#But I escape and meet some bones

[enemylasagnaaaaa]

bro

i hate art block

[ms-mediocre]

i cant listen to bad "romance" anymore because of the wretched creature lughenny

Have you ever listened to a song parody that permanently affected how you listen to the original?

[nezuscribe]

what if instead of arranged!gojo it’s arranged!sukuna? he’s in his curse form, centuries ago, and the elders decide that the only thing that might appease him would be a marriage between him and their youngest sorcerer, you.

naive you who thought that this was just another state affairs issue, not realizing that they had signed you off as the bride of the infamous sorcerer killer.

it’s weeks of fighting, tears, screaming, until you’re eventually hauled away and thrown on the steps of his estate. they don’t bother with a wedding, just a piece of parchment that legally binds you and him together.

you don’t even see the curse for a while.

you try your best to get used to the bustle of activity, to life on the grounds, how to act as a “wife”, but you are yet to see the king of curses.

at some point, in between your day filled with boredom and nights filled with tears you decide that enough is enough. if he’s not even here, then he won’t even notice if you were to run away.

you pack some things, escaping through a window as you make your way through the woods near his estate, not daring to look behind you as you feel the twigs cutting your cheeks, heart palpitating so fast you fear you might just die.

and you think you’ve made it, finding an open pasture, most likely one of a nearby farmer, and let out a sigh of freedom.

if not for the massive force that jumps from behind you, holding your weak body to the ground.

you let out a hoarse scream, trying to breathe through the clawed hand wrapped around your throat.

your eyes widen in fear as you meet four, your chest heaving at the sly grin that makes its way onto his face.

“you have audacity, i’ll give you that,” the king of curses says with a chuckle, his baritone voice shaking your bones.

you try to turn your face away, wincing as he rests his weight even more on top of you.

“y-you…you don’t even want me,” you choke out, lips trembling as you take in the unreadable expression that takes over him.

his nails dig into your skin, threading blood.

“don’t stoop so low,” he growls, “to think that i’d follow you out of want,”

“i don’t like it when what’s mine goes missing.”

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

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

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

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

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

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

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

Youryouryouryouryour-

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

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

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

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

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

He never knew he needed this so much.

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

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer.”

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

He loves it.

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

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

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

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

“You like me?”

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

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

“You- You want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

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

“More touch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Probably the first reason.

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

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

“Take it off?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

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

“Yes, I want. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. That.”

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

“Rossi? Rossi?”

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

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

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

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

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

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

Ah well. It was still worth it.

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

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

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

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ready, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Killing me with sex?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

Bonus

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

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

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

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

[unravelingwires]

Mambo

“Is that cultural appropriation?” Jay asked.

“Katie lived in Cuba for a few decades, so,” Vidya shrugged, “probably not?”

[neverendingford]

.

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc. part 2

a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.

after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.

"everything okay?"

you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.

"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."

"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.

you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.

"you should keep the apartment."

"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."

your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.

you didn't know what you were expecting.

stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.

"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."

you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."

"you're not-"

"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."

you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.

hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.

it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.

you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.

"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.

"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"

"do you have any names in mind?"

"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."

when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.

"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"

"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."

for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...

the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.

"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."

rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"

"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."

rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.

untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"

you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.

you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.

"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."

rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.

"look. that's our baby."

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."

just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.

you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.

"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.

"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm pregnant."

without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.

to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.

his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.

you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.

a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.

an engagement ring.

[shotmrmiller]

I havent a wrinkle in this brain of mine for plot, so have some porn without plot instead :)

Maybe it's because Johnny has you blindfolded, but he feels different. He's heavier on top of you and feels a bit bigger inside of you. It stings more than usual when he finally pushes his cock into your sopping cunt, swollen and tender from the four orgasms he took from you with his mouth alone. Your inner thighs burn as they stretch wider around his thick waist. When his lips meet yours, as your tongues entwine, he tastes of bourbon. He's quiet too, which is very different from the usual filth he whispers into your ear.

But when he starts rocking his hips, all thought fades, along with the ache in between your legs. His thrusts are long, pulling out until only the tip of his cock remains inside. Then he pushes forward steadily until he's pressed firmly against the entrance of your womb— making you wince slightly at the pinch. He does this tirelessly until obscene squelches emit from your cunt, that pinch deep inside of you turning into spine-tingling bliss. Your skin erupts in goosebumps when his head nudges against your sweet spot, a loud moan falling from your lips. He mutedly chuckles, his chest vibrating against sweat-slick breasts and the coarseness of his chest hair grazing your hardened nipples only heightens your pleasure.

You feel him move away from you until his cock slips out, only to vigorously grab at your hips and pull you to him. Your upper body rests on the bed, while he sits on his haunches and keeps your legs spread with his thick thighs as he slowly pushes back inside. But this time, it's not all the way. Oh, no. You know exactly what's about to happen.

"Wait-" but he doesn't. He fixedly keeps you in place at the angle he wants, the angle you need, and moves. His thrusts turn staccato— short, quick jabs— and he's hitting your spot, the one that has you going cross-eyed behind the blindfold. Your mouth is slightly open, drooling at the corner of it as you're rendered helpless against his onslaught.

The fire in your stomach blazes, every snap of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, the coil within you tightening, your body tensing. You can hear him spit— can feel a warm glob of liquid land on your mons, and dribble down to your aching, neglected clit. His thumb collects the saliva and swirls your bud under the pad of his calloused thumb rigidly.

Your spine arches off the mattress so sharply it pops as you climax, a choked scream ripping out of your throat. Your nails dig into the delicate skin of his wrists, no doubt leaving behind red welts. He doesn't stop the stimulation on your clit, his hips never falter in rhythm as he prolongs your mind-numbing pleasure.

Body going limp in his hands, you hiss in oversensitivity and swat at his hands. "Ow, love-" but he cuts you off with a searing kiss before flipping you on your knees, and to the edge of the lofty bed. You're rising to your hands when his big, rough palm pushes you down— his intent clear. With your chest on the bed, he sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke and the angle he goes in with is nothing short of devastating.

If you hadn't been wailing, you would've heard the deep, guttural noise that escaped his mouth. You can feel him in your sternum, replacing the air in your lungs. He swiftly picks up his left leg, positions it on the bed next to you, and sets a merciless pace. The force behind his thrusts rattles your very bones, leaves you breathless. You can feel the meat of your arse ripple with every slap of his hips— can feel the bruises forming in your skin under his hands.

You lift your hand to feel where he's splitting you open, fingers encasing his cock, he stiffens— swells painfully inside of you then he's coming with a snarl. His Cock twitches as it spurts his essence into you, stuffing you full and then some because you can feel his cum trickle down your legs. You try to lift yourself with quivering arms but again, you're manhandled and flipped onto your back, a squawk of indignation silenced with an all-consuming kiss. His lips move against yours feverishly, as if he's committing your taste to memory.

He finally relents, pulling away but you hold him in place with your hands cupping his face and murmur an 'I love you'. The only response you get is one you feel, as he tips his head in a nod, and then presses a kiss into your sweaty temple before moving away.

Later, when you and Johnny are in the shower, you notice that there isn't a single scratch on his wrists even though you definitely dug your nails into him. And that reminds you.

"Johnny?"

"Aye, bonnie?"

"Since when do you drink bourbon?"

[logaenhowlett]

NO END TO THIS ROAD - L.H.

Summary: Desperate and on edge after escaping from Alkali Lake, Logan seeks shelter in your barn, fighting to repress his primal urges. [Set during X-Men Origins: Wolverine]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Angst, Feral Logan

A/N: I love all versions of this man equally, but Origins!Logan just triggers something special within me. Also, it’s my first time writing smut, please be nice!

MASTERLIST

Crimson seeps out between his knuckles. The once-untarnished skin now pried open by silver metal. For a brief second, he catches his reflection on the claws and fear tears through his body. He's unsure how his legs had been carrying him all this while, pain ripping into his flesh with each stride. His muscles seethe in agony, aching to bear the pressure of his newly-dense skeleton.

He's never been a stranger to suffering or trauma. There were several times in his endless, Herculean life where his own fists struck down countless others, ones that deserved his wrath. But this, he would never wish upon anyone.

The neurons in his brain seem to be on fire, every tendril underneath his skin shooting a flood of sensations through his veins. In this moment, he's no longer Logan. Instead, a man surviving on pure instincts.

Despite the warmth of sunlight caressing him, every breath leaves him trembling as he's exposed to nature's unwavering forces. Across the miles and miles he'd sprinted, there was nothing but mountains of lush forest overlooking glades. He had no destination in particular. Just somewhere far, far away from the horrors of what he'd endured.

