from the script.

You paused, voice catching as you tried your best not to let the tears fall--your makeup was too pristine for smears.

"But tonight, as I accept this honor, I am reminded that while we may seek comfort in the presence of others, our truest strength comes from within." Your eyes dart around the audience, clinging to the slim chance he's there, that he showed up. "It comes from knowing that when we step into the moment, we step in with conviction, with passion, and sometimes, with a singularity that says we are enough."

The final words of your speech hang in the air, a brittle hope that disappears as quickly as it surfaced. He proved them right, and no amount of applause can drown out the sound of your heart breaking just a little.

part 2

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179

[incognit0slut]

BATTLE SCARS

Part 2 of kinktober | main masterlist

What started out as innocently counting body scars with your coworker, who you were stuck in the same bed with, ended far from being innocent.

sub!spencer x fem!reader; Face sitting, male and female oral, body worship, cockwarming

words: 6,300 (I couldn’t help it the buildup was fun to write)

a/n: I hope this shows up on your page because apparently this app hates me

"THERE’S ONLY ONE ROOM LEFT."

Of course, there is, you thought, eyes glancing over to your partner of the day. Spencer was the one you were partnered with when Hotch had sent you to check on the victim's childhood home. He's good at deducing clues, was what your unit chief had said, and although those words were well-intentioned, you couldn't help but feel slightly dejected.

One month of working in the BAU meant that everyone would scrutinize you, even when you knew you were more than capable of doing the job. It wasn't like you were randomly picked for this position. You went through the same process as everyone else did. You were as smart as everyone was but it seemed that your boss still thought you needed a babysitter to do this simple task.

One month of working as the latest addition to the team also meant you didn't know your colleagues that well, which was why you wondered what was going through Spencer's mind in this current predicament. What did he think of the sudden thunderstorm hitting this remote town just as you were about to leave? What did he feel about having to seek shelter because driving in this terrible condition wasn't a choice anymore?

And what ran through his mind when the guy behind the counter, who looked like he didn't even want to be here in the first place, said there was only one room left?

"Are you sure?" Your coworker pressed on, eyes darting across the computer screen sitting on the desk. "Did you check every room? All of them?"

The man in front of him quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job right?"

"No, he's not," you cut in. You glanced at Spencer, noticing he was constantly fidgeting on his feet. You might not know him well enough, but you were a profiler, and with the way he kept shifting his weight from one leg to another, you could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation. You wondered what had him so worked up like this. Was it the idea of having to spend the night with a woman? 

Well, he did seem like the type of guy who didn't have his fair share of nights with the opposite sex, but then again, you weren't going to start guessing his personal life. Although you did once see him act all bashful in front of a witness who, you had to admit, was the epitome of sweet and innocent. Her traits were probably on the top list of his preferred type, exactly the opposite of yours.

Huh.

So was it just the idea of spending the night with you that ticked him off?

"It's fine," you said, looking back at—you narrowed your eyes at the name tag clipped on his shirt—Kevin. His name was Kevin. "We'll take it."

Spencer's eyes fell on you. "But—"

"But it's pouring outside and neither of us should be driving in this horrible weather," you added. "End of discussion."

He looked like he was about to retort a reply when a sudden string of light cackled through the night sky, followed by another heavy downpour. He winced as his shoulders slumped, another posture of discomfort but one with a hint of defeat. You saw him reluctantly nod from the corner of your eyes.

"Alright," he finally said. "We'll take it."

Kevin slid a key across the wooden desk. "Room 306."

You thanked him and grabbed onto the key before turning on your heels. The walk to the room was extremely quiet except for the constant sound of the rain pouring outside. Spencer shuffled his feet beside you, and even though you wanted to fill in the silence, the thought of him not wanting to room with you annoyed you more than you wanted to admit.

Were you really that bad? Was the idea of sharing a room with you repulsive for him to act this way?

