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luvwestwood · 1 year ago

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"Working Overtime" - Toji Fushiguro

4,469 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), toji is your boss, escort reader, thigh riding, p in v, spitting, toji rails you on a balcony, exhibitionism?, toji fucks you on a pile of money, mention of size difference, hair pulling, eye contact, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praising, light aftercare

notes. corporate girlie by day, escorting by night. out of all people, who knew your own boss had to be tonights client? (ok but wealthy toji is such a refreshing experience from broke homeless smelly ass toji.)

art used is by @/yunonoai

Being able to say you work under Mr. Fushiguro meant that you were gifted of some kind. Just having the privilege to do so puts you on top of others in society.

Toji Fushiguro himself possessed a different category of wealth. Any high-rise building you walk into in the whole of New York, you could be 99.9% sure that he owns it.

Five star hotels, bars of any kind, and award-winning Michelin restaurants. Oh, you name it. This was his world and we were just living in it.

On the other hand, the Fushiguro company's pay was decent. Working conditions were way above standard. It was a luxury to work in his office, but knowing you, it just wasn't enough.

You needed more than that. Which is why you took up escorting, suggested by your best-friend one night while the two of you were intoxicated by liquor. She told you that you had the looks, the bod, and a personality anyone would die for. And lastly, you were captivating - you could have anything your way.

At first you took it as a joke. Thinking she was just being a lick ass. But surprisingly you had tried it out not long after the idea was proposed, and you ended up making almost double your annual net salary in just four months. This night job was a secret that only you and your best-friend knows about.

Of course, you worked on the weekends. Choosing to work Monday to Thursday would’ve been self sabotage.

You had more than enough money to buy whatever you want, send your mom on holiday, and you were always on top of rent. Your corporate job was just something to get through the day with rather than rotting at home.

During shifts, you and the other escorts would hang around in the night club changing rooms. Most of the girls were also strippers in the same club, but that wasn’t really your thing. So you just stayed with escorting. Your manager would just assign each of you clients, unless someone has personally booked you in.

Speaking of which, a voice came from the door frame. “Star, you have a client tonight. 9PM.” Star wasn’t your real name, it was just a fake one that you used while you escorted. It was safer, and most of the other girls did the same.

You look at Geto, your boss, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Busy polishing up your eyeliner, you try your best not to poke yourself in the eye. “Name? And did he obey my no-home rule?”

As an escort, you did have some rules for your own service. You figured you’ve been doing this for quite a reasonable amount of time, so you made a personal rule where you’d refuse to go to a clients house. For safety reasons.

“Goes by the name.. uh… Eznin? And he did indeed. Seems like he booked in for the Ritz Carlton on 25 West. Think he’s a first time client too.” He reads the details off his tablet.

Of course, it just had to be one of Fushiguros hotels. You literally couldn’t escape that man.

The other girls in the room purred, “Aren’t you lucky.. Seems like he has money, don’t ya think?” Meimei takes a puff of her cigarette, looking at you in the mirror aswell for a response. “Maybe check for an expensive watch? I’d take it if I were you.”

“Not funny, Meimei.” She was known for stealing from her clients, you never knew how she got away with it. It even got so bad to the point that she sp¡ked a client, taking his wallet afterwards.

Getting up from the chair, you made your way behind the dressing divider, shimmying your robe off to slide on a dark blue lingerie set. Over it, you wore a simple black dress. I mean, you could never go wrong with a little black dress.

Throwing on some matching strappy heels, you stuffed your purse with some condoms and lube. And a plan B, of course.

“Your rides sorted,” Geto stood back from the door frame. “I’ll text you any further details.”

“Copy,” after spritzing on some perfume, you made your way out of the club.

An all-black SUV was waiting for you outside the entrance. Your favourite driver, Todo was standing beside the car door, smiling as you approached him.

“Hi, Todo.” You smiled as he held the door open.

“You look wonderful miss.” Todo smiles back before closing the door, walking around to the drivers side.

The car drives on, and as you were securing a secret mic in your purse, (for safety reasons but the client never knows) Todo speaks.

“Ah- Miss, not sure if I should disclose this information but your client tonight is.. very wealthy.” His leather covered hands clutch onto the wheel. “I’d be more demanding if I were you, make the most of it.”

Breaking out into a laugh, you stop fiddling with your bag, to look at him in the rear view mirror. “..Is that so?”

“Yeah… thought I might let you know.” He grins, bringing the car to a stop. Todo quickly scurries out of the vehicle before you could, opening the door for you.

“Thanks for the ride, Todo.” You slipped a $20 bill in his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

He nods, getting back into the car as you made your way inside of the hotel.

Checking your phone for updates, Geto sent you a text with all the details around five minutes ago.

Eznin Caln 30 years old, Net worth- $307,473,297 Floor number 43, he’ll let you in.

You walked over to the elevators, luckily one was already open. Taking a look at the buttons panel, you looked for a 43. Noticing it was the last highest button, you raised an eyebrow before pressing it.

Clutching onto the straps of your purse, the doors closed. You could only look at yourself in the metal reflection, taking a few deep breaths. Of course, you made sure to send a text back to Geto to let him know you were at the hotel.

Although you were decently experienced in this job, you’d still get nervous each time you were about to meet your clients.

Setting down the fly aways in your hair, the elevator came to a halt.

*Ding!*

The metal doors opened before your eyes. Hesitant, you walked inside, the bottom of your heels tapping against the wooden floors.

“..Hello?” You peeked inside the other rooms in the penthouse, one being a mini office that seemed like someone was just there, the other being a bedroom with big windows and a balcony, overlooking the city.

A deep voice spoke behind you. “Can I help you?”

You gasp, clutching onto your chest as you turned around. “I’m so sorr- Mr. Fushiguro?!”

Your eyes widened, and his mouth wide open. He was only in a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair wet from a fresh shower. You couldn’t help but ogle the drops of water that decorated his muscular body.

“…Are you.. the escort?”

Unable to form words, you swallowed your spit before speaking. “I.. I am.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the ground.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” He eyed you up and down, a mini towel in his hand to dry his hair. “Sorry you have to see me like this, excuse me while I put some clothes on.”

Is he not going to question anything?..

Your breath hitched, God, did he know I was eyeing him? “Okay..”

He turned around to go back to the bathroom, but looked over his shoulder as he was doing so. “Just call me Toji, we’re outside of work.”

You watched as Toji continued to walk away, “Well.. I’m basically working, aren’t I.” you muttered under your breath, making sure he doesn’t hear.

Looking around, you remembered that he owned this hotel. I should’ve known when I was going to the 43rd floor, he doesn’t let anyone in here.

You walked over to his bedroom, it was bigger than your own apartment. The sheets were neatly made, and a bottle of Malbec sat on a table near the window.

Placing your purse on small sofa, you removed your jacket, neatly folding it over the arm rest aswell.

You made your way to his closet, in search for a white robe. There was a robe on the hanger beside his freshly dry cleaned suits. You took it out, tracing your fingers over “The Ritz-Carlton” that was embroidered onto the front in cursive.

Sliding your dress off, you covered yourself in the robe, only the dark blue lingerie set underneath. Afterwards you tied a knot around your waist with the belt. Kicking off your heels, you placed them inside the closet, along with your dress that was neatly folded.

Although you were an escort, you made sure to clean up after yourself. You hated leaving a mess around, so you respected your clients by making sure to leave the place clean.

You could hear Toji walk into the bedroom. Closing the doors of the closet, you turned to him, and he was already busy getting the wine bottle open with a corkscrew.

Taking a seat on the armchair in front of him, causing you to be at crotch level with Toji. You watched as his arms flex each time he handled the bottle.

You noticed Toji was in a more relaxed outfit. He wore a dark grey cotton longsleeve that sculpted over his muscles like paint, with bottoms in a matching colour and fabric.

“Toji,” you called out his name.

The pouring of the wine stopped, his fingers gently pushing the glass towards you. “Hmm?”

Taking the glass by the stem, you twisted it between your fingers. “Do you regularly hire escorts?”

Toji walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He sighed, looking at the city view in front of him. “No,” taking a sip, he continued. “This is my first time, actually.”

You did the same, but taking a tinier sip. You didn’t want to be tipsy while carrying out your service. It was too dangerous. “..Oh.”

Looking back at Toji, he was busy staring at the red liquid swirling around in the glass. “I dont even really know how they work.”

As you were about to take another sip, you paused. Your eyes looked at him over the rim of the glass, before placing it back down on the table.

“You can just do whatever you want with me, really.” You crossed your legs, exposing the bare skin on your thigh to him.

"I see," he nods, slightly leaning back onto the bed, using his hands for support.

"So, you made up your mind yet?" you got up from the arm chair, making your way to Toji who was on the bed. "What you wanna do?" You stood yourself between his legs, as he tried his best to hold himself back from pulling on the knot that was holding your entire robe together.

Toji's hands rested on your hips on top the robe, dangerously close to your ass. He made sure to bring you closer to him, almost pressing your chest to his face at this point. "I don't know," His free hand tugged on the knot of the belt, slowly unraveling it until the robe slid off your body. "Maybe you, if that's an option."

He could feel his cock strain against his pants as he took in the sight of you in nothing but lingerie, it felt like he was opening a present on his birthday. Blue was his favorite color.

You choked on your words at his response, he sure did have a way with his words. "I don't usually allow that, but maybe I'll let it slide tonight."

Toji caressed your wet lip with his thumb, gradually sliding it inside of your mouth as you sucked on it gently. He stops and moves you to the side by the waist, getting up from the bed.

Confused, you stay standing in front of the bed, watching Toji as he grabs something from the drawer. He eventually makes his way back onto the bed, but this time, leaning his head back against the head-board.

Toji takes out his wallet, pulling a $20 bill out and placing it on the nightstand beside him. "..Crawl over to me."

Your lashes flutter as you watched him place the bill on the night stand, you could only obey what he asked you to do. 'I'm just doing my job.. this doesn't mean anything. He will forget about this.' You constantly chanted this in your thoughts, completely disregarding the fact that he was your boss.

You crawled onto the bed, and slowly to him. Toji's eyes watched you closely making sure to tell you, "Stop," as you were just about to crawl onto his lap.

He takes out another $20 bill from his wallet, this time, two. Toji gently raised his knee, just enough for it to rub against your warm cunt that was covered by the lace panties. "Ride my leg, until I tell you to stop."

Aroused, which you are not meant to be, you couldn't help but sink yourself down onto his leg. Part of you wanted this, but you did at good job at not showing it.

You slowly started to move your hips back and forth on his lower thigh, placing both of your hands down in front of you for support. Toji's hardened cock begging to come out as he watched you closely.

If you were to lift up his top, you’d be able to see his leaking top peeking out of his waistband. The straps of your bra slowly fell down off your shoulders. Toji could almost groan at this lewd sight in front of him.

"Good girl," He did his best to hold himself back from holding onto your hips, "Keep going."

A spot on the fabric of his pants turned into a darker grey than before, your slick making its way through your panties. Nothing can be done.

Breathy moans started to crawl out of your throat, Toji noticing as you started to grind on his leg harder and slightly faster. "Stop."

You whimpered quietly as Toji retracted his leg from underneath you, observing the newly made wet spot on his pants. "Look at this mess you made all over me.."

Speechless, and breathless, you fell back onto your heels in front of Toji, he took another bill out, but this time $50.

"..I want that bra off." He slaps the bill onto the growing pile on the nightstand, followed by another 50. But he doesn't take his eyes off you. "And the panties. They're kinda annoying me now."

Doing exactly as he said, Toji's hand rested on his crotch, aching to palm himself through his pants. You slowly, but teasingly unclasped your bra, Toji clearing his throat by the time your tits were finally on display to him.

Followed by your soaked underwear, which at this point was no use. They managed to fly across the bedroom, hanging off a small statue that was on top of a console table.

He just wanted to wrap his mouth around each of them, or even motorboat your titties.

Toji propped himself up in a less relaxed position. "Lie down on your back, legs spread."

Your last sight was him before you fell back on to the bed, your head nearly hanging off the edge. Toji noticed your nipples hardened as soon as your skin made contact with the cold satin sheets. You felt the weight of the bed shift around, as Toji grabbed both of your legs by the thighs, positioning his head between them.

Squirming about, Toji peppered kisses on your inner thighs, his large hand wrapped around one of them. Wasting no time, he went straight to sucking and softly biting on your folds, using his tongue to lap at your bud until it was swollen. Moaning into your pussy, he softly massaged the flesh of your thigh, the vibrations from his grunts adding more to your stimulation.

Busy sucking away, wet noises from his tongue and the slick of your dripping pussy echoing throughout the bedroom. His hand reached behind him, then slowly went back over his shoulder. It was a $100 bill, tucked between his index and middle finger.

You were too busy hanging your head off the edge of the bed in pleasure, grabbing the sheets beside you and wrinkling them as Toji devoured you like he hasn't eaten for weeks.

The paper bill fell onto your stomach, tickling you slightly. You could feel Toji spit onto your pussy, the saliva trickling down almost into your hole before he slurped it back up, sticking his fingers in there instead. You felt them slide into you with ease, Toji swirling his warm tongue around on your clit.

"O-oh God.. To..ji." You managed to choke out a moan, your manicured hands clawing at his hair and eventually messing it up.

Letting go of your thigh, he used his now free hand to fondle with your breasts eagerly, twisting your nipples between his fingertips before giving them a slap.

One last lick on your clit, Toji removed his head between your legs, this time his whole body kneeling between them. You sneakily push up against him, his bulge through his pants grazing against your bare cunt.

Using your strength to lift your head from the edge of the bed, you watched as he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor. Its neckline was soaked from eating you out earlier, but we don't talk about that.

Panting, his hands frantically rummage through his wallet. You noticed it was still bulky, as if the previous cash he pulled out didn't make any difference to the amount he had now.

Toji pulled out $1000 all in 20 bills, your eyes widening, wondering if he was serious.

"Please.. let me fuck you." Toji also sat back on his heels, $1000 in his hands as you were underneath him, fully naked. He just wanted to indulge himself in you, and if he could, he'd make this night last forever.

You slowly nodded, honestly begging to having his cock inside of you too. Before you knew it, your vision was filled with the $1000 raining down onto your body, and by your sides on the bed. He quickly pulled his bottoms down to his knees, before realising they were too annoying. He proceeds to fully kick them off.

Toji glances around the room for a condom, before you stopped him. "..Is it okay if we don't use one? ..I want to feel every inch of you."

You read his mind. "Anything you want, gorgeous."

His large hands shuffled through the pile of cash that was over your body, making sure that he could still see your tits and your beautiful face.

One hand grabbed onto your waist, and the other was used to align the tip of his cock with your hole. As soon as he slightly pushed the tip in, both of his hands were on your waist now.

Toji carefully slid in, making sure you take every inch of him. He closes his eyes in pleasure as he feels your plush walls clench around him, Tojis grip on your waist intensifying.

And, god was he big. In both cock, and Toji in general, he could destroy you if he decided to use full stength tonight.

"Y-you're too.. big," Toji not even halfway, you cry out, only wrinkling the sheets more to the point they weren't tucked into the frame hotel-style anymore.

You could feel both of his thumbs caress the soft skin of your sides as he cooed, "I know baby, I know," Toji let out a grunt as he tried to move in and out of you.

The difference of size between you and Toji made you throb, at this point he could just use his hands to fuck you on his cock back and forth like a doll in his grasp.

Toji starts to pant as he picked up the pace of his ruts, your tits bouncing, only adding to the pornographic sight in front of him.

Covering your face with your hands, you moan into them, the feeling of being full with Tojis cock was driving you mad. You could feel one hand let go of your waist, bringing it to your wrist to pull it away from covering your face.

The rustling of the cash beneath you and the sound of skin slapping echoed out into the living room from the bedroom. "Look at me when I fuck you," Toji says sternly, causing you to whimper in agitation as you did your best to keep your eyes on his.

"To..Toji.." You moan out, choking on your words as your hand grabbed onto his that was wrapped around on your waist.

"Come on doll, say my name." Turning feral, Toji pounds into you like a fleshlight. Voice shaking as you try to moan out his name, and by tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice.

He comes to a halt, completely. Toji slides his cock out of you, a creamy white ring formed at the base. You whine before he hushes you. "Y'know what," He picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

You switch positions, instead you lock your legs around his waist, as the two of you made your way to the balcony door of the bedroom. Is he..

*click!*

Toji slid the glass door open, the two of you stepping out into the balcony. It wasn't cold, and you could see the still busy city carrying on with life underneath the hotel.

Suddenly, Toji peeled your legs off his waist, making you face the railing, and the city in front of you. You gasp as he roughly positioned your body, placing one leg up onto the rail, your two hands clutching onto the cold metal.

He slides into you again, but this time not allowing you to adjust. Toji immediately goes in with brutal force, your ass ripping against his pelvis as he drilled into you. On the balcony. For anyone to watch.

Toji spits again, his saliva falling onto your asshole and soon enough drips onto his cock that was continuously pounding in and out of you.

Your moans broke out into a giggle due to the ticklish feeling, Toji couldn’t help but smile at your reaction.

Both hands on your waist, Toji groans in pleasure and praises you non-stop for taking him like a good girl. His hand wrapped around your lower stomach as he felt you give in, your legs unable to support yourself. "You're doing so good for me," he whispers in to your ear, only to leave a trail of wet kisses down your back afterwards,

You moan continuously, for sure, everyone below could hear. Your hand made its way to Toji's nape, bringing him closer to you as he repeatedly fucked into your sweet spot.

"I’d do anything to be able to see a view like this one for the rest of my life," his left hand made its way down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles.

This just did it for you, lowly moaning, you let go of Tojis neck. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on the metal rail ontop of your same hands that were grabbing onto it. But a certain someone didn't let you do that.

Toji immediately grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back against his chest, taking your leg off the rail. You felt him interlock his hands around your inner elbow, suddenly fucking into you upwards as you grab onto his bicep for support.

"G-o-d Toji, please just f-u-ck your c-um into me." The enunciation of your words came out in bits, as Toji drilled up into you at a brutal pace.

He grinned against your necks skin, leaning further to plant kisses on your jaw."You want me to fill you with my cum, huh?"

You frantically nod, but that wasn't enough of an answer for a man like Toji.

"Oh baby, use your words." He purred into your ear, holding his orgasm to make sure you get it when you deserve it.

"I need it- I need it so ba-ad." You whimpered out, squeezing onto his bicep. "Please, Toji."

He whined, balls tightening as he heard you beg for him. You already drove him crazy, and that only drove him crazier. With one deep thrust, his movements come to a halt, allowing his warm, thick seed to fill you up completely.

Toji placed more kisses onto your back and your neck, making sure to never lose grip of you in case you go all jelly. Followed by him, slowly pulling his cock out of you, his load dripping out of your hole and onto the balcony flooring.

He stuck two of his fingers back into you, slowly fucking the load inside of you to make sure it stays inside. With his cum covered fingers, he slid the two of them past your lips and into your mouth. You sucked on them, humming as it covered your taste buds, and eventually swallowing.

Toji slapped your ass, and you yelped, giving him a glare. He chuckled before picking you back up bridal style, carrying you back inside the penthouse.

He gently and carefully placed you on the bed, quickly cleaning a bit of the mess you two made around the room.

"How about I go run us a nice bath, hmm?"

Fiddling with your thumbs, you watched as Toji neatly fold the pile of money together alongside the one on the night stand. Of course, it’s still yours. "That sounds good," You smiled as he walked over to give you a peck on the forehead.

The dripping of water from the bath tap rang throughout the room, Toji leaning back against you as the two of you were in the tub. You squeezed a sponge over his abs, the hot water dripping down his skin as he closed his eyes.

"..Toji," you called out his name, and he hums back in response.

You gently rubbed the sponge up and down his arm, "Would you say this counts as me working overtime for you?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to look up at you. "I'll add another $500 bonus and a shopping spree if you ride me in this tub."

You scoff, letting go of the sponge as you sulk against the marble of the tub. "I'm literally stuffed with your cum. I think you had enough, thank you very much."

Toji only laughs, "Aren't you forgetting you got an asshole and that throat of yours? We can easily squeeze in three more rounds."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #jjk fushiguro

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destinationtoast · 7 months ago

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Toastystats: Halloween fanworks!

So the thing is, I get to Blaze one post per month by virtue of having Tumblr Premium. And (while I have enjoyed Blazing pictures of my cats in the past) I thought perhaps this month people might enjoy some Halloween fandom stats + fic lists? So I threw something together. First, the stats:

Less that 1% of AO3 fanworks use the "Halloween" tag (or a subtag like "Happy Halloween" -- only 0.32%, in fact. But I found some big fandoms (10K+ works) that use a substantially higher-than-average rate of Halloweenery. (I couldn't look through every fandom on AO3, but I did look through all the fandoms with 10K+ fanworks as of January 2024. Note that some fandoms may write about Halloween a bunch without tagging it, and those aren't be captured here.)

Fall Out Boy leads the pack among these big fandoms, with nearly 1% of its fanworks using the "Halloween" tag or a subtag (0.93%). (I'd be curious to hear theories about why!) Some of the other fandoms shown above have a natural element of spookiness or horror (e.g., IT, Stranger Things), but many do not. The longer list is here. (These stats are based on pretty small numbers, btw, so please don't take these rankings too seriously. This is just a bit of fun.)

I also thought people might want to read some Halloween-themed fics from each of the above top 25 fandoms, so I highlighted works from each fandom that were complete and highly kudosed. If you're curious, the list includes this sort of info:

And I thought people might also appreciate Halloween-themed fics for different relationship categories (F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, xReader). Here's a screenshot of some of the fics in the relationship category list, if you're curious:

More information about how I created these lists below the cut.

Before we get there, could I interest you in taking a quick poll, since I am Blazing this post and curious about the audience Blaze reaches? Thanks -- and happy Halloween season! :)

The construction of these lists was definitely not an exact science. For each fandom or relationship category, I filtered to only show works with the "Halloween" tag. I then looked for complete fics in each fandom that appeared to actually be about Halloween or a spooky topic (based on their summary and/or a quick text search), and had a lot of kudos. (I didn't actually read these fanworks myself, though.) I also tried to diversify and make sure that each category included a variety of ships/fandoms. I ruled out collections of one-shots and things that appeared to be part of a long series such that they couldn't be read as a standalone. I also ruled out things that looked like incredible bummers, and honestly a few things that had major grammatical errors in the summaries.

But I linked to more in each case, so you don't have to visit the example fics I highlighted -- you can explore more on your own!

Also -- I did a lot of copy/pasting, and there may be errors in here. Feel free to let me know if you find any. Thanks, and enjoy!

#halloween #halloween fic #fall out boy #polls #ao3 #fandom stats #toastystats #op #tumblr blaze #50 #100

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aliwritex · 5 months ago

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NSFW alphabet yt22

warnings: obviously 18+ content

wc: around 1.7k

A= Aftercare (what they're like after the act)

He likes to be close in anyway possible.

If you’re riding him he usually just pulls you closer to his chest and keeps you there for a while — you have fallen asleep like this before and woke up hours later completely sore, but it was worth it.

If you’re too hot you’ll take it to the bath, back to chest, either one of you in the front. You usually let him take the front spot, letting him relax as you wash him and whisper sweet nothings to his ear.

He just loves to have you close, skin to skin. He’s just very clingy.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

On himself is probably his abs. He’s proud of his flat stomach and his chest and loves when you run your fingers and nails through his tan skin, feeling the soft definition of his muscles.

I have a feeling that yuki is a boobs guy if you couldn’t tell from my other works but not in a ‘i like big boobs’ kinda way. He’ embraces all boobs, he loves the feeling of them in his hands, loves to rest his head on them and to suck on them. Sometimes you’ll just be doing your own thing and he comes up to grab them or lift your shirt. He’s just so in love with them.

Sometimes if he’s feeling a little anxious, angry or sad about the race you’ll just flash him in his room, maybe letting him play with them for a bit. It helps a lot with his mood.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

He doesn’t like anything too messy. He’d rather cum in the condom than pull out and have you all sticky bc he likes to cuddle and wouldn’t want you to get up to clean. He’d also rather finish inside for his pleasure and your own, condom or no condom, he likes to be close.

He also loves to watch you cum, around his fingers, cock or even your own if he’s away (FaceTime is your best friend)

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He loves when you get a bit rough with him.

Bites, scratches, bossing him around, not letting him cum, stuff like that. He enjoys it way more than he’d like to admit.

He thinks it’s a secret at first but you pick up on his hints quite quickly and you’re quite happy to give him what he needs and wants.

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing)

When you met Yuki he was pretty inexperienced. You taught him a lot of what he knows and you probably had to shape him to your likings but you didn’t mind. Now you have him all to yourself and he knows everything you like and vice versa.

F= Favorite position

The basics.

He loves to be sitting with you on top of him, that has to be his favorite of all time. He can watch your tits bounce and suck on them, grab your waist and guide you and have you look down at him.

He also loves good old missionary, where you’re basically just making out while he rocks his hips. This usually happens in the mornings or if you’re both tired but need that intimacy.

He also loves to have you on your side, it falls into the same category as missionary. So he basically loves anything where he can have you close and touch you all over.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He can be quite unserious. Before you got comfortable with each other he used to be more serious but you like his casual self way better. It depends on the intensity, sometimes he can still get quite serious about it, especially if he’s getting his frustrations out with you or if you’re being a little kinkier than usual.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He’s doesn’t have much hair so it doesn’t get very messy, he does keep it tamed though.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/ dirty)

He’s very romantic, can be quite intense. He takes those moments with you as the purest form of love — and they truly are.

You’re usually the one to take things to the rougher side, he seems to think you don’t realize that he loves it that much. But you know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You would normally take things further when he’s feeling frustrated about something and he’d simply surrender to you.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

With his job? Very often! He lives off pictures, videos and memories of you when he’s away.

He loves to get off to the sound of your voice. Sometimes you wouldn’t even have to say anything special to him, just being on the phone and talking about your day was enough. You’d be surprised to hear him whining while you were telling what happened at work.

You do also have a couple facetime calls. As I said he love to watch you cum, the faces and the noises you make drive him insane.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Low key mommy kink. He loves to be taken care off and you love to give it to him. Anything he wants he gets.

The word escaped his lips a few times before, you didn’t mind it and played into his desires.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Nothing beats his own place, couch, floor, kitchen, bathroom but the simplicity of the bed is the favorite.

He feels more free to love you entirely and in anyway he wants in the privacy of his own room where he has his big bed, enough for you to get into any position you wish.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/ turn ons)

He’s just a guy in his twenties, anything turns him on.

Dresses, skirts, sitting on his lap, nipples poking through your shirt, you wearing his clothes, your smell, lingerie, your tits in general, if you touch his hair, if you touch his chest, mostly anything.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won't do)

Anything too kinky, especially if you’re ‘subbing’. Just not his thing, likes you to be in charge.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

As i said before, you taught Yuki most of what he knows so as far as giving head goes, he’s perfect for you. (it wasn’t like you told him everything he had to do btw, just taught him to listen and pay attention to cues)

He could care more about receiving though. It’s not that he doesn’t like it, he loves your mouth, but Yuki is about intimacy and apparently, a blowjob just doesn’t hit that sweat spot. (spoiler: he’d much rather have your hands around him.)

P= Pace

He likes it slow, nothing too fast, he loves to feel the drag of his cock on your insides. If you ask he goes for it but if it depended of him he’d go slow all the way.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

If you don’t have time he’d rather get handsy than actually have sex. A quick head or hand action is much more appreciated. He’d hate to not be able to keep the tenderness and intimacy of your private moments or not give you enough orgasms.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He’d do anything for you. He’s pretty happy with how you are now but if you ask him to do something new he’d be happy to. You have tried new things but you already know what you like and always end up turning back to the usual, without falling into a routine.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

With the slow pace he’s so fond of he can stretch his pleasure for as long as he’d like.

About how many times you can go multiple times a day, morning, noon and night but if you’re talking one after the other he can do two maximum.

He has reached three, accidentally, once because he had been really frustrated and asked you to take care of him.

T= Toys (are they game for usually sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He loves to watch you with your vibe when he’s away, you’ve never gotten to use it together, though, maybe something you should try.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He loves to be teased. Soft lingering touches drive him insane and he’d go mad if you’re wearing something sexy around the house, teasing him all day.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Yuki gets whiny, especially when you’re on top. He can’t really help himself when he feels good and that has gotten you a couple noise complaints in hotel rooms.

If you’re topping him he’ll beg, whine and moan for you.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

Handjobs!!!!

He absolutely loves them. You usually make him sit between your legs, his back resting against your chest. He likes that you can wrap your arms around him and kiss his lips and his neck like that, you feel perfectly close in that position. And, according to him, you have the most skillful hands he’s ever had.

X= X-ray (what's down below in dem pants)

You were actually a little surprised to find something average in his pants. You had just guessed it be small (proportions, yk?).

He’s definitely on the thicker side though.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

He’s horny. Normal to very horny i’d say.

If he’s home you’re probably fucking everyday, maybe multiple times a day, and you’d never get tired. Being physical is one of his love languages so it’s just how he likes being with you.

If he’s away he’s thinking about you 24/7. Missing your hands, your lips, your body and your cunt, wrapped tightly around him.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He loves fucking you to sleep. Anything before bed just gives him the best night of sleep. Even if he’s alone he’ll either call you or pull out something from the special folder on his phone to relive himself before sleeping, he says his best dreams are on nights he got to fuck you before bed.

Sometimes you’ll get a call in the middle of the day because of the time zones and it’s just him, asking you to talk him through it.

#yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine #yuki tsunoda smut #yt22 smut #yt22 imagine #yt22 x reader #yuki tsunoda #a writes

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zoloteh-volossya · 9 months ago

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BG3 Fanfiction Statistics, Part 2

Welcome to part 2 of my BG3 AO3 fanfic statistical analysis! In part 1, which can be found here, I discussed general fanfic data for the fandom and took a look at pairing trends for the player character, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Minthara. In this section, I will discuss pairing trends on AO3 for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin, then compare all 8 main characters and talk about pairings more broadly.

Please note that the data for this analysis was gathered between July 21, 2024 and July 24, 2024. I gathered data for the top 300 ship tags in the BG3 fandom, and due to time constraints did not look at pairings with fewer than 5 fics.

I will try and be as transparent as possible when discussing how I obtained and processed this data. A copy of my spreadsheet can be found here and contains all of the tables I will be discussing for anyone who wishes to take a closer look at the data. If you don’t care about the numbers and/or my thoughts about them, feel free to skim through this post and just look at the charts!

I will be referencing the “PC” a lot in this section. See part 1 for an explanation of my methodology, but basically I combined Tav, Dark Urge, Original Character, Reader, and You into one Player Character (PC) supercategory while filtering to prevent double counting. This makes it clearer who each character is typically paired with. It also drops the number of ships from 300 to 162. Throughout this essay, I will use “ship tags” to refer to the original 300 ships that I gathered the data for and “pairings” to refer to the 162 ships that remain when I condense the player character down.

CHARACTER PAIRING STATISTICS, CONT.

In part 1, I went through Tav, the Dark Urge, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Minthara and took a look at who they are shipped with and their fic category (F/M, M/M, F/F, Other, Multi) breakdown. In this continuation, I will look at Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin.

ASTARION

Astarion was included in 50.2% of all fic pairings (the number of fics tagged Astarion/PC + the number of fics tagged Astarion/Gale + the number of fics tagged Astarion/Halsin and so on, divided by the total sum of all fic pairings). This percentage increased to 53.9% when otp:true was applied. This means that over half of all shipping content for BG3 on AO3 involves Astarion!

Astarion is in 7 of the top 10 ship tags and 64 of the top 300 ship tags. When I condense the pairings with the PC down, he is in 7 of the top 30 ships and 40 of the 162 total pairings. The loss of 24 ship tags comes from me having to condense down not only all his ship tags with the PC but also all his threesomes and foursomes and moresomes with the PC.

Notably, Astarion was the only BG3 character to have race specific ship tags – Astarion/Tiefling!OC (68 fics), Astarion/Half-Elf!OC (27 fics), and Astarion/Drow!OC (9 fics). These all got condensed down into the Astarion/PC supercategory as well.

Astarion/Gale is #4 and his next pairings with a non-player character are #8 Halsin and #9 Wyll. Pairings #1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10, and 16 are all just him with different tags for the player character. Condensing down all the player character tags yields us his top 20 pairings.

As expected, the player character dominates his pairings with 11,756 fics. His biggest non-PC ships are with Gale with 2,431 fics (of which an unusually high proportion are otp:true – 1,752 – almost three quarters of all his fics with Gale), Halsin with 848 fics, and Wyll with 582 fics. Ignoring the PC, he mostly seems to be shipped with men – the first canon woman to show up is Karlach at #8 with 157 fics (an order of magnitude less than Gale). He has four threesomes (Halsin/PC/Astarion, Gale/PC/Astarion, Karlach/Wyll/Astarion, Wyll/PC/Astarion) in his top 20 ships. I was surprised at how high Cazador (#6, 387 fics) was at first, but a lot of that is likely from Astarion’s backstory.