His lungs feel like deadweight, crumbling within as he pushes his body to extremes never been explored. The thudding beat of his heart doesn't slow him down either, inching ever so close to a state he'd probably never recover from.

He prays for the first time in a century. An unspoken plea to whoever was unfortunate enough to witness such dread. He doesn't even register it at first - everything being a blur for so long. Soon enough, he locates a barn in the distance.

The thought of being discreet doesn't cross his mind when he slams the wooden door behind him. He staggers onto a pile of sacks, calves burning in relief as his chest heaves. There's no chance for him to process the events that occurred earlier, the whole world closing in on him. God, he just wants it all to stop.

“Fuck! What the hell are you doing?”

Lost in all that noise inside his head, he doesn't notice you creep into the barn, inspecting the sudden commotion. Light-headed is what he feels, vision clouding, meeting your fearful stance. The sledgehammer you're tightly clutching would've painted a threatening image to anyone else, yet it's the last thing on his mind.

“It’s cold.” He stammers out, resting his hands on the ground to find some semblance of reality.

“You’re naked.”

He grumbles in response, spitting out something close to a yes. The energy in the air shifts a little, and past your barrier of adrenaline and unease, he catches an inkling of arousal fighting to peek through. All his senses drift to one idea. He curses under his breath.

“Are you on drugs?” The tone of your voice strays from alarm to one of well-earned skepticism.

“No,” He groans, shutting his eyes as his body reacts to your subconscious desire, “I’m sorry... I just had to find a place.”

At that moment, he doesn't know if it's a good thing you're warming up to his being here. Though, he appreciates you lowering the sledgehammer, wincing at the thought of his bones ringing at any contact with the tool.

“Looks like you had a shitty night.”

“Something like that."

All the blood within him rushes down. He drowns the urge to unsheathe the claws, diverting his instincts to focus on anything but your sweet, sweet pheromones tainting the air around him. And as if it's deathly poison, he stops breathing, unwilling to let such a venom infect his very being. Fuck, he wants to taste your cunt so bad.

A rag hits him in the chest and he's thankful for the short-lived interruption. He immediately drapes it over his throbbing cock, his posture only doing so much to help all this time.

“I made dinner and - " He finds your eyes as they study him, "You look like you could use a shower.”

When you lead him to the cabin, he tries to maintain a respectable distance, trailing behind as if the ground beneath is a minefield yearning to explode. At least, the confines of the bathroom provide some solace - far from your radiating presence that teases him in all the right ways. Jesus, get a fucking grip.

Scalding hot water hits his body, easing his tightly-wound muscles. As he lathers himself, he's reminded of a faint whiff of the very same body wash he noted on you, now soaking into his own skin. His scent entangles with yours. And he makes the mistake of entertaining that thought. Steadying himself, he releases a shuddering breath, the hairs on his arms mimicking the movement of his cock. After a while, he's not sure if it's the steam or the result of his actions that fog up the room.

Fastening the buttons of the flannel you'd generously given him, he stares at himself in the mirror. The remnants of your touch linger on the soft fabric and he wants to smash his face against the wall when his dick impulsively twitches. Instead, the claws fly out, slicing the porcelain sink in half. He mumbles a string of curses, jerking his head to snap out of whatever hold you seem to have on him.

He enters the kitchen warily, clutching the remainder of the sink and what would normally require the combined strength of his pinkie feels like a meteor between his hands. He thinks of Atlas, condemned to carry the sheer burden of heaven on his bare shoulders. The energy around you once again gleams at his entrance, your attraction to him not a secret. Yet, he refuses to desecrate an innocent soul with whatever ferocity he's got boiling within.

“I swear I’m gonna pay for this.” He grumbles out, placing it on the countertop.

Your expression contorts to one of confusion and speechlessness as he takes a seat at the table. Despite unsuccessfully quelling the thirst within him, the sign of delicious food overtakes his needs.

“Thank you for everything.” A genuine manifestation of gratitude spills out of him. The polite smile you return doing a funny thing to his heart.

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t a coyote or something.”

The conversation lulls into short, simple exchanges, delving into nothing below surface-level. Rather than following the rational part of his brain, he insists on washing the dishes, having to brave the dangers of being in close proximity to you. Only shallow exhales and the racing beat of your heart reach his ears as he ponders the pros and cons of the ability to read minds.

He glances at the dusty frames loosely hanging near the kitchen shelves, “That your family?”

“Yeah… This was my grandparents’ cabin. I’ve been here since they -” As you trail off, grabbing the clean plate, his fingertips brush against yours.

He clears his throat, “And the chopper in the barn?”

“Grandpa’s - He used to take me along for rides when I was young. It was our favourite thing to do together… Nothing ever came close to that feeling.”

“I know what you mean.”

He clenches his jaw, the tension in the room obvious to anyone with eyes. Honing onto the growing pool of heat barrelling down to your core, he swallows harshly. He can't seem to tear his eyes off you, hands quivering at a frequency that should surely shatter the glass he's holding onto for dear life.

When the last of the dishes are put away, you sheepishly guide him to the couch. His gaze drops to your ass, shamelessly peering as you retreat to your bedroom and return moments later with a heap of blankets, muttering about how he must be sensitive to the cold.

Moonlight weaves through the swaying curtains, it glistens against the stainless steel of his dog tags, drawing your attention to his only belonging. The space between you disappears, your fingers gently reaching for the chain.

“Are you in the army?”

Now that you're this close, every little sensation is amplified in his perspective. He calms himself, begging whatever deity that's responsible for his decaying resolve. It works in his favour until he clocks the wetness of your pussy. Dripping pretty all just for him.

“No.” He says, imperceptibly quiet. The tempting mix of hunger and desire in your eyes pushes him closer to the brink, the rapid beat of your heart mirrors his own and it only rouses the flame scorching the walls within him.

He growls, lips smashing against yours in a possessive, ravenous kiss. Breath hot on your skin, grabbing your hips and pressing his body firmly to yours. It's your whimpers, your honeyed admissions of pleasure that send a burning need through him. As you tilt your neck, offering him more access, his teeth sink into the supple flesh that holds your life, nipping and sucking to a rhythm he carelessly demands. Your fingers curl around the loops of his jeans, tugging him even closer. He grunts, hands roaming all over your body.

Biting your lower lip, he draws his head back lightly. "Feel what you do to me, pretty girl," He murmurs, thrusting his hips to press his obvious bulge against you.

A low moan escapes you, your nails digging into his shoulders to release some of the rising pressure, an anchor to this untamed craving simmering inside. His eyes darken at the sound, jolts of pure, uninterrupted rapture travelling straight to his core.

He lifts you effortlessly, hands squeezing your fleshy thighs when your legs wrap around his waist. The promise of you bending so easily to his will sets off a wildfire underneath his skin. Without breaking any contact with your lips, he strides to the bedroom, roughly shoving your body onto the mattress. He drinks in the sight of you, splayed out all needy in front of him, and it drives him to near madness. The flannel and jeans are ripped off his aching body in fluid motions, leaving him in all his glory - one step towards finally satiating these sinful urges.

He lowers himself down, arms caging you beneath him. It's torturous - excruciating even - when the weight of his body crushing yours ignites a fiery heat within you, tingling his limits. While you nip his jaw, he lets out a deep, appreciative growl, toes curling in anticipation as if every fragment of the adamantium infused to his bones has been electrified by your touch.

Pupils blown wide with lust, he curses, breathing ragged against your skin. His hand rakes up your shirt and gently kneads your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. Your body immediately reacts to the sensation, arching towards him with an intensity that nearly sends him over the edge. "So fuckin' needy for me, princess?"

His teeth graze your damp flesh, lips trailing a path down your body. He thinks he's finally defeated death when your fingers grasp his hair, drawing him on a ride to ecstasy he never wants to escape. The shiver, the burning wave of passion coursing through your veins make his claws twitch within, desperate to emerge.

A feral grin flashes on his face as you whine, growing more restless the longer he takes. His hands dig mercilessly into your hips, the faint markings of bruises colouring your skin. He rumbles a muffled noise, lips tenderly pressing against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your slick entrance. It triggers something animalistic he's been trying so hard to overpower. In one quick motion, he rips your panties with his teeth.

"Look at you... Already a fuckin' mess and I haven't even fucked you." He rasps, positioning himself, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your soaking cunt.

In any other situation, he would've taken his time worshipping your body, preparing you to take him with a delicacy you would never associate with a man like him. Right now, his thoughts are filthy and downright profane. And not a single shred of his being cares about how painful this might be for you.