When you finally reached your shared room, an immediate sense of awkwardness washed over you like an unexpected wave. The room, though not large, was well-furnished and neat. But what caught your attention was the sight that greeted you in the dimly lit space. In the center of the room was a bed—not large enough to be luxurious, yet not small enough to be cozy.

Your eyes met briefly with his and a moment of unease passed between you two. Finally, he broke the silence with a hesitant voice. "I can sleep in the car."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his suggestion. "It's pouring outside."

"Right." He sighed, realizing the impracticality of his proposal. "Well, then I'll, uh, sleep on the floor."

"Reid." Your narrowed eyes fixed on him, your patience wearing thin. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. I don't mind sharing."

He paused, clearly taken aback by your straightforward response. "A-Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," you replied, showing your back to him. "I'm going to use the bathroom first."

"U-uh, yes. Sure. Of course," he stammered, his voice trailing off as he watched you leave the room.

You retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. As you washed your hands and splashed some cool water on your face, you couldn't help but wonder what had led to his initial hesitance. The storm outside was fierce, and the idea of venturing into it to sleep in the car or on the floor seemed impractical, to say the least. You knew that sharing the bed was the most sensible option, but there was an unspoken tension in the room, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why he had been so reluctant.

Turning off the tap, you took a deep breath. Whatever. He could act all uncomfortable as much as he wanted and you could pretend he wasn't even there. So you decided to shed your jeans, leaving yourself in the oversized button-up shirt that served as your makeshift nightwear.

The shirt fell gracefully to the middle of your thighs, offering a sense of ease you couldn't find in your uncomfortable jeans. With them neatly folded and placed on the bathroom counter, you looked back into the mirror one last time, straightening your wrinkled shirt, and ran a hand through your hair before stepping back into the room.

You found him seated on the edge of the bed, his posture awkward and uncertain. You watched as he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the single window in the shared space, his eyes narrowing each time a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the pane.

You decided to break the silence. "You know, it's just a little rain. We'll be out of here as soon as the weather clears up tomorrow."

His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, in his eyes. "It's not about the rain," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation.

So it really was about you.

His gaze then traveled over your exposed skin, and you could see his eyes growing wide, clearly taken aback by your choice of attire. "W- What are you wearing?"

Unable to suppress a chuckle at his sudden shift in demeanor, you decided to play along. "Do you mean what I'm not wearing?"

He blinked, his response caught in his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. His gaping mouth and wide-eyed expression only fueled your amusement. You shrugged in response, trying to play off his intense gaze, but you felt his eyes linger on your thigh, fixated on the long scar mapping along your skin.

"Reid," you called out, and he looked up at you, his expression wry as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"Y-yes?" he stammered, clearly flustered by being caught in the act.

You pointed toward the bathroom. "You can use it now," you suggested.

His face lit up with realization. "Oh! Right," he exclaimed, his flustered state evident as he stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

The awkwardness seemed to follow him as he disappeared into the other room. After turning off the main lights, you left only the soft glow of the bed lamp, which cast a warm ambiance in the room. The covers provided a sense of security and comfort as you finally settled beneath them.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt he seemed to wear under his button-down shirt. However, unlike you, he still had his pants on, although he did discard his belt.

Seeing him in this stripped-down, casual state was a bizarre sight. You had grown accustomed to his poised and professional demeanor, and the sight of him dressed in ordinary clothes seemed oddly intimate as if you were witnessing a side of him that few others had seen. It was as if you were seeing him naked even when he was still covered in most of his clothes.

He then settled onto the bed with a noticeable awkwardness, causing the mattress to sink down slightly under his weight. He lay far away from you, in a stiff and distant manner, clearly still grappling with the awkwardness of the situation.

"Reid, relax, I'm not going to bite you," you said reassuringly, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room. A small, playful smile danced on your lips. "Unless that's what you want me to do," you added, your voice taking on a teasing note.