#20 was Astarion/Astarion with 15 fics, which means that Astarion is following in the proud tradition of tumblr sexymen like the Onceler before him.

As expected from looking at Astarion’s pairings in general, he has slightly more M/M (8,923 fics) shipping than M/F (7,996 fics) shipping. M/M pairings have an unusually high rate of otp:true fics – that’s mostly from Astarion/Gale. Oddly, there’s a small number (51) of F/F otp:true fics – these are either genderbends or mistags.

Looking at the pattern of pairings with the PC only, a different pattern emerges.

This time, there’s significantly more M/F fics (6,910, 58.8% of Astarion’s fics with the PC) than M/M fics (4,182, 35.6%), though the numbers are closer when you look at otp:true (46.7% M/F vs 37.6% M/M). We can infer then that it is more common to ship female player characters with Astarion than men. The Other category is significant (1,601 fics, 13.6%) and likely was used for a tag for nonbinary player characters. There’s still a bizarre 38 otp:true F/F fics.

GALE

Gale is in 19.7% of all pairings and 26.5% of otp:true pairings. He has 33 ship tags in the top 300, which drops to 23 when I condense all the player characters into “PC.”

Unlike Astarion, whose chart was completely dominated by his pairing with the PC, Gale has almost as many fics with Astarion as he does with Tav. The top pairings for Gale are primarily with the player character – #1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 are all just different tags for the player character (Gale/You and Gale/Reader are synonymous and so have pretty much the same number of fics). Condensing all that down yields the following chart.

There’s a stark drop off after the player character and Astarion – an order of magnitude decrease in fics (#4 Shadowheart/Gale has 111 fics, a massive drop off from 2,431 Astarion/Gale fics). And #3 is just a threesome with both the PC and Astarion. I’ve commented on it before, but Gale/Astarion has a truly unusual proportion of otp:true fics – something that indicates that there are no background pairings in most of that ship’s activity. I would not be surprised if many of those fics are modern AUs or post game fics that don’t feature the other BG3 characters much if at all.

The quartet of Astarion-Gale-Halsin-PC is prominent in Gale’s top 20 ships. All permutations of that multiship are present: #1 Gale/PC, #2 Astarion/Gale, #5 Halsin/Gale, #3 Astarion/PC/Gale, #6 Astarion/Halsin/Gale, #11 Gale/Halsin/PC, and #15 Astarion/Gale/Halsin/PC. Towards the bottom of his top 20 we start getting into his multiships with most or all of the main protagonists. This’ll be more common with the other companions – there are only 11 Astarion / Gale / Wyll / Shadowheart / Lae’zel / Karlach fics, so when these show up the list is descending into very low fic count pairings.

Looking at Gale’s fic category breakdown, M/M predominates with 3,859 fics to M/F’s 2,938 fics. Given the very high proportion of otp:true fics, we can assume that most of that is Astarion/Gale. Indeed, when we look at Gale’s ship with the player character (his only other substantial ship), we see a very different picture.

Gale’s ship with the player character has much more M/F content than his general ship content and also than Astarion. M/M content drops from 57.1% of all his fics to 30.5% of his ships with the player character, while M/F content rises from 43.5% of all his fic content to 68.1% of his fic content with the player character. ‘Other’ shipping is about 9.6% of ship content with the player character. Looking at otp:true content, a little more than half as many male player characters are shipped with Gale as female player characters.

There are, for some reason, 16 F/F otp:true fics for all of Gale’s ships and 7 otp:true F/F fics for his ship with the player character.

WYLL

Wyll is featured in 5.2% of all pairings and 5.7% of otp:true pairings, a truly stunning drop from the ~50% of Astarion and 20-26% of Gale. He is in 24 of the top 300 BG3 ships, a number that drops to 18 when I condense all the player characters into one category.

Interestingly, Astarion/Wyll outpaces Wyll/Tav as Wyll’s most popular ship. Like with Gale/Astarion, the proportion of otp:true fics for that pairing is unusually high.

When we condense all of Wyll’s player character pairings into one category, it (barely) edges out Astarion/Wyll, with 588 and 582 fics respectively (also note that no Wyll pairing has thousands of fics, unlike Gale and Astarion before him). What also happens when we condense the player characters is that Wyll does not reach a full 20 ships – he drops to 18 pairings. He has more than this, of course, but my methodology ignores all pairings with fewer than 5 fics. Therefore, Wyll’s 19th and 20th most popular pairings have 4 fics or fewer. I have represented these missing pairings with little :( emojis, because this is a sad state of affairs.

Karlach is by far Wyll’s most popular ship after Astarion and the PC, with 327 fics. The otp:true proportion is low, so it is likely often a background ship or has background ships. The next highest pairing is #4, Gale, with 54 fics. The numbers rapidly drop from there – by #6 Wyll/Lae’zel we are at 26 fics and by #14 Wyll/Karlach/Shadowheart we are down to only 10 fics.

Wyll’s pairings, like all of the male characters, tend towards M/M, with 1,010 total fics. F/M follows up with 794 and Other with 162. Much of his M/M fics come from Astarion/Wyll, as we can see when we look at Wyll’s ships with the PC.

Like Astarion and Gale before him, the proportion of M/F rises when we look at Wyll’s pairings with the player character specifically. Unlike Astarion and Gale, though, no category even comes close to breaking 1,000 fics. M/F has 357 fics (or about 60.7% of his fics total) and M/M has 224 (38.1%). With otp:true applied, M/F is 56.3%, M/M is 40.7%, and Other has 13.3%. These numbers add to more than 100%, so even on otp:true fics people are evidently tagging multiple categories. This is likely due to “Reader” fics with a generic reader.

HALSIN

Halsin is featured in 9.7% of all pairings, almost twice Wyll’s proportion. This drops to 7.9% though when you apply otp:true – a much larger drop than pretty much anyone else other than the PC. It’s likely because Halsin has a disproportionately high number of fics with threesomes, which eliminate a fic from otp:true if the threesome subrelationships are also tagged.

He is in 31 of the top 300 ship tags and 21 of the top 162 pairings.

Like every other man in this essay, Halsin’s ship with Astarion is very prominent. The first canon woman to show up is Shadowheart at #15.

As expected, Halsin/PC is easily his most popular pairing, with 1,637 fics. Astarion and a threesome with Astarion and the PC follow with quite decent fic counts of 848 and 456 respectively. The otp:true proportion for Halsin/Astarion is abnormally high. Gale and Shadowheart seem to be his other major ships. Gale/Halsin is #4 with 106 fics and Gale/PC/Halsin is #8 with 19. Shadowheart/Halsin is #6 with 36 fics and Shadowheart/Halsin/PC is #10 with 17.

The Astarion-Halsin-Gale-PC quartet shows up prominently in Halsin’s top pairings. In addition to the ships previously mentioned, Halsin/Astarion/Gale is #5 with 92 fics.

What’s notable about Halsin’s fic categories is the abnormally large number of fics tagged Multi – 1,257 fics, or 37.4% of the total. Given that he’s the poly companion, this makes sense.

Looking at Halsin with the PC specifically, the typical pattern appears. The percentage of M/M drops and M/F rises. Unlike the other characters and like his general shipping situation, the percentage of Multi fic is quite high – 32.7%.

CHARACTER COMPARISON

Now that I’ve looked at all the main characters individually, let’s take a look at how they compare to each other across a variety of metrics.

FIC RATINGS

In my individual character discussions, I didn’t talk about their relative rating proportions much, even though I was carefully tracking it. This is because all rating plots look just about the same until you compare people against each other directly.

Taking a look at all fics, I noticed a couple of things. First of all, Wyll is the companion with the least amount of horny fic written about him, with 33.4% of fics that include him in a pairing being rated Explicit. Halsin is the horniest, no surprise, with 52.8% of fics that include him in a pairing being rated Explicit – over half! Astarion has 41.2% Explicit fics while Gale has 43.6%. Amongst the women, Minthara has the highest percentage of Explicit fics (47.8%) while all three other women are within 38% – 40%.

Interestingly, the percentage of fics rated Mature remains within 22% – 26% for all companions except Minthara, who has 27.8%. The proportion of General fic is between 9% and 11% for Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart, and Karlach. Wyll has more than that, with 11.4%, while Lae’zel and Minthara have less than that with 8.4% and 5.6% respectively.

The situation does not change appreciably when I only look at fics with the otp:true condition.

FIC CATEGORIES

I have been talking about the percentage of M/F, M/M, F/F, Other, and Multi fics for each of the main characters. It’s interesting to compare them with each other. Please note, though, that in the individual character sections the percentages given were the percent of all fics for that character, and so the percentages added up to more than 100% because many fics tag several categories. In this section, the percentages given are a percent of all pairings. They therefore all add up to 100%, but it also means that fics that tag multiple categories are counted multiple times in that 100%.

The men all have more M/F than the women do (Astarion and Gale have the most while Lae’zel and Minthara have the least). Halsin, unsurprisingly, has the most Multi fic while Minthara has the least. Karlach has a surprisingly low proportion of F/F fic.

An interesting note is that the men all have less F/F fic than the women do M/M fic. This means that women are in background pairings to M/M ships or have background M/M ships in their focus fics proportionally more often than the men have background F/F ships or are in the background of F/F fics. The exception is Wyll, who has a F/F percentage close to the percentage of M/M fics in the womens’ fics.

Looking at ships with the PC specifically, some interesting patterns emerge.

Astarion, Gale, Wyll and Halsin have significantly (by more than 10%) more M/F content and less M/M content in their ships with the PC than their ships in general. Lae’zel and Minthara see a slight (less than 5%) increases in M/F and decreases in F/F as well. Shadowheart mostly stays the same. Karlach, on the other hand, sees a moderate (between 5% and 10%) decrease in M/F and increase in F/F in her ship with the PC specifically.

But remember, all these values include background pairings, and we have no way of knowing what proportion of each category actually contains the character we are interested in. So, what happens when we strip background pairings out of the equation by applying otp:true?

Wow! What a difference! Now, these values aren’t necessarily representative of all their pairings – just the ones that authors like to focus on without any background ships. Recall from the individual character analyses that often the second most popular ship after the pairing with the PC had an unusually high otp:true ratio. So we can assume, for example, that a large proportion of the M/M fics for Astarion and for Gale are from Gale/Astarion.

Every woman except Karlach is gayer than all of the men. Surprisingly, Karlach is the straightest companion by this particular metric.

Applying otp:true to ships with the PC specifically yields very different results.

Like what we saw with all ships, ships between the PC and men have significantly more M/F content than the mens’ ships generally. In this case, every man except Astarion jumps to around 50% M/F, and Astarion still jumps from 24.3% to 42.9%. The consistent pattern is that when looking at otp:true fics, M/M is preferred unless the pairing is with the player character, in which case M/F is more popular.

The conclusions for the women are not as clear cut. Karlach has more F/F and less M/F when looking specifically at ships with the PC, while Lae’zel has almost twice as much M/F when you look at her ship with the PC than her general otp:true fics – almost certainly due to the loss of Shadowheart/Lae’zel. Shadowheart experiences a significant (>10%) decline in the proportion of F/F fics, while Minthara sees a smaller one (~5%). What remains true, though, is that the majority of the player character shipping for the women is F/F.

The green bars in the chart are for the Other category, an expansive category that includes a lot of nonbinary PC shipping. You can therefore estimate how popular it is to ship each main character with a nonbinary Tav. Karlach has the most (18.6%) while Lae’zel has the least (5.2%). Everyone else is between 10% (well, 9.8% for Gale) and 12% except for Astarion who has 13.6%.

PAIRINGS

Most of both parts of this essay has been spent looking at each main character in relative isolation. But if you plot all pairings next to each other it paints a very interesting picture about each character’s relative popularity.

Astarion shows up 7 times in the top 10 ship tags and 12 times in the top 30 ship tags. The first non-Astarion ship is #4, Tav/Gale. There are no canon women in the top 10 ship tags – the first to show up is Shadowheart, at #14. Wyll does not appear until #18, in a pairing with Astarion. His pairing with Tav is #25. Lae’zel’s ship with Tav does not even make it onto this plot, at #38. Minthara is in an even worse situation – she first shows up at #60.

The results when I condense all the player character tags into “PC” are... stark.

Astarion dominates the BG3 fanfiction sphere in a way that is very surprising for a piece of media with six strong main characters. In fact, in order to actually be able to see the teeny tiny bars representing everybody else, here's a second graph with Astarion/PC excluded.

Astarion/PC is far and away the most popular ship, with 11,756 fics. Gale/PC is the second, with 3,500 – less than a third as many. Next is Astarion/Gale (2,431 fics) with an unusually high “otp:true” ratio, which indicates that it is frequently being written without any background ships. Surprisingly, Gortash/PC is fourth with 1,891 fics, followed by Halsin/PC with 1,637. Shadowheart/PC is the first woman to show up, at #6 with 980 fics. This is still 657 fics less than Halsin/PC and 911 fics less than Gortash/PC, which means that Gortash/PC is almost twice as popular as Shadowheart/PC. Astarion/PC has 12 times as many fics as Shadowheart/PC.

Karlach follows Shadowheart at #7 with 890 fics. Of the main cast, Lae’zel is next at #10 with 694 fics, and unlike every other Origin character her most popular ship is not with the PC but with Shadowheart. Wyll/PC does not make it into the top 10 ships, coming in at #11 with 588 ships. Notably, Raphael has more fics with the PC than either Lae’zel or Wyll, coming in at #9 with 745. Astarion/PC has a whopping 20 times as many fics as Wyll does and Gortash has over three times as many fics with the PC as Wyll does.

Lae’zel/PC finally shows up at #16 with 348 fics. Rolan/PC has more fics (#13, 477), and Astarion/PC has 33 times as many fics. Minthara/PC, meanwhile, is all the way down at #23 with 234 fics. Raphael, Rolan, Zevlor, the Emperor, and Haarlep all have more fics with the PC than she does. Halsin/PC has 7 times as many fics as Minthara/PC.

If you add up all the pairings each main character is tagged in, you get the following chart.

Astarion is far and away the most written about character in the BG3 fandom, followed by Gale and Halsin. If you divide these numbers by the total number of pairings, Astarion is in 50% of pairings, Gale is in 20%, and Halsin is in 10%. No other character breaks 10% - Shadowheart is in 7% of pairings, Karlach in 6%, Wyll in 5%, Lae’zel in 4%, and Minthara is in 1%.

Out of curiosity, I tallied up the numbers for Gortash as well. He appears in 6% of all pairings and 7% of otp:true pairings. This means that Gortash breaks even with Karlach and appears in more pairings than Wyll, Lae’zel, or Minthara, and if you look at otp:true he beats all the women and Wyll. This is despite Gortash having very few ships with characters outside of the PC, unlike most of the main cast who have notable secondary ships like Shadowheart/Lae’zel.

PAIRING ANALYSIS

Why am I focusing so much on pairings? Mostly because BG3 is an ensemble game – many fics will tag characters who show up for any significant length of time, even if just in the background. Therefore, if a character is tagged that is indicative that they are being included but not necessarily a sign that they are being focused on.

AO3 is a largely romance focused site (only 12% of all BG fics are categorized as General) and so characters in a pairing are more likely to be a focus of a fic. Of course this is not a hard rule, as in-depth character studies may have no pairings tagged at all or may tag a pairing that shows up in the background – but I have no way to distinguish these fics from a fic that tags a character because they show up for one paragraph. There is also the problem that many pairings are background pairings that are tagged but show up only briefly. To try and avoid that, in the following conversation, I will often be focusing on ships with the PC specifically. Fics pairing a character with the PC are especially likely to be focusing on that character and their romance and are much less likely to be a background ship than other pairings.

Looking at the data, the four most popular characters to ship with the PC – Astarion, Gale, Halsin, and Gortash – constitute the majority of fan works. Astarion, Gale, and Halsin in particular are shipped in all the possible configurations and these pairings are comparatively popular. Astarion/Gale is #3, Astarion/Halsin is #8 (above any Wyll or Lae’zel ships), Astarion/Halsin/PC is #14 (above Lae’zel/PC and all Minthara ships), Astarion/Gale/PC is #26, Gale/Halsin is #33, and Astarion/Gale/Halsin is #34.

So I did a little experiment. I went through my data and counted all the pairings that contained ONLY Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Gortash, and/or the PC. Then, I went through and counted all the pairings that weren’t in that group but did contain at least one of Astarion, Gale, Halsin, or Gortash.

Pairings containing ONLY a combination of the PC, Astarion, Gale, Halsin, or Gortash constituted 66.9% of all fic pairings in the BG3 fandom and (in a neat coincidence) also 66.9% of otp:true fic pairings. Adding in fics that involve at least one of these men with someone else ups the numbers to 73.3% of all fics and 75.0% of otp:true fics. Which means that only about a quarter of pairings do NOT include one of these four white men.

Now, it isn’t unusual for a couple of people to dominate a fandom like this. Many fandoms’ creative output primarily consist of only a couple of popular characters and their associated pairings. What is notable, though, is that BG3 is an ensemble game with 6 strong and nuanced main characters, three of whom are women, and two additional strong side characters, one of whom is a woman. But the four primary objects of fandom’s focus are 2 of the main characters, one of the side characters, and a villain.

This discrepancy is especially notable for Shadowheart and Lae’zel. For ages, when I’ve seen people bring up the relative scarcity of women in fanfic, the rejoinder is that the true culprit is the source media. Stories just don’t feature complex, interesting women with fully realized arcs, people say. There’s no narrative meat to for fandom to sink their teeth into.

This is not the case in BG3.

Both Shadowheart and Lae’zel have excellent narrative arcs that are well embedded into the game – Lae’zel has two game areas dedicated to her plotline (the creche and the astral plane) and you literally cannot progress the game past act 2 without interacting with Shadowheart’s dedicated area. The characters grapple with crisises of faith, culture clashes, and important decisions throughout the game – and who they end up becoming changes depending on the player character’s actions. This is great stuff! But it does not translate into fanfic popularity.

Lae’zel in particular is underrepresented. It’s notable that she is main character who is integrally tied into the plot and yet she is only tagged in 16% of fics – even including all the fics that merely tag her as a background character. She only appears in 4% of pairings. Her pairing with the PC comes in at #16, with 355 fics. But hey, her largest ship is with Shadowheart, so let’s look at the total number of pairings she shows up in – 1,319. Gortash/Dark Urge has 1,594 fics – that single pairing has 275 more fics than all of Lae’zel’s pairings added together. Gortash’s total pairing count is 2,052 and exceeds Lae’zel’s by almost 700 fics. Halsin’s total pairing count is over 2.5 times as large as Lae’zel’s at 3,346 fics total. Gale’s total pairing count is over five times as large, at 6,760 fics total. Oof.

Shadowheart is a bit better off – her pairing with the PC is the most popular woman at #6 with 980 fics. But this is still 657 fics less than Halsin/PC and 911 fics less than Gortash/PC, which means that Gortash/PC is almost twice as popular as Shadowheart/PC. When you take Shadowheart’s other pairings into consideration, things improve a little bit. She has 2,418 pairings total, which is about 400 more than Gortash’s total, though still over 900 fics less than Halsin’s total. But any Shadowheart/Lae’zel fan can tell you about sifting through their fics and finding that many only feature them as a background pairing for Astarion/Tav or some other more popular pairing. So let’s take a look at the otp:true numbers. Looking at otp:true fics only, Shadowheart has 765 fics and Lae’zel has 495 fics. Meanwhile, Halsin has 858 and Gortash has 800 – more than Shadowheart and much more than Lae’zel.

Neither Gortash nor Halsin really have arcs in game, though both of them do have implied arcs that happened before it. They’re interesting characters, sure, but undoubtedly Shadowheart and Lae’zel have more going on, more narrative meat to chew on. And yet, they’re completely overshadowed in fandom.

Speaking of being overshadowed, let’s talk about Wyll. Wyll is the only man in the main cast who is not particularly popular. He does not even make it into the top 10 pairings! He has fewer fics than Shadowheart or Karlach. Notably he has far far fewer fics with the PC than any other major male character and even several male villains. Gortash/PC has over three times as many fics as he does, Halsin/PC has 2.78 times as many fics as he does, and Astarion/PC has a whopping 20 times as many fics as he does. Even Raphael/PC has more fanfic! Even taking total pairings into account, Gortash still has more pairings than Wyll’s 1,770 total, while Halsin has almost twice as many.

A counterpoint that is commonly raised in this fandom is that Wyll is a boring character with less content than other Origin companions. Now, I disagree with this assessment of Wyll’s comparative boringness (I find him more interesting than Gale and much more interesting than Halsin, personally) but for the sake of this argument let’s not dispute this. The fact of the matter is that even if Wyll’s arc is half baked, Halsin has no arc at all and much less content in game. Gortash has even less content, with any potential past entanglement with Dark Urge being merely implied. Raphael doesn’t even have the implications of a past relationship with the PC, is never in a position to be in a relationship with the PC, and is canonically bad in bed to boot. And yet these men have far more fanfic with the PC than Wyll does.

I cannot help but notice that Astarion, Gale, Halsin, and Gortash are white men and Raphael presents himself as a white man.

What’s also notable is who doesn’t show up. Many minor non-player characters have quite sizable followings with a significant number of ships. Rolan, for instance, has 586 fics across 9 pairings. Zevlor has 393 ships, Dammon has 257, Kar’niss has 131, and Abdirak has 112. Other male characters that showed up on my list include Ansur (110, all with Balduran/the Emperor), Blurg (69, all with Omeluum), Vellioth (55, all with Cazador), Rugan (54), Kith’rak Voss (49), Sebastian (47, all with Astarion), Orpheus (40), Geraldus (29), Nere (22), He Who Was (21), Yurgir (18), Loroakkan (15, all with Rolan), Aradin (12), Danis (11 with Bex), Barcus (9 with the PC, not Wulbren), Petras (8 with Astarion), Guex and Ikaron (8 with each other), Franc Peartree (7 with Gortash), Lump the Enlightened (6), and Cal (6).

Meanwhile, if I eliminate Aylin and Isobel (not really “minor” NPCs), the first female minor NPC to show up in my list is Alfira with 58 fics. Nocturne follows with 57, Lakrissa with 34, Bex with 11 (all with Danis), Councillor Florrick with 8 (all with Minthara), Duke Stelmane with 8 (all with the Emperor), Kagha with 6, and Cerys with 6 (all with Rolan).

Councillor Florrick is notable because she has as much of a role in acts 1, 2, and 3 as Rolan, Zevlor, and Dammon yet she has no fics with the PC that showed up in my dataset; her only appearance is as part of a ship with Minthara. Ulder Ravenguard – a notable NPC from act 3 – never shows up at all, while Geraldus – a very minor NPC from act 3 – does. Rugan shows up but his boss Zarys never does. Neither does Roah Moonglow, who has a role in acts 1, 2, and 3 while Rugan only shows up in act 1. Araj Oblodra does not show up, but Sebastian does. Cal and Rolan show up in my dataset, but their sister Lia does not. Petras is the only vampire spawn to have over 5 of a pairing – Dalyria, who is present in all scenes where he is, does not. Alfira has the same presence in the story as Rolan (if anything, she has more), yet she shows up in less than a tenth as many fics. Vellioth, who never shows up at all, has 5 times as many fics as Viconia, who does.

The fandom has a definite trend for who gets written about, and it’s not women or Black people.

I’m not writing this to try and shame or guilt anyone. I have a dear friend who absolutely adores Astarion, and fandom acquaintances who I respect that are deeply invested in Gale, Halsin, and Gortash. And I don’t blame anyone for seeing a minor character and being intrigued enough by him to write fic. It makes sense that people are drawn to these characters – they’re really well written characters with engaging storylines. But all of the main characters in BG3 are well written, and who fandom chooses to focus on and prioritize says things about whose stories, whose lives, we pay attention to and care about.

I don’t expect this essay to change anything. Honestly, it’s mostly a primal scream of annoyance, broadcast to tumblr in hopes that other people who are annoyed by this phenomenon can find it. But it’s also a cold hard repudiation of any claim that the reason that women or Black people are underrepresented in fandom is solely due to the source material being lacking. BG3 proves that false.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #fandom #shipping #ao3 #statistics #data visualization #astarion #gale #wyll #halsin #lae'zel #shadowheart #mine

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un-petit-sanctuaire · 5 months ago

Text

Hollow

Pairing: Sylus x f!MC

Genre: Angst

Rating: General

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You deal with your grief after his death.

Author’s Note: The idea for this story came to me right after I finished reading Sylus’s myth. I wanted to explore the grief we feel after losing him, as seen through our MC’s eyes. It also reminded me of Wings by Birdy, a song that beautifully captures the numbness and emptiness of mourning a loved one’s passing, which I think serves as the perfect companion to this piece.

Anyway, this is my entry for the Fan Art Contest #WhereDrakeshadowsFall under the fiction category! So if you could show some love in my original post in my X account, I’d be forever grateful. <3

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I poured my heart (and tears) into writing it. ♡

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

How long had it been?

Days? Weeks? Months?

Ever since that day, I had lost track of time.

The climb felt steep, though I couldn’t decide if it was the hill or the weight in my chest. Each step was a struggle, as if invisible chains were bound to my feet, dragging me back, telling me to stop.

It had been easier when he was here, hadn’t it? He would simply scoop me up in his arms, his wings slicing through the air as they carried us effortlessly to the top. Back then, the ground was alive; vivid red datura swayed under the breeze, their petals dancing around us in the wind. Now, the earth was cracked and barren, and the only thing that moved was the dust stirring under my feet.

I paused at the top, breath catching—not from the climb, but from the weight of his absence. In my head, I could almost see us sitting there, arms wrapped around each other. His soft chuckles seemed to ring in my ears as he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face.

The hill felt like a stranger now, unfamiliar and hollow, much like my world itself had become without him.

I made my way toward the stack of flower crowns on the ground, some of them decayed and withered, their petals brittle and curling at the edges. Kneeling down, I placed a new one on top—delicate blooms I’d gathered with painstaking effort from the forest. My fingers lingered on the flowers, brushing against the soft petals, as if holding onto something tangible—something real. Something to remind me of him, to keep my memory of him alive.

There was no grave, no mound of earth. Only these crowns marked the spot where his body had been when I held him in my arms in his final moments.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. For a split second, I thought I could still smell the flowers as they had been when the fragments of his soul dissolved, enveloping me for the last time.

Holding back the lump rising in my throat, I whispered,

“Hi, Sylus.”

Each time I came here, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Closure, perhaps? Or maybe it was the ache of missing him—the longing to at least talk to him, to feel his presence again. My mind was probably playing tricks on me now since he was gone. There was no body to speak to, no corpse. Just the hollow space in my chest screaming in silence.

Maybe that’s what I was searching for—to fill the hollow, even if just for a little while.

“I brought you fresh flowers,” I said, forcing a faint smile to tug at the corner of my lips. “Remember when you told me Tarus City could have flowers bloom everywhere for me? Well, you need to take accountability for your words now. I can only forage flowers from the forest—and with great effort too, so you’d better be grateful.”

I scoffed lightly, pausing for a moment.

“Climbing here was never easy. I wish I had wings like you—then I could just fly up.”

But what he said once was right. I was a young dragon who had just grown horns. And I had no wings.

“A bit useless, don’t you think?” I murmured. “A dragon without wings?”

I wrapped my tail around myself. At least I had a tail, though it wasn’t as big as his. I curled myself up, hugging my knees as my tail coiled around my waist and legs.

He used to do the same whenever he embraced me to sleep.

“Anyway… I’m getting used to my horns.” My fingers instinctively brushed against the sharp, rough surface sprouting from my head. “The first time they appeared, I kept knocking them against the wall.” I could imagine his amused expression if he had seen me like that.

If he saw me, that is.

Sylus, did you see me grow my horns?

The thought tightened something in my chest, and I hugged my knees closer.

“It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. You did tell me it hurt a bit when you grew yours.”

But it didn’t hurt because they grew, did it, Sylus?

It hurt because you wished they hadn’t.

You wished you never had those horns and tail. You wished you were never a dragon so you could fit in. You wished to live like a human. To be human.

My thoughts spiraled with memories etched deep into the back of my mind. A young boy standing before his reflection, a dagger in one hand and a broken horn in the other—both slick with blood. He was trembling. He looked terrified.

He looked like he’d seen a monster.

Like he was the monster.

I wished I had been there to hug the boy.

“If we had known each other when you were little, would you have loved your horns more?” I whispered, my lips trembling. If only someone had told him how beautiful they were, he probably wouldn’t have endured the pain of trying to remove them. If anything, those horns only made him even more beautiful. If only he could have seen it.

If only he could have seen his reflection through my eyes.

Even after he was gone, the nightmares still came. Nightmares where I was in his body, where I was him. Alone. His kind wiped out, leaving him as the last dragon in a world where he tried so hard to be accepted as a human.

Yet he couldn’t be human.

And that was okay.

I would tell him it was okay.

But the Legion didn’t see it that way. Not when they drove their weapon into his chest.

“I’m… sorry.”

The words trembled out as I choked on my tears. I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for. Was it for not being there for him? For knowing his life hung by a thread because of sins he never committed? For what others had done to him?

Or for being the one who would one day grant him his true death?

Before I knew it, my cheeks were wet. Tears fell silently, landing on the petals of the black datura at the bottom of the stack—those already withered and decaying.

It really hasn’t been the same without you, Sylus.

I wish we had more time.

If we did, maybe I could have made up for the years he spent alone. Maybe he would have known what it felt like to be truly loved—to have someone care for him so deeply it hurt when he was gone. When my dragon was gone.

Maybe then, he wouldn’t have felt so much like a monster.

“You told me…” the words stumbled from my lips, shaky, “…that our lives were bound together now. That you… wanted me to stay by your side. Until the end of time.”

And that’s what I’m doing now, Sylus. I’ve been constantly looking for you, searching for you. Begging, even, on some nights for you to come back. You promised we’d never betray each other. That we’d be tied to one another. I’m sure you wouldn’t break that bond.

You’ll come back, won’t you?

I wiped my tears with trembling fingers, forcing myself to calm my breath.

“You know, I managed to finish the requiem on the organ,” I finally uttered after what felt like an eternity. “I hope you heard it last time. Would you like me to sing it for you again?”

The requiem—a song for the departed, meant to soothe the dead.

Once again, my fingers brushed the petals of the flower crown I’d placed earlier as I began to sing. The melody spilled from my lips, soft and broken at first, then steadying as the notes filled the empty air. With each verse, my heart grew heavier, the weight of grief pressing down until it felt unbearable. Tears streamed freely now, but I kept singing. I needed to finish it—Sylus would want me to finish it. He loved it.

I just never thought I’d be singing it for him after he departed.

Each note I sang carried the weight of all the words I didn’t get to say, the moments we’d never have, the love I probably didn’t give him in full. It was as if the song itself wept, wrapping the barren hill in its sorrow, mourning him with me.

As I sang the final note, the sound lingered in the air before fading into silence.

“We’ll be together again… in this life or the next.”

The wind stirred the flowers, sending a few petals drifting into the air. They danced briefly, catching the light, before disappearing into the horizon. I took a deep breath and slowly rose to my feet, brushing the dust from my knees. My tail uncurled, swaying lightly behind me as I stood tall.

I’ll come find you again, Sylus.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #lnds fic #sylus #sylus x you #lnds ff #lnds sylus #sylus ff #sylus fic #lads #lads ff #lads sylus #sylus angst #lads angst #love and deepspace ff #sylus fluff #sylus x f!mc #where drakeshadows fall

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mlqueen89 · 3 months ago

Text

Four | Boundaries

Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat

Do I Wanna Know by The Arctic Monkeys

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

Warnings/triggers: smut in overall series, mentions of parent death/absence, swearing (let me know if i missed any!)

word count: 8,274 summary: the one where ellie assembles the avengers her team and pulls back the curtain on her tech. jake switches up his approach and ellie grapples with early push back from the pilots. A/N: this chapter and the previous chapter were originally one chapter, but my magnanimous beta kindly told me to chop it in two, which left some breathing room for the wonderful opening scene, of which i’m so incredibly proud. and then i let my fingers go wild, and this chapter got split in two. basically, it’s so clear at this point that i’m gonna need more than 10 chapters to tell jake and ellie’s story properly. these kids are just the most fun, but also, the most stubborn.

this one is plot heavy. this whole chapter (technically 4 & 5) was the most exciting and fun chapter i've written for jake and ellie’s story so far, i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i've added a bunch of terms to the glossary, so feel free to head there if there’s something you’re not sure of terminology wise. i really wanted to make this authentic – ya know, as authentic as fanfiction could be. ❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ glossary of terms ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥

Midway Park, Lemoore, California — 2005

The early morning October air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of fresh cut grass and rubber tires as families gathered around the makeshift track for the annual soapbox derby.