His hips ram forward, filling your warm insides with his length. A growl rolls through him, the sound dripping with pleasure as your walls tighten around his dick. His mouth finds your nipple, dragging his tongue impatiently over the soft skin before he begins to suck. Every thrust elicits gasps from you, moans that spur him on even more. "Fuck, sweet girl, can smell how badly you want me."

His cock grinds against the golden spot inside you, your head digging into the mattress with each push. He senses your longing to chase those highs, to control the movement of your bodies. A devilish snarl leaves him at that realisation, "I'm in charge here, princess. Wanted to ruin that pretty pussy since I saw you." He spits out, fingers pressing against your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

As the climax approaches for both of you, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, angling his body to thrust into you even further. He wonders whether you're the one with claws when your scratches tear into his back as you release that sugary ambrosia he'd grown an appetite for. Moves becoming sloppy, the unbearable threat of his cum spilling out sends his mind reeling. He shifts to pull out when your hand darts forward, stilling him.

"Inside, please."

The whispered plea makes his body strain with thrill. His load drips out your cunt, soaking the already-sullied sheets. Neither of you seem to mind the mess as he falls onto his back, out of breath and soothed to a state of newfound bliss.

As you rest softly against his chest, he allows himself the privilege to revel in your comforting presence. All the energy and adrenaline he'd built up comes crashing down. And he doesn't have the power to fight against his instincts, the ones that were screaming at him to run away. Soon enough, he succumbs to the enchanting spell of slumber.

He wakes up abruptly a couple hours later, momentarily startled by the warmth radiating from your body on his. The moonlight seems to fondly embrace your features, echoing his own expression. The feeling of guilt begins to rise within. He knows he has to leave, for your own sake, because those monsters will find him sooner or later. And he doesn't know what terrors he might commit if your blood is on his hands. He slips out of your grasp, refusing to glance at your relaxed form, feet transforming into cinder blocks as he walks towards the door.

“Where’re you going?”

His breath hitches, head ducking into his chest. “Listen... I can't thank you enough, but -" And despite every part of him indicating otherwise, he turns around. "You don’t want me here. It’s not safe for you... Trust me.”

Your sympathetic gaze almost shatters his resolve, he clenches his fist as your soft whisper reaches his ears, "Will you stay a little longer?"

Seconds later, he finds himself back in your arms, unable to deny the influence you have over him. He caves into your wish, savouring every last taste of the tenderness you carry just for him. By the time you stir awake, sunshine blinding your sight, the side of the bed he'd occupied is cold beneath your fingertips.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader | dirty flirting | suggestive material | it’s not dubcon, it's just you and deadpool's dynamic.

Like a stray cat, a mercenary hangs around your neighborhood. At first he was cute, you'd leave some food out for him, he'd hit on you shamelessly and in a million different shades of dirty, and then you wouldn't see him for six months. It got old quick, especially because he didn't care that you weren't interested. As if flirting with you was a hobby, he didn't mind that he wasn't getting anything out of it besides your irritation.

It's late, but you might as well take your trash out. You didn't bother to cover up when it's hot and humid out. In a crop top and the littlest shorts you own, you step out, immediately greeted with the familiar tune of DEADPOOL's voice.

"Braless—brave." he notes, and you slump in place, turning to see how he lays precariously on the railing of the fire escape. He gestures to his own chest with a flourish of gloved fingers, "Me too. Burn 'em, I say. The 70's were good for something." He nods his head.

You sigh through your nose, dropping your bag to let it sag pathetically on the asphalt. "What do you want, Red? Blowing through my part of town coincidentally again?"

"Oh, no coincidence, sugar." he tsks, and wags a finger at you before gracefully swinging off the railing to flip to the ground. You roll your eyes at his showmanship, and retreat to the backdoor of your apartment building, followed leisurely by the Merc. "Can't a guy say he missed you? Visit suddenly without calling? Golly, a man can't partake in a little light stalking these days."

You round on him, pointing a warning finger in his mask when you catch him watching your tits swing under your shirt. "Nips are hard. Excited to see me?" he asks with enthusiasm, meeting your gaze and you guffaw at him, taken aback with a hand on your hip. "Turn around, lemme see the back again—"

"'Excited?' What part should I be looking forward to? Your outdated jokes or when you make passes at me until you get it all out of your system?" You lean forward, gesturing to your enunciating mouth. "Read my lips, Red, it's- not- happening." Unknowingly, you'd lowered your voice, that sultry tone lulling Deadpool into your direction like a pie on a windowsill.

"Oh, baby, if you could see my face, I'm grinning under this mask right now." he confesses, chuckling under his breath. "Love it when you play hard to get." He straightens to his full height, sighing with relief. "Your place or mine?"

"Red—"

"Seriously, you gotta give me a twirl or something, I'm getting blue balls over here. You take a little stroll in your little jammies and I've got a halfie, throw me a bone."

You scoff at his audacity, as fat and veiny as always, and back away. "I'll see you next time, Red."

"Hopefully you'll see this boner next time, it'll be waving to you like a flagpole flying my tighty-whities." he calls after you. He knows he's exhausted his welcome this time, there'll be another opportunity soon enough.

[inuhalfdemon]

Alastor x Female Reader

"Hang In There"

Rating: Explicit [SMUT]

Word Count: 4,576 Words

“Hm…I’d sure like to hang off of those antlers,” you told him; both of you drinking giddily at the bar.

Who knows why he humored the offer. Perhaps Alastor was tipsier than you realized, maybe he just felt like being entertained or, maybe he was just feeling uncharacteristically ruttish this evening.

For whatever reason, Alastor turned back to you and purred: “I’ll let you, too…. but, rule number one is: you can’t let go.”

Warning Banner Source: cafekitsune

Heart Divider Source: bunnysrph

So it is, that you find yourself in bed with The Radio Demon.

When he's got you pressed firmly to him; both of you naked, and squirming in the sheets, it's easy to forget how you got yourself there in the first place. You both have been going hot and heavy there for some time now...your body is electric, demanding more. Biting your lip, you arch your back...every curve in your body fitting with his; desperate now for any form of friction. Your hand slides down...but he catches your wandering fingers before you make it below his waist. 

"Ah, ah, ah..." he scolds you - his voice singing back at you in a dark and low manner. "I have a very important task for you..." 

He tilts his head and you've only just now realized just how fully his antlers have come in. Points branch and jut up to the ceiling in long, sloping sharp curves. You've never seen them this long...this heavy... 

He tilts his head more; watching you coyly from mischievously narrowed eyes. You smirk back at him. Ready to play his game and feeling confident, you raise both arms and firmly grip around his brow tines; the points of antler that stretch most forward and that are nearest to his head. 

"Good girl..." he growls...the sound sultry and dripping with favor. 

You feel heat crawling up your face as he shifts himself; pushing you back down so that you are firmly pressed beneath him again and into the bed.

His face leans in close; and the heat of his breath tickles at the soft, fine hairs that trail upward from you neck - just behind your ears. He begins trailing kisses...gentle and sweet...starting there and working his way slowly...teasingly...all the way to your chin. He pauses. Kissing you warmly – firmly - before you part your lips in a gasp, your tongue sliding out to meet his in a need to continue and deepen the kiss. Chuckling, he pulls his mouth away...instead going back to trailing kisses all along your jaw on the other side. You huff and you swear you can feel his smile widen, against your scorching hot skin. He continues to pepper you with kisses...very slowly working his way down and across your neck, licking and nipping in the chosen spots he finds along both collar bones. With your hands occupied as they are, you cannot touch him and the implications of this are only now starting to sink in... There is a sliding wetness that's been building between your legs...a pulsing need for a special kind of attention spreading and thrumming from your navel and dipping down... 

When he comes to a breast...cupping the mound of flesh in one hand and flicking his tongue across the pert nipple, your back bows and you can't help the needy whimper that escapes you. Lifting his head; Alastor grins back at you in a lazy sort of smile. 

"Patience," he growls again. "All good things come to those who wait..." 

Watching you, watch him, he leans his head back down...tongue slowly sliding out from behind sharp teeth...the warm and wet tip of it swirling slow and teasing circles all around the firm flesh of your breast.

The tortuous teasing elicits more whimpers from you...turning into soft whines when he begins squeezing and kneading at you and his face drifts to the side as he repeats his teasing ministrations with your other nipple.

He is watching you still...red eyes glowing sharply back at you...dancing back at you in delight. He's enjoying seeing you coming undone...piece by piece...with you unable to do anything for it. 