A brief moment of silence followed, and it almost seemed as if he was contemplating your playful offer. You felt the tension shift into something else, but before it could further linger, you decided to break the silence with a forced laugh, shaking off the tension. You then rolled over to your side, closing your eyes shut, ignoring the sound of heavy rain hitting the window and the bolt of lightning occasionally flashing through the sky. You just wanted to rest. You just wanted peace. You wanted to sleep.

But sleep didn't want you.

About ten minutes later, you groaned softly and rolled over onto your back. "Reid," you said, breaking the silence.

He hummed in response.

"I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice carrying a hint of restlessness. Turning to face him, you propped yourself up on your elbow. "Tell me something about yourself," you suddenly requested, your curiosity cutting through the awkwardness.

He hesitated for a moment as if considering whether he should respond to you or not, but then he eventually asked, "Anything?" 

"Anything."

"Well, I—uh," he cut off, and with a faint hint of modesty, he began again. "I'm extremely smart."

From all the information he could share, he decided to share that. But it was still something, at least you could get your coworker to talk instead of fidgeting in discomfort. "Yeah? How smart?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 and three PhDs."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's impressive," you responded, but then you let out a scoff. "And extremely conceited. Someone asks you to share a fact about yourself and you decide to brag about your brain."

Your remark earned you a small, amused smile from him. "You told me to share anything."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in a little closer. "Alright, your turn."

He gulped at your sudden movement but kept his attention on your eyes. "My turn for what?"

You laid on your back again. "Ask me something," you suggested.

There was a moment of hesitation as if he had been contemplating whether to ask the question and then his voice filled the air. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, your brows furrowed slightly.

"Y-Your scar."

You couldn't resist a teasing tone as you turned your head toward him. "Spencer Reid," you taunted, a playful glint in your eye. "Were you checking me out?"

His response was quick and slightly flustered. "What? No!" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was a mere observation," he clarified, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Your laughter filled the room, a light, and genuine sound that seemed to dissolve some of the remaining tension in the air. "Alright, alright," you conceded, still amused by the exchange. "Observation duly noted."

Without warning, you kicked off the covers, a spontaneous decision driven by a mix of curiosity and the playful atmosphere that had developed between you. Your actions were unanticipated, even to yourself, but perhaps it was his flustered self that had spurred you on.

As the covers fell to the side, you extended your leg, showing him the white scar dancing along the inner part of your thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze drawn to your exposed skin. For a moment, there was silence, as if the room held its breath, and then he met your eyes.

"Fell off a cliff from a hiking trip," you explained, your voice softening with the memory. "I was exploring a trail and had a bit of a mishap. It left me with this scar as a souvenir."

His eyes flickered over the scar. "Did it hurt?"

You shrugged. "It did, but I guess I got through it."

Then, to his surprise, you began to unbutton your shirt. His eyes widened in disbelief at your actions. "W-what are you doing?"

You merely grinned in response, your confidence unwavering. You pushed the material of your shirt off your shoulder, revealing another scar, smaller and darker than the one on your thigh. "This is the most painful one," you explained. "A bullet from a handgun."

He examined the scar intently. "What happened?"

"A chase with a suspect a few years ago," you recounted, recalling your life before you joined the BAU. "We cornered the suspect in an abandoned warehouse, it was a tense standoff. He was armed, and in the chaos of the moment, a shot was fired." You gave him a smile. "I was the unlucky one in the way."

Your eyes locked with one another in a moment of shared understanding, and then you asked, "What about you? Any battle scars?"

He paused for a moment, considering your question. He seemed hesitant at first as if debating whether to share, but then he slowly lifted his shirt, revealing a scar on his lower abdomen. "Flying bullet."

He turned slightly, revealing a slight scar on his lower back, the result of a sharp weapon grazing his skin. It was a subtle yet significant mark. "An Unsub armed with a knife." He then laid back on his back again and tapped his right leg. "There's another scar from a bullet on my knee."