Ellie clutched her helmet under one arm, the other hand resting on the sleek grey soapbox car she and her dad had worked on for weeks with interspersed help from one or more of his old wingmen. Its reflective paint gleamed under the sunlight, a perfect replica of his old F-14 Tomcat, right down to the call sign, now replaced with her name and RIO painted on with the steady hand of her uncle Wolfman.

She’d excitedly run the race in her head as she tried and failed to sleep, her eyes scanning over every detail of her helmet sitting on her dresser across the room and the olive one-piece flight suit hanging behind her door in the dim glow of the moonlight seeping in through the cracks in her slatted blinds. She hadn’t even eaten her whole breakfast that morning, partly because Wolfman had cracked the egg wrong in the pan and there were shells to pick out of the scrambled eggs, but mostly because her stomach tossed. Her legs swinging impatiently under the table as she pushed her food around her plate and watched her dad read the paper and sip his coffee like he had all the time in the world.

“Alright, Ellie, here’s the deal, kiddo,” her dad said, crouching to her level. In his aviators, Ellie could see the reflection of her wide eyes before she took a look at the lineup of cobbled together cars and the other kids crowded around the roped off track. “The under-10 category?” he waved his hand, dismissive, “that’s baby stuff. You’re better than that.”

Ellie frowned, her small hands gripping the curved edge of her old ski helmet, scrawled with uneven, bubbly kid letters RIO. “But I am under 10. I’m eight and a half and...” Ellie paused to count on her fingers, her pink nail polish chipped and barely there, “... two days!”

Rick tilted his head toward his wingman, Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe, who stood nearby with a clipboard and a devil-may-care smirk. “Not today, Rio. Today, you’re 10 and a half—officially. Right, Wolfman?”

Wolfman tapped the clipboard with a pen, his mischievous grin widening. “Right-o, born two years earlier than the records say, 1994. Funny how paperwork can get all... mixed up.” His hand waved in the air, a magician performing a disappearing act, shaking an etch-a-sketch.

Ellie’s eyes widened as her gaze shifted between the two men. “Dad, is that… allowed?”

Her dad chuckled and ruffled her hair playfully. “Let’s just say it’s a tactical adjustment. Mid-flight maneuver. Trust me, you’re ready for the big leagues.” He crouched closer, lowering his voice. “You wanna race against kids who can barely steer, or you wanna take on the best and show them what the Nevens are made of?” Her dad tapped the patch with the wings stitched to the left side of her olive coloured jumpsuit, the last name Neven, E. embroidered there.

Ellie’s lips twitched into a gap-toothed smile, her nerves melting under her dad’s infectious confidence, the feeling of pride blooming in her chest. “The best.”

She reached up to touch the patch, her tiny fingers grazing the fine stitching. Ellie, her dad and Wolfman had hovered over her mom’s shoulder as Ellie’s thrift store coveralls turned flight suit passed under the thumping needle and thread of her mom’s sowing machine, each stitch pinning the embroidered patch to her uniform. She’d felt the importance of it then and now she carried it like a plate of armour.

“That’s my girl,” her dad beamed widely before he stood again, slapping Wolfman on the back. “Alright, make it official, Wolfe. She’s in the higher category.”

Wolfman offered a half-salute before he scribbled something on the form tacked to the clipboard and stepped up to the registration table, where a volunteer in a bright yellow shirt shuffled through forms. “We’ve got an entry for the 10-and-up category,” he said, sliding the clipboard across the table with a pop of the chewing gum in his mouth, a wry smile on his lips.

The volunteer, a woman in her mid-forties, frowned, gathering the clipboard with a wary look at Wolfman before she redirected her green eyes to squint at the paper. “Eleanor Neven? Didn’t she race in the under-10 category last year?” The woman’s eyes passed between Wolfman and Rick and then stood slightly to peek at Ellie over the edge of the table before they returned to the form, her finger tapping at the birthdate, skeptical.

Rick flashed a dazzling smile, the aviators reflecting the woman’s face back at her as he clicked his tongue. “Kids grow up fast, don’t they? She’s been eating her Wheaties.” For effect, he patted the top of Ellie’s head and pulled her to his side.

“Plus, last year was a mistake. Wrong birthdate on the form. Happens all the time with military families. You know how it is—paperwork gets shuffled around, lost.” Wolfman added smoothly, leaning against the table as a line formed behind him with other families waiting to register.

The volunteer hesitated, glancing between the two men again before she sighed, unclipping the form from the clipboard before she slid it into the appropriate pile and began gathering the numbered aprons. “Well… if the birthdate checks out—”

“It does,” Rick said firmly, all the while his smile never wavered. “I triple-checked it myself. Wolfman here looked it over too. We were both there when she was born. She’s ten and ready to roll.”

The volunteer’s eyes narrowed, her gaze passing from her dad then to Wolfman before she quietly handed over the documentation.

Ellie watched the exchange for a moment before she reached up and tugged on her dad’s sleeve as Wolfman collected the stamped form and they stepped away for the next family to register. “Dad, what if they find out? Isn’t this cheating?”

Rick crouched again, resting a hand on her shoulder as Wolfman crouched behind her, clipping the numbered bib there. “Rio, here’s the thing about flying—or racing,” he reached out to pat the edge of the soapbox plane’s greyed body, “sometimes, you gotta bend the rules a little to get to where you’re going. It’s not about cheating—it’s about knowing you’ve got what it takes, even if the rules don’t think so. Pushing against the limits a bit so we know where the edge is for next time. Tell you what, when we see Uncle Mav, we can ask him about it, huh?”

Over her shoulder, Wolfman snorted loudly, before he coughed, clearing his throat as Rick shot him a look before he moved on to wrap a numbered arm band around Ellie’s bicep.

Ellie’s gaze flicked to the track, where older kids were already testing their cars, their faces set with confidence. She squared her shoulders, set her jaw and nodded, though her fingers fiddled with the straps of the helmet tucked under her arm. “Okay, Dad. Let’s do it.”

“Atta girl,” Rick said, standing and saluting her before he clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. “Now, get ready to smoke ‘em.”

They wheeled the soapbox to the race area, Ellie’s fingers tapping out on the outside of the helmet under her arm, her heart beating hard in her small chest. Instinctively, Ellie walked around the soapbox car, her fingers brushing the frame.

“Always do your preflight before boarding,” her dad had been gazing at her in the rearview at the red light two intersections before the race grounds.

“Visual 360, fuel and instrument check.” Ellie had nodded, listing off the checklist; her neck craned from the back seat to see if she could scope out any other racers headed to the track. She unbuckled her seat belt to slide closer to the center console before Wolfman threw her a look over his shoulder.

“Seat belt in this aircraft, kid.” He tutted at her, sliding his aviators down his nose as he popped his gum, pausing on filling out the registration forms in his lap, “you think we’re rule breakers?”

“We’re not?”

“Rule benders,” Wolfman corrected, levelling her with a look until she slid back into her seat and buckled up with a click before he pushed his glasses back up and turned his eyes ahead, “we prefer the term rule benders.”

Climbing into the soapbox, Ellie settled into the low seat as her dad crouched beside the car, sliding the helmet over her head and clipping the strap under her chin. Wolfman leaned forward and tapped dutifully on the top of the helmet, as her dad adjusted it, tugging at the chin strap sharply. Wolfman grinned at her, but when he spoke, it was for his wingman. “She’s ready for this, you think?”

Ellie’s eyes found her dad’s through the clear visor as he snapped it down over her eyes, his features softened as she smiled her gap-toothed smile at him and adjust the helmet around her head. “She’s a Neven, Wolfman. She was born ready. Right kiddo?”

“So, Tilly’s given the a-okay, then?”

Ellie didn’t miss the look her dad threw at his WSO over his shoulder.

Wolfman raised his hands and chuckled. “Fair enough. Let’s hope she doesn’t notice we didn’t tighten the steering bolts all the way.”

Rick’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“Relax, Hollywood. I’m kidding.” Wolfman chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Mostly.”

Her dad groaned as the announcer called for racers to line up and he pushed her car onto the pitched ramp, the ready position. Ellie gripped the wheel as her front tires settled against the gate, the countdown echoing overhead.

Ten.

Nine.

“Preflight checks complete, Lieutenant Neven?” He asked, standing at attention beside the soapbox, his voice calm and steady as the countdown reached the last eight seconds.

Eight.

Seven.

“Preflight checks complete.” Ellie’s foot tapped on the break and twisted the steering wheel, leaning over to watch the tires pivot on spot. “Pattern clear?”

Six.

Five.

“Pattern clear, aviator.”

Four.

Three.

“Requesting clearance for take-off, sir.”

Two.

“Clearance granted, Lieutenant Neven.”

One.

“Go get ‘em, Rio,” she heard him whisper as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to his fingers and slapping them on the call sign stuck onto the front of her helmet. “Let ‘er rip, kid.”

The gate in front of Ellie’s car dropped, her wheels moving forward and the soapbox rolling down the pitched track. Despite herself, she gave out a squeal of excitement as she gained speed, the wind picking up and whipping the strands of hair that escaped from under her helmet around her face.

The world around her blurred, the orange, red and yellow hues of fall rushing by her in a wash of colour, thrill of the speed and the race flooding her senses. For a moment, the sound of the wind and the beating of her heart, she felt like she was flying, a small dot in an endless blue sky. Hollywood and Rio.

On the second turn, as she broke from the pack of other racers, Ellie felt the change, the sudden increase in speed as the wheel in her hands vibrated and rumbled, wobbled and jammed, harder to steer. But then the hill grew steeper, and her soapbox car picked up more speed than she expected. Ellie’s heart jumped into her throat as she tried to remember what her dad had said about staying steady, about procedure if she came up on a problem with the steering. The third and final turn came fast—too fast—and Ellie leaned into it hard, pulling the stiff wheel as far to the right as she could muscle, but she felt when the car beneath her veered sharply, suddenly uncontrollable. When the front wheels hit a natural dip and then sudden bump in the track, Ellie felt it in her stomach.

The next few seconds were a blur. Ellie’s grip on the steering wheel slipped, the wheel jerking to the right. Ellie felt the soapbox pitch before she left the seat inside, the sting of pavement rubbing a hole in the arm of her flight suit, hot and raw. In an instant, she felt the sharp pain shoot up her arm from her elbow as she tumbled awkwardly, the world around her spinning.

The prickle of the hay bale stuck through the back of her clothing as the shooting pain in her arm intensified, the world stilled as she looked up at the blue sky above. Around her, she heard the hum of the wheels passing her and the eruption of cheers as the racers crossing the finish line.

The taste like a handful of pennies in her mouth came next and when her hand went to her lips, it came back red. From where she lay on the grass, she could see the canopy of autumn leaves clinging to the branches, the blue sky filling in the rest of the mural overhead.

Her head was spinning, and tears welled up in her eyes, leaking down the side of her eyes into her ears, as the pain in her arm intensified. She tried to sit up but whimpered, clutching her arm close to her chest. The finish line taunted her in the near distance, the checkered banner billowing lazily in the breeze.

Suddenly, her dad was there, dropping to a knee beside her. “Ellie! Hey, hey—are you okay?” His voice was panicked, but his hands were gentle as he scooped her up into his arms, holding her close to his chest.

Ellie sniffled, tears rolling down her cheeks despite her best attempts to hold it together, the pain in her arm and the sting of losing when she had been so close, the perfect storm that threatened to break her composure. “I-I broke it, Dad,” she managed through choked sobs, her arm cradled against her body, her breaths coming in gulps. As if an afterthought, she traced her front teeth with her tongue and hiccupped a small sob when she found a larger gap there than had been before, “and I lost a tooth.”

Her dad’s face softened with a mix of something Ellie couldn’t quite map, his brow pulling together into a line as he brushed hair away from her face, tucked it up the lip of the helmet still stuck on her head. “Aw, kiddo, I’m so sorry. We’ll get you fixed up, okay? Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Shifting her, he fished the car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Wolfman who, without a word, took off toward the parking lot at a clipped pace.

Ellie could only nod weakly, burying her face in his chest, the familiar scent of his aftershave and coffee settling her, cocooning her. Even through the pain, there was a comfort in his arms, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, thumping against her tear-stained cheek centering her like the tick of a metronome guiding her back to calm.

As they headed to the parking lot, each bump or bounce of her dad’s gait a painful jolt to her arm, pushing a hiss from her lips, she heard him whisper softly, against the side of her helmet. “You were so brave, Rio. I’m so proud of you.”

Ellie nodded with a sniffle as the sound of Wolfman pulling up the van closer, brakes squealing, drew her attention. “Mom’s gonna be mad.”

“Oh, don’t worry about your mom, kid.” Ellie watched as her dad tried to laugh, but there was also a hesitation there that stopped his lips from turning up into his usually contagious, mischievous grins. “Your mom’s not gonna believe I let you get behind the wheel on the 10 and over track.”

Ellie let out a soft, watery laugh. Tilly Neven wasn’t one to trifle with. “You’re in trouble.”

Rick chuckled this time, the sound reverberating through her as he stepped over the curb into the parking lot and Wolfman slid open the door to the backseat, for a second, her dad held her a bit tighter. “Yeah, well… wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last.”

Ellie had never been good at public speaking. She’d never joined a debate club or been the first to volunteer her ideas if it meant a presentation.

Once she’d received the text from Tony, confirming the tech upgrade and the program installation in the jets, she’d relaxed, but only slightly. It still meant that she had to do the part of her job she disliked the most, “the elevator pitch”.

She’d have to face the men who would be flying her tech and say Hi, I’ve added a hunk of metal and some wires into your jets. It’s going to help, trust me. Ask them to put their trust in her, their lives in her hands. It won’t malfunction according to these computer simulations. It won’t leave you hanging in a dogfight. Pinky promise.

She didn’t expect it to go off without a hitch. She didn’t expect them to cheer and lift her up on their shoulders.

All she needed was a chance, a small bit of faith before they leapt.

Ellie stood at the front of the briefing room, her hands resting lightly on the podium, her gaze scanning the faces of the four pilots clad in green flight suits seated before her. The air smelled of stale coffee and old leather, the scent of a room that had seen countless debriefings, strategy meetings, and quiet moments of reckoning.

She had spent years developing this technology, refining it, arguing for its place, its relevance, in the future of aviation. She’d tweaked it here, twisted its usefulness there, bridged a gap when she’d been turned down at one turn and climbed through windows when doors closed in her face. Now, standing here in front of the men who would be the first to fly with it, she had to vault this hurdle too, convince them it was worth trusting with their lives. Standing here, pitching for their faith in her, was more nerve wracking than presenting in front of Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Stark.

Taking a breath, Ellie steadied herself, ignored how Teak and Lover scuffled between each other in their seats, how Hangman’s eyes never left her, the feeling of his gaze, eyes focused, hot on her even when she wasn’t looking at him. Rooster sat behind him and kicked his chair with a well-aimed boot, the sudden jolt of his seat enough to knock Hangman out of his stare.

She didn’t ask for their attention, didn’t wait for them to notice that she was ready to begin. With a click of the remote in her hand, the screen behind her flickered, displaying the blueprint layout of an F-18, its labelled components taken straight from the NATOPS handbook. “Gentlemen. I assume Captain Mitchell has already given you a brief overview of what to expect, so I won’t waste your time on introductions or small talk and formalities.”

From the corner of her eye, Ellie could see Mav fold his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on her. He’d given her the floor immediately without preface, without introduction.

“You’ll recognize this as the wireframe of your F-18,” Ellie continued before she clicked to the next slide. An overlay slid into place, the standing systems overlaid with a complex web of radar signals, AI pathways, and electronic warfare integrations—her tech, on full display, laid bare. If she was expecting a reaction, they didn’t give her one, just silence.

“What you’re looking at is the next step in avionics evolution,” she pressed on, her voice steady, turning toward her audience. “A fully integrated, adaptive system that combines radar, AI-driven threat assessment, electronic warfare, and seamless data-sharing into a single interface. Instead of relying on separate, often outdated systems, this package will allow you to fight, evade, and communicate with a level of efficiency we’ve never seen before.”

If her heart wasn’t beating in her ears, she would hear the silence that met her words. She’d recognize it as the silence that wasn’t the good kind, the kind of silence that led her to over-explain herself. But she didn’t.

Rooster, sat forward, his forearms on the table as he studied the schematic with an unreadable expression. Lover was nodding slightly as he squinted between the screen and scribbling notes in a small flip notebook he’d pulled from the breast pocket of his flight suit. Hangman lounged in his seat, fingers laced behind his head, smirking, carefully flipping a toothpick in his mouth. And Teak—Teak sat back, arms folded over his chest, a look Ellie recognized as the tell-tale look of skepticism written across his face.

Ellie paused, her eyes drawn down to her notes. Pause for pushback, she’d written. She didn’t have to pause for long.,

“So, what?” Teak drawled, tilting his head slightly, waving at the screen. “You want us to trust some... glorified autopilot to make our decisions for us?”

Unflinchingly, Ellie met his gaze, actually looking at him for the first time. Teak’s jaw flexed; the sharp lines of his cheekbones and nose lending him a striking appearance. His eyes, an intriguingly particular shade of cerulean, not unlike a clear September sky, studied Ellie as she took her time to process the response. “No. I want you to have every possible advantage when you’re up there. The AI isn’t replacing you—it’s making sure you have all the information you need, exactly when you need it.”

Ellie clicked the remote again, and the screen shifted to a simulation. Two aircraft maneuvered through a contested airspace, one operating on traditional avionics, the other using her system.

The first fighter responded only to what its sensors could detect, reacting to threats as they appeared through visuals or radar. The second fighter’s system anticipated missile locks before they happened, evaded before the pilot even registered the danger visually, and counter-jammed enemy radar before the target was painted. “It’s all based on data, numbers. But right now, those numbers look very good,” her eyes turned to the screen and watched the simulated planes for a moment, observed as they streaked through the mock mission, data readings popping up on what looked to be a pilot Heads-Up Display.

“This system isn’t meant to fly for you,” she continued, turning back now as the simulations continued to play on loop on the screen behind her. “But it will see threats before you do, adjust possible countermeasures dynamically, and ensure your radar stays clear even in a fully jammed environment. In short? It gives you an advantage over the enemy, helps make sure you have a better chance at coming home.”

Hangman broke the silence next, the sound of his low whistle drawing Ellie’s attention as he leaned back in his chair, his open legged posture, relaxed as ever. “Well, damn. That’s one hell of a sales pitch.”

Rooster, his eyes still flicked across the data readings displayed on the screen behind Ellie, his fingers tapping absently against the table. “How fast can it adapt if an enemy starts throwing curveballs? Let’s say a bogey or SAMs or laser guided missile systems.”

Ellie clicked again, dismissing the simulation and bringing up another set of figures. All colourful charts and data sets. She’d come prepared for this line of questioning.

“Milliseconds. It’s built on machine learning models trained on thousands of real-world engagements. The more it’s used, the smarter it gets. If someone tries to jam your frequency in one way, it recalibrates instantly. If an unknown aircraft enters your airspace, it cross-references flight patterns to find weaknesses, predict its next move before you would have to react. It shows you possibilities.”

“So, you’re saying it levels the playing field against fifth-gen threats?” Lover was sitting up now, his pen tapping against his open notebook, his broad shoulders rolling forward as he pointed at the data set. Ellie thought she read excitement in his hazel eyes as he thumbed his nose.

“I’m saying it not only evens the playing field, but it tilts it in your favour.”

Silence stretched between them, charged with something between curiosity and uncertainty.

“Sounds like a lot of fancy tech that can get hacked, fail, or—oh, I don’t know—override pilot input at the worst possible time,” Teak said flatly, Ellie could almost detect the chortle behind his words. Convincing Teak would be a challenge.

Ellie forced herself to pivot—she had dealt with resistance before from officers ranking higher than Teak. Early on, she had learned pilots didn’t like change, especially not changes that altered the way they had trained, the way they had survived. Wolfman had told her as much the first time she’d passed the idea by him, Mav had all but told her what to expect from every level of Naval officer, so she wasn’t about to let skepticism derail the entire briefing. Skepticism was a given.

“It has redundancy systems,” she said evenly. “If one function is compromised, the AI reallocates resources to keep the essentials running. If something catastrophic happens? Manual override is always in your hands. It’s a tool, an aid, not a replacement for skill.”

Teak scoffed before he loudly popped his chewing gum. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t put my life in the hands of an algorithm.”

Hangman chuckled, tilting his head toward Teak who sat a row behind and to his left, a lazy grin growing on his face. “Teak, buddy. You sound like my granddad bitching about GPS when it first came out. Relax, old man.”

Rooster huffed out a quiet laugh. Lover fought a smirk. Teak’s jaw ticked as if he swallowed his words.

Ellie let the moment settle before she spoke again.

“Look, I know this is all new. And I know change isn’t easy to trust. But the fact is this system isn’t here to hold your hand. It’s here to keep you alive in environments where traditional systems would leave you blind, deaf, and dead in the water.”

She let her words sink in before she continued. “I don’t expect you to trust it yet. That’s what testing is for. But I do expect you to fly with it and see for yourselves, let it speak for itself.”

Ellie scanned the pilots before her; Teak’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing more. Rooster sat back, nodding slightly, still mulling it over. Lover shrugged, casting a quick look around the room, eager. Hangman just grinned, his eyes never leaving her.

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, the amusement in his tone clear as he adjusted his seat in the chair, “I do love a good test drive.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and ignored him, clicking the remote one last time to pull up the first test flight parameters.

“Good,” she said. “Because you’re all wheels up in about 30 minutes.”

Maverick clapped his hands together, rising from his chair. “Alright, aviators; suit up and make your way to the tarmac. Let’s see what this tech can really do.”

The room stirred to life, chairs scraping against the floor as the pilots stood, some stretching, others already discussing the upcoming test amongst themselves. Ellie stayed put, gathering her laptop and notes, methodically shutting everything down.

The pilots filtered out one by one. Rooster passed the podium, tapping out a quick rhythm on the edge and shooting her a small nod on his way out, and Lover muttered something about looking forward to seeing it in action as he tucked his notepad away before air drumming with his pen. Teak, however, barely spared her a glance as he brushed past, his shoulder grazing hers a bit too close for comfort.

Ellie exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders ease. That had gone about as well as she could’ve hoped, a little (expected) pushback, but three out of four pilots being open to try it wasn’t too bad of a ratio. She’d had worse before.

“Nice job, Rigby.”

She blinked, glancing up. Hangman was still there, standing a few feet away, hands on his hips, the toothpick sticking out the corner of his mouth, and that ever-present smugness dialed down to something… different.

Ellie hesitated before she responded. “Thanks,” she said, closing her laptop. “Though I’m sure you’ll find something to critique once you’re in the air.”

Hangman chuckled, that familiar twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, sounds like you know me better than you think.” But there was something almost appreciative in his expression, something that lingered a beat too long.

Ellie’s fingers curled around her MacBook, as something unreadable settling in her stomach.

Then, movement near the door caught her eye, breaking her from the moment.

Teak.

He hadn’t left after all. He lingered just outside of the briefing room in the hall, his sharp gaze passing between her and Hangman pointedly, assessing. Ellie wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but judging by the way his expression flickered—something tight, something almost knowing—he’d seen enough to form some kind of opinion.

Jake winked at her, clapping a hand on the edge of the podium as he stepped past her, “see you on the tarmac, Rigby.”

Ellie forced a nod, schooling her expression as Hangman stepped out, his hand grabbing Teak’s shoulder and giving it a shake, “c’mon granddad, I’ll show you how all those buttons work.”

Teak shook Hangman off, his lips pulled into a tight line as he lingered, just a second longer. Ellie’s eyes met his for a beat, a moment when he held it. Then, just as quickly, he was gone.

From the control tower’s observation deck, headset on, fingers drumming against her folded arms, Ellie listened the comms chatter.

From her vantage point, she could see the three jets taxi into position, the Californian sun sitting high in the blue, cloudless sky. It was as perfect a condition as she could have hoped for, at least the weather was cooperating. Around her, the Control Tower hummed with the activity of the staff, coordinating clearance with the ground crew and flight patterns of aircraft already in the air.

For years she’d imagined standing here, envisioned a time in the future where she’d be watching as her tech did its thing and the numbers started rolling in. Now, actually standing here, her heart beating in her throat, she found herself overrun with the need to fidget, the chew her lip, to bite her thumbnail.

Down on the runway, she watched as the jets roared to life, sleek bodies glinting in the afternoon light. Rooster, Teak, Lover, and Hangman. All of them sitting in cockpits wired with the most advanced avionics package ever put into a single system. If this worked—if it really worked—it would change everything. On the other hand, if it failed... well it didn’t bear thinking about, not right now at least. Ellie felt her foot tapping out on the tiled floor as her fingers dug into her arms.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Maverick’s voice crackled over the comms from somewhere in the sky, the feedback from the cockpit scratchy in her ears. “Today’s a simple test. We’re looking for a baseline. The system is going to integrate with your HUDs and onboard AI, feeding you the real-time data and making sure you have everything you need to stay alive. Your job? Fly how you normally would. My job? Try to kill you. Hard deck is 5,000 feet—let’s keep it clean, nothing fancy.”

“Clean and ‘nothing fancy’ ain’t exactly in my wheelhouse,” Hangman drawled, his accent cutting through the frequency, his voice sounding isolated, in a tin can. Ellie resisted the shiver that rolled up her spine. Though he was hundreds of feet away, a small spot on the runway, his voice in her ears sparked something in her.

Ellie rolled her eyes, mostly at him, but a little at herself, instead choosing to focus on the screens in front of her, hovering over the shoulders of the techs sitting in front of the radar equipment which beeped dutifully.

Rooster’s sigh was deep as he cut in over the frequency. “Just try not to break anything before we even get started, Bagman.”

“No promises, Rooster. No promises.” Ellie could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice. “Lover, you ready to walk your old man through this?” “I swear to God, Hangman,” Teak shot back, quickly, his comms fizzling to life. “Keep running your mouth—”

“Easy, easy—” Jake responded without missing a beat, the clicking of toggles being flipped dull in the background behind his voice, “no need to get feisty now, just say the word if you need me to break it down real slow for you.”

“Knock off the chatter,” Maverick cut in. “Wheels up in thirty seconds.”

Down on the flight line, the engines surged, afterburners flared, and one by one, the jets launched down the runway, blurs of speed that streaked into the sky like silver bullets. Ellie’s gaze shifted, watching their flight paths on the monitors in front of her, the integrated system humming to life as it started pulling in data, linking each aircraft into the seamless digital web one by one.

“Telemetry looks good from here,” Ellie spoke into the headset, her eyes took in the data as it began streaming to the screen in front of her. “All systems online and reading normal. How’s it looking up there?”��

Rooster was the first to respond, his familiar voice filling Ellie’s ears. “HUD’s crisp. AI’s already starting to flag heat signatures and terrain. Feels intuitive.”

Ellie could feel the prickly of excitement before she schooled it back; too soon to start celebrating.

“Same here,” Lover added, a smooth calmness in place. “Looks good from where I’m sitting. Got anything nice to say, Teak?”

“System seems a bit chatty. Lots of information to sort through. Feels like it’s thinking for me.” Teak’s voice came through on cue, predictably, less enthusiastic.

Ellie bit her tongue, she’d make a note to address it later in the debrief. She’d carefully remind Teak that the whole point of the system was to boost and enhance their decision-making, not replace it. As with anything new, it wouldn’t seem natural or easy in the beginning but would benefit them in the long run. Old dogs, new tricks.

Hangman’s voice came last. “It’s good, I’ll give you that. But let’s see how it handles when I put it through the wringer.”

Suddenly, a spike of data jumped on Ellie’s screen. Hangman’s jet shot forward, pushing past the planned test parameters before Ellie could yell out a warning over the comms. Outside, Ellie could see his jet as he yanked into a high-G turn, rolling hard, his plane screaming through the sky at an angle that should have stalled out lesser, greener pilots.

Alarms flared on Ellie’s screen, screamed in her ears, so loud she instinctively lifted the headset off one ear. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, already flipping through the diagnostics filling her screen, her fingers flying over keys to manually redistribute the generative thinking, fast.

“Hangman!” Rooster barked, his voice booming over the screaming of her tech in her ear. “You trying to rip your own wings off?”

“Relax Rooster,” even as Hangman grunted through another high-G cartwheel, strained against the force that pushed him back into the seat, Ellie could hear the playfulness in his tone, “just seeing if this fancy tech can keep up with me. So far, it’s keeping pace.”

Barely, Ellie thought, her mind scrambling as she worked through the manual controls, pulling the recalibration coding from the back of her mind as her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. The system was compensating as best it could, shifting power away from instruments and recalibrating to track Hangman’s sharp, unexpected turns and dives, climbs and rolls. It was working—but Ellie could already see stress indicators creeping in, the red signals flickering in the corner of her screen, the warning signs of a catastrophic failure. She hadn’t coded the parameters today for bullshit. If Hangman kept pushing, he might overload the AI’s allocation process before it had the chance to adjust and provide the baseline she was looking for.

Her tech picked up Maverick on her screen as he joined in.

Maverick’s jet came in fast from above, dropping out of the sheltered glare of the sun like a streaking missile. Ellie could see the system flag Mav on Hangman’s HUD in an instant, feeding Hangman a collision path before Mav entered weapons range.

“Bogey incoming,” Ellie heard the AI voice warn in Hangman’s ear, on her end, she could see the system scanning, populating his HUD with information on the unknown aircraft.

“Yeah, no shit,” Hangman muttered. “Breaking left. You got eyes on him Rooster?”

He rolled hard to evade, dipping lower into the valley, barreling toward the 5,000-foot Hard Deck, forcing the system to compensate for rapid altitude changes, environmental shifts, and G-force strain all at once.

Bitching Betty dinged through the cockpit, through Ellie’s headset. Altitude. Altitude. Pull up. Pull up.

Ellie’s pulse ticked up as the warnings started going off again.

“Break right, Hangman.” Rooster was in through the comms now, “I’ll get tone if you’re out of the way.”

“Hangman, ease off,” Ellie cut through on the comms, her voice carefully controlled and calm but firm. She tried her best to keep the panic out of her tone, “You’re overloading the processing core. The AI needs time to redistribute resources, give it half a second to think and do what it’s there to do.”

“Sounds like a ‘me’ problem.” Hangman was into another roll, breaking right as Rooster’s jet streaked in to assist and Hangman tumbled into another evasive maneuver, Mav hot on his tail.

“It will be when you lose your radar feed,” Ellie shot back, around her the Control Tower Operators calmly diverted aircraft around the training area. “If you don’t—”

The screen flickered on Ellie’s end, the system’s red flashing code stuttering, reflecting the same blip on Hangman’s HUD on the top corner of her display.

A half-second glitch.

A data delay.

Not long enough to crash the system—but long enough to be dangerous if this were a live, life or death dogfight.

In her ear, Hangman cursed under his breath as Mav capitalized on the momentary hiccup, his jet screaming in with impossible speed, locking a missile tone before Hangman could fully react, adjust.

“That’s tone. Fox Two!” Mav’s voice cut through the comms, calm, collected.

A simulated missile strike. If this had been real, Hangman would be punching out right now.

The comms fell silent for a beat before Maverick’s voice came through, even and unreadable. “That’s a splash.”

Ellie let out a slow breath as the system regulated, the red indicators disappearing from her screen as the system isolated the issue and rerouted, recalibrated. The system had held. Barely—pushed into the red, hanging on by what seemed to be a simple line of code.

Hangman, to his credit, was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” Jake began, the huff of exertion from the laundry list of evasive maneuvers and the strain of the resulting G-force on his body, “guess I found the breaking point.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose, the tips of her fingers turning white, closing her eyes to breathe out a noisy, measured breath.

“You found it immediately,” Rooster at least had the decency to sound as exasperated as Ellie felt.

Lover hummed in agreement. “Kinda impressive, Hangman, honestly. You always go around breaking your most expensive toys?”

Ellie exhaled sharply, evacuating all the air from her lungs before she breathed it in anew. Patience. She’d need to practice patience or take a vow of silence to keep herself in check. “Hangman, get back into formation. The rest of you, continue the test as planned. And for the love of fucking god, stick to the parameters this time.”

“Copy that,” Rooster said.

“Got it, Boss Lady,” Lover added, his voice light.

Teak, gruff as ever, just muttered, “Knew this was a bad idea.”

Hangman sighed, pulling his jet back in line. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”

Ellie didn’t believe that for a second.

Ellie pushed open the control tower door with more force than necessary, so hard it swung back against the outer side of the building with a heavy slam as she stepped onto the sunbaked tarmac at a clipped pace. Her boots hit the pavement hard as she strode across the flight line, headset hanging loosely around her neck, her pulse still elevated from the way Hangman had handled the test.