A pant bursts from your lips; the building need that pulses incessantly between your legs is becoming too great. You squirm beneath him, lifting and squeezing your knees together  - seeking any amount of friction that your own body can provide. He presses himself further down on you...forcing you to remain still. Your whines to him sharpen...turning his ears...brightening the red glow that is coming from his eyes...eyes that have never once left you.

He begins sucking at your nipples, slowly and purposefully alternating between them. The tension in you has coiled so tightly…you are quivering now; a sheet of sweat is just beginning to coat your too heated body. One of his hands drags fingers down your side – claws grazing against taut skin stretched all down your ribcage.

A sharp tooth scrapes across the too tight - the much too sensitive - skin of the nipple he’s been actively tormenting. You can't help your hips from lifting into him in a soft buck. 

Alastor tsks at you... "I'm making this too easy for you, I'm afraid." He's looking at you now with a wry smirk. "Remember, our rule..." 

He shifts himself again, moving so that he is raised on his knees in the bed. It forces you to raise up with him - arms still lifted, hands clenching antler -, sitting fully upright now, with your back pressed flush against the headboard. He helps guide your legs out so that they are comfortably pulled out in front of you. Settling in, he leans close...not quite straddling you. 

His hand returns to the breast that he was attending before you interrupted him...his fingers gently brushing against the overly sensitive bud there before he pinches it. You bite your tongue, turning your reddening face away and suppressing a moan. He presses himself in closer and you feel his other hand finding your hip...feel his claws pressing into your skin there...not quite piercing through. 

He twists at the nipple again, then gives it a sharp tug. A hiss of pleasure slips past your tightened lips, and you hear him chuckle softly. 

The way that you are sitting, you can feel the wetness between your legs...feel it coating your sex and feel it sliding down and seeping into the bed. You so badly want to rut yourself into the mattress, his leg...anything that will bring you some form of relief. 

Almost reading your thoughts, his hand resting on your hip glides away...claws tracing sparking and burning trails all across your skin - going to just below your navel and still traveling lower...he slides his fingers through and into your pubic tuft...his other hand still playing and teasing at your incredibly firm nipple. You feel shock waves traveling down from your chest; rippling and building into something greater. His fingers curl into the hair that's there...pulling and tugging. He's already got you panting again. 

He's made you so dizzy with want. Shuddering, you suppress more wanton moans as you bend your head backward...exposing your neck to him. He lifts the hand away from your breast, his palm pressing to just the side of your neck...long, fingers wrapping...his thumb brushing tender and soothing circles over the pulse that's there. You didn't notice his hand ever releasing your pubic hair... didn't notice the way he shifted and leaned...the way his smile tightened, the way the tip of his long tongue poked from between his lips and slid across them in building anticipation. 

But, you felt it when he touched you. One long finger sliding between your wet folds...another finger sliding in beside it. You gasp, a small cry involuntarily leaving you at the contact he has made. Your hips tilt, legs spreading to him in open invite...you want more. The fingers he has pressed and wrapped around your neck tighten. Both of his fingers are gliding through your slick folds...massaging and spreading them away from the entrance you have hidden there. One finger dips inside...the claw of it dragging pleasurably against your wall when it enters. You can feel your sex fluttering; your body crying out with your intensely growing need. 

"Oh...sweetheart," he tells you breathily. "You're very nearly ready..." He drags his finger from you and you feel your walls throbbing...aching from the retreat of his claw. 

Leaning back now, he pulls his hand away. Peeking back at him with one eye, you see strings of your slick...gathered and dripping between his fingers. 

He sees you looking and the tilt of his smile curls at the corners. Humming, he dips his hand down and runs his hand across your belly...covering you in your own carnal slickness. 

You can feel your face burning...feel a pleasurable prickling running up the back of your neck and flooding your scalp as he leans himself down...Still holding onto his antlers, your arms are lowered as he bends down...head tilted back so that the curvature of his points that are near to your face are aimed safely away. 

His tongue darts out, taking long lapping sweeps of it as he cleans up the mess of you he has made. He comes to your navel and you groan...the hand that has never left your neck tightens...claws digging into skin. The tip of his tongue is teasing at the rim of your umbilicus...before dipping in and finding the beads of wetness that slid there. 

"Ahhhhh...." You shake out a breath. His tongue presses into you more...darting in and back out in a suggestive manner...giving you a very clear idea of the things he could do to you... with that tongue. 

You’re squirming underneath him again...unable to help yourself. Your legs opening still wider. 

"I hope you are well and prepared, my dear...because I mean to pluck three orgasms from you...one by one." 

Your eyes widen at this and when you turn to see just how serious he is...seeing how those red eyes are glinting back at you... you know that the answer is: deadly. 

His thumb presses against the pulse in your neck before his hand slides lower...claws raking pink lines against your skin as he leans himself further down. He is back to tongue-fucking your navel but he pushes two...three fingers inside you now and you feel your entrance pulsing around him. He moves them in slow, steady strokes...the tip of his claws dragging in and out of you in the most delicious of ways...the pad of one finger stroking and pressing into your sweetest of spots. You rotate and tilt your hips more...and your senses become absolutely flooded with everything that is pleasure. His tongue presses into your navel deeply...the tip of it wagging against you as he adjusts the angle of this fingers...jutting into that oh so sweet spot perfectly now...you've only just processed your climb when he’s got you thrown over the edge and you feel yourself breaking apart beneath him...your climax washing over you in a great and rushing wave. 

Your body is still sparking...jolting in pleasure when his fingers leave you...trailing through your quivering and sopping folds...finding your swollen and delicate nub and pressing against you just there. You buck sharply against him, and he pulls his tongue away from you now; his mouth latching to your skin above one breast...claws digging...only just piercing the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. He's swirling his fingers against your clit...increasing the pressure he places against it with the increasing firmness he feels building underneath. His mouth is suctioned against your skin... lips and teeth moving...popping fine vessels underneath...

His fingers change directions, swirling and jutting against you as his mouth comes off you in a pop; his tongue dragging against the mark he's left on you. You've been reduced to nothing but little pants and small whimpers... your body shaking as you feel the tightening of that burning coil...feel it growing hotter and hotter until finally the heat of it is just too much. Your body cracks...you feel yourself splitting apart...another orgasm starts and it doesn't stop until he releases you...his fingers slowly stroking your clit back down into swelling softness. 

He pulls his hands away; moving them to your knees and pushing them out wider. He is looking at you...assessing your current state. You want nothing more than to touch him...to run your hands across this bare chest...to drag your nails; to rake them deeply all across his back...to run your fingers through his hair...squeeze his long ears. 

"Oh my..." He's looking down, and his tongue curls at the corner of his mouth. "My dear...you are positively dripping..." His mouth opens at the sight of it and it's clear that it is watering. 

You whimper and it pulls his attention upward. He hums when he sees the mark on you he has made. 

"That's rather lovely..." His eyes soften and he leans in; lips pressing softly to the bruising skin. "I might just have to make more of them." 

Choosing another spot above your breast to place one; he softly licks at the skin. Keeping one hand resting on your knee; he slides his other back to between your legs...fingers trailing back into your seeping folds. Your whimpers turn into a low moaning when he enters you again...long fingers pushing inside you...his thumb stretched and pressed firmly against your clit. 

"Ah...fuck..." You gasp, feeling his thumb starting to move and swirl against you; his fingers moving inside and out of you in long, slow and tortuous strokes

He grins against your skin and then bites down. It pulls a soft cry from you; and you duck your head down now...swiftly becoming overwhelmed. 

He releases his teeth from you - going over the new mark again with his tongue. 

"Deep breaths, darling...slow and steady wins the race." Moving his face, he nuzzles a spot over your other breast before his mouth is on you roughly again. 

You try to concentrate on your breathing but there's just too much... his fingers are still slowly dragging in and out of you...his thumb pressing and pushing into your now throbbing clit...the claws of his hand on your knee is tracing vibrantly pink circles into your skin there. 

You begin rocking your hips, tilting and pressing yourself forward...desperately trying to ease this new growing tension. Finishing his newest mark, his face drifts beside it and he makes to start another one. Your whimpers turn to pitiful whining...you are doing everything you can to shift yourself more forward...to feel more of him against and inside you... 

His grip tightens at your knee and his teeth clamp painfully against your skin but the stroking he's doing to you is quickening and the pain only builds into more pleasure. 

Static energy runs through your body; your back arches and your arms pull back - your grip tightening around the antlers. 

"Can you take one more, dear? Just for me?" He breathes, his nose brushing against your neck...warm air touching your skin there. Your head leans back and you are exposing more of your neck to him now. 