You couldn't help but tease him lightly, your tone playful. "Well, aren't you a magnet for disaster?"

His expression softened at your teasing. You stared at each other silently, taking in each other's presence in the close proximity the bed offered. You weren't sure how, or when for the matter, but it seemed the distance you both created grew shorter in the span of time you were talking.

Your gaze drifted over his features, from his brown orbs to his pointed nose, then along his high cheekbones before settling on the small scar underneath his jawline. It was a subtle mark, but it caught your attention, and you couldn't resist reaching out to gently touch it.

"What about this?" you inquired, your finger tracing the scar. "How did you get it?"

His breath seemed to catch at your sudden touch, and he stammered slightly in response, "I-I cut myself with a razor this morning."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his explanation, and your finger continued to graze his skin, skimming along the faded scar in a circular motion. "And how bad did it hurt?" you asked.

"Not so much," he whispered, his breathing starting to become uneven and it was at that moment you realized how compromising of a position you were in. He was on his back, and somehow you managed to press yourself onto him with a leg resting on his, your hips flushed against his side.

Maybe the rain, the rhythmic pattern of the raindrops beating in synchronized with your heart pushed your actions. Or perhaps it was being in the same bed. Whatever it was, the undeniable proximity between you created a charged atmosphere in the room. Every breath felt heavy, and the air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, drawing you even closer.

You wanted to kiss him. How could you not when he was looking at you with those eyes? It was hard to ignore this sudden pull of attraction, but Spencer seemed like the type of guy who rarely made the first move. Maybe you needed to initiate it first.

"You know..." you began, your eyes trailing across his tiny scar. "I was thinking of kissing it better?" Your words hung in the air, and you felt him stiffen beside you. "If it was painful, that is."

A charged silence enveloped the room after your suggestive offer. Your heart raced, taking a leap at the first step in crossing the line. He could either play along or push you away, it was a risk you were willing to take, and you prayed he was into it just as you were.

"A- Actually," he stuttered. "I think I'm starting to feel the pain now."

You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. "Oh, you poor thing." And before he could respond, you bent over and pressed your soft lips against his scar. You felt him momentarily freeze. "Better?"

You thought he was about to back away when he didn't answer, but then his words had you grinning from ear to ear.

"...I'm not sure," he replied, his voice cutting through the silence. "I think it still hurts?"

Your smile grazed his scar again, softly, barely even touching it, before you trailed down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.

"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as you felt his grip on your hip. "I-I don't think that's where the scar is."

"I know." You opened your mouth, your tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I'm making a scar of my own."

Your parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as you softly sucked on the spot below his ear. You always loved receiving neck kisses, but giving them? There was a certain sense of power to be able to make someone shiver under you, and it was what he was doing right now, breath hitching every time you sucked on a different spot.

You cupped his face as you continued to trail your lips along his neck, pressing your body closer to his. You moved your hand lower, fingers grazing his jawline before it rested around his throat, and as you put slight pressure on your hold, you heard him inhale sharply. You paused, not sure you were hearing right, but then you tightened your grip around his neck and a soft, strangled moan escaped his lips.

You smiled.

Spencer Reid, you naughty, kinky boy.

"We can stop if you want," you murmured against his skin because truthfully, you knew you couldn't restrain yourself after this.

"N- no," he sighed. "Don't stop."

It was enough for you to throw your leg over him. You lifted yourself up and straddled his lower half, stifling a moan as you felt the hard pressure between your thighs, and pressed your lips against his. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing him with so much fervor. Your lips collided with his as you pushed your tongue inside his opened mouth—tasting him, exploring him, devouring him. Who would've thought you would enjoy kissing your coworker this much?

You pulled away and studied him. Spencer was a blessing to witness. His eyes were heavy and hooded, his hair was disheveled with some strands stuck to his forehead and his lips were swollen and parted as he breathed slowly through them. His pale complexion bore the marks of a flush and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing away a strand of hair from his face.