She’d expected the first test flights to be bumpy. What she hadn’t been expecting was that the bumps might come from Hangman. After his tone in the briefing, Ellie had expected pushback from Teak, had been waiting for him to act out, but Jake? This was just him being a cocky son of a bitch, and she wasn’t about to let it slide. She couldn’t.

The rest of the test had gone according to plan, but the baseline readings had been skewed because of Hangman’s hadn’t followed instruction. Today had essentially been a wash for anything except for redline readings.

As she approached the line of jets, she threw her hand up to shield her eyes against the dipping sun, catching the last pilot climbing out of his jet—Rooster. He caught sight of her immediately, his pace shifting, angling himself in her path before she could storm clear across to the hangar and into the locker room and rip into Hangman in front of everyone.

“Cool it, Rigsy,” Rooster murmured, hands up in a peacekeeping gesture as he tracked backward while Ellie pushed forward. Against his 6’1 frame, Ellie looked small, and the wall of his body blocked her trajectory. “You look like you’re on the warpath.”

In the reflection of the aviators over his eyes, Ellie could see herself, eyes narrowed. “Move, Bradshaw.”

Rooster didn’t budge, shifting as Ellie tried to step around him when she realized he wasn’t going to clear the path. “Not until you take a breath, or maybe seven.”

Ellie let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, trust me, I’ll breathe just fine once I’ve had a word with Seresin.”

Rooster exhaled through his nose, arms folding across his chest as Ellie stopped abruptly. There was no way he was moving. Fleetingly, Ellie wondered if being stubborn was a requirement for flight school. “Yeah? And what exactly are you planning to say? Because from here, it looks like you’re about to walk in there and lose it in front of the entire locker room.”

Ellie clenched her jaw. “He went off-script, overloaded the system immediately. Forced it into a failure point before I could even establish a baseline. That’s not testing limits—that’s recklessness. You have to establish the baseline before you—”

Rooster shook his head. “That’s how he flies. You knew that.”

“That’s how an asshole flies,” she shot back, a flare of anger, not unlike the flickering lick of a solar flare, rising inside of her.

Rooster’s lips twitched, almost as if he might laugh, but in a moment, he was composed again, not taking the bait. His hands were on his hips now, helmet tucked neatly under an arm. “Look, I get it. Maybe better than anyone. He’s frustrating. He’s cocky. But he’s also one of the best pilots in the Navy, and trust me, you want him pushing this thing to its breaking point. Better him than someone out there getting shot at when the stakes are high.”

Ellie’s arms crossed tightly over her chest, the muscles of her jaw working to bite back the words she really wanted to say. It took her a moment, carefully choosing her words before she spoke again. “That’s not what this was about. He didn’t do that for the sake of the test. He did it to prove he could break it. That’s all he cares about—looking good, coming out on top. He doesn’t give a damn about the work that went into this.”

Rooster studied her for a long moment, his eyebrow quirked high. “That’s a lot of assuming for someone who works with provable theories and data sets for a living.” His jaw ticked as if he was clenching and unclenching. “You don’t know him.”

“And he doesn’t know me,” Ellie shot back. She wanted to say that Jake didn’t know what it was like for her, he didn’t know how many pieces of her life and her time and her blood, sweat and tears had gone into every fiber of this tech. She wanted to say that he didn’t know why she was doing this. Instead, she shifted her weight and tightened the fold of her arms across her body. She could be stubborn too—it practically ran in her DNA.

Rooster sighed, shifting his weight. “I guess you’d better get used to being pissed off then, because he’s not going anywhere.”

Ellie pressed her lips together, her frustration still simmering, but Rooster wasn’t done. “Look,” he said, more measured this time, “I told you before—Hangman will follow if you make it clear who’s in charge. But he’s got to respect you first. And right now? You’re just reacting to him. He pushes; you push back. Wash, rinse, repeat until you both die. He thrives on that. I tried it that way. It doesn’t work.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes, studying Rooster for a moment, before she rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “And what exactly do you suggest? That I just let him run the show?”

Rooster shook his head. “No. I’m saying he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing the system. You want to keep him in check? Show him you can handle him.”

Ellie’s fingers twitched at her sides. She hated that he had a point, hated even more that Hangman would probably enjoy knowing just how much he was getting under her skin. It took a measured breath and a focused thought with intent to push down the anger into her toes. “How do you suggest I do that?”

Rooster shifted his weight, as if he were trying to pull something out of his hat. “Maybe start by coming out tonight?”

Ellie huffed, the sun starting to heat the back of her neck uncomfortably. She didn’t shoot it down right away and so, likely sensing an in, he continued.

“Hard Deck. Might help your case if the guys see you as something other than what they’re pegging you for now.”

Ellie arched a brow, she didn’t want to engage Rooster right now, she hated that her anger was ebbing away, if only slightly. She hated that there were politics she had to play into to get her tech where it needed to be. “Oh? And what exactly are they pegging me for now?”

At that, Rooster smiled. Ellie knew Rooster knew her well enough by now to see that her anger was dissolving. “A mysterious, tech-obsessed hard-ass who spends too much time in her office and not enough time pretending to be human. Also, someone trying to make their lives harder.” Ellie huffed a laugh despite herself, shaking her head. “Great. Love that for me. Is it terminal, doctor?”

“Not entirely, it’s fixable at this stage,” Rooster teased as she watched his shoulders relax. “Couple rounds at the Hard Deck, let ‘em see you’re not a soulless drone, and suddenly you’re one of us. I’ve seen you with Nic, I know you can be fun, or at least fun-adjacent.”

She gave him a skeptical look, choosing to ignore the comment about her being fun. “I don’t think drinking beer with you guys is going to make Hangman and Teak be any less of pains in my ass.” “No, but it might make Teak less of a pain in my ass if he stops thinking you’re some uptight, out-of-touch scientist trying to change the way he flies,” Rooster pointed out. “Might be worth it.” Ellie exhaled, considering. “What about Hangman?”

“You mean the way he flies or the way he’s been trying to flirt you into submission since he laid eyes on you?”

Ellie felt her stomach dip and she took a careful, measured swallow. “Both.”

“Not sure that’s curable.” Rooster hissed, perfect bedside manner for delivering a terminal prognosis.

Ellie huffed and set her hands on her hips. She wasn’t the type to care what pilots thought of her—she built tech to save their lives, not to win their approval. But Rooster had a point. If she wanted them to trust her system, they had to trust her first. “Alright,” she said finally, pushing back from her desk. “One drink. But if any of them start talking about ‘mansplainy’ shit, I’m out.” Rooster nodded, the grin on his face. “Fair deal.” Rooster waited for a beat, stepped back and waited another, as if he were testing to see if Ellie might sprint past him on her way to the locker room anyway. When she didn’t move, he offered her a small wave and turned, stalking down the tarmac and peeling parts of his flight gear off as he did so.

As his figure shrunk, Ellie sighed and rubbed her temples. Great. Now she had to go pretend to be human.

a/n: i mean, does ellie even have a mom/dad with wolfman and mav stepping in? not me cackling as i imagine wolfman in an apron making scrambled eggs, terribly. anyone wanna crack that with fanart? haha

if you love this series, reblog, comment, like! chapter 5, the technical ending of this chapter will be up tomorrow!

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@obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3

@yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96 @luckyladycreator2 @lovelylndskies @cardi-bre91

@whatislovevavy @qutequeersstuff @tgmreader @writergirl28 @literal-tv-menace

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taglist if you want to be added/removed!

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gnomey22 · 5 months ago

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Stellar the Hedgehog Analysis

Just got home from watching the third Sonic movie, and since it focuses so much on Sonic and Shadow's relationship, I thought it'd be the best time to do something I've wanted to do for a while - drop an incredibly long post about my thoughts on @emthimofnight's Sonadow fankid, Stellar the Hedgehog.

And before I say anything more, here's a link to her ref sheet: https://www.tumblr.com/emthimofnight/747427162447118336/name-stellar-the-hedgehog-age-varies-based-on?source=share

A lot of the time, Sonic OCs have been passed off as "cringe", due to the unfortunately well-known ones, but the actual community is full of some of the most dedicated lore-makers and designers I've ever seen, and I'm not even someone who knows Sonic that well! I've done a fair bit of research on the series, but I've never played the main games for myself. I just stumbled onto Stellar while I was mindlessly scrolling, and as I checked out all the posts regarding her, I realised I'd found one of the most intricate, passionate fan creations I'd ever seen, and she's been living rent-free in my head ever since.

Now, for the meat of this post: My analytical thoughts on her. Let's break it down into categories:

Design and Personality:

I'm no expert on character design, I've barely even tried to do it myself (outside of my over-designed Miitopia OCs), but Stellar is absolutely striking. Her fur colour is a clever blend of Sonic's blue and Shadow's black, a dark blue resembling space, with a splash of red thrown in to add to the Shadow of it all. She has stripes as well, but as opposed to Shadow's slashing shapes, hers are more bendy, twisting into the form of a star. Inhibitor rings are strapped to her sneakers, a very poetic combination of her dads' getups, but she's also got her knee and elbow guards, a little touch of her own that links in with her fighting style, and also represents the constant protection around her which I'll get to later.

She's extremely star-coded, from the name to the space colour to the fur markings, and I think that was the perfect direction to go. Stars feel ethereal, but entirely grounded at the same time, a cosmic entity we can look towards at any point. Stellar is much the same, she contains an absolutely incredible power, taking after two previous incredible powers, but her personality is so warm and cheerful, and her very existence is what brings Sonic and Shadow together.

And that's the other point I want to make in this category. Stellar actually has three older siblings who died before they were born (I'll get to that), and they're essentially a sliding scale of Shadow's genes to Sonic's genes. Void is almost entirely Shadow, Andromeda has a bit more Sonic, Polarity is more Sonic than Shadow, and Stellar herself is the only true balance. That's a good word to describe what she represents, balance. Sonic's kindness combined with Shadow's anger, Sonic's showboating combined with Shadow's self-confidence, with her own bubbliness and grace added on top. Everything about her design, just like her role in the "SonDADow AU", simply clicks together.

Background Lore:

As someone unfamiliar with the history of the Sonic fandom, I'm not sure how common the "Sonadow fankid made in a lab" trope is. I know Stellar was not the first, and it'd be unreasonable to assume she was - but I'm willing to bet that Emthim has the very best exploration of the concept.

The failed siblings, for a start. That's a dark turn to take off the bat, the idea that Project: STELLAR has been attempted so many times, and still hasn't been shut down because these people are so desperate to put more insane power out into the world, but it really does set the tone for what's going on here. Stellar, just like Shadow, isn't being viewed as a genuine lifeform despite her title, she and all her siblings were a piece in the puzzle for a bunch of self-absorbed scientists trying to recreate a project that was inhumane from the start. Shadow is frequently pictured as struggling to cope with the knowledge of this project, and of the failed siblings, as it'd very obviously strike a lot of nerves. Sonic reminds him to move forward, though. Just like he always has.

That's another incredible aspect of all of this - Sonic and Shadow being forced to parent together despite being not-very-close-friends before this point. The little interactions displaying their bickering about how much influence each of them have had on their daughter, and constantly fumbling on taking care of her because all three of them have overpowering abilities that completely change how they go about their lives, give so much life to the relationship depicted between them all. Stellar is never outright told about her origin, because Sonic and Shadow want to keep her out of that life, and that level of protection being shown both warms the heart, and fills it with a sense of dread for when she'll find out, because it's (realistically) not a perfect strategy. This all adds so much to the idea that they were haphazardly thrown together by the circumstances of Stellar's very existence, and the duo of hedgehogs are just trying to make do.

Stellar as a sort of "dark star", in her ultimate form or Villain AU, is a concept that really ties it all together. She originated from an evil cause, something that only exists to cause unparalleled destruction, and yet her good will and sense of justice shines through no matter what. You can tie aspects of the same theme to both of her parents, but it's wholly concentrated in her story.

Powers and Abilities:

She's a figure-skater. That's pretty much the whole reason this category exists, I really want to break that down for a second.

The duality of ice skating is one-to-one with the duality of Stellar, in my eyes. It's a graceful, beautiful, typically feminine activity, but it's incredibly easy to cause damage with those blades, and strike the sickest poses on your foes. Stellar has a clearly-defined soft side to her, she's very sweet to the people she cares about, and has that all-encompassing energy only a child of Sonic could possess, but just as much as that, she will rip and tear through someone at a moment's notice if they piss her off, she's got that impulsiveness to her, and we all know she's got the power to back it up. She can be either of these things at any moment, the artistic blade always has an edge to it, and the contrast is no contradiction - She simply is all of her.

On top of that, I want to talk more about the dark/collapsing star form. The idea that she possesses such capacity for destruction, which could take her over from the inside out, that would leave her loved ones desperately reaching out to find that shining star - it has not left my mind since I first saw it. It's one of the most compelling narrative devices anywhere in this AU, there's so much potential in a character like Stellar, making an impact wherever she moves, becoming shrouded in the colossal darkness that still plagues her life no matter what she does. As for the specific piece that drew me into this form so much? I'll link it in the final category.

Camellar:

https://www.tumblr.com/emthimofnight/742720101897437184/some-sketches-illustrating-the-relationship?source=share

The first image in the set is the one I was just referencing, but I'd be retreading ground by talking about it, so I'll focus more on their relationship in general.

I love how it's so "mutual pining childhood friends"-coded, while also straying a decent bit away from the common tropes. Only Camellia has the feelings bouncing around her head like a DVD logo every moment of her life, because Stellar doesn't actually comprehend it at all, despite feeling much the same. True to her nature, she's so focused on building positive relationships with people that she doesn't recognise some of the intricacies of what the relationship is truly like, or what she truly feels herself. She's at her softest around Camellia, due to their long-lasting affection, but she's also at her fiercest when she gets protective. Camellia brings out every aspect of her personality in a way no-one else does... and certainly not a dishonest rival.

Rocket is my absolute favourite addition to the Camellar dynamic because he throws such a gigantic wrench in everything. His relationship with Stellar has none of the safety that Camellia's does, he's all about the thrill of it, feeding into the inexplicable attraction without thought of whether it'll hurt in the end or not. Initially, this is all one-sided on Stellar's side, eventually becoming one-sided on Rocket's, and either way, it brings about a vindictiveness in Camellia she usually isn't prone to, because just as much as Stellar is looking out for her, she's looking out for Stellar - in a variety of ways. She wants what's best for her, but she's also throughly convinced that it won't be anyone other than herself, and she's also right, especially since Rocket's such a prick at the end of the day.

The truth is, the reason Sonic and Shadow work is that they can keep up with each other. Both of their life stories are about becoming as free of a spirit as they can be, tossing aside everything thrown in their path to become confident in themselves and what they stand for. Stellar and Camellia are much the same. From an aesthetics and basic dynamic standpoint, there's more comparisons to draw between them and Sonamy, but in that case, it's entire game's worth of miscommunication and problem avoidance. In the case of Camellar, they're significantly more head-on with everything, they're both incredibly blunt about their affection, it's just that the romance aspect is lost in translation on Stellar's side. Not like that's the part that really matters, it's the mere unbreakable bond. The one that gets a princess desperately reaching out through a collapsing star for its heart. The one that gets a shining star to settle down for a moment.

Closing Thoughts:

This post definitely didn't cover everything. So much about Stellar is whirring around my brain at any given moment, I have no idea how I'd manage to jot it all down in a comprehensible and complete format, but this is what I've got. A post that hopefully shows just how deep my appreciation for Emthim's work goes, and how talented of a creator I believe her to be. Thank you for reading.

#stellar the hedgehog #sonadow #sonadow fankid #camellar #as you can see I have no idea how to tag this #writing an essay that will never be graded #that's always a fun one

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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year ago

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The Cherry on Top [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Center Left (@bau-bitch02) (@agentdilfhotchner) Right (@thyme-in-a-bubble)

Prompt: When the reader gets drugged on a case, she inadvertently tells Aaron about all the dreams she’s had with him. He then has to decide how he’s going to move forward with information that leaves him needy and wanting of the reader.

Pairing: Aaron x fem!BAU!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: angst/smutt

Word Count: 16.7K

A/N: Hi loves! First off, this story is 18+, minors DNI. Please respect this boundary. Content Warnings are below the cut. Here is another fic based on the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins January/February Writing Challenge. The prompt this was based on was “Characters decide to try something new in the bedroom.” I wrote this fic specifically for my friend @tgskitten who always gives me such encouragement! ILY. I also want to shout out @silk-spun for reading all my snippets and hyping me up SO MUCH! This is a slow burn to smut and I hope it brings you as much joy as it did me. I had a lot of fun writing the smut scenes and I hope the build-up is worth it (pun intended). If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you’re having a great start to your week and thanks for reading. Love Levi - ❤️

Content Warnings: Death by overdose [victims of unsub], drugging [reader], misogyny/sexism [slight], hospitals, sex [fingering (reader receiving) p in v (Hotch and reader) oral (implied reader)] dom!Aaron/praise kink [slight]. Use of pet names [love. Kitten, my girl].

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/c/e_’s = your color eyes

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

_y/c/e_ = your color eyes

_y/l/n_ = your last name

_y/h/t_ = your hair type

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

Aaron had been on over a hundred cases at this point in his career. He thought he had seen just about everything there was to see on a case. That was until the BAU headed out to New York City for the new case. In a city of 8.4 million, something big had to happen to get the attention of the massive police force or other authorities in the City that Never Sleeps. The eclectic death of eight people due to an ecstasy overdose in the dance club scene in the Bronx was strange enough to have the NYPD baffled and get the BAU involved. With over fifteen clubs covering the area, the police and other local law enforcement did their best to canvas the area, but had yet to find anyone. Similarly, finding the distributor of the drug was just as difficult for the New York Drug Enforcement Task Force due to the large amount so illegal uppers and downers that were handed out, bought, or stolen in the club scene every week. The team had debriefed the case in the conference room, gone over the lengthy victim’s list, and boarded the jet. During the short hour-long flight, the team tried to throw as much out on the table as possible. JJ and Emily were looking at the victims to see if there were any connections. Rossi and Aaron were thinking about priors while Emily thought about the varieties that the profile was showing and trying to cut any unnecessary leads or possibilities. Lastly, Spencer and _y/n_, the newest addition to the team, were looking at a map of the area where the attacks had taken place so far. The young duo also looked at similar clubs in that borough to see if there were connections in the locations. The pattern seemed to be that the first three attacks had happened in a cluster at the center of the club scene moving outward. There had been only one death at each club so far. Whether this pattern would hold was unknown, but so far it seemed like the unsub was staying consistent. Therefore, Spence and _y/n_ tried to think of the best place to canvas first. The duo debated the size of the clubs, the atmosphere, and the pricing to get into each establishment. They needed to narrow down the choices to four clubs so that the team not waste any time once they landed. The team tossed the proverbial ball around the cabin of the jet. Whenever any of the small groups needed a fresh perspective they would ask the other members of the team for their perspectives. This was one of the things that _y/n_ loved about the team. There was a fierce focus on each of the subgroups, but when help was needed or an important fact was noted, it was shared with the group. This way the team was up to date with everyone. The communication with the team always kept _y/n_ on her toes. It was like watching a basketball change hands midway across the court. One such example was when JJ said, “Just a reminder that the last two victims were underage. Jessica was nineteen and Lina-Lee was eighteen-years-old. Aaron and _y/n_ looked over the JJ and both said, “Got it.” Though it might seem like a curt response, there wasn’t time for extra words or thank you’s at the beginning of a case. At the start of a case, it was all thinking caps and coming up with a practical plan. That being said, the information was useful to both groups. Aaron turned to Rossi and softly said, “So the unsub doesn’t care about age. They’ve killed people ranging from eighteen to thirty-one. Rossi nodded and stated, “So it’s less likely that these killings are meant to target any certain group. Revenge becomes less of a factor and psychopathic tendencies are more likely.” “Right,” Hotch said as he added two more names of previous killers that better matched the new information. Similarly, _y/n_ and Reid started to look at clubs that seemed to have a reputation for letting in those who were below twenty-one.

_y/n_took a moment to look over the team. She was still surprised that she was here. Her hard work and dedication in the academy, plus an extensive amount of research on the BAU and criminal behavior had gotten her here. It didn’t hurt that Director Strauss had suggested to Aaron that he, Rossi, and the whole team find someone new to train after Gideon’s abrupt departure. She didn’t want the team to be caught off guard like that again. Like most things, Aaron was hesitant about the idea. However, he realized the practical need for what he had called, long before _y/n_ joined the team, a “spare” member. Hotch knew that sounded callous, but the dynamic of such a tight-knit group could so easily be tipped off balance by the edition of someone new. Because of this, he was less than enthusiastic. Nonetheless, some soul needed to be chosen. When word got out that the BAU might be looking to expand, the transfer requests came tumbling in. Hotch, JJ, and Rossi all looked over the files. Any of the agents were already well up the FBI ladder. Aaron said no instantly. “Too big personalities,” he’d said. There there hundreds of underqualified individuals. Rossi said no to those too. After a week of the search, JJ said in desperation, “Why not pick a N.A.T or a probie? I don’t think either of you is going to find what you want in these candidates. Hotch had balked at the idea, but Rossi, on the other hand, said, “Listen, it’s not a bad idea. We could build them from the ground up.” Hotch ran a hand through his hair and said, “We’re talking about a person here, Dave, not a dog.” Rossi shrugged and said, “Well I don’t think it’s a bad idea. Who was the one N.A.T. who had the gall to ask about the position?” J.J. handed over the file which Dave looked over. Aaron wasn’t convinced to try anything so unorthodox until he’d had about a half dozen failed interviews with other, older options. Finally, Aaron had given up and went with Rossi to watch the N.A.T.s during an exercise. _y/n_ had stood out clearly as having street smarts and practical know-how on the test case. When Rossi asked the instructor about her. It turned out _y/n_ had been the N.A.T. who had inquired about the position. Of course, the BAU hadn’t replied to her inquiry about the team, it would be bad form, but now that they were there, it didn’t seem like the craziest thing possible. After that, _y/n_ was kept under close observation by the BAU without her knowing. When the last month of the course came around, Aaron asked to meet with _y/n_. That conversation and what he was potentially offering her was the most stressful thing _y/n_ had ever been through. And when _y/n_ graduated near the top of her class, she got the placement of a lifetime, of a million lifetimes. There was praise and bitterness from her classmates, and _y/n_ took both in stride.

_y/n_ moved her eyes back to the map, as she almost got caught looking at Aaron for too long. It was hard for _y/n_ to believe that that had been over a year and three months ago that she joined the team. She had grown a great deal since then, but _y/n_ was aware that she still had growing to do. She was on the most accomplished team in the FBI. She’d be learning for the rest of her life from the team. Even though _y/n_ had been on the team for some time, she still stayed a bit reserved. In some ways, she doubted herself and considered that she might be removed if she made a big enough mistake. She also was aware of the dynamics of the team. She didn’t want to ruin what they had. Even so, _y/n_ had slowly integrated into the team. Learning s about each member. _y/n_ found herself drawn to Rossi, Emily, and Aaron most. There was something about their stoicism that resonated with her. Perhaps it was because they stayed the most quiet like her. That didn’t mean that _y/n_ didn’t want to know about them, in fact, it made the trio more interesting by their nebulous nature. _y/n_ was most interested in Aaron’s mercurial nature. He seemed to shift from hot to cold in an instant. But he was the best reader of emotions she’d ever seen. He seemed to know what she and the team were thinking even before they thought it themselves. _y/n_ knew, this was why he was the leader. Because he was so good at profiling people. _y/n_ tried to stay away from him, even a year later. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t interested, or more than slightly infatuated with him. However, _y/n_ had seen far prettier and talented women throw themselves at him and fail. She was not going to be one of them. _y/n_ felt a warm set of eyes on her form. She looked up ever so slightly to find Aaron’s brown eyes looking back at her. _y/n_ felt that flustered, stomach-tangled-in-knots type of feel that she had to walk out. _y/n_ cleared her throat and told Reid, “Gonna grab a c/t_, Spence? You want one?” Spencer smiled and said, “Sure, thanks.” _y/n_ stood, to get the drinks. She made sure to add, “I’ll put about five hundred sugars in yours.” Spencer let out a laugh and said, “Hey, Morgan gets to tease me about the sugar thing, but you put sugar is yours too.” _y/n_ rolled her eyes with a soft chuckle and moved to the back of the plane.

Hotch followed _y/n_ with his gaze. He had doubted the idea of having someone so inexperienced on the team. As it turned out, _y/n_ absorbed information like a sponge. Not only that, but she was willing to take critiques and grow from them. And heaven knew the first few months were filled with corrections and critiques. A weaker person would have dropped out. _y/n_ hadn’t. He had garnered respect for her for that. Not only respect but some admiration, as _y/n_ threw herself head in on cases that even the team was turned off by. Her sense of moral right and wrong seemed unshakable. It was rare to see that in a new agent. He wondered what had defined her code of ethics to such an extreme. In time, he hoped she would tell him. Aaron suspected that as quiet as _y/n_ was, she had picked up a lot about the team. Her silent observations he caught her in sometimes were both respectful and thoughtful. She never stared at anyone too long. But when she looked, she really looked. Like she was trying to solve some complex puzzle. And what was more complex than the BAU? Aaron couldn’t deny that when he felt her _y/c/e_s gaze on him, it didn’t elicit something in him. That hadn’t been something he’d felt originally, but it, whatever it was, had grown with time. The small or big feelings both Aaron and _y/n_ were harboring for each other would be blown wide open on Friday night.

The plane landed in NCY, and the team was instantly hit with five o’clock rush hour traffic. It took them a decent forty minutes to get to the precinct in the Bronx. It was Wednesday, and so far the murders had happened on consecutive weekends starting on Thursday to Sunday. If the pattern held, this would give the team one day to canvas the clubs before the weekend when another attack might occur. When the BAU did arrive at the station, they were met the the large hustle and bustle and chaotic energy. The precinct was so big it had little mini departments in the space, and for once there was room for the BAU to spread out and work without feeling cramped or in the way. _y/n_ looked around slightly overwhelmed. This was one thing that Aaron had noticed about _y/n_. When things were incredibly hectic he could see _y/n_ trying to overprocess everything at the same time. Hotch knew that not everyone was Reid, Not everyone could just take everything in all the time. Due to this, Hotch stepped closer to _y/n_. Whenever he did this, it seemed to ground her. He could tell that she paid more attention to him than her other surroundings when he was nearby. He would stick around _y/n_ until she had calmed down and the new environment became more relaxed. He didn’t do this to baby her. It was like when he told Morgan to calm down or Reid to stay on topic. He understood his team needed guidance and help now and then, and he was there to provide it. However, Hotch was not so stupid to not understand the effect he had on _y/n_. But that, like his growing feelings for _y/n_ was something he ignored. He knew that if he gave into those desires for his newest agent, he’d be like a man starved of affection. That was because he was a man starved of affection and he didn’t think _y/n_ needed that in her life right now. Once the team was in the room the department had given them, Hotch said, “Morgan can you close the door?.” As he said this, _y/n_ felt him move to her left. _y/n_ took in a very small, hopefully unnoticeable breath. The fact that _y/n_ was so drawn to her boss was concerning. But he seemed to get her better than some of the other members of the team. He always seemed to know when she needed a hand or a moment to decompress. _y/n_ appreciated this because she had been so unsure of her at the start of her journey at the BAU. How he acted around her now reassured her that he had some level of trust in her performance and contributions to the team. She had worked her butt off to get to this place and it was affirming to know it was paying off. _y/n_ took one second as the very slight scent of Aaron’s cologne drifted her way, as he set his file on the table near her. _y/n_ considered how Aaron’s affirmation was probably part of what made Hotch so attractive, She such little of that in her daily life that any was lapped up with a greedy desire. Albeit very much under the surface. _y/n_ would never say how even the hint of subtle praise from him made her knees weak. There was no time to interrogate that thought as Hotch said, “Alright, we need to put all our facts together, build a sketch of a profile, and then get a plan in place for the rest of the day. Everyone nodded along and started getting ready for a second debrief that normally happened once the team landed.

A half-hour later, after starting a profile, the teams split up into smaller groups. Aaron and JJ were heading to see the families of the victims to see if they could gather more about the victimology and build out the profile that way. _y/n_ and Derek were headed to the bars where the first four deaths had happened. They hoped to see if there were any details the police had missed and profile the staff at each establishment. Lastly, Emily and Spencer were headed to the hospital for more details from the coroners. Hotch and Em’s group took cars, but _y/n_ and Derek decided to walk as the nearest club was about a twenty-minute stroll away, and taking a car would just waste time. The first two clubs gleaned little information as the first two victims hadn’t died on the property's premises. The first had died at her girlfriend's house, and the second had passed in his parent's house. Both were found deceased the next morning. However, the third victim had died in the parking lot of the club she had been dancing in. The team expected that the dosage of drugs was increased for a faster death. Where the first two clubs had let _y/n_ and Morgan in easily, answered all of their questions, and showed remorse at the deaths that had happened, the third club, Club Rio, held a different atmosphere. The bouncer, a big burly man sighed once he saw the two professionals and asked, “Cops, Reporters, or others?” Morgan stepped forward saying, “FBI.” _y/n_ and Derek flashed their badges and the man’s eyes went wide in surprise for a second. He sighed and said, “Well at least it’s something different. Dan is getting annoyed by all the feds.” The man stepped aside and let them both into the building. As _y/n_ passed the man, she asked, “And Dan is?” The man replied to her back, “Owner.” _y/n_ nodded and followed Derek into the den.

_y/n_ was always surprised by just how small some club spaces were. The dance floor was just a small square with tables and couches in raised areas around the stage and a sunken floor. _y/n_ reflected that when she had been in her clubbing days, she had been inebriated, the writhing bodies around her had seemed normal and comforting even. Being surrounded on all sides, the other bodies had been like a buffer from the rest of the world and the loud music. Now that this case had come up, _y/n_ realized how vulnerable she had been on those occasions. How easy it could have been to take advantage of her, even if she thought he was being safe. With that somber thought, the duo approached the bar. The barista mixed drinks for the four early patrons. She looked at them and asked, “How can I help you?” Derek replied, “We need to speak to the manager or Dan if he’s here?” The bartender said, “Okay, give me a minute, Dan’s in the office upstairs.” It was clear the woman was so used to grabbing the owner at this point that she didn’t even ask to see any credentials. She slipped out from behind the bar, opened a door, and walked up a set of narrow stairs. Morgan leaned against the bar and looked over the space. _y/n_ was doing the same and a bright pink poster on the wall caught her attention. She moved over to it and realized it was outdated. It was from the night that the third victim had been found dead. It was an advert for A Barbie-themed night at the club. The poster didn’t match the dark interior at all. That was why it had stuck out. All the other posters were also for themed nights in the past and future. Rave Night, Emo Night, 00’s Night. Something clicked in _y/n_’s brain as she realized there might be another pattern here. Before _y/n_ could say anything, a lean, scrawny man emerged from the door with the barista. The man approached Derek and said, “What other questions could you possibly ask me that everyone else hasn’t already?” _y/n_ watched Morgan shift his weight from one foot to the other trying to decide if he should be stern or just take the flippant tone. As usual, Morgan just took it, through _y/n_ knew if pushed too hard, Derek could be provoked into a reaction. Morgan just said, “I’d like a list of patrons ID’d for the night that Sandra Klare passed.” Dan stilled, knowing that they didn’t card, saying, “Well our card reader is down right now. It might be a few days for us to get back to you, Mr…” “Morgan,” Derek offered. _y/n_ had moved closer to the pair and said, “That’s okay, just send it to us as soon as you can. You could also send over the security camera footage from inside the building and any from the back or parking lot.” Dan’s eyes snapped over to _y/n_ and then they took a far too long looking her over. His eyes rested on her chest as he stated, “Sure, I can get you those tapes, along with a drink if you want, miss…” _y/n_ cut him off and said, “It’s Agent, and I don’t drink of the job. Now tell me, how many minors do you think you let in every night because it’s clear to me that you're not carding which is a violation of state law.” Dan’s eyes snapped back up to her face, and he replied snappily, “You have no proof of that.” Derek scoffed and said, “Great, then you’ll have those ID lists over today. Now if you’d show us the spot where the victim was found, we’d appreciate it.” The next half hour was a bit tense and Dan glared at the FBI agents who looked over the space with a calculated eye.