"That's it..." He croons, his mouth pressing beside your pulse and tightening there. Eliciting cries from you now, he bites down in earnest - your blood seeping from between his lips. Your grip on him tightens and you feel his fingers really fucking you now...his hand on your knee is pressing you down - holding you open. 

The climax you find now is like slamming into a wall; your orgasm rushes in and you’re coming so hard and fast that it almost knocks you senseless. Your body bows and bucks beneath him and he is snarling against you - his mouth still suctioned tightly to your neck. His fingers haven't stopped working you and every stroke now is an electric jolt of pleasure that strikes deeply...resonating into your core...

You can feel your heart pounding hard inside of your chest; your body is feeling strained from all of the building and re-building of tension, you are sucking in air – panting and trying to steady yourself as you relax your arms, moving your fingers so that you might release his antlers and stretch out the small and aching joints in your hands. 

He is smearing the last bit of your blood across your skin with his tongue when he stops – pulling back and looking at you with a dark and hunger-filled gaze.

“Oh, no no no…darling,” he chides at you. “We’ve only just begun. I told you how many orgasms I planned to pluck out of you…I never said just how many I planned to fuck out of you.”

Your jaw drops and he laughs delightedly. He slips his fingers from you and both of his hands are sliding underneath of your legs; wrapping under knees – his hands cupping and gripping your ass.

“Hold on tightly now,” he tells you before he lifts you up and off of the bed. Reflexively, your hands tighten back around the smooth bone in your grip as he raises you; setting your ass against the top of the headboard and pinning you there with his hips. The bedcovers and sheets that had him covered drop away and your eyes fly open when you see the jutting erection that he’s got pressed into you.

Oh, sweet Lucifer…he’s huge!

He sees your reaction and it only brings him more mirth.

“It’ll be a tight fit…I’ll admit but, I think you’re well and ready for it now.” He leans further into you; his cock pressing nearly flush against you. “Oh, my…but how deep I’ll go…”

Your eyes are widening; your heart hammering even harder now as you imagine that inside of you. He presses even closer and you can’t help but notice how heavy it feels.

“Well, now I’ve gone and made you nervous.” His red eyes flash back at you in amusement, and you are now just noticing the slithering movement of shadows – the many dark tendrils that are winding their way slowly from behind his back and twisting toward you. “Perhaps…some assurance.”   

He hoists you so that your ass is still balanced on the headboard, but you are free from his hips.  Tentacles hurriedly slip from him and begin wrapping themselves around your waist and legs; holding you up and spreading your knees wider.

“How many parts of me can I fit inside of you…I wonder?” He muses, teasingly as one of the tendrils wiggles and waves in between you and him; just as another one is sliding up your upper thigh and its pointed end is prodding into swollen folds.  

You gasp at the cool and ticklish touch of it; feeling it explore you in an unfamiliar but exciting way.

Your heart rate climbs up again as you feel it pressing now against your sensitive entrance. Alastor is watching you process the anticipation of it entering you. When the tendril slides inside; you feel it undulating as it moves – feel it widening and shrinking as it presses itself further inward – stimulating your walls. You are more than a little wet, making it an easy thing for Alastor to slide two more tendrils in beside it. You rock back with a low moan, feeling his tentacles slowly reaching their way inside of you – stretching your walls and filling you up.

His eyes have left you; traveling down and watching how his appendages are penetrating you now – how they are wriggling and moving through you by your entrance.

He pushes the tentacles into you as deep as they’ll go; letting them undulate and thrash themselves about inside you before retreating them back and sending them rushing forward again, and again, and again. Each stroke is pulling breathy gasps from you, and you limply feel your body becoming more and more pliant.

He’s still greedily watching the tendrils fucking you and you can see the pre-cum beading at the slit of his purplish twitching tip. Seeing his growing arousal pulls a pitifully needful whining whimper from you. His long ears jerk toward you at the sound, his red eyes shifting back to your flushed face, and you see that the pupils within them have significantly widened.

He continues to fuck you with his tentacles, but he is stepping back into you now; his hands are moving, adjusting your legs. He shifts his hips and in one fluid motion one of the tentacles slides completely out from you while the other two retreat back – pulling at your entrance and your folds from both sides to create more of an opening – before he thrusts himself inside. You feel the two tendrils slipping out as he is driving in. Air rushes from your lungs; his girth is dragging against your walls, and those walls are clenching around him.

"Oh... that's....heavenly," his voice grates out from the back of his throat and you’re not sure if you ever heard words dripping with such sin. His eyes have transitioned from their glowing red to an almost pit-less black.  

He's slowly sinking into you, or you onto him; his shaft steadily traveling deeper. 

"A moment...if you, please." He pauses, ceasing all movement. His head is leaning back – your arms stretching with the tilt of his antlers – his eyes are closed as he breathes slowly, deeply. 

When he slowly opens them again, his eyes are not as blown out black as they were.

Slowly – shakily – you can feel your body relaxing around him. He tilts his head forward again and using his hands, he pulls your legs around his waist. As his tendrils are falling away, he’s got a firm grip on your ass with both hands, and you are solidly pinned between him and the wall. 

When he starts to move – shifting himself back and then pressing forward again - his length drives into you even deeper. There is no part of him that isn’t touching a sweet spot within you right now and the way that you start groaning with every jut of his pelvis is obscene. With each sharp thrust into you, he is sending you back into that dizzying elevated climb.  

You are just thinking how you are not nearly as sore as you could be when you first notice it; the sound – the absolute squelching that is coming from where your bodies are joined each time that he rocks himself in and then out. You notice that, and then you notice the coarse tickling of his curls against you with each connection that is made. There is a low groaning and scraping sound above you and you notice flecks of paint are falling on you now – the branches of his antlers scraping heavily into the wall. He begins to grunt; his own body becoming slick with sweat as his juts into you are becoming more urgent.  

When you come, even you can feel the gush of fluid that rushes from you – feel it dammed against his cock as it pulses out of you in spurts.

"Oh that's...lovely..." he manages to groan out before he’s over the edge with you; coming inside. He pumps himself out into you – his thrusts jerking, stuttering but slowing down now and you can feel him softening in you.

Before you have a moment to fully come down; he straightens himself – standing himself up to his full height and lifting his head – and lifting you. You’re not sure how he does it, but he easily walks himself back, away from the wall and you are quite literally hanging from his antlers as he slides his hands away from your ass.

Tentacles are wriggling and winding their way back to you; more of them than before – a lot more. They are curling and slithering to you from all directions now – creeping up your body and sliding coils around your torso and limbs. A few are slowly sliding themselves through your sweat-soaked hair; a couple are teasing and twisting around your nipples and one especially frisky one is slipping its way up the back of an upper thigh and pressing its tip between your cheeks. You buck your hips up; unprepared for the touch and Alastor laughs.

“One last round, I think.” He is chuckling, and out of breath. “I have gotten quite old, after all…”

Tendrils are securely wrapped all around you, supporting your weight, but even at that…you are exhausted. Your arms are shaking; your hands are cramped, and your palms are sweaty, and you know that you can’t take anymore. Your fingers are slipping and just as you try for one last attempt to find a better grip around the branches of his antlers, you feel a cool grip tighten firmly around both hands.

Surprised, you jerk your head up and see a dark wide, gaping maw smiling back at you – Alastor’s shadow is leant sharply away from the wall – your hands clenched in its fists, as it is holding you in place.

“I told you, darling” Alastor was growling in a low purr. “Rule number one is: you can’t let go.”

Oh, fuck…

Alastor starts moving and it is only then that you realize: he is still inside of you.

In long, slow, dragging strokes, he is fucking you with his cock again. Whilst this is happening, more tentacles are sliding in to tease you now.  One gently coils itself around your neck – the tip of it coming to the corner of your mouth – encouraging your lips to part so that when you do; it is tangling its tip with your tongue. Another – perhaps the one that was there before – is sliding and pressing into your ass; flicking its tip against the rim to your entrance and teasingly threatening to penetrate you there. Still, one other is slithering through the soft curls that is your pubic tuft – the tip of it sliding into your slit just enough that it is able to swirl against your sorely swollen clit.

All of this happening – completely overwhelming your system - and soon Alastor is pounding into you. You wouldn’t think it possible – that your body was capable of such stamina – but, you can feel yourself starting to build again.

Alastor slams himself into you; his back arching into the thrust. His pupils are blown out wide again and he is biting his lip. He’s on the brink of it and it’s very clear that this time he will be the first to come.