"You're so pretty." Those words came out of your mouth without much thought in which you received a breathless sigh in return.

"You're.... you're more pretty."

You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair. "You understand I'm not going to stop now, right?" He faintly nodded. "And do you know what that means?"

He shook his head.

"It means I'm going to fuck you," you taunted, a wicked smile curling on your lips. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to use that smart brain of yours.”

The whine flying out of his mouth was enough for you to lean in closer, your lips extremely close to his but not quite touching. "Can I be rough?" His strangled whimper had you wrapping your hand around his throat again. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-yes," he breathed out. "Please."

"Good."

You pulled your hand back and brought it down sharply on his cheek.  The sound startled you because it sounded harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Spencer looked genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, jaw falling open.  He blinked himself back into focus and you were about to ask if you were being too much, but then he looked at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The dazed and desperation of his gaze moved right through you, flushing you with heat.

"Such a pretty boy for me," you said, gently rubbing his cheek. You watched him, a curious smile playing at the corners of your lips. In that moment, you felt a peculiar sense of power and intimacy that was unlike any other you had experienced. It was an odd but exhilarating sensation, feeling an almost illicit delight in the power you held over him.

You then slowly straightened yourself. Taking your time, you began to unbutton your shirt as his gaze burned into you. You popped each button open until it left the sight of your black, laced bra on display for his eyes to devour. Your bra showed a hint of skin over the top, bouncing a little as you pulled yourself out of your shirt.

You reached behind your back to unhook your bra before slipping it from your shoulders, allowing your breasts to bounce free. Spencer couldn't help but swipe his tongue across his lips at the sight. Your breasts were on display with hardened, aching nipples to taunt him. You brought them in your palms, playing and squeezing your flesh for a moment just to tease him.

"Do you want to taste me?"

He let out a desperate sigh. "Please."

You placed the palm of your hands on his chest before leaning in, dropping your breasts right in front of his face. It didn't take him long to know what you wanted, and he quickly wrapped your right nipple in his mouth, his tongue hot against your skin.

"Fuck, Spencer," you moaned. You shivered upon the contact. His mouth sucking on your nipple was making your head delirious. Warmth spiraled from your core to the rest of your body as he tasted you, and when you thought you couldn't feel more aroused than you already were, he let go of your swollen nipple just to give his attention to the other one, sucking even harder.

You couldn't handle it anymore. A moment later your fingers ran down his chest, brushing over his stomach to feel him tense beneath your touch until the second you grip the hem of his pants. "Take these off for me."

You had never seen someone move so fast before. The moment you climbed off the bed, he started peeling his clothes from his body piece by piece. He left no article on before throwing his clothes to the floor, eyes raking your body as you stood before him in nothing but your panties. Those were quick to go, however. You pushed them down your hips and flicked the thin fabric past your feet.

A strained groan filled his chest as he looked at you, marveling at your naked form with wonder. Thoughtlessly he wrapped a hand around the base of his hardened cock and your eyes instantly take in the sight. The way he was biting his bottom lip, fingers around his thick, hard length had your mouth watering, but you stopped yourself from giving in.

"Who said you could touch yourself?"

His body tensed. He quickly placed his hands on the bed as you climbed back on the bed, the mattress sinking in from your weight.

“I like to be warmed up a little first," you told him as you settled on top of him again, but this time, you scooted further, putting your knees on either side of his head. Spencer's eyes went wide as he looked up to see you wet and bare, hovering inches away from his face.

"I'm going to sit on your face, and if you can make me come on your tongue..." You started to lower yourself. "I'll give you your reward."

You felt his breath on your center, and the minute his tongue touched you, you let out a moan. He worked his tongue over your clit, swallowing every drop of arousal dripping down his mouth. You gripped the headboard and rocked yourself back and forth while he continued to lap on your pussy without any care for the mess you made. You were wet and sloppy as his tongue moved in and out of you, up and down your folds while also sucking on your swollen clit.