When the team regrouped, everyone shared. JJ and Aaron had discovered that all of the victims had been mostly wallflowers. Kids and adults who kept to the background and wouldn’t normally be found in a club. Some of the parents and friends of the victims were shocked to find out those closest to them had died at or near a club. None of the victims had taken drugs before to their knowledge. This added a new angle to the type of people that were being targeted. Spencer had found that the dosage of ecstasy had been increased with each case, which was why the first few victims had died at home or outside of the club, and the last few had been in the parking lot or in the club itself. Emily said, “The unsub is escalating their kills. Probably because knowing someone is going to die isn’t enough now, they need to see the chaos that it causes. Morgan and _y/n_ shared last, noting how hesitant the last club was to give information. Derek added that the only places that didn’t seem to have cameras were the restrooms, but in a busy club, someone could get drugged anywhere. It was at this point that _y/n_ shared a theory saying, “I think there might be a pattern with the clubs that the unsub was picking each night.” Hotch looked over at her and said, “What is it?” _y/n_ averted her gaze from his and said, “Themed nights. The day the third victim died was a Barbie-themed night, and the second was an Emo Night I think. That might be why the victims were willing to go to the clubs in the first place. A normal club night might not be appealing to them, but if they were playing music they liked or had something that drew them to the club they might be willing to go.” Hotch nodded and said, “It’s a possibility.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed Garcia. He put her on speaker and when her chipper voice said, “You’ve reached the queen of fun and sparkles, how may I help you today?” Hotch held out the phone, and _y/n_ took it saying, “Penelope, can you get a schedule of themed nights at the clubs in the Bronx? Can it go back two weeks and then up through this weekend as well? Also, see if they match up with the dates of the first eight deaths?” Garcia’s classic long nailed key tapping ensued for a second before the tech said, “Give me one second, baby girl.” There was an anticipatory minute before Garcia said, “And the winner is _y/n_. Every night that a victim has died so far was a night with a club that was hosting a theme of some kind. Those often draw a younger crowd. I’m emailing over this weekend's schedule for the clubs that are hosting theme nights as well.” Hotch nodded and took his phone back, saying, “Thanks, Garcia. You’re the greatest.” The warm reply of “No good Sir, You are the greatest. Garcia out.” The subtle warmth that _y/n_ saw in Aaron’s eyes was rare, but when it was there, _y/n_ wished it would last forever. That he’d look at her with that kind of affection.

Rossi pulled her from her thoughts when he said, “We’d better give a profile now. If we hurry, we can get to some of the clubs before there’s a huge rush. We’ll need some officers to cover the other clubs that are on Garcia’s list.” Everyone agreed and moved outside to the main part of the precinct. Aaron called for the Chief of Police, Officer Jason. After delivering the profile and making a coordinated plan, the BAU was on the move again. Spencer had calculated the most likely clubs to be hit. Given that Rossi and Aaron were a bit too old to look natural in a club environment, they both decided to stay in support vans near the two clubs the BAU would watch that evening. Meanwhile, Emily, JJ, and _y/n_, and Spence and Derek would all be mic’d up and scout out the two clubs of premium interest. It was simple for Derek and Reid to get ready, just changing into simple t-shirts and jeans. Morgan added a leather jacket over his white shirt. But for the women, it was a bit more of an ordeal. Given that the victims were probably really into the theme nights, they wanted to match the victim's previous behavior. The subsub seemed to target women more, so it was more likely that they would go after Em, JJ, or _y/n_. The club that Prentiss and JJ would be scouting out was having a hippie-themed night, and both women sported bell bottoms. JJ added a headband and Emily found a crochet vest to wear. _y/n_ meanwhile was headed to a rave-themed night and needed a hand getting the complicated top on over her cropped long-sleeved shirt that covered everything that the over-shirt didn’t cover. As Emily tied the last of the bows at the back of _y/n_’s irradiant star top, she asked, “Did y’all ever imagine when you joined the FBI that we’d be playing dress up on a Thursday night?” JJ laughed at the statement and _y/n_ said, “Not that it didn’t cross my mind, I’m just more surprised that this precinct has these clothes on hand. You don’t think they’re from people that have been detained, do you?” Em dropped her hands and looked at _y/n_ when she turned and said, “Who knows? But the NYPD is the biggest police force in the States, maybe they bought them just in case of an occasion like this?.” _y/n__ nodded and looked over her colleagues and had to let out a small laugh saying, “Look at us.” JJ smiled and said, “Look at you _y/n_. You still pass as a college kid.” _y/n_ flushed and said, “Well it’s a blessing and a curse. The owner of one of the clubs today spent all day looking at my tits and ass. It’s not something I love. Gotta love being a woman in the FBI, right?” Em and JJ nodded. They’d all had their share of bad experiences being ogled by cops and citizens alike. The three of them moved out of the locker room they had all changed in.

Aaron, Rossi, Reid, and Morgan all looked over to them, along with the other plainclothes officers who would be scouting out the other clubs. The policemen were not as good at hiding their reactions at the lady's entrance as the BAU men were. Aaron took a moment to look at his watch to stop the flush on his face from becoming more prominent. He knew _y/n_ was a lovely woman, and her outfit only highlighted that fact. Again he reminded himself of the restraint he needed to have as her boss. He didn’t let his mind go there. It was 9:30 p.m. and the rush at the clubs was likely to start at 10:00 p.m. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “Alright, let’s head out. Remember, we check in every half hour, and if you see anything suspect, let Rossi or I know.” The agents nodded their agreement to the plan. The two teams split into their vans. Aaron was going to be overlooking Emily and JJ, and Rossi would take Reid, _y/n_, and Derek. Rossi dropped the trio off two blocks from Club Noir so it wasn’t obvious that undercover agents were present and looking over the club. This was _y/n_’s first time in an undercover position and she was thrilled and terrified at the same time. The inside of the club was so loud that the three of them had to scream to indicate which part of the club they would look after for the first half-hour shift. The trio had planned to change places after each check-in with Rossi to make sure they kept up with the flow of traffic and that nothing slipped them by. Derek’s first shift was by the bar, trying to notice if anyone seemed to be slipping drugs into the drinks of the patrons. Spencer was taking the outer perimeter of the club, looking at the groups clustered around tables and talking more leisurely, and _y/n_ took the dance floor. The sea of bodies felt claustrophobic and hot. It was hard to look at what was going on with those dancing. The looks of euphoria on the faces of the dancers who were so absorbed in the music were disturbing. It was hard to tell who might be under the influence of drugs and who wasn’t. _y/n_ strategically moved around the floor to try and get a good look at everyone there. This was hard work, and by the first half-hour check-in, _y/n_ was exhausted. She found her way to the back of the building near the bathrooms where it was less crowded. The team checked in with Rossi with nothing much to say.

The rest of the night seemed to go well until one a.m. when _y/n_ heard a scream come from the dance floor that pierced above the music. It was Derek’s time on the floor and the music and dancing came to an abrupt halt. By the time the lights were on and _y/n_ made it to the center of the floor there was a small crowd gathered including Spencer. Once _y/n_ saw the young woman on the ground seizing, she called 9-1-1 immediately to report the situation. Reid was talking to Rossi over comms and within moments cops were in the building and cordoning off the area. Derek was trying to get the woman into the recovery position. Meanwhile, _y/n_ was trying to calm the woman who had found the victim. The lady seemed almost as distressed as the woman on the floor. _y/n_ wondered if she was on any substances herself or if this was just shock. _y/n_ leaned down and said, “Hey, hey, I need you to take some deep breaths for me. Just calm down.” The short blond-headed woman nodded and tried to regain her breath. After a few minutes, _y/n_ pulled the woman aside to a cleared area of the club, _y/n_ flashed her badge at the woman and said, “What’s your name? Can you tell me what happened?” The woman sniffled before saying, “I’m Jeanie, King. I was just dancing and I noticed the woman next to me seemed to get agitated. I tried to talk to her but she seemed so absorbed in the music. I thought maybe she was okay, so I kept dancing, but when I looked over at her again she was on the ground. No one else seemed to notice, and a guy almost stepped on her face so I screamed. I didn’t know what else to do.” _y/n_ nodded and said in a reassuring tone, “You probably saved her life.” Though _y/n_ said this with sympathy, she was very weary of the woman in front of her. Jeanie seemed too composed after what she said. Her story too ordered. _y/n_ got the woman a glass of water before moving to help with crowd control as the paramedics and the other half of the BAU arrived. She stepped close to Hotch and he looked down at her asking, “What happened? Did you see anything? Derek and Spencer didn’t seem to pick anything up. _y/n_ sighed and said, “I didn’t see too much apart from the bartenders pouring heavy shots and some guys being handsy. I went to the lady's room a few times but there wasn’t anything suspect going on in there apart from a couple hooking up in one of the stalls.” Hotch nodded but could see that _y/n_ had more to say. He waited for a second before _y/n_ said, “The woman that noticed there was someone in trouble, something about her feels off.” _y/n_ looked over to Ms. King, and Aaron followed her with his eyes. The woman that _y/n_ was looking at was calmly sipping a glass of water, and he could tell why his agent might suspect the woman. Hotch moved his eyes back to _y/n_’s and he said, “Call Garcia and ask her to search the woman’s name. Let’s see if something comes up. We’ll be here all night anyway clearing everyone to go home.” _y/n_ nodded, pulled out her phone, and moved to call Penelope.

Aaron had been right about how long it was going to take. There were over ninety people in the club and every one of them needed to be searched, questioned, and then let go. Even with a lot of officers involved, it wasn’t until six forty-seven a.m. before everyone had been removed from the club. Three minors had been arrested for underage drinking, and five people were arrested for possession of drugs. One older man had ecstasy, but it was in pill form and not the liquid form that the hospital had identified with with first victims. Everyone was exhausted when they got outside. The scent of liquor lingered on them all, and Hotch said, “Let’s get two hours of sleep and then we’ll debrief after that. He could see the exhaustion in everyone’s eyes, and he felt it in his own. The team silently left the club to the hands of the police officers. As _y/n_ stopped at the door, she turned around. The club, with all of the overhead lights on, looked like the end of a play with all the props and litter still on the stage. The stagehands were too exhausted to pick up any of the trash post the last show. Red Solo Cups and beer bottles dotted the tables and floor. The scene looked sad now. It was hard to believe that hours earlier people had been so careless here. A deep voice called _y/n_, and she turned her head. It was Hotch. He stood in the doorway, bathed in the rising sun. It took a moment for _y/n_ to register that he’d asked if she was okay. _y/n_ shook her head ever so slightly to clear it of the fog and exhaustion before moving toward the team Leader. She tried to smile and said, “I’m fine. Sorry. Just thinking.” Hotch gave a small nod and kept the door open until she was outside and trailing Morgan down the road to the vans. He watched her retreating form. _y/n_ had taken off the potentially revealing top that had caught his eye the moment she had left the changing room with Emily and JJ. She was now wearing a jacket on top of the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing. He had beaten himself up on the van at how captivated he had been when seeing her in such an outfit. He knew he’d ordered her into it and the fact that his restraint was that weak eat at his morality like rust on iron. Hotch often asked himself if he was a good man. And _y/n_ seemed to push that question in a direction he had never considered before. He let the thought drop, and he moved to the van as well. He made sure not to get into the car with _y/n_. He needed a few moments to think without her face or soft voice digging deeper into his psyche.

The two hours at the hotel were short lived with most members of the team taking a shower and then getting a bite to eat. As the team ambled out of the vans, _y/n_ took a second to stretch her arms and roll her neck, outside the precinct. She didn’t want to seem unprofessional in front of the officers. She didn’t want to seem unprofessional with the team either, but the ache in her arms and neck needed to be alleviated somehow, and she didn’t see anyone ready to give out back rubs at the moment. _y/n_ let out a soft chuckle at the idea and Emily asked, “What are you laughing about?” It wasn’t an accusation by Prentiss. Emily knew that _y/n_ was taking this case as seriously as all of them were. But everyone needed a moment of levity, especially after a new victim had been found. _y/n_ dropped her arms and said, “Oh just thinking about how my clubbing days are way behind me. Dancing for two hours last night was so hard on my feet, I’m gonna be sore for a week at least.” Morgan chipped in saying, “Well at least you looked natural out there. Did you see Reid?” At that, Em, Morgan, JJ, and _y/n_ had a small, good-natured laugh at Spencer’s less-than-coordinated dancing ability. ‘Hey,” Reid said, “It’s not my fault there’s not a good rhythm to that music.” The playful banter subsided as the team moved inside. Hotch was the last to move into the building and for a moment, he felt left out from the ability to just laugh and joke around like the rest of his younger agents. He knew it was stupid, so he let it go like he let most small things go in his life. In the room the team had taken over, the group moved around restlessly talking. Emily said, “Honestly, we could have had a hundred police officers in our club and someone might have still died.” _y/n_ nodded along and said, “Our team had a good system. We were constantly monitoring and checking in and someone still died.” Rossi could hear the frustration in _y/n_’s voice and chipped in, saying, “The problem is, the clubs are the killers hunting ground. Unless the unsub starts killing elsewhere, that is the most consistent thread we have.” Aaron added, “What makes it difficult is the amount of people we have to try and profile, and the fact that the ecstasy is given in liquid form. It could be slipped in someone’s drink, or shot up, or given in a load of other ways and the victim might not know until it’s far too late.” The Chief of Police, who was unhappy with the BAU’s performance so far had joined them and said, “Well we could end this right now by closing the clubs for public safety for a few weeks.” hotch nodded his head no and said, “That’s not going to do any good. If you cut off the unsub's normal pattern they’ll likely move to another space and we’d have to rebuild the profile again. Either that or they just wait until the clubs open up again. Both ways result in the unsub continuing to kill people.” The Chief of Police raised his hands and asked, “Would he just give up after a while?” Morgan looked over to the man and said, “No. This person needs the validation that killing gives them. The feeling of power or control.” Officer Jason sighed and said, “Well what do we do going forward? Tonight’s the busiest night the clubs see, and although a killer is on the loose, people are still flocking to them.” Hotch looked at the man and the with authority he held, replied, “We use the profile. We add the new data, speak to the latest victim, and keep looking. The unsub has to know that we’re onto them, especially after last night. We, or one of your officers likely met them. So they’ll probably change something tonight, or get sloppy. We can add more officers in the clubs which will push them even further.” Jason nodded and said, “Won’t that mean that it’s more likely that someone dies?” Aaron nodded but said, “It is, but that’s why my team is here. To make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

The rest of the day passed by slowly. Spencer and _y/n_ went to the hospital to see McKensie, the latest victim. The pair were led to the back of the hospital. The woman had previously been in restraints but had settled down after receiving specialized care by the hospital staff. _y/n_ sat down next to her bedside and said, “McKensie, can you tell me what you remember from last night?” The woman turned her eyes to _y/n_ and Reid and said, “I don’t remember a lot. I didn’t take anything intentionally I swear. I just like the music they play on rave night. I just felt hot all of a sudden and the lights started acting funny and I got so hot. Before I knew it, I was on the ground and I couldn’t move.” McKenzie closed her eyes before saying, “My mom’s gonna kill me when she finds out what happened.” _y/n_ smiled sympathetically and said, “I’m sure she’ll understand. Thank you for speaking with us, McKensie.” Spencer stepped forward and set his card on the table saying, “If you remember anything else, please give us a call.” The woman nodded and the pair left the room. Outside of the hospital, Spencer asked, “Why would you keep going back to a place where you know you might die? Why take the risk?” _y/n_ looked at Reid. What she was thinking might rub against his problems with drugs, and she was hesitant to speak her mind. Reid could sense this and he said, “You can say what you’re thinking you know? I see you hold back sometimes on the jet or a case. But your thoughts are useful, or at least they let us think about things from a new angle.” _y/n_ looked at him and replied, “Thanks for telling me that Spencer. What I was thinking was that whenever anyone takes drugs it’s putting their lives on the line. That risk is worth it to them until they realize what it might mean. I understand that feeling. It’s just terrible that that choice was stripped from the victims.” Reid nodded and said, “Do you think the unsub is a user?” _y/n_ shrugged and said, “I don’t know. If they’re as calculated as we think they are, then I don’t think they can be.” Spencer nodded and they kept talking about the case until they arrived back at the precinct.

The sun dipped below the tall buildings. and the team got ready to go out again. Penelope had developed a new list and Aaron hoped that the unsub wasn’t going to change their pattern now. He did decide to change who was with whom in each club. The team was canvasing two clubs like last night. One was bigger and the other was smaller. Aaron assigned JJ, Derek, and Spencer to the bigger club with Rossi. He, Emily, and _y/n_ would take the smaller club. Rossi suggested that he and Aaron also go inside the club with the team. Dave said, “Listen, if there are already going to be lots of officers in uniform there we might as well be there too.” Hotch couldn’t argue that logic and agreed. He knew that he and Dave would be more useful to the team inside than out. Because everyone was going in, they all took a few minutes to get dressed. Everyone was a bit more reserved that night. The themes were Disco night and Emo night, so all it took was bright or dark colors. The team was more somber this time, especially _y/n_. The prospect of going undercover again just didn’t have the same rush as last night. Aaron, Emily, and _y/n_ all entered Club Drake at staggered times. Aaron decided to get to the highest spot he could that would give him the best look over the space. He found a dark corner and leaned back with a beer in his hands that would never get touched. Emily took the first shift at the bar and _y/n_ moved onto the dance floor. Everyone looked for anything that matched the profile. Someone young and confident. Someone looking to prey on those that showed vulnerability or stayed in the background. The strobe lights overhead made it hard for _y/n_ to see much else than the pulsing bodies around her. If _y/n_ looked hard, she could see Aaron in the corner of her eye, but she avoided her gaze because it was hard enough to dance and look for odd behavior while also dancing and not looking like her body was aching from the effort. Meanwhile, Hotch watched from above. He could see the club almost in its entirety. He understood now how hard it had been for his team last night. No wonder they hadn’t been able to see much. Aaron tried to pinpoint his members in the swell below. He could find Emily easily, she was hanging around the bar and hallway to the bathroom. It was harder to pinpoint _y/n_ on the dancefloor, but when the light was slightly brighter between songs, he caught a flash of her moving her body to a beat so loud it hurt his ears. He could see she was talking to someone on the floor, but there was no humanly possible way for him to hear the conversation. The song changed and a man seemed to approach _y/n_ She seemed to nod and then they began dancing to the new song close together. Closer together than she needed to. Hotch had to drag his eyes away. He knew _y/n_ knew what she was doing, but seeing her so close to so many people put a pit in his gut that he felt when things were stressful. It didn’t help with his heightened feelings for _y/n_. But he had a job to do, and he was going to do it to the best of his ability and no unwanted feelings were going to get in the way of that.

The night continued on and on with Emily and _y/n_ changing roles twice and Hotch brushing off a few people asking him if he wanted a drink above the din of the music. They continued to check in with each other. Despite their careful watch, no one stood out to the team or the police officers who had been briefed on what to look for. _y/n_ moved from the floor to the bar. To look convincing, _y/n_ went to grab and drink. When she got to the front of the line, _y/n_ quickly scanned those sitting and watching the football game and the hallway to the bathroom. She had passed Emily as they swapped roles and Prentiss nodded her head no, indicating that she hadn’t seen anything. _y/n_ returned the gesture. _y/n_ snapped to the present when the bartender said, “What do you want sweetheart apart from standing there in a daze?” _y/n_ cleared her throat and said, “A tonic with cranberry juice, please.” The man nodded and grabbed a tall glass, filling it with ice. The man sitting at the bar said, “You not drinking tonight, babe? You should lighten up or something.” _y/n_ shot him a frown but an oddly familiar voice said, “He’s right you know. You looked just as fake on the floor today as you were last night.” _y/n_ whipped her head around to try and find who had spoken to her. It was hard to tell with the crowd, but a short blond-haired woman was moving quickly toward the back exit and _y/n_ swiftly wove her way between those waiting in line and those dancing. Agent _y/n_ stumbled out of the exit almost out of breath. She looked down the dark alleyway but saw no one. But who she was looking for was behind the door, and when the heavy metal door swung closed, _y/n_ found this out. Jeanie, who had found McKensie yesterday said, “You do need to loosen up, Agent,” as she stepped forward and plunged a needle into _y/n_’s neck. The move had happened so quickly that _y/n_ took a second to push the woman away from her and pull the needle out of her neck. _y/n_’s eyes flashed to the empty syringe and then to Jeanie. She tried to move forward, but the ground seemed to sway a bit. _y/n_ looked at the unsub and said, “What did you give me?” Jeanie smiled maliciously and said, “Well nothing that bad yet. Just relax a bit and I’ll give you something really fun in a minute. _y/n_ tried to get away but fell over her feet and onto the pavement. The world was spinning and once she was on the ground, she tried to pull for her coms. The unsub watched as _y/n_ helplessly and openly took out a mic from her shirt. The woman leaned down and stomped on the device, smashing it to smithereens. _y/n_ watched helplessly as Jeanie pulled something from an inner pocket and said, “I think we’re going to have some real fun tonight.”

Inside the club, Aaron had lost track of _y/n_ when she and Emily had switched places. He didn’t see her anywhere and it was starting to bother him, but it was only five minutes until they would check in and he was sure she was just checking the lady's room or something. He continued to look around until his watch hit 12:30 a.m. He switched on his coms and checked in with Prentiss. He could see her look up at him for a second from the side of the bar. She said, “Still nothing. At least it’s not so busy right now.” Hotch nodded and said, “Okay, well keep a look out. I haven’t seen anything from here either.” He took a breath and said, “Have you seen _y/n_? I lost her a few minutes ago at the bar.” There was a second of static before Emily said, “I don’t see her. Have you tried her com?” Emily was looking at him now from down below and he shook his head no. Aaron switched to _y/n_’s channel and he asked, “_y/n_, are you there?” There was only static. Hotch tried twice more, but there was still nothing. _y/n_ wasn’t one to miss a check-in. Even though there was no direct reason to panic yet, the bad feeling Hotch radioed Em again asking, “Could you check the lady's room? She’s not answering.” Emily shot him a nod and moved toward the bathroom. Hotch continued to scan the area with no luck in finding _y/n_. Aaron now kept his eyes trained on the hallway to the bathroom hoping that _y/n_ would emerge with Emily. Maybe even with that small smile, she gave him on the rare occasion when she knew no one was looking at her but him. That wasn’t the case, however. Five minutes later, Prentiss returned alone and said over the radio. “She wasn’t in there Hotch. I don’t know where she would have gone without telling us.” Aaron clenched his jaw and looked over the dance floor again. Something seemed to be off in the center of the floor.

Amid all the dancing people a lone figure, a familiar figure stood transfixed, looking at the lights coming from the ceiling. “Aaron called Emily and said, “I found her, but something’s wrong. She’s in the middle of the floor, but she’s not moving. See if you can get to her. I’m coming down.” Hotch moved as quickly as he could away from the corner and down the stairs without causing a scene or a panic. Hotch and Em got to _y/n_ about the same time. It was clear to both of the agents that something was wrong with _y/n_ immediately. _y/n_ was swaying to the deafening music. Aaron moved to face her and noticed the glassy blown-out pupils along with the profuse amount of sweat pouring from her face. Emily shouted, “_y/n_. What happened?” _y/n_ lazily turned her face toward her colleague and said, “I don’t know. Don’t you see the colors, though? So pretty.” Aaron knew that _y/n_ was in a world of her own now. If _y/n_ had been drugged with ecstasy what she was seeing or hearing was nothing like what he and Emily were. _y/n_ pulled at the neckline of her shirt and said, “Why’s it so hot in here?” Hotch could barely hear her above the noise. When _y/n_ swayed forward on her feet and toward him, he caught her in his arms. She was slick with sweat and he half lead, half dragged his agent to the side of the floor. Many of the patrons were looking at them now. The people at the edge of the floor made space for Hotch to lay _y/n_ down. She was panting now and Aaron called out to Emily saying, “Get every cop in here to not let anyone go. Call an ambulance and stop the music as fast as you can.” Emily nodded and ran away toward the first officer she saw. Hotch didn’t pay much attention to anything else as he focused solely on _y/n_ She was coughing now and her breath was coming in too fast for her to get proper oxygenation. Hotch called to a concerned-looking onlooker to hold down _y/n_’s arms and another to hold her legs. He said it with such authority that neither people he enlisted could refuse him. Once _y/n_ was held still from thrashing around, he took hold of her head and made sure her mouth was open to breathe better. During the chaos, the lights turned on and the music stopped. There was chatter and movement from nearby, but Aaron couldn’t afford to notice it. Emily was back at his side and said, “Ambulance is on the way. ETA five minutes.” Hotch nodded and replied, “Good. Get someone to bring over a bucket of ice. She‘s overheating and we’ve got to get her temperature down.” Prentiss nodded and ran off again. Aaron wiped away a strand of drool from her mouth and said, “Hold on, _y/n_. Just hold on a few minutes more.” By the time a bartender came with ice, _y/n_ seemed so far away from him. Emily asked, concerned, “Where do you want the ice, Hotch.” Aaron took a breath and said, “Pour it over her chest, groin, and neck. Let’s hope it cools her down. All he could do now was wait for the ambulance to arrive. That took what felt like hours. Hotch was grateful that Emily was there to control the flow of traffic, and equally grateful when the rest of the team arrived.

When the paramedics arrived, Aaron allowed himself to lean forward for a second into the pool of ice water that had melted off of _y/n_’s overheated body. He only allowed himself a second thought as he, Derek, and Emily followed the stretcher holding _y/n_ out and toward the waiting ambulance. One of the paramedics asked, “What’s happened to her? Is this another one of those druggings?” Aaron nodded his head and replied, “I believe so. She was out of it when I found her and struggling to breathe.” The paramedic nodded and said, “It could be an overdose depending on how much she was given.” The two men efficiently lifted the stretcher into the transport vehicle and Hotch asked, “May I ride with her? I’m a federal agent and so is she?” He flashed his badge, and the man he was talking to nodded saying, “You can take the crash seat, just stay back while we work.” Aaron agreed and watched with concern as the doors to the ambulance were closed and it started to move. _y/n_ was manipulated like a doll as an oxygen mask was put over her face. Hotch looked at the metal floor as the medic cut open her shirt to place a cooling blanket over her chest. It wasn’t a long ride to the hospital and that, Hotch was grateful for. They took _y/n_ back into the ER while he moved to the front of the hospital. He called the team and gave them the update, and he asked for the same. Rossi replied, “We have everyone from the club still here and we’re looking over everyone, but Reid and Em want to wait with you. Would it be alright to get more officers over here and let them go?’ Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Yeah. That’s fine. The one positive thing about this is that she saw the unsub. That’s if she makes it out of this and if she has any memory of what happened before she was drugged.” Dave heard the soft desperation in Hotch’s voice. He wasn’t surprised. He’d seen Aaron’s slow transformation around _y/n_ over the last year. It wasn’t surprising to him that an event like this would pull out Aaron’s proactive instincts. To reassure his friend, Rossi said, “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Aaron. She’s a tough one, just give it time.” Hotch let out a sigh but knew Rossi was right. He wrapped up the call and then moved inside for the vigil that would last until someone from the hospital gave him news or Spencer and Prentiss arrived. He checked his phone and saw missed calls from Garcia, and a text from JJ saying that she was headed over as well. Aaron ignored these things for just a moment and sat with the anxiety that _y/n_ being targeted had done to him. He’d have to face the feelings eventually and he figured he might as well start on them now.

The time passed, and the team members who could come and sit with him did. To keep his mind from wandering, he spoke with the team about the case and how they could update the profile now that one of them had been drugged. It was Spencer who mostly answered his questions and even took some notes. Even with that being the case, Hotch couldn’t keep pretending and he and Reid lapsed into silence. Another half hour later, a doctor appeared. The group stood up and approached the man. The doctor’s name tag read. Dr. Piatte. The man held a clipboard in front of him and he said, “The patient, Ms. _y/l/n_ is almost stabilized now. She was given a pretty high dose of ecstasy for her size along with another depressant. Now that her vitals, temperature, and breathing have all leveled out, all we can do is make sure she’s comfortable until the drugs leave her system. Everyone nodded and Aaron asked, “Is she awake? Could someone sit with her while she’s detoxing?” Dr. Piatte looked at him and said, “Ms. _y/l/n_ is conscious, but not lucid. She’s said a few words here and there, but none of it has made much sense. If you’re hoping to talk to her, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Hotch shook his head no and replied, “I’m not interested in getting answers for anything. I was just wondering if one of us might sit with her. To keep her company. Maybe she would be more relaxed if one of us was there.” The greying man thought for a second, before saying, “I don’t mind if one of you sits with her. Just don’t excite her and only one of you can be in her room. She’s in a highly suggestible state mentally and she needs as much peace as possible.” The team understood and Emily, JJ, and Spencer looked at Hotch, understanding that he wanted to be with _y/n_ but not sure how to say that. JJ broke the silence by saying, “Why don’t you sit with her, Hotch? The rest of us can go back to the club and help the others out. We’ll send you updates about over there, and you can keep us informed about anything that happens here?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Okay, thanks JJ. Is that alright with you Em, Reid?” Both agents nodded their heads. Aaron bowed his head for a second before saying, “Thank you. I’ll send you an updates regarding _y/n_. With that conversation, Aaron followed the doctor back to _y/n_’s room. He realized that he was being overly protective of _y/n_ and that the team might have noticed it, but he didn’t have the energy to worry about that right now. JJ had thankfully saved any awkwardness in that area and he reminded himself that he’d have to thank her once they were back home. He’d need to thank the whole team for their hard work. Anytime one of the team got hurt on a case, he was reminded how dedicated everyone was, and he needed to highlight that more often. But for now, he only had a mind for _y/n_. When he stepped into the hospital room, Aaron’s eye fell on _y/n_. Her face was still flushed and the closer he got to her bedside, the more he realized how uncomfortable she still might be, even now that she was in a hospital bed and on Benzodiazepines. He watched as _y/n_’s eyes traced patterns on the ceiling where none were to be found. Similarly, _y/n_’s hands tapped out a rhythm that he couldn’t hear, some music only accessible in the recesses for her drudged mind. Hotch sat down and contemplated just how vulnerable _y/n_ looked. He’d never seen her this way before and it made him uncomfortable in the way that he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Like watching a car crash. But this was less than the crash and more of watching the fire slowly die down to a more relaxed state. As the minutes ticked by, _y/n_ seemed to relax and so did he.

An hour later, Aaron had almost fallen into a half-sleep, when _y/n_’s body jerked slightly and she made a sound that Hotch couldn’t quite identify. He watched as _y/n_continued to move in the bed softly and her hands gripped the sheets in a way that he thought might be indicative of discomfort. Aaron got up to get a nurse to see if _y/n_ needed help, but when she called out his name in a breathy half-sigh half-moan, he stopped in his tracks. When _y/n_ said, “Don’t stop, God don’t stop, Aaron,” Hotch turned on his heel and looked at _y/n_ from a distance. He noticed now the rhythm of her hips moved in a way that might indicate an intimate moment was happening. _y/n_’s expression which he had taken as pain at first was full of ecstasy, and not the drug that had been pushed on her. He watched as her breath picked up and her body moved until finally, she let out a soft cry, with her body shaking for a moment and then collapsing fully back on the bed. When _y/n_’s body was flushed with the bed and she had caught her breath after what had been an apparent climax in her dream, she said, “So good, Aaron.” Hotch was at a true loss for what to do. _y/n_ seemed to be relaxed, but now that he’d witnessed her dreaming about him, dreaming in a way that had given her release, he felt like he’d witnessed something highly personal and something that he was sure _y/n_ wouldn’t want to have seen. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but be surprised and slightly flattered that she should think of him that way. He felt his core tingle at how she’d called out his name, how her face had looked at the height of her dream. Not only was his mind thinking, against his better judgment, about how lovely she had looked during release, but his lower body started to get similar ideas.

Hotch felt his cock begin to harden and internally said, “Shit.” He shouldn’t be here, not like this. Not feel this way when _y/n_ had no agency right now. He was going to attempt to leave again but as he turned a second time, _y/n_ called his name again, this time it was clearer. He turned and saw her looking at him. Her eyes were clearer now. Still a bit glassy, but not so far away. _y/n_ spoke again saying, “Hotch, you’re here?” Aaron let out a breath and approached her bed, pulling a chair up near her and saying, “Yeah. I’m here.” _y/n_ blinked a few times and replied, “You’ve never been here after a dream like that before. It’s so strange.” Hotch shifted closer. He realized that she was still not fully herself He brushed a strand of her _y/h/t_ away from her face and he couldn’t help himself from asking, “What type of dreams? What do you mean, _y/n_.” _y/n_ softly pulled the palm of his hand into hers and said, “Don’t you know? You’re there for all of them. You’re being funny today, Aaron.” Hotch quickly moved and held onto _y/n_’s shoulders as she tried to sit up fully. He tsked and said, “Hey, now. Just relax you’re in the hospital, _y/n_. I need you to relax or I’ll have to get a nurse.” Hotch knew he should get a nurse anyway, but once that happened the moment would be ruined and some selfish part of him that had longed for _y/n_ had him ask, “What are you trying to do? Where do you think you’re going, agent?” _y/n_ stilled at his final word and looked at him, saying, “I just want to put my head in your lap. Please, just for a minute. It’s always so warm and cozy.” Aaron flushed darker because this must have been something that had happened in one of her dreams because he’d never let her rest her head in his lap before. That wasn’t something even he’d dreamed about with _y/n_, and he’d had plenty of dreams with _y/n_ in the staring role before. His cock twitched in his pants comfortably, so he moved his mind back to _y/n_ who was leaning dangerously forward. He tried to gently get her to relax back onto the bed, and he said, “You need to relax, _y/n_. You shouldn’t be sitting up.” Non-lucidly she replied with a little laugh, “I’ll lay down if it’s on your lap.” Hotch was at a crossroads, he knew that MDMA could make its users very suggestible and overly sexual. He couldn’t know if this was what she wanted. But _y/n_ continued to insist and kept trying to sit up and be close to him. Finally, after the fifth time of her getting up again, Aaron moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He knew he could call a nurse, but that would most likely mean that _y/n_ got strapped to the bed and would be uncomfortable for the next few hours. So he compromised and let her place her head on his thigh. She relaxed immediately once her head was settled. It was a shocking departure from her jittery movement from before. And that was how Aaron ended up in a position he could never have imagined. He couldn’t have predicted any case that would lead to his moral quandary, and it only got more morally grey from there.