With a groan and a shudder; he thrusts himself deeply into you one last time. You feel him releasing inside of you and all at once your body feels like a live hotwire. Every sensation erupts into a fiery jolt of rising pleasure. Your coil tightens and you feel as if it must find some violent release or you will fall apart completely. A tendril tightens and twists against your breast and there is hot rod of vibration that plummets downward into your belly. The fire of it spreads quickly; engulfing everything in its path. A convulsive shudder runs through you, and you feel like your heart might just actually stop beating – again. When it reaches the core to your coil; everything within you ignites, sending you into the longest, most powerful orgasm you have ever experienced – you’re not even certain where it began or even where it ended.

But, end it did and when Alastor’s shadow slipped away, releasing your hands and returning to the darkness; you finally – shakily – released his antlers and let go.  

[footiecent]

good luck charm (explicit)

(nika mühl x reader)

Where you and your girlfriend’s love language is good luck head

Warnings: smut. yeah. editing was also kinda rushed so. welp.

A/N: if you saw me disappear off the face of the earth for months, no you didn’t. will be back to football soon (hopefully)!

word count: 3.1k ish

“Nika, fuck,” you pant. 

“Shhh…”

“I have to go, you know I have a test at nine-thirty,” you insist, but your wonderful, strong, and horny girlfriend seems much too occupied with pinning you down in bed and pressing her lips against your neck.

Nika Mühl is something of a headache. 

The athlete is a wonderful lover. 

She also loves to get on your every last nerve.

She’s an infuriating mix of snappy and adorable—cocky yet doting. She adores you with every inch of every bone in her body, and she’s also fully aware of just how irresistible she is to you. 

So while Nika spoils and praises you constantly, she’s also picked up the habit of inconveniencing you horribly just to make up for her actions with perfectly weighted kisses and strong arms that cuddle the forgiveness out of you. 

Case in point: Multivariable Calculus at the University of Washington is no joke, and Nika knows precisely how many hours you neglected her in order to study for this test. Yet, someone is holding you down and keeping you from getting to class right now. 

Your girlfriend knows damned well that you can’t resist the familiar, yet captivating, feeling of her open-mouthed kisses. Like clockwork, as she starts to press her lips harder against your skin, your head tips back and your hands start to grip the sheets. 

The athlete is just so wonderfully solid on top of you, and the perfectly stinging kisses on your neck have you writhing in pleasure underneath her. 

“That’s a whole thirty minutes away, baby,” she mumbles, letting her right hand fall from its position pinning you down to grasp at your waist. “It’s only a ten minute walk to your class.”

You let yourself indulge further, getting lost in her touch and the smell of her shampoo—encapsulating you in your own Nika-induced heaven. 

But when that hand begins to pull at the waistband of your shorts, you use the last bit of strength left in you to push her shoulder.

“Nika—baby,” you mumble as you hold onto her shirt. She relents, albeit with her jaw clenched at the interruption. “I can’t miss this. You know that,” you insist, eyes pleading for her to take mercy on you and let you get to class.

To your surprise, your girlfriend scoffs lightly. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as she sits up and rests her weight straddling your hips.

“Baby, I’m offended that you think I can’t finish you off well before class starts,” she taunts.

You roll your eyes at that comment.

“Bitch,” you mumble as you try to sit up, only for a hand at your chest to push you back down onto the bed. You watch as she grabs your phone from the nightstand and fiddles with some buttons, her famous smirk eventually appearing as she turns the screen to you:

4:58 remaining.

The moment you realize what your girlfriend just did, you feel one hand return to the waistband of your shorts and see the other toss your phone somewhere on the bed. You meet your girlfriend’s eyes—hers intensely searching yours for your consent.

God damn competitive athletes.

“Fuck. Okay. Fine. Hurry up,” you breathe out as you slide your shorts and underwear down and feel Nika’s weight shift to the edge of the bed. 

Your girlfriend wastes no time, mouth eagerly diving straight to your core. Your eyes almost immediately roll back as you feel her tongue press against your clit and her hands come to grip your thighs. 

Nika-induced heaven.

She knows you well—knows exactly how hard and exactly where to lap at to drive you insane. Her tongue switches between teasing your entrance and running over your clit, causing your eyes to roll back, your thighs to tense around her head, and expletives to escape your mouth. And when Nika’s right hand leaves your thigh and a finger slowly probes into you, the familiar stretch causes a high-pitched moan to bounce off the walls of your bedroom.

God bless basketball hands. 

She rapidly builds a rhythm, letting a second finger stretch you out further and repeatedly target at the spot inside you that drives you insane. Your girlfriend’s mouth has never relented, her tongue now fervently grinding against your clit, and you’re unable to control the noises leaving your mouth. 

You can hear the sounds of her fingers in your slickness cut through the silence of your apartment bedroom, and it triggers something in your brain. 

The tightening feeling in your body arrives embarrassingly quick, but, of course, how could you ever forget how immensely talented Nika Mühl is in all regards. 

“Nika, fuck,” you whimper as your thighs tighten and your hands tangle in her hair.

The sounds of your pleasure always do wonders for Nika’s ego, and the whine you let out as the tension in your body snaps has the athlete smirking and her obsession with you growing tenfold. 

The fingers inside you slow to an eventual stop while your thighs finally relax. Her mouth is still on you as she slowly pulls out, now gently cleaning up your arousal—hyper aware of your sensitivity.

You let yourself enjoy the feeling of her aftercare, still deep in the euphoria of your orgasm, when the blaring of an alarm quickly startles you into opening your eyes. 

“Told ya.”

You decidedly ignore the cocky smile you know your girlfriend is donning, instead choosing to push her head away from your body and pull your clothes back on as she amusedly—and borderline vulgarly—cleans her fingers off in front of you.

“Fuck off.”

As you finish fixing yourself up, Nika stands up and grabs your backpack and phone before you can, walking with you to the door in comfortable silence. After you slip on both your shoes, you reach out to grab your belongings only for the athlete to pull you in close first. 

“You got this baby. I know how hard you studied, be confident,” she reassures before pressing a few soft kisses on your lips—a wild contrast to how aggressive her mouth was on you beforehand. “Now get out,” she chuckles, almost pushing you out the door while you scramble to put on your backpack.

And, as she expected, an hour and a half later Nika’s phone pings.

“Aced it.”

“You’re welcome 😁”

-------------------------------------------------------

“Baby.”

You didn’t mean for this to happen. Really. 

You woke up still slightly annoyed from a petty argument started the night before, which Nika had yet to apologize for. 

And now, suddenly, she's knelt down in front of you while you're perched on the countertop, running your hands over the solid muscle of her shoulders and moaning as she languidly mouths at your core.

Nika’s simply irresistible—she knows exactly how to charm her way back into your good graces (and your pants). 

Truly, the morning started off relatively normal. 

You woke to the feeling of a heavy arm on your stomach, a torso halfway on top of your own, and a head tucked adorably into the crook of your neck. Soft breaths hit your skin, and you can’t help but run your fingers through your girlfriend’s soft, jet black hair while she’s relaxed—and not getting irrationally jealous over some five-foot seven teenager who hit on you at the bar the night before.

You think back to the moment and roll your eyes slightly. You know your girlfriend loves you deeply, but every so often, she’ll overreact—swearing one too many times or conjuring up some extreme scenario where you suddenly leave her for a tiny-dick loser—in a way that pisses you off rather than makes you swoon over her commitment.

You’d gone to sleep without Nika and woke up to her on top of you, meaning she was probably hoping you’d be less ticked off after a good night’s cuddle. And while you’d normally let her win your forgiveness with some morning kisses, you decide to get up earlier today and go for a run—you need to give a presentation at your internship in a few hours, and getting all the tension out from the previous night would probably be for the best.

You get ready quietly while Nika dozes peacefully, pulling on some shorts and a sports bra before brushing your teeth and tying your hair. You press a kiss to your girlfriend’s forehead before leaving, thinking she’ll be gone for practice by the time you get back. 

When you return to your apartment, however, the first thing you see is Nika sitting at the counter, phone in hand. She’s dressed in sweats with her training bag on the floor next to her, and when she sets her phone down on the counter, you see she was working on a long text—most definitely an apology to you.

“Hey, what’re you still doing here?” you ask as you close the door and walk to the opposite side of the counter to face your girlfriend. She wears a small grimace as she watches you move.

“I—fuck. I thought you had left because you were still mad,” she explains, and you can see—practically feel—her regret for how she acted the night before. “I’m sorry. It was stupid getting jealous over that motherfucker.”

Her apology and regret has your anger dissipating almost instantly—really, it was just a small little squabble and her sincerity, in addition to the morning run, has your head cleared.