"Oh my god," you moaned, looking down at where you could see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he groaned on your flesh, wrapping his arm around your thighs while never stopping stroking your wetness with his tongue. He held you tight, keeping you in place, and there was nothing else you could do but buck your hips as you ran your hands through his hair and tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.

You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words or the breath in you to speak as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. He flicked his tongue over your clit a few times before gathering up your juices and circling back to the swollen bud, massaging your flesh with the flat of his tongue. You felt the bliss swelling inside your body. You knew you wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm getting close," you warned him, beginning to grind your pussy against his mouth. He groaned against your flesh, sending vibrations through your body in return, and with a few more laps around your clit, you finally reached your high.

You felt the warmth from between your legs surge through your whole body. Your pussy walls tightened as you kept rocking your hips against him, whimpering, moaning, crying out that you were coming. You shivered and trembled above him, tossing your head back, gripping his hair even tighter, and pressing your thighs together around his head.

It took a moment for you to come down from your orgasm, and as you did, his motions slowed down, licking you gently, his hands soothing down your thighs. You finally lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.

"You did so well," you cooed. You slowly shifted down his body, and when he thought you were about to straddle him again, you surprised him by moving lower.

“Let me give you your reward." You sighed while wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock in a firm grip. "You deserve it."

He felt so hot in your hand, so thick, so big, and utterly beautiful. You slowly moved your hand along his length, stroking him gently as you watched his lips parting open from the pleasure. You continued to stroke him, motions slow and steady, and he eventually closed his eyes, head falling back against the bed. You swiped your thumb across the tip, his eyes shot open as he looked at you.

"Keep your eyes on me."

He carefully propped himself on his elbows to get a better view just as you gripped him tighter while leaning close. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored so you leaned in and licked it up, your eyes meeting his gaze, and his jaw slacked open in pure pleasure. A pause settled in the room before you finally took him fully in your mouth, giving him an exploratory suck.

You kept swallowing him down, your jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth, wrapping your hand around what was left. You hollowed your cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across your tongue and his cock hit the back of your throat.

Without warning his hips jerked up, and you gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "I'm s-sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay, baby, I'm giving you your reward," you whispered before holding his throbbing cock in your grip again. "Hold my hair up for me?"

He did exactly as he was told, gathering your hair in his hands. Your mouth enclosed around him again and you repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with your tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until you had every inch of him in your mouth.

You glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as you moved your head in a rapid motion. He panted out a whine, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air.

"Please..." he whimpered, bucking up ever so slightly. His cheeks burned at the sound of his own desperation. You gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, so pretty and needy. He blinked down at you, your cheeks flushed and lips stretched wide, an utterly obscene sight as you kept swallowing the entire length of him.

And then you felt him starting to shake,  his body trembling while the grip on your hair tightened at every stroke of your tongue. You could tell he was on the brink of exploding, yet you didn't want him to finish inside your mouth, so you pulled away just as quickly as you began.

You could tell he was about to whine a protest, but he immediately stopped himself as you climbed on his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and guiding it towards your aching pussy. But then you stopped, eyes meeting with his, your voice softening. "Should I use a condom?"

"You can..." he mumbled as if it was hard to even articulate any words when his tip was already brushing against your wetness. "You can do whatever you want."

You lingered for a moment, grinding yourself against the tip of him, getting wetter as your arousal dripped out. "I want to feel you."

The whimper he let out was loud, almost pornographic. "I want to feel you too."

Then you began to slide his cock into you, slowly, taking your time to draw the moment out. Your body went tense in an instant, you could hardly handle the way his size was pushing into you.

"Fuck, you're stretching me," you moaned the words, tossing your head back while closing your eyes. The content sigh leaving your lips was loud when his tip finally hit that soft spot. You had never felt this full before and you wanted to soak in the way he was filling you so deep, so you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as you sit there with his cock stuffed inside of you.