Hotch shifted his hips the slightest bit and that did not help him. _y/n_’s head was fully in his lap now, and he knew it shouldn't be. When she was settled, _y/n_ started describing some of her dreams. Dreams about him. About him naked and doing things to her while _y/n_ was also naked. _y/n_ described them in detail. The words had made Aaron's cock twitch in his pants. As _y/n_ set her head in his lap and breathed over his groin, he hardened fully again. Aaron knew _y/n_ wouldn't be saying these things if it wasn't for the drugs. _y/n_ was a hard worker, a reserved agent, and he shouldn’t be doing this. Yet here he was, and _y/n_ was almost purring with contentment. Hotch took a stabilizing breath and said, “You’re like a kitten like this.” _y/n_ nuzzled her head into his lap further and said half asleep again, “I’ll be your kitten if you want, Hotch.” Aaron bit back a groan and endured the torture of _y/n_ being so close to his erect member without any option to do anything. From her description of her dreams, _y/n_ would love to take care of the need pressing against the fly of his pants, but she was incapacitated and not in her full mind. Hotch did his best to stay still and try and picture anything else but the lurid details of _y/n_’s dreams. Eventually, she slipped off into what seemed to be a deeper sleep. Once Aaron made sure her breath was even, he slipped off of the bed and made sure _y/n_’s face was resting on the pillow before he made a quick retreat to the nearest bathroom. He moved to the sink and felt about as hot as _y/n_ had looked at the club. He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face and the back of his neck. He walked around the small space for a few moments just thinking about the case and nothing but the case. In a few minutes he’d managed to calm his erection, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with all that last night had revealed. Aaron moved back to the reception area to give himself some space from _y/n_. One positive was that it was unlikely that _y/n_ would remember anything that she’d said or did the previous night. He pulled out his phone and called Emily to see what the team was currently doing. Prentiss picked up on the first ring and said, “Hey Hotch. How’s _y/n_ holding up?” Aaron flushed but managed to say, “She’s… she’s doing better. Still a little out of it, but not as bad as two hours ago.” Emily didn’t comment on his long pause and waited for Hotch to continue. Aaron took a second to think about how to word his request and said, “Would you be willing to switch spots with me? I’d like a fresh look at the scene and profile, and you know how I feel about hospitals.” There was a pause before Em said, “Sure, Aaron. I’ll just tell the team and then head over. Be there in about twenty minutes.” Aaron breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her before hanging up. Hotch didn’t want _y/n_ to wake alone, but he didn’t think it would be a great idea if it was him she woke up to. It might result in an awkward moment that _y/n_ didn’t need right now.

A few minutes later, Emily showed up and she filled Aaron in on what he’d missed and how the team was back at the precinct. She noticed how odd he was behaving, but didn’t ask him about it. Aaron was a mystery that she still hadn’t cracked yet, but if it was something important, she knew he’d tell her or ask for help. So she gave him a pat on the shoulder and watched as he left the building before being led back to _y/n_’s room by a nurse. Emily sat on a chair and watched _y/n_ sleep for an hour. At around seven a.m. _y/n_ shifted on her side and opened her _y/c/e_’s. They were red and sore looking, but they were back to normal and Emily leaned forward asking, “Hey, _y/n_. How are you feeling?” _y/n_ coughed but managed to say, “I’m okay. I know who did it. Who the unsub is.” Emily nodded and gave the woman on the bed a paper cup of water. _y/n_ took a small sip and said, “It’s Jeanie King. The woman who found the last victim. She led me to an alley and I was dumb enough to follow her.” Prentiss nodded and said, “It’s okay, _y/n_. Let me just text the team that information. You just relax and I’ll call a nurse to see how you’re doing.” _y/n_ gave a small nod and looked up at the ceiling tiles. When Emily was done with her phone, _y/n_ looked back at her with a little smile which Prentiss returned. _y/n_ said, “I’m glad it’s you here Em. I had some really lucid dreams during the night and I feel like I said some very private stuff. So how bad was it? What did it say.” Emily stilled for a moment and realized, perhaps, why Hotch was so different when she’d seen him. Emily cleared her throat and opted for honesty, saying, “Well I didn’t hear you say anything, _y/n_ but I wasn’t the one here all night.” _y/n_’s eyes went wide and she asked softly, “Who was here, Em?” Prentiss bit her tongue before saying, “Hotch.” _y/n_ covered her face with her hands and said, “Oh my God, kill me, Emily. If I said any of those things to him I’m going to jump out of the jet.” Prentiss sympathized and patted _y/n_’s shoulder saying, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, _y/n_. Even if it was, you were drugged, you couldn’t have helped yourself from saying stuff,” _y/n_ just groaned in reply, still covering her eyes. Emily called for the nurse to hope that some distraction would ease her discomfort.

The case didn’t take long to wrap up now that _y/n_ had identified the unsub. The hospital released _y/n_ a day later and Jeanie King was found in another club the next night looking for yet another victim. The woman was disturbed and believed she was doing a great service to those she had drugged. She thought she was letting them experience a good life and time. A life that she had not experienced until she had started taking harder and harder drugs. The tough life and expectations of her home had sent her into a downward spiral. In all, it was a pretty cut-and-dry case, except for the place where the killings happened. To have it be so open and public an arena. When _y/n_ was back on her feet, the team left for home. When _y/n_ saw Aaron for the first time, he very quickly averted his eyes and she noticed him flush, and that was all she needed to know that she’d said something inappropriate to him while he had been with her in the hospital. Aaron didn’t get flustered, nothing ever flustered him, so his response was enough. To his credit, Hotch recovered more quickly than _y/n_ as he, like the rest of the team asked how she was doing. _y/n_ was flustered but tried to play it off like she didn’t need all the attention. She moved as far away from Hotch as possible because she still didn’t know the extent of what she’d said to him. If it was what she remembered, it was bad. The team glanced between the two who normally were pretty close but suddenly weren’t. Only Emily had an idea of what had happened and attempted to bridge the awkward silence in the cabin by asking Spencer a question about the case. Reid jumped at the chance to talk about famous female poisoners. This helped the team breathe, but even so, _y/n_ hardly looked at Aaron during the hour-long trip home.

The team hoped that whatever was happening between _y/n_ and Hotch would go away quickly. But even two weeks after they were back, there was still an awkwardness between them. They worked fine, but the dynamic had shifted, and not for the better. Finally, Rossi and Emily were over the drama and both went to Aaron on the same day to ask him to make it right, or to at least talk to _y/n_. Dave was straight to the point, reminding Aaron that he was the leader of this team and he needed to lead right now. Emily was a bit more nuanced and entered his office near the end of the day. He looked up from his desk and asked, “What is it, Em?” Prentiss smiled and said, “You know you’re not bad for what happened at the hospital, right?” Aaron’s dark eyes flashed to hers and he knew she wasn’t just talking about the fact that _y/n_ had gotten hurt. He slowly said, “I feel like I used her. I should have left when she started talking about that stuff.” Emily shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t know if I was in that position and I was spilling my heart out I’d rather not be saying that to an empty room or a nurse that doesn’t care.” Aaron clenched his jaw and said, “She was sharing more than just her heart, Emily.” Em sighed and said, “Well you’re free to feel that way, but you need to do something about it. Either apologize or tell her you feel for her too, because it’s not working right now and you know it. And just for your information, she feels just as bad about saying that stuff to you as you feel about listening to it.” Prentiss didn’t let him make any excuses or try to avoid the real issue, that _y/n_ had shared her feelings and he needed to respond to them in some way. Either positively or with rejection, he had to make up his mind for the sake of his team, but even more for _y/n_’s sake. Hotch sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. His team was right and he wasn’t going to be a coward and just let things fester between _y/n_ and himself. He’d talk to _y/n_ tonight, about what he was going to say, he wasn’t sure, but he was going to say something.

It was seven p.m. and dark outside the Quantico field office. The bullpen was empty except for _y/n_. Aaron knew _y/n_ was a hard worker, but after the incident in NYC, she’d stayed later and later. She stayed until after he’d left the office for the last week. He wasn’t sure if this was her punishing herself for what she’d admitted, or just an attempt to not have to be in a confined space with him like the parking garage or the elevator. But Aaron wasn’t going to let that happen tonight. Tonight he was driving her home. This would give them time and space to talk about what they needed to. It would also ensure an endpoint to the conversation once they arrived at _y/n_’s apartment. Hotch stood up from his desk chair and packed his briefcase before moving outside his office and locking the door behind him. _y/n_ looked up at Aaron as he moved down the stairs. She let out a sigh because once he was out the door she could go home too. But Aaron didn’t do his normal hand raise and “See you tomorrow _y/n_.” Nope. He was walking over to her, and _y/n_ shifted in her seat a bit. She pulled a file in front of her to look like she was working, even though she’d finished a half-hour ago. _y/n_ looked up at him and tried to act cool. She knew it had been strange, that she had been strange since the drugging and she hated it, but _y/n_ didn’t know how to say, “Hey, sorry boss. I didn’t mean to talk about my sexual fantasies with you while I was on drugs.” Instead, _y/n_ just asked, “Hey Hotch. What’s up?” Aaron parked himself by her desk and he said, “I thought I’d give you a ride home?” _y/n_ flushed and said, “It’s alright. I still have this file to finish, but thanks for the offer.” Hotch stood still and said, “_y/n_, you’re finished with that file. It’s late, let me give you a ride home, please.” _y/n_ had never heard him use this tone before, and she looked up at him almost forgetting how terrible she felt about herself and the situation she’d gotten herself into with him. The way he offered made _y/n_ realize why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. The warmth, yet strength he demonstrated was just so overpowering. _y/n_ snapped back to herself and realized thinking like that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. Aaron saw the shift on her face and he said, “I’m not taking no for an answer, _y/n_. So you might as well grab your stuff. I don’t want you on the bus this late.” _y/n_ turned her head from him so he wouldn’t catch how flustered she was. She didn’t argue with him, it would be pointless and she’d say something stupid anyway.

The car ride was as awkward as either of them had imagined. It was silent until they were five minutes from _y/n_’s house. _y/n_ finally plucked up the courage to look at Hotch and say, “Listen, Hotch, about the last case…” She cut herself off not knowing what she wanted to say about the last case. Aaron took the reigns of the conversation by saying, “_y/n_, I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. I shouldn’t have stayed in the room with you. It was wrong of me.” _y/n_ swallowed and asked one of her hard questions, “What exactly did I tell you? What happened?” Aaron pulled into a spot near _y/n_’s unit and replied, “You told me about your dreams. With me. And I listened because I wanted to know. I’m sorry for violating that trust with you.” _y/n_ swallowed and looked out the window. It was as bad as she feared. _y/n_ felt like crying. The emotions had sprung up like an untapped oil well. Perhaps because she was new and thought maybe she’d get kicked out for something like this, or because she knew Aaron would never feel the same way. Never look at her the way she looked at him. _y/n_ said in an almost inaudible whisper, “No, I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t want to hear something gross like that with me. I know I’m nothing like that to you.” Hotch hadn’t expected _y/n_ to say that. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. Hotch furrowed his brow and said, “What do you mean, _y/n_?” _y/n_ huffed, trying to stop the tears from falling down her face as she said, “I know you wouldn’t want to be intimate with someone like me, okay? I get it. I’m just a newbie with a crush. Why would you ever look at me like that.” _y/n_ tone spilled from sorrow to anger quickly.

The silence was deafening for a moment before Aaron said, “_y/n_. You’re a good profiler, but you’ve read me wrong. I like you the way you like me. I have dreams about you too.” The quiet in the car was so deep that the only thing that could be heard was their breaths. _y/n_ turned her head to look at him. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Finally, while his gaze was reaching into her soul, she said, “What did you say?” Aaron flushed and raised a hand to her cheek as he deliberately said, “I have dreams about you too.” Hotch took a breath and rubbed his thumb over _y/n_’s bottom lip which was hanging slightly slack with shock. He leaned in closer. So close that his breath fanned her face as he said, “I don’t want to hear you put yourself down like that ever again _y/n_. Do you understand?” _y/n_ nodded slightly. Their mouths were just an inch from each other. When _y/n_ couldn’t wait anymore, she closed the gap between them. Hotch’s lips were warm and soft, meeting hers with enthusiasm and energy. As soon as their mouths met, nothing could stop them from going all in. _y/n_ sucked in a breath and Aaron’s large hands wrapped behind her back, holding her close to him. _y/n_’s hands made it to his hair, and she pulled at the short strands. Aaron groaned into her touch and his hands slipped under the back of _y/n_’s shirt. Hotch slipped his tongue into _y/n_’s mouth. He explored every inch of her mouth and softly bit at her lower lip where his thumb had been mere moments before. _y/n_ moaned into his rough affection. _y/n_ pulled away breathlessly from his mouth and said, “Inside. Let’s go inside.” Aaron’s eyes were full of desire, so dark almost that they looked black. They flashed with anticipation of having more of _y/n and he nodded. The pair got out of Aaron’s car and he locked it behind him as they walked to _y/n_’s apartment. They didn’t run to her door, but they didn’t amble either.

_y/n_ pulled out her keys and she could feel Aaron right behind her, like a shadow. He was so close that she swore his warmth was radiating over her back. She knew if she took a half step back, she’d be pressed against his chest and groin, and god she wanted that so badly. To be pressed into every part of him. _y/n_ quickly unlocked the door and once they were inside, she flicked on a light. _y/n_ heard the door close behind her and a firm hand on her shoulder. Hotch pushed _y/n_’s back to her front door and pinned her there with his arms. _y/n_ ran her tongue over her lower lip, making him want to taste her even more. He leaned down and kissed her again. His hands found her hips and his fingers dug into the soft flesh, seeking traction to keep him steady as his head spun with the overwhelming power _y/n_ had over him now. Aaron felt like a man parched in the desert and he’d finally found an oasis. He was going to have his fill. _y/n_’s hands roamed over his body that held such strength and power, yet contained a soul that longed to belong. Hotch pressed his body to her, pinning her further, but _y/n_ didn’t complain this was what she’d wanted for months. _y/n_ felt his erection and she provided him with some friction and he groaned, a deep sound coming from his chest. Aaron pulled back and said, “Do you want this? Are you sure you want to do this? Once I start I won’t be able to stop.” _y/n_ nodded mutely for a minute before saying, “Aaron, I told you how much I wanted it. I wasn’t exaggerating in the description of those dreams.” Hotch nodded and looked around the new space. He asked, “Bedroom?” _y/n_ flushed and said, “Down the hall, on the left.” He smiled at her and bent down slightly to pick _y/n_ up. He gave a little grunt at shifting her weight into his arms and also the fact that her core was now pressed his this throbbing cock.

In the bedroom, he let _y/n_ down, and she kicked off her shoes and turned on a few lamps. Aaron watched her and then moved behind her. His arms wrapped around her torso and he kissed the crook of her neck. _y/n_ sighed and let him give her open-mouthed kisses. However, she was ready for him. She could feel herself dripping with anticipation, and she turned in his arms. _y/n_ kissed up his jawline while her hands undid the buckle of his belt. Aaron let out a breath, realizing that _y/n_ wanted to pick up the pace. He helped her take off his pants and he returned the favor by stripping her of her _y/f/c_ shirt. His gaze roved over her body now in pants and a simple bra while she took in the bulge in his pants. Aaron pushed _y/n_ to the edge of the bed and she got on her mattress facing him. Aaron hovered over her before kissing her again. He murmured, “Such a needy kitten. Begging me to fuck you.” One of Hotch’s hands slipped under the cup of her bra and he kneaded the tissue and tweaked her nipple until it was taught under his fingers. He flicked it a few times as _y/n_ squirmed on the bed. She panted, “Aaron.” Hotch moved his other hand to the clasp of her bra and unlatched it with ease. He slipped the straps down her shoulders and marveled at what he saw beneath the fabric. Hotch tossed the bra aside, and he moved his mouth to suck on the _y/n_’s right breast, he said, “I need you to be patient for me kitten. I’m going to take this slowly because we can only do it for the first time once, and I want it to be something you remember.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I understand. I’ll try and last for you.” Hotch’s tongue licked over her nipple and she moaned and arched her back at the feelings. Before Aaron went back into to suckle her again, he said, “Atta girl.” _y/n_ paid attention as Hotch’s mouth licked over her nipple. He sucked and licked it in a way that she knew he was adept with his mouth, both here, and elsewhere. His mouth and hand which was stimulating her other breast were making her even warmer and wetter. She loved the attention he was giving her, but she wanted to see him. To have him fill her to the brim like she knew only he could do. After a few moments, Aaron’s left hand traced down to her stomach, then to her naval, and finally past the band of her panties. She let out a long moan as his finger traced the contours of her arousal. Hotch pulled his face back and he said, “You sound so pretty when you make those noises, y/n_. Like a melody I’m never going to tire of.” He’d started to rub his pointer and middle finger between her folds and _y/n_ said, “Aaron, please, I need you in me.” Hotch’s face split into a grin and he said, “I can feel that kitten. You’re so wet for me already.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I am. I have been…” _y/n_’s voice was cut off with a groan as Aaron started to circle her clit. Hotch chuckled and let _y/n_ catch her breath as he took off his shirt and briefs. _y/n_ looked at Aaron’s cock that hung thick and heavy by his stomach. He was as impressive as she’d dreamed. Probably more so, but those dreams were gone now that she was in front of the real thing. Aaron noticed her gaze and he said, “Don’t look so shocked _y/n_ or you’ll scandalize me.” _y/n_ laughed, appreciating that he could have some humor at the moment. She said, “What if I praised you instead?” Aaron stilled at the phrase and said, “You don’t need my ego that big right now _y/n_.” His hands slipped to both sides of her panties and she let him slide them down her legs and to the floor like her bra.

Aaron looked over her swollen pussy and noticed how slick it was with her readiness. He looked at her and asked, “How do you want it, _y/n_?” _y/n_ propped herself up on one elbow and used the other to pull him into another kiss before saying, “Just like this, with you on top, putting your weight into me.” Aaron nodded and helped her get into a comfortable position on her back. He asked while flicking a finger over her clit, “Are you on the pill or do I need a condom?” _y/n_ was squirming again under his skilled fingers as she said, “I’m on the pill. You’re good.” Aaron smiled and stopped his hand. _y/n_ almost mewled at the loss of feeling, but Hotch quickly replaced his hand with this cock. He guided it up and down her opening to coat it with her slick. _y/n_ arched her back and let out a long moan as he guided the tip inside her. “Aaron,” she called out as he kept pressing in and out of her. He looked down at her face, which radiated her pleasure. He checked in anyway asking, “Is it too much? Are you comfortable?” _y/n_ nodded and said, “It’s perfect. Just keep going, please. You’re not gonna hurt me.” _y/n_ opened her eyes enough to see his smile and he pressed his length further into her weeping cunt. It took him three full thrusts to seat himself in her. No matter how ready _y/n_ said she was, he wasn’t going to press her or harm her. _y/n_ wrapped her arms around him and he began to thrust in and out of her. _y/n_ let out a litany of sounds and words as he established a pace. Aaron struggled to keep his composure as left her warmth and wetness tight around his cock. He groaned as he kept moving inside her. _y/n_ hands raked down his back, asking him to move more. Aaron complied with her unspoken request. He started snapping his hips into her, filling her each time. _y/n_ let out a strangled cry that was his name and he replied, “That’s a good girl. You’re taking me so well aren’t you kitten.”Hotch stifled her future cries with his mouth. The veins on Aaron’s dick gave the perfect feeling for _y/n_’s walls to feel the sensation of Hotch’s fast pace. He was doing as she asked, putting his full weight into every thrust. _y/n_ quickly started feeling her core tighten and the fact that he wasn’t letting her get any sounds out only amplified the orgasm that she knew was fast approaching. Aaron moved one hand to her clit and began rubbing soft circles over her nerve spot. He pulled his mouth away from hers so she could hear _y/n_ pant his name and have her breath pick up even more. Aaron quickened and tightened his attention on her clit and he knew she was close as her walls tightened around him and her back arched further off the bed. He was close too and he gave her his all as his hips rocked into hers. He looked at her face and hair above her head as he said, “Let go kitten. You can let go for me.” At his encouragement, _y/n_ let her climax peak and she felt herself seize all over as the wave of euphoria crashed over her. The look on _y/n_’s face and the way _y/n_’s cunt got even tighter with her orgasm had Aaron spill into her harshly. He called out her name as he let go. Hotch leaned forward on his arms to stop from collapsing on top of her.

Both of them took their time to catch their breaths and Aaron looked over to her saying, “That was, that was amazing, _y/n_.” _y/n_ looked at him, eyes still blown from her climax. She ran a hand over his cheek and said, “That was better than any dream I could imagine.” Hotch laughed and said, “I’m not sure about that. Some of them sounded pretty nice. Maybe we should try some of those things later on.” Hearing Aaron say that _y/n_ sobered and said, “So, we’re going to keep doing this?” Hotch looked at her and sat up from her side. He kissed the tip of her nose and said, “If you want, _y/n_. I’d like to if you're comfortable with it.” _y/n_ nodded slowly and said, “I do want that, but what about the team and the rules? Is this even allowed?” Aaron smiled down at her glowing body and said, “Yeah, we’ll have to talk about that. But it can wait for tonight. I never want you to think I don’t dream about you like you did with me. And I’m going to make sure I show you that thoroughly with time.” _y/n_ beamed and tried to sit up, but Aaron held her back and asked, “What are you trying to do, kitten?” _y/n_ flushed at the nickname and replied, “Just getting some towels to clean us up?” Hotch kept his gaze on her face before flicking it between her legs. He looked back at her and said, “You must be joking if you think I’m going to let that all go to waste. Now lay back down and let me take care of you.” _y/n_ let out a little gasp at the request, but let Aaron push her back on the mattress. He kissed down the valley of her breasts, stomach, and finally to their shared release. As his mouth expertly lapped up what he’d spilled in her, mixed with her climax, both Aaron and _y/n_ realized they’d found something very special in the other. Aaron had found an agent willing to stick with the BAU in the good and bad times, and _y/n_ had found a leader she trusted enough to follow into the fire. And well the sex, the intimacy that they had had and that to come, well that was just the cherry on top.

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1arkspur-aconitum · 7 months ago

Text

WHAT ELYSIUM HAVE YOU KNOWN? (s.r.)

SOULS OF POETS DEAD AND GONE, WHAT ELYSIUM HAVE YOU KNOWN?

[PART THREE OF THREE]

IN WHICH: Spencer discovers just how fun her previous profession can be, and cannot wait to get her back to the hotel...

PAIRING: Season3!SpencerReid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: Smut (18+, NSFW)

CONTENT: Swearing, established secret relationship, lap dance, Spencer being an awkward fucking nerd, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (wear a condom kids), fact-fucking, desperate, less experienced Spencer

WORD COUNT: 10k...(my god, that's a lot of words)

PUBLISHED: 16/10/2024

‘Alright.’ I say as I lock the door behind us, pulling the small blind across the window to ensure our privacy. No one is going to be walking in on us anytime soon. ‘Here we are.’

The room is dimly lit by a single, flickering red bulb, casting the entire space in a deep, sultry glow. A raised platform dominates the right side of the room, a glistening chrome pole standing to attention in the centre, and an entire wall of mirrors reflecting the stage behind it. Aimed at the platform is a well worn two-person leather sofa, the material cracked around the seams.

The air is thick with the scent of stale cigarette smoke and perfume. It’s a far cry from the sterile halls of Quantico, but there’s a strange sense of familiarity that washes over me as I take it all in. I’ve been here so many times that I’m suddenly twenty one again.

I turn to look at Spencer, tucking the key on top of the door jamb. He’s standing awkwardly where I left him, his eyes darting around the room as he takes in every little detail with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. I can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he processes this unfamiliar environment.

His glasses magnify his wide eyes, only making him look even more like a rabbit caught in truck headlights, unsure of what to do or where to go. He’s so out of his element, it’s adorable.

It also breaks my heart a little.

‘Come on.’ I murmur, taking his hand and guiding him towards the sofa. Spencer follows willingly, his fingers tightening around mine as if he never wants to let go. I push Spencer to sit on the sofa, settling myself down next to him. ‘You need to calm down, sweetheart.’

‘I…I don’t know what to do…’ He says, voice barely above a whisper. The room is quiet, expectant. It hangs as heavy as cigarette smoke. When he looks at me, I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Spencer nearly always knows what to do. It comforts him. Yet here, he is so out of his depth that he’s at a loss. It must be terrifying. Spencer looks down.

‘That’s alright. You’re okay. You don’t have to do anything.’ I take a sip of my drink, the pinkish liquid catching the dim light, and watch him watch the floor. ‘It’s me, Spencer. I get that everything’s kinda scary, but I’m not, am I?’

He mumbles something, shuffling his feet on the carpet.

‘Spencer?’

‘Sometimes you can be scary…’ He says, a little bit louder this time, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips. I laugh, rolling my eyes at him. He’s not exactly wrong.

‘Okay, so I’m kind of scary, but I’m still me. You trust me?’

‘Of course.’ He says it so quickly that it’s all I can do not to smother him with kisses immediately. Spencer doubletakes when he sees me watching, catching something in my gaze that I didn’t know was there. He smiles privately–adorably. ‘I trust you. I’m just…this is all new to me.’

‘Well, it’s not new to me.’ I remind him, taking another sip of my drink. The alcohol burns. Spencer does the same, eyebrows tensing for a second as whatever is in his glass scours down his throat. I lean towards him, resting my free hand on his elbow. ‘Part of this job is profiling. It’s…learning how to make people comfortable. If you want to stop at any point, just say. I want this to be good for you, Spence.’

‘I know, I know.�� He forces himself to take a deep breath, clearly trying to force away any unwanted anxiety. When his eyes meet mine, there’s a determination I didn’t see there before. ‘And it will be good, because it’s you.’

I smile, my heart melting at his words, and reach out to pull him towards me. We kiss, and it’s tender, gentle, if a little bit sticky from our drinks. Another layer of tension leaves him as he hums into the kiss. Before he can get too carried away, I pull back, smoothing a hand casually down his chest. It’s an intentional move, one I’ve done so many times, and it works. He relaxes a little more.

‘I’m going to put some music on, would you like another drink?’ I ask, gesturing to the small mini-fridge tucked away in the darkest corner.

‘I…yes, please.’ Spencer decides.

I press a kiss to his cheek before sauntering over to the mini fridge. When I bend over to grab him a beer, I make sure he has an excellent view of my arse. Spencer’s bottom lip is between his teeth when I turn around. Hook, line, and sinker.

With a wicked grin, I open the drink and pass it to him, but I don’t take the seat next to him again. Instead, I quickly set up the sound system (thank God they haven’t updated it) and soon enough the slow, rhythmic sounds of my playlist fill the room. The music is heady, ethereal, and I feel as if we should be listening to them through a screen of smoke.

‘You need to relax, sweetheart.’ I pad back over to him. He’s sitting ramrod straight on the sofa, gripping the neck of the bottle as if it might sprout legs and run away from him.

I sit next to him and gently push his shoulders back onto the sofa. Once he’s settled, I curve myself around him, draping my arm across the back so that my fingers can softly, idly, thread through his hair. The skirt of my dress slips back even further when I cross my legs. My free hand starts to trace light circles on his thigh.

‘I’m trying.’ He sighs, turning pitiful eyes on me.

I debate for a second, settling in closer to him, running a tantalising finger up and down his leg. His body stiffens for a second before relaxing into the touch.

‘Tell me a fact I don’t know about space.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘You want a space fact…now?’

‘You always feel more comfortable when you’re telling me facts, so indulge me.’

‘I…Space is a very broad topic…’

‘Alright, tell me a fact about Jupiter—it is my favourite planet, after all.’

‘You have a favourite planet?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I…no…?’ Spencer gives me an incredulous look, his glasses only making it doubly attractive, but I am unrelenting. He sighs, leaning his head back against the sofa, and pursing his lips. ‘Uh…alright, alright–did you know Jupiter’s third largest moon, Io, is the most volcanically active body in the solar system?’

I didn’t know that. ‘Really? How so?’

‘It has over 400 active volcanoes on its surface.’ Spencer explains, voice gaining in enthusiasm. ‘It’s part of the reason why it’s coloured the way it is, all of the sulphur and gases the volcanoes eject ends up coating the surface, giving it that distinctive yellowish-red colour. The volcanoes also produce a large gas cloud around the moon itself, meaning that it’s highly radioactive–it gives off about 3,600 rem of radiation a day, and the average lethal dose is only 400-500…I think that’s pretty cool.’

‘I think it’s cool too, Spence.’ I half-smile, still casually running my fingers through his impossibly soft hair. My plan worked. Obviously. Spencer has lost a lot of the tension from his shoulders, even leaning his head further into my hand like a cat who’s being scratched in just the right spot. ‘Alright…so, do any other moons of Jupiter have volcanoes?’

‘No, actually, not that we know. Jupiter has a ridiculous amount of moons–95 officially recognised moons, though the smallest of which only has a diameter of 1.2 miles.’

‘Oh, really, that small, huh?’ I murmur, leaning in a little closer, watching his hands dance in the space before us. I’m proud of myself for getting him to open up. Spencer always wants to share his knowledge. It lights him up, makes him seem the most at ease. I wonder if he even remembers where he is right now.

I’m close enough to him that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Spencer’s eyes flicker up to mine and I can’t see any trace of that nervous energy he had in them before. Taking a risk, I let the hand in his hair slowly drift down to his jaw, my callused fingertips softened by his warm skin. I trace a small heart into his cheek. His eyes flutter shut briefly.

‘I never get bored around you.’ I say, voice raw with emotion. He looks at me with a softness that threatens to make my stomach twist, mouth slightly parted. My thumb stills. I can see the flecks of amber in his eyes, the soft shade of his lashes. ‘I’m always learning. You’re so smart.’

‘I just…I just know a lot of things.’ His eyes drop to my mouth, before flickering away. ‘It’s what I do.’

‘And you do it so well.’

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, tasting the remnants of his drink. Spencer groans against me, a hand falling to my knee and pulling. He wants me in his lap as he kisses me, lips parting eagerly before his tongue swoops in. I don’t let him pull me where he wants me. Not yet.

Instead, I lean back a little, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. For a moment we simply sit there, wrapped in each other, the music swirling around us. The world aside begins to fade away.

But I have a job to do.

I break the kiss gently. Spencer grumbles and tries to recapture my lips, but I insist. He looks at me with a question in his eyes, and I answer with a glimmer of mischief in my own.

‘I think it’s time I earn my keep, don’t you?’ I purr, my voice low and seductive. Flirtatiously, I carefully straighten his tie. Push his glasses up his nose.

Spencer’s eyes widen as if he’s just seen me strip naked in the middle of the bullpen, as if he’s only just remembered that we’re sitting on a sofa in the private room of a strip club. The fear quickly dissipates into excitement, though, and it bolsters my courage. Spencer’s Adam’s apple bobs as he glances over to where the pole beckons me.

‘I…yes.’ He manages to say, his voice barely a whisper underneath the trance-like music.

I finish my drink in a single swallow and slowly untangle myself from my lover.

It’s game time, and adrenaline thrums through me, as intoxicating as any kind of drug. My previous nerves have been numbed a little by the gin, but I’m still overly careful as I pick my way up the small steps to the stage. I really don’t want to fall. Spencer’s eyes are heavy on my spine, the direct focus burning a brand into my flesh. It’s a familiar feeling but one that I haven’t experienced in a long time, and it ignites a fire within me.

I reach the centre of the stage and am no longer Dr. Juniper Bishop. I am Cassandra–the girl who works here nearly every night to pay her rent at her little cheap apartment, the girl who knows how to use her body to get what she wants and has no shame about it, the girl who uses music and seduction to forget. The girl who can dance.

And dance I shall.