“You’re fine, baby,” you say, making your way over to her side of the counter. The athlete stares at you, clearly still apprehensive of her forgiveness, and you roll your eyes before guiding her face down to press a kiss onto her lips. 

“I promise,” you reassure with a small smile. She’s looking at you like you’re the sole source light of the world and God she’s so fucking adorable.

You can’t help it. You want her.

“You know what you could do to make it even better, though?” you softly ask as you run your thumb along the blush on her cheekbone.

“Hm?” 

“I have a presentation today. Could use some luck.”

And almost immediately, you see her lips turn up into a smirk and her demeanor change completely. God she’s hot.

Then her lips are attacking yours and you can’t help but lose yourself to the feeling of her tongue pushing against yours. You barely even feel her tugging at your shorts and underwear until they’re pooled at your feet and Nika’s nails are digging into your ass.

When you finally break apart to catch your breath, you’re unexpectedly lifted onto the countertop and that show of strength?

Yeah, you’re a goner. 

Wetness pools between your legs and your girl wastes no time—a finger is sunk into you at the same time Nika sucks a mark into the column of your neck and you can do nothing but dig your nails into a strong back and hold on as pleasure thrums through your body. 

“God, Nika, you’re so good.”

You feel a sharp inhale against your neck.

And then you see the athlete fall to her knees and insert a second finger into you at the same time her tongue flattens against your clit. 

You feel how your arousal coats Nika’s hand, and she momentarily removes her fingers from you to fully lap at your cunt. 

“I could do this forever, baby.”

You dig your nails into her shoulders, and the way you clench around her tongue when you feel it breach your entrance has her moaning in approval. 

She’s going to be insufferable after this.

She moves her mouth to suck at your clit before inserting her fingers back into you, now pistoning in and out with fervor, hitting all the right places.

It’s hot, heady, and perfectly passionate. You’re whining and your head tilts back as the tension in your body builds and builds until a final moan accompanies the snap.

As you finish, core muscles tense and thighs shaking, Nika stands up while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and licking her fingers clean. She’s still looking at you with that soft, submissive and adoring look, and you can’t help but lean down and kiss her.

Your girlfriend is perfect.

And there’s no way you won’t crush that presentation later. 

You chase Nika’s lips when she pulls away, but she looks at her phone and lets out a small groan. She tucks it away and immediately buries her head in your chest, while you wrap your arms around her neck, amused.

“Really gotta go to practice,” she muffles into your shoulder as you press a few soft kisses on the top of her head. You let her indulge in the warmth of your embrace for a few moments longer before gently untangling your arms. 

“You’re gonna kill it, I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say as you tuck your girlfriend’s hair behind her ears. 

You kiss her once more before leaning in close to her ear. 

“I’ll be waiting to repay the favor,” you whisper, before shoving her away playfully with a smile. You see her jaw clench, but she grabs her bag from the floor and drags herself to the door, an “I love you!” and “Good luck at the meeting!” being her final words before she makes her exit.

-------------------------------------------------------

You love gameday. 

Getting to see your girlfriend play basketball in an electric arena of screaming fans never gets old. 

The way the lights shine down on Nika’s body—whether she’s sitting on the bench with her teammates or running up and down the court—has your eyes glued on her at every moment. The buzz of the crowd always keeps you lost in the moment—no other thoughts ever occupy your brain but those of basketball tactics and your pretty girl.

However, your absolute favorite part has to be Nika’s pregame tradition exclusive to you only. 

Your girlfriend has a tendency to style some immaculate outfits. She looks exquisite in every single one, and today is no different. 

In fact, today’s is particularly… salivating. 

Nika’s arms and abs are on full display as she pairs a bralette with a cropped, unbuttoned black shirt and pants. You watch from the edge of your bed as your girlfriend takes pregame outfit pictures in the full-length mirror a few feet away, changing poses every few minutes. 

When she’s finally satisfied with her pictures and tucks her phone into her pocket, she turns to you with a smirk.

“Thoughts?” 

She knows you’ve been staring at her—and her abs—through the mirror for the last ten minutes, and she can practically see the R-rated thought bubbles forming above your head. 

Instead of answering, you stand up and walk over to her—only to grab at the hem of her shirt and pull her back with you until you both are standing in front of the bed. She looks down at you amusedly as you busy yourself with gently running your fingers down along her torso, eventually resting them at the waistband of her pants.

“Fucking delicious,” you finally respond, donning a smirk of your own as you push her to sit down at the edge of the bed, facing the mirror.

You kneel down in front of Nika, looking up through your eyelashes in a way that would drive any sane person feral. 

“Christ, baby,” she breathes out as she looks down at you, then looks at the mirror and sees you unbuckling her pants, ready to sin.

Your girlfriend grips the edge of the mattress.

You giggle as Nika opts to close her eyes when you begin to kiss down her abs, feeling how the muscles tense up and become even more defined. She lifts her hips as you pull down at her pants and underwear, throwing them up onto the bed so that they don’t get wrinkled.

Immediately after, you busy yourself with leaving stinging kisses at the top of her inner thighs and enjoying the feeling of one of Nika’s hands running through your hair. The warmth of her legs envelops you into perhaps the most comforting, and most breathtaking, paradise on Earth. 

You’re too preoccupied to notice when that hand stops—and to notice Nika grab her phone from the pants pocket and lean back, body resting on one elbow now. 

You do, however, notice the sudden sound of a camera shutter. 

The noise has you stopping dead in your tracks, confused. You look up to see Nika holding up her phone, taking a picture in the mirror with a smug expression. 

Fuck, that’s hot.

But two can play at that game.

You let your tongue press against your girlfriend’s clit, and you’re entranced by the sight of pure pleasure washing over her face. She lets out a breathy moan as her head tilts back slightly and you can’t wait to see that picture.

“Keep going,” she breathes out, thighs tightening around your head.

All the voices in your mind telling you to tease her further dissipate—the knowledge of her desperation has your self control disappearing and your need to feel her clench around you growing. 

You move on to pushing your tongue in and out of her, gradually increasing pace until you hear more moans than camera shutters.

You bring your fingers to rub over her clit as you maintain your movements with your tongue, causing her thighs to squeeze around your head—and you think that if your last moment was spent in between the strong quads of a professional basketball player, you would die the happiest being ever.

There are maybe three or four more clicks of the camera intertwined with whimpers and groans—and you cannot wait to see the different expressions she captures—before Nika’s thighs tense again and you hear the thud of the phone hitting the bed.

“Shit, oh my God.”

And suddenly there’s more arousal, more of Nika to consume. She’s now fully laid down on the bed, catching her breath. Her slick covers your chin but you don’t mind—you can only think about how addicting her taste is as you continue to lap at her cunt. 

“Fuck, baby, no more,” you hear as your girlfriend gently guides your head away, still catching her breath. You feel a sense of pride wash over yourself as you see how blissed out her face is, and how you're the only one that gets to see this.

This is your pregame tradition, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

You obey her request, standing up and pulling Nika up with you before handing her her disregarded clothing on the bed.

While she busies herself getting ready again, you snatch up the phone from the bed, unlocking it and opening the Photos app. You flick through the stills she managed to take—some blurry, but all of them fucking incredible. You send every one to yourself before leaning up to kiss Nika hard.

“Pictures turn out nice, babe?” she teases, wearing quite a self-satisfied look as she pulls back from your lips.

“Best pregame photos I have ever seen, my love.”

"Yeah? I'll make sure to look over them before the game starts," she murmurs before pecking your lips one more time.

“Yeah, maybe it'll give you some extra good luck.”

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

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

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

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

“Spencer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

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

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

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

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

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oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[black-lake]

astro observations 11

your astro granny is back, I've been doing this for so long omg. some of it is venting, like always, so ignore that, but maybe don't you may find words of wisdom there. anyway, enjoy. also warning, it escalates to heavier subjects fast 🪐 🔭

 ——

🕰️ Virgo and gemini risings can pull off any type of glasses, sunglasses, bug-eye glasses, cat-eye, mirrored ray-bans, you name it. They even look cute with goggles no joke. They also make the smart and academia aesthetics look so cool and elegant in a chaotic way, not in a taurus capricorn way but in a- 'I spilled coffee on my boss's laptop this morning and I'm still talking about it way- because omfg- did you see the way they looked at me? it's like I've done it on purpose or smth but I didn't, not sure if they have a crush on me or they fucking hate me, what do you think? I'm pretty sure they don't hate me tho, but I can't tell, do you think I should quit?' 🎙️🎬

🕰️ I recently looked up George Clooney's chart and omggg, it all makes sense. The moon conj saturn in capricorn, giving him that nostalgic wise aura along his taurus sun, uranus and pluto opp ascendant kind of indicating finding his perfect partner later on in life, venus in aries and mars in leo, he's fiery but that fire so damn well contained with all the earth. His asc and jupiter in aquarius, yeah only an aquarius women with so much air and intelligence can maintain his attention and lock him in lmao. His synastry with Amal Clooney reminds of that of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively. Manifesting a relationship like this for everyone reading 🧘🏼‍♂️✨

🕰️ Personal planets in scorpio 10° or 22° is a sexy mf combo, esp moon, venus, mars and asc, it gives bedroom eyes and seductive domineer, also godmade bone structures. 🗿

🕰️ Pluto opposite or square ascendant, a very classic aspect for friends/coworkers/admirers/people in general turning enemies and talking shit behind your back. This aspect can easily make people speculate, overanalyze your actions, assume things, spread rumors and lies about you out of jealousy and intimidation. 