For you, it felt nice, but for him, it was torture. As warm as you were, as tight as you clenched him, he still needed more. With urgency, he reached for your body before his eager hands landed on your hips, a groan of desperation built in his throat as you stayed there, not moving a muscle. "Can... can you move?"

You kissed a spot below his ear. "Why should I?"

"I-I..."

"Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want." Your tone was soft, but you didn't drop the entirety of your dominance. "Do you want me to ride you? Is that it? You want me to fuck you senseless?"

"Yes," he rasped out as if he had been holding his breath. "Please..." 

You gripped him by the throat. "Say it."

"Pl-please fuck me," he gasped, gulping for air.

You smiled.

"Good boy," you replied. You began moving against his cock, grinding yourself over his lap, feeling him fill you up and hit deep inside you. It was almost too much but you remained focused. Your palms pressed to his shoulders as you pushed yourself up, moving your hips against his body.

He could feel you squeezing him. Every roll of your hips, every flutter of your walls, and every moan that rumbled from your chest. His huge palms wandered over the small planes of your back, caressing every dip and roll of your body. His eyes glazed over to where you were connected, the sight of your pussy clenching around every inch of him lulled him into a bewitching trance.

Soon you found a somewhat steady rhythm, circling your hips and grinding down on him faster, picking up your pace. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage and the concoction of arousal running down your thigh and dripping onto his legs.

"God, you're going to make me come so quick," you cried, your hand lowering between your thighs to reach your clit. With two fingers, you began to massage your flesh while bouncing down his cock, riding him, feeling the tip so deep within your walls. You let loose, moaning and whimpering. He couldn't help but groan, feeling your walls tighten around him, feeling your juices drip down his groin.

You felt him thrust upward towards you, following your pace, and a second orgasm started building low in your stomach. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the edge of your toes. It thrummed every nerve, vibrating you to the bone. "Fuck, I'm close."

His breath quickened as he felt your walls clenching him, his eyes brushing every inch of your body. You were such a sight to see. He was entranced by the way you were thrusting yourself on his cock, your breasts bouncing from the movement, your taut nipples begging for attention. He couldn't stop himself when he suddenly pulled you in, momentarily surprising you, and sucked onto your nipple hungrily.

You cried out when you felt his teeth softly tugging your nub. You were supposed to be in control, and you still wanted to keep your dominance, but it was hard to when he suddenly planted his feet on the bed and thrust his hips into you at a mind-numbing speed. Harshly. Roughly. Violently.

"Fucking hell, Spencer," you moaned, holding onto his shoulders. "I-I'm gonna—"

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed onto his unruly hair, tugging it back roughly before smearing open-mouthed kisses all over his throat and collarbones, voicing out your whimpers right into his ear.

That was enough for him—he came undone, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled into you, filling you completely with warmth with one last thrust. You followed him with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. Your movements became sloppy and uneven, clinging onto him as you chased your own high.

The room smelt of sex. It was your first thought when you finally felt your body relaxing, your mind coming back to its senses. Never, not even once in your life, have you ever considered kissing Spencer willingly.

Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he had the most amazing eyes, and yes, his soft demeanor did attract you the first time you met him, but that was it. He was simply your coworker, one you didn't know that well, one who seemed to make a big deal out of spending the night with you... and ironically, one who had you shaking in pleasure.

You weren't sure what would happen next. At first, you thought your presence ticked him off in the wrong way because you were the new, inexperienced member of the team... but now you couldn't help but speculate the way he acted differently towards you had something to do with what just happened.

Maybe he didn't think of you as a mere colleague... maybe he thought of you as someone potentially more? You could be right, or you could be wrong, and there was only one way to find out. You softly let your fingers brush his cheek.

"You need to take me out on a proper date," you suggested through the silence. Then a smile bloomed on your face when you felt him dip his head in your palm.

The nod he gave you couldn't be anymore faster.