The pole itself is cold beneath my hands, but familiarly so. I circle it a few times, getting a feel for the music, for the atmosphere. I know how to do this. I am good at this. Music washes away all my residual anxiety. When I look at him, Spencer is watching intently, a mask of desire. That bodes well. I take a deep breath and let the rhythm take control.

I start slowly. Teasingly. It’s always better to make them wait, to build up that tension. I’ve learnt that it makes the release that much more exciting. The music guides my movements, the heels accentuating my legs, reminding me to use every asset to my advantage. I dance languidly around the pole, starting with easier, calmer movements. Nothing too intense yet.

My body sways to the beat, hips rocking in time with the ethereal sound. As I shift, pulling myself briefly off of the ground to swing around the pole, I let a hand drift down my body. I can feel the heat of Spencer’s gaze lingering on my curves, tracing the path of my hand as it travels further and further down. He shifts in his seat, eyes wide, lips parted. Absolutely captivated.

I let myself get lost in the adrenaline-fuelled scenario, in the hypnotic rhythm. My movements become more fluid, more sensual. I grow more confident. I carefully, impossibly slowly, begin to remove the dress. I incorporate it into the dance, using it as a prop, letting it slide teasingly over my skin before finally letting it fall in a puddle around my feet.

The fabric pools on the stage, revealing the lingerie I picked out specifically for him. The dark green lace and intricate beadwork catch the light, shimmering enticingly. When I hear Spencer’s breath hitch in his throat, I know I’ve chosen correctly. Now that the dress is off, I can be a little bolder.

I arch my back, showcasing my curves, before starting to get more adventurous with my movements. I climb the pole easily, heels clacking together, before I begin a series of moves I’ve always adored. A twist here, fast at certain points, before slowing it right down. A turn there, carefully curated to draw attention to my arse, a flick of hair off of my shoulder. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had this kind of power over someone, this kind of control.

It’s exhilarating.

When I look back at Spencer, I nearly lose my grip.

He’s sprawled out across the back of the sofa, tie loose and a few buttons of his shirt undone. One of those gorgeous hands of his is holding his jaw shut, the other slung across his stomach like a restraint. His expressive eyes are narrowed behind his glasses. I recognise the look immediately. It’s the look he gets when he’s dedicating everything he is seeing to memory, making a conscious effort to pick up every tiny detail.

Spencer is drinking it all in. Hungry. Intense. Committing it all so he can rewatch it whenever he pleases. The thought of him lying in his bed, replaying every second of this, turns me on. God, I can’t wait until we get back to the hotel…

At the end of the next song, I relinquish my grip on the pole and start to make my way towards him. I move gracefully, swaying my hips seductively, as I keep my eyes locked with his. I hope he knows this is all for him, and only for him. Spencer’s expression doesn’t change, but the closer I get, the more I can see that his pupils are so dilated. He’s enthralled. Time for the next part.

Now that I am close enough, I start to give him a lap dance. I might be good at the pole, but this is where I really excelled. It’s all about the teasing. Slow, leisurely movements. My hand drifts across his chest, down his thighs, wherever I can touch, but barely more than a light brush. Spencer simply sits there and watches, knuckles turning white.

‘You can touch me, Spence.’ I reassure him as I settle down into his lap, still shifting in time to the music, giving him an eye full of my cleavage.

Spencer’s hands jump to my bare hips, gripping so tightly that I think he’s going to leave bruises. His head is rocked back against the sofa, pupils wide as he watches me dance on him. The way he bites his bottom lip only serves to make me more confident. I rock against him, using my hands to guide him to the plush curve of my arse.

Spencer lets out a shuddering breath as his hands eagerly roam across my bare skin, kneading so hard it almost hurts. I love it. It’s as if he can’t get enough of me, can’t stop his hands from tugging at the hem of my lingerie, nails scraping the back of my thighs. I chuckle, curving myself carefully off of him so that I can pad around the back of the sofa, hands trailing across his chest.

‘God–’ He says as I lean over him from behind, cheek pressed against his, hands sliding down the front of his shirt to splay across his upper thighs. I can tell how desperately he wants me back in his lap, but I make him wait a little. I ghost a kiss to the shell of his ear. Spencer turns his chin towards me, trying to kiss me properly, but I dance out of the way.

Spencer’s eyes don’t leave me for a second as I come back around to his front, this time simply sitting on one of his thighs. His hands drop to my waist, a breathless sound falling from his mouth as I slowly, torturously, lean backwards, running my own hand down the swell of my chest, towards the apex of my thighs. His nails bite into my skin.

‘You’re–you’re stunning.’ Spencer breathes as I sit up, leaning towards him so my back curves. One of his hands lifts from my waist to tangle in the loose strands of my hair. He pulls me towards him, pressing a feverish kiss to my throat. The hint of stubble scratches my skin.

‘Thank you,’ I breathe, grinding on his thigh just a little as his tongue darts out to lick where he just kissed. I’m impossibly smug with myself. One of my hands slides into his hair, tilting his head up towards me. ‘Kiss me?’

I don’t have to ask again. His mouth is desperate against mine, breathy sounds of pleasure slipping between us as he tries to hold all of me in both of his hands. I open up to him, showing him how much I want him to claim me. He shudders. I continue to move slightly to the music, but it’s hard to focus when it’s so clear how much all of my dancing has had an effect on the normally calm, composed Dr. Reid.

I let myself get lost in the moment for a few beats. It feels divine to know how much he wants me, to know how much he desires me. I tug on his hair, moaning despite myself, pressing myself closer and rolling my hips. God, it would be so easy to lose control now, to not wait until we get back to the hotel, but I can’t.

Reluctantly I pull away, pressing a thumb to his mouth to stop him chasing after me.

‘Believe me,’ I breathe as I push myself off of his leg, still swaying in time to the music. I step between his spread legs and lower myself down. ‘I would love to continue doing that, but we can’t.’

‘What?’ Spencer chokes out as my hands slide down the inside of his thigh. He’s smart, he can work it out. That is, unless desire has completely clouded his brain. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re in a strip club, Spencer, there are rules.’ I remind him, voice low and sultry. I rise again, turning around to perch myself on his other leg, nails scraping the back of his neck. ‘You can look,’ I draw his eyes to my chest with a casual brush of my hands. ‘You can touch,’ I bring one of his hands from my hip to one of my thighs, and he hums in pleasure. ‘But you can’t fuck. Not here, at least.’

‘But–’ Spencer huffs, unashamedly scouring every part of me. It surprises me to hear a protest coming from him–Spencer isn’t usually adventurous, preferring to let me take the reins, so the notion of him considering fucking me here, in a strip-club blows my mind. In a good way, though. Heat pools between my thighs.

‘Think of the germs, sweetheart.’ I tease, toying with the silk of his tie again. Spencer glowers at me. He hates being reminded of any kind of bacteria–it’s one of the few things that can make him squirm. Spencer opens his mouth to retort, but I cut him off with a gentle kiss. ‘Don’t worry, I can do this part at home.’

‘Wha–really?’ He asks, voice barely audible above the music, his hands trailing over me as if it’s the first time he’s touching me.

‘Of course,’ I say in a soft purr, kissing his cheek. I shift again, climbing off of his lap and turning around so my back is to him. I press myself against his crotch, spreading my legs and leaning forward so he can follow the curve of my spine. ‘Any time you like…’

‘I–I don’t–’ Spencer groans, big hands sliding across my back, pushing me even further forward. It’s a dominance I rarely get to see, and it thrills me. ‘I don’t know what to say–’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ I reassure him, rising up to lean back against his chest, encouraging his hands to slip up over my breasts and towards my neck. I hear his breath stick in his throat. ‘Just enjoy the show.’

Spencer’s fingers tremble against my skin, the heat radiating from his body enveloping me as I lean back into him. I can feel his heart racing, matching the pulse of the music, and it drives me to move even more enticingly. I shimmy my hips, rolling them against the hardness pressing against my backside, teasing him with every deliberate motion.

He gasps, a sound that reverberates through the quiet tension of the room, and I can’t help but smile at how easily I’ve managed to draw this effect from him. It’s intoxicating. The thrill of knowing I have him completely under my control, yet so vulnerable in this moment, sends a rush of excitement through me.

‘God–you’re–you’re–’ His voice is strained as I slide from his lap to the floor, giving him a little preview of some of the positions he might see me in later. When I turn to look up at him through my lashes, his mouth is wide open, tongue stuck to his bottom lip as he pants. ‘How does–’

I grin as Spencer’s question trails off into a slight whimper, rising off of the floor and settling back between his legs. I explore his body as much as he’s exploring mine, teasing him with my movements. I lean forward, swaying my hips, and then I pull back again, maintaining the delicious tension that hangs between us.

‘I didn’t expect you to be so speechless, Spencer.’ I tease, relishing the way his hands slide up and down my back possessively. He shoots me a slightly aghast glare. The desire in his eyes hasn’t dimmed, not even a little–if anything, it’s only intensified.

‘How could I not be?’ He eventually manages, voice rough and deeper than I’ve yet to hear it. The bass of it all sends a thrill down my spine, his fingers trailing swiftly afterwards. He pulls me down hard into his lap, and I can feel the growing evidence of his arousal through his slacks. A shiver of anticipation tugs at my stomach. ‘I mean…just look at you. You’re…you’re half-naked, essentially throwing yourself at me, and yet you tell me I can’t have you the way I want you? Of course I can’t speak.’

I laugh, leaning in to whisper in his ear. ‘Patience, Dr. Reid, patience.’

The way his hands tighten on my hips, encouraging me to move against the hardness in his trousers, speaks volumes. Impatience radiates from him, his barely restrained desire, and it only fuels my own excitement. This is a very dangerous game we’re playing. I just happen to be the one holding all the right cards for once.

I don’t know how much longer I can be patient, though…the night is still young, and there’s so much more to explore. As I lean back into him once again, I can’t help but feel that this is exactly where I belong—lost in each other, with nothing but desire, passion, and the sweet sounds of NFWMB by Hozier filling the air.

It’s strangely perfect. I don’t think I can wait much longer.

Spencer cannot wait to get me out of Elysium.

Once our hour is up and the light changes from sultry red to a near-blinding white, he’s up out of the leather seat like a shot, practically manhandling me towards the door. I only make him wait long enough for me to slip back into my dress, laughing the entire time as he hurries me. It’s like he can barely hold on any longer, wanting nothing more than to get me back to the hotel. I can barely contain my glee.

Tia throws her head back and laughs when she sees us come out of the private area. She’s perched on the arm of a chair, a patron spread out like a throne for her to sit on, but her attention is briefly taken by the way Spencer has his hands on my hips, his chest pressed to my back, shoving me towards the door. I give her a knowing look as I pass her the key. She shakes her head at us before dismissing us with a wave of her hand.

I let Spencer practically drag me through the club, a wide smile on my face. His grip on my hips is firm and possessive, causing that strange tug of desire to yank at the pit of my stomach. He is no longer the calculating, reserved Dr. Reid but rather a man driven by primal instincts, and I’m loving every single second of it.

As we navigate the dimly lit space, Spencer having slung my duffle over his shoulder when we passed Jas, I can feel the eyes of other patrons on us. A man smoking in a booth looks curious, the badge of his business slightly crooked as a dancer pours him another drink. A younger guy with very out of date spiked hair looks envious, and a pair of guys leaning against the bar look downright predatory, but Spencer either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. He’s too focused on getting me someplace private.

We reach the exit and Spencer practically shoves me out of the door, only muttering a cursory apology when I stumble over our intertwined feet. It’s only then that I realise I’m still in the heels and the tiny slip dress, but I know that Spencer will not stop for me to change. I’ll have to give the heels back tomorrow.

The cool night air washes over us, a welcome relief to the club's sweltering heat. Spencer doesn’t let go of me, though, his hands resolutely on my waist as he guides me towards the train station. It’s only a ten minute journey back to the hotel. Ten minutes too long.

As usual, the train is crowded. Spencer lets me get on first, ever the gentleman, and follows swiftly behind. A young man with dreads whistles appreciatively as I pass but I cut him a cold, harsh glare. I am not a piece of meat. Spencer, thankfully, doesn’t do anything. I don’t even know if he registered it. Spencer finds us a small spot at the back of the packed compartment, tucking me carefully in front of him.

His hands slide around to the soft swell at the front of my stomach and he pulls me back against his hips. I’m surprised to find that he’s still semi-hard. Spencer’s hands roam over my stomach, down the front of my thighs, which is an even bigger surprise. If Spencer hates germs, then he hates PDA even more, and yet here he is. Practically groping me on the subway. I can feel his heart racing against my back.

‘You were incredible,’ he murmurs, voice low and husky, breath racing down my ear. ‘I’ve never…I never imagined it would be like that…’

I smile, pressing my hips back into his and shifting slightly. When I speak, my words are barely louder than the noise of the train. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

‘Enjoyed it?’ Spencer repeats, voice laced with disbelief. ‘I didn’t just enjoy it, June, I…I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I think ‘enjoyed’ is a bit of an understatement.’

I laugh, leaning back against him. The train jerks as it rounds a corner, driving Spencer a little bit further into my arse. He groans, arms so tight around me I fear he thinks I might slip away. I arch my back very subtly, providing him a bit more friction. There’s something fun about having such an intimate moment in such a crowded space. No one seems to notice.

‘Well, I’m more than happy to do that for you again, Spence.’ I let my head fall back against his collar, speaking softly into his ear. His words have sent me into a tailspin of satisfaction. I’ve always known that Spencer is a deeply emotional guy, but seeing it like this, his desire focused on me like a sunray through a magnifying glass, is an entirely different drug. I fear I might get addicted.

He groans against the back of my ear, pressing a slightly sloppy kiss to the bare skin there. ‘God, thank you.’

He says the words like a prayer, a mantra, murmuring them again and again as his hands slide along my body as if we’re not in the middle of a train carriage. I can’t stop smiling.

When we finally arrive back at the hotel, Spencer ushers me through the lobby and into the lift, sparing a quick glance towards the bar to see if any of our teammates are there. If they are, he doesn’t say anything.

As the lift doors close, we are sealed in a very small, very private space, the tension between us palpable. The beating of my heart and the soft hum of the lift are the only sounds as we rise through the floors of the hotel. Spencer stands close behind me, arms still wrapped around my stomach, long, sinewy fingers playing with the hem of my skirt. When I meet his gaze in the mirror, I’m surprised (and thrilled) at how much darkened lust I find there.

The doors slide open and Spencer pushes our joined bodies out into the hall, aiming us towards his room. It’s the furthest from the rest of the teams, the only one it is next to my own, so hopefully nobody will hear what I know is about to happen. Anticipation floods through me, making the tips of my fingers tingle.

‘Spencer–’ I laugh as he presses me against the door, fumbling with his keycard. He doesn’t reply with words, instead pushes me even tighter against the wood. ‘Spence!’

‘Shhh.’ He says roughly, finally managing to get the keycard into the slot. The door buzzes and I manage to get the handle, the two of us spilling into the darkened room.

Spencer kicks the door shut behind us and grabs me.

He turns me around and captures my lips with his, a kiss so ferocious I almost forget my own name. The force behind it sends us stumbling backwards, his arms groping at any piece of me he can find. It’s electric, the culmination of hours of teasing, of sexual-frustration, stoking that flame in my stomach. I want it to become an inferno.

His hands find their way under the hem of my dress, fingers brushing against my thighs, sending shivers down my spine. His nails scrape the soft flesh he finds there. I gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, tasting the remnants of our earlier drinks. The kiss becomes more urgent, more demanding, as if he’s trying to memorise every detail, every sensation.

‘Spencer–’ I say between kisses, pushing his shoulders back as he curves himself over me. This is so unlike him that I have to look at him properly to make sure he’s in the right state of mind. His hair is tousled, pupils blown, lips parted as he stares at me hungrily. It’s still my Spencer, that’s for certain, but he’s so driven by desire that he’s nearly unrecognisable.

‘What?’ He says, using his leverage on my hips to yank me tighter into his body. We stumble a little, my hands knotted in the front of his shirt.

‘Nothing–I just, I didn’t realise this would get you going so much.’ I laugh, brushing hair off his face.

‘That’s the whole point, isn’t it?’ Spencer says darkly, brown eyes boring into mine. ‘To get people aroused?’

‘I mean, that’s part of it,’ I muse, carefully undoing his tie as we talk. I drop it somewhere onto the floor. ‘But it’s also about the connection, the–the anticipation. Most people who end up at a strip club are lonely or horny, and we’re there to…lighten the load. Remind people how to feel alive.’

‘Do you miss it?’ Spencer asks without even a pause, fingers bundling the hem of my dress up until the black satin is fisted in his hands.

‘Working there?’ I scoff incredulously, shaking my hair out of my face to give him a bemused look. ‘No, not at all.’

‘I meant–I meant the feeling alive part.’ Spencer dips his head down to brush his lips to the hollow of my throat. My body shivers, and I take an automatic step backwards. Spencer follows.

‘I get that with the BAU, too.’ I remind him, enjoying being a little bit more teasing. Every time he tries to kiss my neck, I edge away a step. Spencer grumbles in the back of his throat and follows. My spine hits the edge of the ensuite bathroom. ‘In fact, I think it’s even more rewarding.’

Spencer lets out a little groan of frustration, the sound low and ragged, before he grabs me by the back of the neck and forces his lips against mine. It’s sudden and rough, the kiss feverish and nearly all-consuming.

His hands are everywhere. In my hair, tugging on the soft strands at the back of my neck to pull my face up further into his. Against my hips, sliding down to knead at the flesh of my butt, yanking me tighter against him. They’re pulling at my skirt, the straps of my underwear, cupping my breasts. It's as if he’s trying to learn every part of my body with his hands, memorising every feeling. I stumble against him.

My back hits something cold and hard, and I gasp in surprise. We’ve somehow made it into the bathroom, but Spencer doesn’t seem to care. He mumbles something against my throat. His hair is smooth, soft beneath my fingers, my head rocked back as he makes short work of my neck. I hiss as he nips at the skin there.

‘Fuck, Spence.’ I manage to say as he presses me against the counter, hips pinning me in place as his hands continue to explore every single inch of me. I like him like this. Desperate. Possessive. Fuelled by passion. On such a logical man, it’s thrilling to see him so…debased, almost.

‘Gods, you’re gorgeous.’ Spencer moans against my throat. In one fell movement, he grips the backs of my thighs and picks me up, pushing me onto the counter with a strength I haven’t seen from him before. The marble is cold under my legs, skirt pushed up around my hips. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about it—whilst you were dancing. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I would do to you when we got back…’

As he speaks, he trails sloppy kisses along my collar, his hands reaching down to push my legs apart. Arousal pools in the pit of my stomach. When he reaches the lace of my bra, he looks up at me with wide, desire-laden eyes. Permission. He’s asking for permission.

‘Please—’ I half-moan, hands knotted in his hair.

Spencer drops to his knees instantly, my hands going with him, as he ghosts a kiss to the inside of my knees. He’s really going to do it. Right here, in the middle of a motel bathroom. Spencer’s hum vibrates through me as he peppers teasing, slow kisses up the insides of my bare thighs. A finger slips under the thin strap of my thong. Eases it carefully to the side—he doesn’t even bother taking it off.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,’ Spencer says softly, eyes scouring over my body, warm breath racing up the apex of my thighs. I stare down at him in awe. He looks like Eros right now. The dim light casts deep shadows underneath his cheekbones, lips parted and slightly swollen, eyes swimming with a thousand emotions I cannot begin to comprehend. It’s all I can do not to worship him right there. ‘I even thought about it on the train…’

‘What—?’ I gasp, but Spencer doesn’t reply. He smirks, licks his lips, and delves in.

The first touch of his mouth against me sets me on fire. He is exploratory, delicate, tongue teasing as he starts to eat. My hands tighten in his hair, head falling back against the glass as moans start to slip from my parted mouth. Spencer’s hands dig into my thighs, forcing them wider when I involuntarily tighten them, carefully licking a stripe between my folds. I can barely keep my eyes open. Pressure and pleasure begin to build in my stomach, the feeling of him devouring me almost too much to bear.

Spencer pauses for a second and does probably one of the hottest things I’ve seen him do. With his mouth latched onto that bundle of sensitive nerves, tongue rolling against it, he reaches up and takes his glasses off. It’s one smooth movement, as if the frames were getting in his way. I shudder another moan, pulling on his hair, desperate for more, more, more.

Spencer chuckles against me and it nearly sends me over the edge. He gives me what I want—after swiping the broad pad of his tongue up the centre, he focuses on my entrance. The moan I release is positively sinful.

He is unrelenting. Every lick, every graze of his teeth, every reverberating murmur, is expressly designed for my pleasure. He’s learnt impossibly quickly how to get me to the very edge of my arousal. Spencer’s eyes are closed as he buries his face between my thighs, fingers leaving bruises. He looks so good that I can’t tear my eyes away.

Soon enough, sooner than I thought possible, I’m balancing on the cliff of climax, hands pulling mindlessly at his hair, hips bucking slightly. I crave friction. Spencer growls and uses an arm to hold my hips down. Ironic how he is clearly unimpressed with my impatience when he was the one who practically dragged me from the club.

‘Spence—’ I gasp out, bottom lip trapped between my teeth so hard I almost taste copper. He swirls his tongue expertly with a soft moan of his own. He’s clearly lost in the taste of me, in the feeling of having me mercilessly under his control. ‘I’m gonna—I’m so close—’

This he hears.

With another rumbling murmur, Spencer doubles his efforts. The arm clamping my hips down to the counter tightens, the other hand dropping from my knee to lightly trace intoxicating patterns to the bare skin of my thigh. His mouth moves frantically, sucking every drop, every shiver of pleasure. It’s only when his tongue flicks against that bundle of nerves once more that I finally crash over the edge.

I’m moaning his name as I hold him against me, trying desperately to move my hips as my body tenses. Ecstasy makes my limbs shiver, the only sound the filthy noise of his mouth and the rapid thumpthumpthump of my pulse in my ears. He sees me through my shattering orgasm, his own encouraging moans mingling with mine.

It is over too soon.

‘Holy shit.’ I breathe, staring down at him as he rocks back onto his haunches, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth clean. ‘That was…holy shit…’

‘I hope you’re trying to say good things,’ he teases, putting his glasses back on so he can see me. Spencer has a smug little smile on his face that only serves to make me love him even more. My hands push my own hair back shakingly as I gaze down at him. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I just—I couldn’t help myself.’

‘Oh, don’t apologise,’ I say breathlessly. Spencer stands up and I follow suit, fingers drifting to the buttons of his shirt. With easy, practised movements, I begin to unbutton it. ‘That was…unexpected, but don’t think for a second that it wasn’t appreciated.’

‘I wanted to do that to you in the club,’ Spencer confesses, hands gripping my hips possessively. He stares down at me with desire-darkened eyes. This is a surprise. Spencer Reid cleans his desk every single day, and won’t shake people’s hands, but imagined eating me out on a strip-club sofa. My skin starts to heat again. ‘And on the train…hell, I even thought about it in the elevator.’

‘My, my, Dr. Reid, who knew you had such a filthy mind.’ I say, thumbs brushing the lithe planes of his stomach. Grabbing his now-open shirt with my hands, I start to lead us out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Spencer follows me willingly like an apostle.

‘Only when it comes to you.’ He says frankly, flicking hair away from his face. The fresh light of the main room brightens his features, turning his brown hair into a halo of golden strands. A bemused smile turns up his still-damp lips. ‘Besides, how could I not? You’ve been teasing me for hours.’

‘You did ask me to,’ I remind him with a laugh, turning my chin up for a kiss. We’ve stopped next to the bed, with his back to it. Right where I want him. ‘You can’t blame me for that.’

‘I’m pretty sure I can.’ Spencer says cheekily, smoothing a hand under my upturned chin. His bemused smile widens at my slightly petulant frown. ‘It’s not like it was Derek shaking his ass at me.’

‘Now that’s an image I’m never gonna get out of my head.’ My face crumples in disgust. ‘Thanks, babe, thank you so much.’

‘You’re welcome.’ His grin is infectious, his cold fingers curling carefully around the base of my jaw, holding my face up to him. It’s a surprisingly dominant move for Spencer.

He leans down and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips. I use my grip on his shirt to support myself as I taste the remains of my orgasm on his tongue. Spencer groans deep in the back of his throat, fingers tightening on the column of my neck, holding me in place. His body is warm and moulds around mine as I press myself against his chest, one of my hands splayed across the pit of his stomach. His tongue swipes against mine but it’s then that I push him backwards.

Spencer’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down with a huff of surprised air. I sidle between his knees, perching myself down on his thigh as I press my lips to his cheek, his throat. Spencer’s arms automatically ring around me as he hums in pleasure.

‘Let’s get this off,’ I speak against his slightly-salty skin, peeling the shirt from his shoulders. Spencer helps me shed him of his shirt and I see the muscles of his back shift as he does so. Spencer isn’t ripped but there’s a lean, quiet power to his physique. I give him an appraising look. ‘Much better.’

‘I can’t say the same for this,’ Spencer pouts slightly and plucks at the little silk slip I’m wearing. He then looks lower. ‘Aren’t those shoes really heavy?’

‘You have no idea.’ I laugh, crossing my legs so that the stripper heels slick in the dim light. His hungry eyes scour down my bare skin. ‘Why, do you want me to see if I can find you a pair in your size so you can try ‘em on?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t think they make them in size eleven.’ Spencer muses, giving me a teasing squeeze on my hip, his other hand brushing hair from my face.

‘Hey, isn’t that the whole plot of Kinky Boots?’ I remind him, pressing a kiss to the space behind his ear. Spencer chokes on nothing. ‘Don’t worry, Spence, I won’t make you. I think you’d break both of your ankles.’

‘How do you even walk in them?’ Spencer laughs, hands trailing over my body as I slip off of his lap to kneel between his spread legs, pressing gentle, anticipatory kisses to his body. There’s no music but I start to sway a little. His eyes narrow slightly as my kisses start to trail lower and lower.

‘At the start,’ I slip my fingers into the waistband of his trousers for barely a second before sliding them out and down his thighs, still swinging my hips to nonexistent music. ‘I couldn’t. Tia had to give me several lessons before I could dance in them properly. After a while it became easier.’

I watch him from under my lashes, trailing teasing fingers across the inside of his slacks. Spencer stiffens. His breath starts to come in shallow pants, betraying his anticipation. My smirk reappears—it’s time for me to repay the favour. The lack of music bothers me, but I don’t want to break the trance to turn some on. I turn my attention to the button on his trousers.

‘And—and now you can dance in them.’ Spencer says after too long a pause, as if just remembering how conversations work. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. ‘Did you know that there’s an annual average of 14,058 injuries caused by wearing high heels?’

‘Seriously?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow. ‘That many?’

‘Mmhmm,’ Spencer’s voice is strained as I manage to undo the button of his trousers and start to shimmy them down his legs. He lifts his hips for me so I can get them off properly. They pool around his ankles and I have to spend some time undoing his shoes before I can shuck all of them away. ‘Those—the ones you’re wearing are probably, what? Seven? Eight inches?’

‘Yeah, probably.’ I say, very much distracted as I spot the evidence of his arousal pushing painfully at the fabric of his boxers.

‘Any—anything greater than 3.5 inches can have a significant impact on the, on the body…’ Spencer manages to say as I reach forward and run a nail carefully up the growing length. He hisses, releasing a shuddering breath. When I look up at him, his starved eyes are trained right on me.

‘A significant impact, you say?’ I prompt him to keep going, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee, then his thigh, sneaking higher and higher. My fingers toy with the hem of his boxers.

‘Yeah—uh, wearing heels for too long can, can lead to musculoskeletal issues in the, in the future…’ Spencer’s voice is husky and strained as I finally pull his boxers down, tossing them aside with the rest of his clothes. He looks painfully hard, precum already weeping out of his tip. His words trail off expectantly.

I do not give him what he wants.

Instead, I sit back on my haunches and carefully slip the dress from my body, leaving me in just the specifically chosen lingerie for Spencer. He shudders again, eyes desperately flickering between my mouth and his erection. I know what he’s after. Spencer isn’t exactly subtle. I raise an eyebrow—I want him to keep talking.

‘God—’ Spencer groans when he realises. I wait patiently, nails scraping down his thighs. ‘Heels can, can place a greater strain on muscles and tendons—Jesus—’

I run my tongue from the base to the tip, swirling it around the spongy head. It tastes like salt and at the first brush of my tongue, Spencer’s whole body clenches. I start slowly, teasingly, kitten licks to the head before languid, slow strokes from the base up. His hand falls into my hair, knotting there. I pull back and wait.

‘Oh—fine—’ Spencer glowers playfully down at me. He licks his lips and continues. ‘Heels reduce the movement of the medial gastrocnemius—one of the muscles in your ankle—, reduces the—the length of your step—oh my—’

To reward him for continuing, I encircle my lips around his head, starting to suck gently. The hand in my hair tightens. Spencer’s words are punctuated by soft breathy whimpers as I start to bob my head, starting off slowly before building to a pace I think he enjoys. I hollow my cheeks as his head falls back in pleasure. When his words trail off, I slow down—if he wants me to keep going, then he needs to keep talking.

He moans my name in annoyance but I’m unrelenting.

‘Heels can–can have a negative impact on the rest of your body, too…’ To his credit, those words are relatively well strung together, so I speed up again. He gently encourages me on, using his hand in my hair to set the pace he wants. It’s fast. He’s shuddering underneath me. ‘They can, can affect your lower back, your shoulders–even your neck–’

I lock eyes with him and he stops mid-sentence. The groan he lets out rumbles through the room.

‘Easy, Spencer,’ I laugh, voice husky as I pull away from him–I don’t abandon him completely, though, using one of my hands to slowly pump his length. ‘The team are practically nextdoor–’

‘I don’t care.’ Spencer says, and I can see that he means it. Even he seems a little surprised at the genuineness of his words. The wetness between my thighs grows at this. The idea that Spencer doesn’t give a shit about our teammates, the people we have worked so hard to keep our relationship (both romantic and sexual) from, turns me on more than I would care to confess.

I think this over for a second before shrugging and returning back to what I was doing. He’s warm and hard in my mouth, and I take as much of him as possible before steeling myself. I take a deep breath and open up the back of my throat. Spencer groans again, louder this time, as he slips further and further into my mouth. He holds me there as he ruts up into me, hips rolling on instinct.

He’s nearly insatiable. All I can do is dig my hands into his calves and relax, letting him use me in the way that he so desperately wants to. It’s the least I can do.

Then, Spencer roughly pushes me off of him. I’m surprised and fall backwards onto the floor, yelping as the carpet burns across the backs of my thighs, but I don’t have time to complain. Spencer follows me to the ground with a starved hunger I haven’t seen on him before.

His callused hands are coarse on my bare skin as he flips me over with surprising ease, a small huff of air slipping through his mouth as he does so. The carpet threatens to burn my knees when Spencer yanks my hips upward, and I barely catch myself before my face smacks into the ground. He’s panting now. In fact, he doesn’t even bother to remove my thong.

I get no warning before Spencer pushes himself inside of me in one, harsh movement.

He bottoms out fully, taking me from behind in a near-feral way, and he does not give me time to adjust. It’s rough, hard, fast, as if all the hours of teasing have finally forced him over the brink. He uses the leverage he has on my hips to pull them back into his, our bodies meeting in a violent crash of passion. I can feel every inch of him, every delicious stretch, and it’s all I can do to remain upright.

Spencer’s voice is a jagged mess as he groans, his arm looping under my hips to hold me up against him as he slams into me. He sets a brutal, relentless pace, finally being given permission to chase that high he’s been striving for since we first arrived at Elysium. I’m barely anything more than a blissed-out moan, fingers searching for any kind of purchase on the carpet. There is none.

‘God–’ Spencer says, and his lips press to the column of my spine. His thrusts slow slightly–they’re no longer ferocious, becoming smoother, as if he’s just remembered that he can take his time with this. I’m not going anywhere. His chest meets my back as he falls over me, a hand appearing in my field of view to support him. My fingers search for him and he intertwines our hands. ‘God, you’re beautiful.’

I let out a breathy laugh. It’s the best I can do. I’m unable to form any kind of coherent sentence at this point, too focused on the divine way Spencer slips in and out of me. Spencer’s words send a thrill through me, though, a warmth that rides along with the fire of arousal. It’s not just about sex with Spencer–it never really has been. It’s connection, intimacy. It makes me feel alive.

He continues to thrust into me, his rhythm slower, more deliberate. Each movement makes my body sing with pleasure and I gasp soft moans that intermingle with his. His hands worship my body–tracing the curve of my hips, the pattern of the lace on my bra, the dip of my waist, as if each part of me is a prayer he’s trying to memorise. And by God I want him to learn it all.

Too soon. I approach the cliff of pleasure too soon, spurred on by my earlier orgasm.