🕰️ Any planet conjunct the desc can bring the physical manifestation to that planet's shadow side, up to 10°. It can conceal traits of that planet in the sign it’s in, as it’s descending and escaping the sun’s light. Pluto on the desc brings a few shadow traits out of people and conceals their true intentions from the native. So the native has to face those traits, learn to see them from miles away, to discern what people’s intentions are and whether it's that or their own perception and fears. In other words, they start from naive to paranoid to bs detectors, and it takes a long painful journey to get there.

🕰️ Even tho personal planets on the desc are much easier to see and handle, venus on the descendant can bring shallow traits and empty promises out of people, mars on the descendant, not as easy, can bring out anger, toxic masculinity and aggression. Saturn on the desc can bring immaturity, irresponsibility, immoral and disloyal behaviors out of people, stagnation, delays in connection and loneliness, pushing the native to learn patience and endurance. The native will meet people with such traits over and over again until they learn to spot and discern them faster and take the right action. ☔️

🕰️ I’ll keep talking about it in this blog cuz it’s always been one of my biggest challenges. What I learned with pluto on the desc is that you will keep attracting the same kind of enemies to challenge you if you don’t own your power and stop diluting yourself for someone else's fragile power hungry ego, because people will have a problem with you anyway. Also don’t hold too tight to anyone, never be afraid to lose people, because trust me you will. Almost no one is meant to stay in your life, they’re meant to transform you and leave. The only thing you’re meant to rely on is your power and independence. The moment you see it the easier cutting ppl off becomes. 

🕰️ I have venus in aries and I find myself always having a girl crush on celebs with this placement, Rihanna, Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Jennifer Aniston. They all seem to share that fiery independence mixed with a childlike but fierce demeanor which I admire, plus they never age. 🐈‍⬛

🕰️ I have mercury in aries and mars in scorpio, but for some reason I’m fascinated by people with mercury in aquarius and mars in sagittarius, with mercury in aqua I always expect something fascinating about their minds but I can't guess it cuz it's always different, but females with mars in sag omggg the sass is hilarious, I can’t help but laugh when they get blunt, loud and shady out of nowhere lmfao.

🕰️ Speaking of placements I’m fascinated by, what’s the deal with moon in taurus? I keep thinking it must be… nice.. to have? people that have it are so grounded and serene it makes me think it’s the best moon sign. If you have it please share the emotional difficulties you experience, because I can speak of every moon sign emotional traumas in detail but for some reason I be romanticizing this one. ☕️

🕰️ Another placement I really admire is moon conjunct saturn, there’s just something unspeakable, that isn’t tangible (even tho they have timeless mesmerizing eyes) but on a soul level I can sense their wisdom and nostalgic aura. It’s like there’s a balance of feminine and masculine qualities which come out in their mannerisms. People that have it, Timothée Chalamet, George Clooney, River Phoenix, and every hot man ever. 

🕰️ Have you ever asked yourself why Morgan Freeman has such deep unique and easily recognizable voice? It's his mercury conj uranus in taurus. Who else has an easily recognizable voice, Kim Kardashian, mercury conj uranus in scorpio. 

🕰️ Having the axis of virgo-pisces over your sun-moon, like virgo sun opposite pisces moon, or mercury-moon can give someone a soft voice, their voice can even be therapeutic and healing. Think of Michael Jackson's speaking voice.

🕰️ The hardest aspect in any chart for me are oppositions or squares to pluto, saturn and chiron. These are easily the most challenging aspects you can find in a chart.

🕰️ Those that have lilith/pluto in the 1st, 6th, 7th, 10th, 11th tend to have haters in their workplace, in groups or wherever they go often. It’s saddening but I’ve seen it a lot. Can also make ppl copy your style or attitude then hate on it, and never admit they got inspired by you.

-- potential triggers in the following one, pls skip if necessary.

🕰️ Difficult planets on the angles, saturn, pluto and chiron mainly can truly mess with someone's mental health to the point of them wanting to- yeah that. The most drastic effect is when they sit on the descendant and MC, since it deals with connections, groups of people and the public, a lot of it is outside of the native's control, and at times more than what they can handle. Their usually painful past experiences and memories has shaped their perception of the world to a dark and despairing one where they don't see a better future for themselves. A few examples, Kurt Cobain (chiron and saturn conj desc and pluto conj asc all tightly opposing), Mac Miller (chiron conj desc, saturn conj asc and pluto conj MC). Marilyn Monroe (chiron conj MC and saturn close to the IC, pluto conj nn). 

🕰️ I see every major astrological transit as a collective test, lesson and preparation for the next transit. It made sense that corona happened when pluto was in capricorn, a pandemic that restricted our freedom and made us prisoners in our own homes. There was a stellium of mars, jupiter, saturn and pluto all in cap the moment quarantine started in march. It was all about teaching us to respect societal rules and structures that keep us safe, whether it had to do with the government or the medical system, whether it was real or fake or real fake. Yes you have to give up some freedom for safety, that’s how surveillance and security cameras everywhere you go work, for your safety. 

🕰️ It taught us to care for the health of humanity, to live responsibly and respectfully when in crisis, even if that means compromising our freedom and limiting our movement. Trusting that the structure built over the past decades is somewhat reliable and helpful. We saw how some people put their own freedom above anything and anyone out of superiority, that's the selfishness we collectively needed to face before pluto moves to aquarius and we are given freedom we didn't learn how to appreciate or use responsibly. We had to learn the value of personal freedom vs discipline and structure.

🕰️ There are two planets I’ve seen repeatedly in people that manifest like magic, saturn and neptune. To add a third it would be uranus. Conjunctions and oppositions to these planets are like superpowers in manifesting your desired reality. All work in different ways. 

🕰️ For example people that have personal planets conjunct saturn (esp sun and moon) are easily attuned with the physical world and have some sort of control over time, turning it backwards or forwards, making themselves look younger and older at the same time, knowing the actions to take to bring anything into the three-dimensional world.

🕰️ Now this leads me to an astrology book I recently came across, the Alien Constructs the work of Edwin Steinbrecher and Stephanie Jourdan, discovering aspects that constitute an alien chart. The alien construct occurs when one of the outer planets, that is saturn, uranus, neptune or pluto, is conjunct or opposite the sun, moon, ascendant or the chart ruler. An individual that has one or few of these is different from other humans, they possess supernatural abilities, and typically have rough childhoods and adolescence.

🕰️ Every aspect with each of the outer planets has a unique ability, for example when the sun conjoins an outer planet it's called Power Alien Construct, the moon conjoining an outer planet is a Vessel Alien Construct, an outer planet conjoining the ascendant is an Instrument Alien Construct, an outer planet conjoining the descendant is a Shadow Alien Construct. Saturnian aliens are able to manifest things in the physical realm, plutonian aliens are masters of metamorphosis and irreversible change, uranian aliens are able to see the future and raise energetic frequencies. 

🕰️ Sun conjunct pluto is Plutonian Power, aliens are able to destroy that which is not built upon truth, understand the true nature of birth, sex, death and power, generate energy and power,  integrate polarities, perform psychic surgery, see beneath solid surfaces, shape-shift into animals, minerals or plants, heal utilizing sex, magnets or lasers.. etc. Moon conjunct uranus is a Uranian Vessel, aliens are able to comprehend the cycles and trends of the futures, safely corral erratic energy or electricity, channel high-frequency beings, telepath to imprisoned or trapped individuals or animals, sense the formation of inventions and innovations. Look it up, it's fun and tell me what alien construct are you and how you relate to it. oh it reminds me of a post I did a while back of aspects as superpowers.

Happy pluto in aquarius 🛰️✨ (will come back in years and see how this aged)