‘Spencer,’ I moan, my voice barely a whisper. ‘I’m–I’m so close–’

He growls in response, his hips stuttering for a second before renewing their thrusts. He angles himself slightly differently and the tip of his dick brushes that small circle of nerves inside of me. The moan I want to make gets jarred in the back of my throat, coming out as nothing more than a strangled gasp. I never want him to stop but that precipice is looming with each rut of Spencer’s hips.

‘Come for me, darling.’ Spencer groans, his thrusts becoming ragged. ‘Come with me.’

That’s it. That’s all I need.

We both shatter.

The world explodes into a blur of colours, ecstasy gripping my limbs for the second time that night. My eyes close on instinct as I focus on riding out every damn wave of pleasure I can get. Spencer encourages us through our combined highs with a few extra rolls of his hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my arse so hard it would hurt if it wasn’t for all the oxytocin coursing through us.

He collapses on top of me, panting mouth near my ear as we both shudder, coming down from that inexorable bliss. His weight is warm and welcome on top of me, causing me to slip until my stomach is flat against the carpet. His hair tickles my bare skin but I don’t care. I relax underneath him, feeling our breathing sync up.

‘That was…’ Spencer mumbles, rolling off to lie beside me, brushing hair out of my face. Evidence of our activities seeps out to coat the inside of my thighs. His body is flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his glasses slightly askew. ‘That was incredible.’

‘You weren’t so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.’ I smile, tracing a finger under his jaw. Spencer rolls his eyes, tracing what feels like words against my hip, but the smug little smile on his face tells me all I need to know. ‘Maybe I need to give you lapdances more often…’

‘I would be a fool to say no to that,’ Spencer says, tugging me closer. It seems to be then that he realises where we are, and what we’re lying on. I see the pleasure quickly morph into one of almost-apologetic disgust. He lifts himself off the floor and onto his elbow, eyeing the hotel carpet sceptically before turning wide eyes to me. ‘I didn’t even think–I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you onto the floor–’

‘Spencer, Spencer,’ I chuckle, sitting up too and running a hand across his cheek. He looks slightly panicked, and I can tell he’s wondering how many germs there are nestled in each fibre. ‘I liked that you pushed me. It was hot.’

‘You–you thought it was hot?’ Spencer says incredulously, rising to his feet and offering me his hand. I take it, squeezing my thighs together to try and stop the weird dripping feeling.

‘Oh, yeah. Really hot–how hot’s the sun?’ I ask, letting him pull me to standing. I stretch my arms above my head, relishing the stretch of the previously tensed muscles. Spencer gives me a weird look as he loops his arms around my hips, his chest pressed against mine. He humours me.

‘About 5,600 degrees Celsius.’ He says, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

‘Then I reckon it was slightly hotter than that,’ I say, looping my arms around his neck to offer him my lips for a kiss. He obliges. It’s tender, gentle, almost as if he’s saying thank you. ‘So, maybe, 6,000 degrees Celsius?’

‘You’re an idiot.’ Spencer reminds me, pressing another kiss to my lips immediately after.

‘Hey, I have a doctorate, thank you very much.’ I say, detaching myself from him and starting to back up towards the bathroom. Spencer, of course, rolls his eyes at me playfully. ‘We can’t all be Mr. Three PhD’s. Come on, I’m in desperate need of a shower.’

Spencer chuckles and spins me around in his arms, pressing his chest to my back and his chin to my shoulder. I can hear the smug smile on his voice as he says: ‘Don’t forget the fourth one on the way.’

‘Nerd.’ I tease, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up through my throat. ‘Shower, now, please.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Spencer guides both of us into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind us. His lips descend to my shoulder again, and he mumbles against my skin. ‘You know, shouldn’t I be paying you right about now?’

‘Oh, sweetheart, you just did.’

After a quick, warm shower, we emerge sleepier and more content than I think we ever have been in a motel. Spencer wastes very little time in clambering into bed, even grumbling in annoyance as I take too long getting ready. The sheets are cool, his body warm, and within seconds of wrapping his arms around me, Spencer is asleep. Almost as if he were waiting.

It takes me a little longer to drift off, though. I can’t stop thinking about it. Spencer was so…different, so passionate and unrestrained, so hungry. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen before. Even thinking about it in the darkness of his motel room, the soft sound of his regular breaths reminding me I should be asleep, the thought of it thrills me. I can still feel his hands shoving me to the floor, the roughness in the way he fucked me. It thrums through me to my core.

I know a lot of it was due to the circumstances. Elysium breeds passion, it’s kind of the point of it, and the anticipation of it all created a perfect maelstrom of desire. By the end of it all, Spencer couldn’t think of anything other than having me that way. I’ve seen it time and time again. Desire is a blinder, narrowing focus until all there is left is feeling. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to it.

Maybe Spencer is finally starting to feel comfortable with me. Maybe he’s always had this well of thirst in him, that depth of need, that he’s been too afraid to let out. Maybe he didn't know it existed. Or, perhaps he’s always been like this, and I’ve just been too blind to see it. My favourite theory, though, my selfish theory, is that I’m the one who’s brought it out in him.

The thought makes me shuffle closer to him, gentle so as not to wake him up. As I fall asleep, wrapped up in him, with his lips pressed to the top of my spine, I let myself come to terms with the fact that the sweet Spencer Reid might not be as sweet as he once was. There’s an entire new side for me to explore, to unlock.

I just hope I can handle it.

THANK YOU FOR READING! MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fanfiction #larkspur-acontium #spencer reid headcanon #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds headcanons

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rizzyu · 2 years ago

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Hi, can you do demon slayer girls when reader is just working out and demon slayer girls just stare at their boobs. And when reader finds out they straight lie, they say something like 'I was just making sure you wouldn't fall, I wasn't staring there' or they would just be honest and out and out say something like'Sorry but your boobs look really nice'

Also I love your writing <3

What Are You Looking At?

Pairing: Fem Demon Slayer characters – Nezuko-chan, Mitsuri, Shinobu, Tamayo, Daki x f! Reader

Category: Fluff, slightly suggestive

Warning: Nudity because of the b a d o n k s, small and tiny bits of manga spoilers (and swordsmith village arc if you’re stupid enough to have not finished watching that already)

Summary: When they got caught staring at your boobs while you work out

A/N: *inhales* WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT NOT LOOKING AT PEOPLE’S BADONKERS

Anyways thank youuu <33

Nezuko-chan

Ever since Nezuko conquered the sun, she was required to stay at the Butterfly Mansion for the safety of herself and basically the whole of humanity. On one hand, she got a bit upset since she couldn’t accompany her brother during Hashira training. But on the other hand, she was glad that she could stay with you. You were almost constantly training ever since then due to the prediction of having a huge battle with Muzan soon. On this particular day, you were doing physical training in the garden while Nezuko accompanied you. You often wrapped bandages around your AHEM *coughs* badonkers while you train. But maybe you didn’t tie them well today, because while you were doing weightlifting exercises with boulders, a bit of the bandages started to come off, exposing slightly more of your AHHHHEM *cough cough* (sorry I caught covid haha) badonkers. That didn’t go unnoticed by Nezuko. She watches as your b-b-b-b-boobs heaves up and down as you try to control your breathing, and they managed to pique her curiosity. You and your sharp senses managed to catch her staring at you, causing you to turn around and look and her. Nezuko immediately turned her head away. You put down the boulders. “Nezuko what were you looking at? Were you staring at my chest?” You tilted your head slightly and chuckled. Nezuko knew that she shouldn’t lie but she was too flustered to be honest about it either. “Sorry I was just curious… Besides, they look really nice.” Her voice barely above a whisper. You laughed in response “Silly girl, I won’t get mad.” You walked over, placing a hand on her head and lightly patting it. “You’re really cute.”

Mitsuri

On the training grounds of the Kanroji mansion, you and Mitsuri were sparing with each other for training. The top buttons of both of your uniform shirts were unbuttoned to let some air in while you two exchanged attacks. You leaped into the air as you dodged the wide-ranged attacks of Mitsuri’s flexible sword. When you tried to rush in and land an attack yourself, you were blocked by her own. You consecutively blocked each other’s attacks at extreme speed. You noticed how your reflexes improved a lot since the last time you spared with Mitsuri and urged yourself to focus and do even better. But as you were concentrating so much, Mitsuri it was actually losing concentration. Her eyes travelled towards your chest, exposed by the semi-buttoned shirt. She started to get lost in her thoughts as she watched your boobs moved along with your attacks. Kyaaaaaah they look so nice! N-no! You have to focus! Though it wasn’t long before Mitsuri gave in to her fetish with your badooonks, and she failed to block your attack in time, causing her to fall over. “Woah! You ok? You seemed really distracted today. Plus, it seemed as if you were staring at something on me the whole time… Could it be…?” Uh oh busted… A shade of bright red immediately spreaded across her face. What should I do?? This is so embarrassing! But lying is bad too! “Kyaaaaaah I’m so sorry I was staring at your chest! It's so embarrassing but your chest looks so nice!” Mitsuri admitted with hands covering her face, trying to hide the extreme blush on her face. “I didn’t expect you to full on admit it so whole-heartedly. But hey, it’s all good” You spoke as you kneeled down next to your flustered Mitsuri. “Afterall, I stare at yours quite often too.”

Shinobu

You had been bedridden for quite a few weeks after getting injured from a mission involving one of the Twelve Kizukis. And now that you were back on your feet, you had to begin you rehabilitation training. On the training grounds of Butterfly Mansion, you began practising your swordsmanship skills on the training dummies, slashing them with your wooden sword while using Total Concentration Breathing, until the dummies broke from the impact. Despite being bedridden for so long, you had improved your skills and had become much stronger than before, Shinobu could tell that. From her spot on the engawa of the Butterfly Mansion, she observed you training. She had always admired you, you were always training with extreme concentration, striving to become stronger so that you could save more people. Not to mention, you were also really pretty. Shinobu watched as you continuously slashed the training dummies, until she caught sight of your chest. They way they move along with your arm movements mesmerise her. “Oh! Kocho-sama I didn’t realise that you were watching me! Am I doing alright?” Hearing her name getting called from you snapped her out of her thoughts. “You’re doing great, keep it up alright? I’m… just here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself again.” You smiled widely at her before returning to your training. Even though she said she was making sure you don’t get hurt, but you already knew the actual reason why she was here.

Tamayo

Tamayo sat at her desk, scribbling notes about her recent demon blood research. You, on the other side of room, were doing exercises. Every once in a while, she would pause her research and watch you work out with her cheek on her hand. You look so captivating when you work out that it sometimes distracts her from doing research. The way sweat beads trace down your forehead and cheeks. And the way you try to catch your breath. She doesn’t show it, but she secretly enjoys watching you work out a lot. You leaned against the wall to catch your breath while fanning yourself. Even with the windows open, you’re still struggling to cool down, so you reached up to your shirt and unbuttoned the first few buttons of your shirt, revealing a bit of your cleavage. Tamayo’s purple eyes widened at the sight of it. Getting lost at the sight of it rising up and down as you breathe. Your sharp senses noticed Tamayo’s gaze which led you to turn your head to face her. Her eyes widened and she immediately turned back to the research paper on her desk. “Sorry… they just look nice…” In a voice barely above a whisper, Tamayo admitted without facing you. You lightly chuckled in response. “That’s all good! But hey, that research is important. It’s for that one red haired boy, right? You should get the majority of it done first. Afterwards, you can stare at ‘them’ for however long you like.”

Bonus: Yushiro often comes up with plans to assassinate you (fails miserably everytime)

Daki

At the base of the Infinity Castle, you decided to spar with Gyutaro for fun. As you two exchanged Blood Demon Art attacks, Daki sat on the sidelines observing the playful battle between her brother and her beloved. You leaped from platform to platform to dodge Gyutaro’s attacks. But when you land on the floor, the hem of your yukata began to slip and expose your cleavage slightly. Daki noticed almost immediately and fixed her eyes on your badonks. You landed a final blow towards Gyutaro, causing him to fall backwards. “That was fun. Though it seems like your skills had been a bit off lately.” You spoke lightly with a hand on your hip. “Is that so? Then I think I need to do more training with you.” The black-and-green haired demon responded as he got up and went to grab something to drink. You turned to Daki and found her sitting at the very edge of the stairs, head forward and eyes focusing somewhere on you. You followed her gaze towards your yukata. Oh. “Daki, were you staring at my chest?” Your voice made her snap out of her daydream. “WHAT?! No I’m not! I was just... making sure you don’t get hurt! That’s all…” You lifted one of your eyebrows. “Sure… sure…” “AAAAAA YOU’RE SO ANNOYING! IF YOU GET HURT NEXT TIME, DON’T COME TO ME CRYING!” And with that, Daki stormed off. Heh, she’s such a simp.

Holy cow what the hell am I writing lol

and yes the photos are much more blurry this time

#riyugu writing #yorutenshi riyugu #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny x reader #kny #nezuko x reader #nezuko #nezuko kamado #mitsuri x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri #shinobu kocho #shinobu x reader #shinobu #tamayo #tamayo x reader #daki x reader #daki

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thestruidora · 2 years ago

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How about this prompt with Dean Winchester x reader?

In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.

Thanks!

Cry Wolf

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Werewolf Dean, Possessive Behavior, Some Angst, Fluff and Smut, Non-con Elements if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Blood Kink, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Undertones

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean gets bit by a werewolf during a hunt, forcing Sam on a quest to find the sire lycanthrope and cure his brother. Suffering the effects of the transformation, Dean is quarantined in the bunker all by himself. It really is bad timing when you come a-knocking, utterly oblivious, and with a bleeding gash on your upper thigh. Did I mention it was a full moon?

This is a one-shot. Here's the masterlist of my other fics: Masterlist

Chapter One

Bad Moon Rising

"Don't come around tonight, well it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise."

You were limping, the cut on your leg sending a shooting pang through you every time you took a wobbly step forward. Getting in your car had been difficult, driving had been terrible, but leaving the vehicle and trudging down the asphalt road to the uneven terrain along the entrance of the bunker was the real bitch.

You banged on the side of the door, the metal continuing to vibrate long after your knock.

“Guys, it’s me.” You announced. A dark, heavy cloud loomed over your head, covering the big full moon that shone in the sky. Soon little beads of water were beginning to fall on top of you. “Come on, it’s starting to rain!” Still, there was no response.

You cursed under your breath and took your phone from your pocket, calling Sam one more time. As it had happened in your previous attempts, his voicemail was all you reached.

“Shit.” Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name, about to press the call button yet again, but a gearing sound stopped you in your tracks.

The bunker’s door was cracked open by an inch, wide hazel eyes meeting yours through the gap.

“Dean?” You could only see a sliver of his face, but his pupils were incredibly dilated, almost obscuring his irises entirely. His mouth was agape, and he panted for air as if he had just run for miles.

“Hey, kiddo.” You cringed, not only at the condescending nickname that he had forced on you years ago, but also at the rasp in his voice. It was gruffer than usual, deep, and full-bodied. “Whatcha doing here? Is Sam with you?” He looked over your shoulder, eyes darting around to inspect your surroundings.

“Uh, no. I’ve been trying to call you guys, is this a bad time?” You placed one of your hands on the side of your wound, wincing at the ache. With the other hand, you held onto the wall in front of you, uncomfortably shifting your weight.

Dean noticed the rip in your pants, a dark red spot tingeing the fabric of your jeans, and instantly his expression changed. The furrow in his brow disappeared and his face lit up, a glint you had never seen before flashed in his eyes, making them appear greener for a second.

The door of the bunker swung open, revealing the disheveled image of the older Winchester.

His hair was messy, as if he had tossed and turned in bed. His lips were split and swollen, as if he had bitten on them till the skin broke. And the navy blue shirt he wore was drenched in sweat, the light material stretching under his biceps and his heaving pectoral muscles. You didn’t remember him being that ripped.

“What happened?” He asked, focus unwavering from the gash on your thigh, tongue poking out to wet his parched lips.

“I had a run-in with some demons. Those sons of bitches did a number on my leg.” You explained, not liking the way he didn’t look up at you, appearing to be entranced by the seeping blood coming from your damaged skin.

Dean refused to say anything in return, or maybe he simply wasn’t capable of doing so. He just stared at your injury with a kind of sinister awe.

“I don’t wanna impose or anything, I was just kinda hoping Sam could patch me up.” You added at last, those words seeming to snap him out of his stupor.

“I can do it.” He blurted out, not giving you any time to think before he wrapped his hand around your wrist and tugged you inside.

You cried in pain when you stumbled into the bunker, not prepared to move your thigh so abruptly, his grip too tight where he held you without letting go.

“Sorry.” He murmured, noticing your discomfort but not loosening his clasp.

The wet sole of your boots squelched on the vinyl floor and you felt a rush of relief to be sheltered from the increasing rain, if only that feeling could’ve lasted for longer.

Dean slammed the door behind the two of you, the click that reverberated in your ears signaling that it locked as it closed.

“It’s fine.” You said, in regards to his apology, and offered him a weak smile while you pried his closed fist from your wrist with some difficulty. For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to let go.

You took a few shaky steps towards the foyer’s balcony, resting your arms on the railing of the staircase and looking down at the antechamber of the bunker, all the blinking lights from the old control panels catching your attention.

“Where is Sam, anyway? He’s not answering his phone.” You question, with your back to Dean, but no reply comes your way.

You shrug it off, assuming that he merely didn’t want to disclose his brother’s whereabouts. It was none of your business, after all. Like most things the Winchesters get involved in, it’s probably highly dangerous and way above your pay grade.

You can’t even begin to remember how many times you tried to participate in their world-saving crusades, be useful somehow, only to be flat-out prohibited by Dean. He’d say you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t safe, that you were too young, and so on until you stopped showing interest altogether.

Now, you hunt on your own, only seeing them from time to time. But you like it that way, you like having no one to bark orders at you, you like proving that you’re good at your job without anyone’s help. Unless, of course, you screw up and get hurt, in which case you do need someone’s help.

“Do you even know how to do it? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna need stitches.” You inquire about your wound, the abused tissue throbbing even as you stand still.

You sense movement behind you and Dean’s hand appears at your side on the railing, his torso touching your back and his nose tickling your nape. You hear him inhale deeply and then let out a sigh of pure satisfaction, the hot air landing on your neck and sending a tingle of goosebumps up your arms.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to face him, forcing some distance between the both of you, absolutely shocked at the quick turn of events. “Did you just sniff me?”

“No, of course not.” He shakes his head, almost as confused as you are. He scans you up and down, licking his lips again, and his eyes glaze over before he puffs out a breath and fights to recompose himself. “I mean, yeah, a little bit.”

“Why?” You elongate the syllable, thinking that maybe, if you really enunciate your words you might be able to get some sensible answers from him.

“It’s just that-” He advances on you and you back away from him, your ribs hitting the railing when you have nowhere else to go. He stops in front of you, invading your personal space and caging you with his big arms. “You smell so fucking good.”

He hunches over you, bending his spine till the tip of his nose touches your temple and his lips graze the high point of your cheek.

“Dean.” You call to him, but he fails to acknowledge you in any way. “What are you doing?” You try again, more forcefully this time, and he ignores you just the same. There’s a continuous vibration coming from his chest that sounds awfully similar to a purring animal, almost like he wants to soothe you into submission.

His left hand grabs the fat of your hip, bunching up the hem of your shirt and squeezing under the fabric, abnormally long nails nipping at your skin. His right hand, however, entangles itself on the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling unceremoniously so as to expose your neck to his exploration.

He mouthes on your pulse point, huffing as he pants and nuzzles against you. He doesn’t exactly kiss the sensitive skin as much as he runs the plump pillows of his lips up and down the span of your bared throat, drawing invisible shapes of his choosing.

He then finds a particular spot he likes best, right behind your ear, and fixates on it. Completely lost to the world when he lolls out his tongue, longer than what is humanly possible, and licks where the taste of your natural scent is the strongest.

The moment you feel the wetness of his saliva laving at your flesh, you jolt jarringly, pushing at his chest with all your will, and it’s like trying to move a mountain with the way he doesn’t even budge.

“Stop!” You yell, mustering as much assertiveness as you can into your tone before you give him a final shove, sending him three to four steps backwards.

Dean seems to awake from a daydream, eyes flashing to a fluorescent green and back to his normal hazel. He stares at you with a frown, unable to catch his breath, attempting to take a step in your direction but you raise a finger at him and he halts.

“Stop it.” You order and his frown deepens, looking wounded and unhappy, but he obliges.

You spear a glance at the stairs to the side of you, your only escape route since he was currently blocking the door from where you came in. You could race down the steps and lock yourself inside of the many rooms in the bunker, but with your leg the way it is, you wouldn’t make it past a single step before he caught up to you.

With your index finger still raised at him, you support your weight on the railing and move to make your descent down the stairs, planning on taking it one slow step at a time.

“You’re hurt.” He states after you swallow a lament while on the second step, visibly itching to come closer. “Let me help you, I can carry you.”

“No. You’re gonna stay right there.” You command, doing your best to not let the pain show in your features as you drag yourself to the floor below.

His feet inch towards you while he eyes you like a disobedient puppy, knowing full well that there’s nothing you can really do to stop him.

“You’re gonna stay right where you are, and we’re gonna wait till your brother comes home, and then we’re gonna sort this out.” He’s at you before you finish your sentence.

You yelp when he snatches you suddenly, pulling you below your shoulder blades and lifting you up, your only option being to wrap your calves around his hips and brace yourself onto the back of his neck to keep from falling.

He carries you down the rest of the stairs, short-winded and with droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. He burns you, not only with the heat of his unblinking gaze, but also with his unnaturally high body temperature. You had never felt someone’s skin this hot in your life. You didn’t understand how he could be standing, let alone holding you like you weigh nothing.

“Ok, you can put me down now.” You say when you get to the antechamber, but Dean’s grip tightens on you and he continues to walk into the war room.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He’s mumbling, and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you or to himself. “I just need to-” He drops you on top of the light-up map table in the middle of the room, with surprising care and delicateness. “I just need to scent you.”

“What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, trying to move away but he restrains you, sinking his claw-like fingernails into your nape as a clear display of dominance. You whimper at the sting and he leans over you, purring louder than before.

“Dean, listen to me.” You can’t shake the feeling that you’re attempting to reason with a crazy person, but you have to try. He’s much stronger than you, bigger and faster, even more so with one of your limbs impaired. Talking him out of this is your only chance of preventing whatever he has in store for you. “You’re sick, you must be delirious from a very high fever.”

“Love your taste.” He’s clinging to you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he laps at you with his tongue. The moist, flexible muscle undulates across your collarbone when he goes further down, pouty lips closing in to suck at the juncture of your shoulder, right above your artery. “Wanna bite you so bad.”

“You’re not making any sense.” He’s completely disregarding your words, though he smiles at your breathy tone.

You press your mouth shut and close your eyes when he rakes the pointy edges of his teeth over your veins, not wanting him to hear or see how his ministrations are beginning to affect you. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how sharp his canines were, closer to fangs than anything else.

He tugs at the collar of your shirt, ripping the cloth with outstanding ease and exposing your bra. By that point, your own breathing was labored, the mounds of your breasts bouncing up and down in their tight confinement as you heaved.

Dean’s irises are radioactive green when he feasts his eyes at you and proceeds to stick his face in your cleavage. He groans like a madman and pulls at one of the cups of your brassiere, your right tit spilling out and being clutched by him almost immediately.

He traps your nipple between his index and middle fingers, teasing it to a stiff peak and you shake at the burst of pleasure. You grab at his forearms to steady yourself, swallowing down a moan that threatens to escape you.

“Let me hear you.” He yanks your head back from where he holds you by your scruff, as a dog would do to another, and you let out a whine at the bestial way he handles you. “That’s right, don’t hold back on me, give me everything.” He takes your puffy nipple into his mouth, suckling and biting, and a fire spreads through your lower abdomen at the sinful sensation.

Once he ceases his assault on your boob, the tumid bud is covered in his spit, the chilling air from the ventilation system making it that much more sensitive.

His hands fly to unbutton your pants, and you’re so dazed from his heady presence all around that you allow it for a minute, only moving to intercept him when he has both of his hands hooked at the waistband of your jeans and is already tugging them down.

“Dean, we gotta stop this.” You beg him, a considerable amount of your restraint lost as you fail to convince him, his hands too strong for you to swat away while he peels off your jeans. The material sticks to the dry blood around your cut, making you flinch, but he continues till the garment hits the ground, cooing an apology for your discomfort. “There’s something wrong with you, you’re not yourself.”

He pays you no mind, transfixed by the image of you laid in front of him only in your underwear. He looks even bigger than when you first arrived, thick neck bulging with raised veins and rippling muscles straining under his shirt.

“You smell ripe.” His voice is hoarse and booming, a feral edge emanating from him when he kneels before you. He brings his head close to the gash on your upper thigh, hypnotized by the blood that oozed from it, filling his lungs with the scent of your arousal mixed with your blood. “You’re good enough to eat.”

The ends of his white teeth sparkle in the artificial light coming from the lamp in the ceiling, appearing to be razor-sharp. It gives him an ominous aura that causes you to shiver under his unrelenting glare, and he smirks at you, wrapping his hand around your legs to prevent you from moving.

His lips graze the inflamed skin around your wound and you squirm at the contact, fearful of what he might do next. The talons at the ends of his fingers scratch at you as a warning to stay still, and you do, gasping when you feel the scrape of his tongue on your tore flesh.

“This can’t be happening.” You say to yourself as you watch him hunched over you, smacking his lips at the taste of your blood, as if you were a rare delicacy and he was hungry.

His first couple of licks stung, causing the muscles of your thigh to contract involuntarily, a torrent of purrs coming your way in an effort to alleviate your distress. But as his saliva coated your broken skin, the soreness subsided and the pain was numbed. All you could feel then was the strange but far from unpleasant sensation of his continuous lapping, a spark of neediness shooting up from where he was laving his tongue at you, making your middle throb and pulsate.

He grunted, looking up at you as if he could sense your craving, as if he could smell it. His left hand travels up your leg, stopping by the fabric of your panties, pushing it to the side, and uncovering your glistening cunny.

You feel his licking on your cut becoming sloppy as he salivates and his fingers move to caress the top of your pussy. He presses gently on the hood of your clit, revealing the swollen bundle of nerves to his eyes that shine with a desperate desire.

“Look at how wet you are.” He mutters, mouth colored with a slick shade of crimson. The pads of his fingers rub up and down your slit, gathering the moisture seeping from your clenching hole to massage your flushed bead of pleasure. “You’re so precious.”

The praise goes straight to your pulsing center, molten lava settling in the pit of your stomach, and you mewl shamefully when the back and forth of his fingers makes your pussy gush.

You never thought Dean would do something like this to you. He had always treated you like a baby sister, while he was the overbearing, overly protective older brother.

He’d comment on the length of your skirts and on the tightness of your blouses, going so far as to deny you rides to places if you didn’t change into something he thought of as appropriate.

He’d hang around you at bars, hovering too close, keeping any and all interested guys from interacting with you.

He had always seen you as a kid, and now there he is, sucking on the lacerated flesh of your thigh like it was his last meal and fingering the sopping place between your legs.

“Please!” You cry out, no longer sure if you’re pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

“You want more?” You answer your own internal question by nodding enthusiastically to his, and Dean groans and drools on your open cut as he inserts two of his long, thick fingers into your scorching hot cunt. “You need more to cum, princess?”

Your lips form a perfect o when he breaches your tight, gummy walls, stirring your insides until he finds the spongy, tender spot he was searching for and fucks it with come-hither motions, over and over, again and again.

“Oh, my God, Dean!” You wail, high-pitched and wanton, losing all your inhibitions and bucking your hips in time with the flicks of his wrist as he drills his callused digits inside you, roughly and repeatedly, without giving you time to adjust to his incursion.

“That’s right, squeeze my fingers.” His voice was low and heavy, laced with untamed ferociousness, akin to the rumbling of a snarling wolf. But even with his lips gleaming with the ruby substance from your wound that he insisted on licking, speaking between the obscene slurps, Dean managed to rein in his most primal instincts to encourage your free-fall into bliss. “You can let go whenever you want, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

You revel under his coaxing, under his reassuring words. You didn’t know how much his approval would affect you, embarrassingly loud wet noises coming from your soaking folds while he hits that place inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out.

All your life you dreamed of having Dean’s validation, and now he was showering you in it, your cunny fluttering at his constant moans and grunts of elation, even though you haven't touched him once. His satisfaction came from giving you pleasure.

That burning euphoria mounts up and up till it snaps and you fall down the precipice. A rush of pure, untainted ecstasy overtakes you and you scream, the drive of his fingers scissoring your spasming walls prolonging your orgasm.

As you lay there, atop the light-up table, a panting and heaving mess, Dean slowly withdraws his fingers from you, making you squirm and whine at the absence.

There's some movement happening around you, the rustling sound of clothes hitting the floor along with the metallic clank of a buckle. You barely register the lack of his mouth on your injured leg, any ounce of pain that you once felt coming from it having been entirely erased.

You sense him grabbing the sides of your panties and ripping the fine cloth with quick, firm hands, and you still can't find it in yourself to react while the flimsy pieces of fabric are rendered into useless scraps that fall off of your body.

But the blunt end of his dick searing into you is what brings you back to reality, the feel of his girth stretching you in ways you didn't even know were possible being too much to ignore.

The whole thing was too much. The position that you were in, with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips yet again just so they don't dangle off the table. The noises coming from both of you, broken sobs that begged for more of that violent jolt of adrenaline. And, of course, the incomparable sensation of being split open by the biggest cock you've ever taken.

“You're doing so good, kiddo.” You make grabby hands at him when you hear him call you that, whimpering pathetically, and he leans over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips.

Some sick part of your brain brings forth all the times he hugged you when you were still a teen. The way his huge hands would squeeze the small of your back and your tits would rub up on him as you stood on your tippy-toes to receive his embrace. The way he would linger a little too long and bend his neck to steal a whiff of your hair.

He pinches the side of your belly and you gasp, his tongue seizing the opportunity to force its entrance into the warm cavern of your mouth. You scratch the skin of his nape and pull on the short hairs on the back of his head, moaning at the slick, pornographic kiss.

His lips close around your tongue and he sucks on it, slurping noises filling the room as he pounds into you, his heavy balls hitting your dripping pussy and squelching over and over.

“Keep taking all of it.” He breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear, filthy words in that baritone voice littering you with goosebumps. “Be a big girl and take all of this dick.”

You let out a puff of hot air and nod at him, promising to do your best as he spears the fat head of his shaft in and out of you with abandon.

His sweat begins to blend in with yours and you tug at the hem of his shirt, wholeheartedly annoyed at the fact that he was still wearing it at all. Dean chuckles, all sharp and pointy teeth that could rip into you and take out a chunk of your flesh, but instead, he spoils you and removes the offending garment, putting his hands over his head and pulling the shirt from behind till it is off, tossing it aside without a second thought.

You grope the span of his torso, from his broad shoulders to his barrel chest, and then his defined abdomen. There was definitely something unusual going on below the surface, an unlimited potential he kept trying to contain. As if he could grow bigger, become somehow larger, change right before your eyes.

You feel your way through the taut muscles under his skin, running your palms down his powerful arms and back up to his wide neck. He gulps under your scrutiny, your hands catching the way his throat bobs and his pupils shrink then dilate again, seemingly as mesmerized by you as you are by him.

He takes your right hand and brings it to his face, mouthing the pulse point, scenting you as he fucks you, the hammering of his length into your cunny growing erratic. He licks and sucks and scrapes his fangs on your wrist, almost to the point of breaking the fragile skin, groaning as you whine desperately.

The more he rams into you, molding you to the shape of his absurdly hard member, the more you come to terms with the fact that he has ruined you to any other man. Because why would you seek someone else's touch when you know only Dean Winchester and his monster dick have the power to obliterate your pussy?

With his free hand, he applies pressure to your clit, swiping the rigid pearl up and down and side to side, ignoring your pleas for mercy as you find yourself on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, kiddo, give me another one.” He commands, tone silky and honeyed, but still imposing and domineering in a way that if he were to tell you to jump, all you could do would be to ask how high. “I know you can give me another one.” He keeps going, thumb relentlessly playing with your pleasure point. “Cum again for me.”

You yell, honest to God yell, unsure if you can survive the wave of heat that burns in your loins when your cunt compresses around him, all the nerve endings in your body vibrating simultaneously while you cum.

Because he fucked you so good, because he rubbed you just right, because he said so.

As the dam breaks, a sudden spurt of hot, slippery fluids pours forth from your slit. A copious outflow of liquid cascades from you and lands on Dean's pelvis and his lower stomach.

“Fuck!” You elongate the word, sobbing due to the unmatched delight you experience like you never experienced before. The feeling boarding on too much and not enough at the same time, Dean's fingers continuing to grind against your center even as you squirt all over him.

“What a messy girl.” He grins, iridescently green eyes sparkling atypically, fingers finally quitting their assault on your raw clit, your cunt contracting around his veiny cock from the aftershocks of your mind-blowing release. “Spraying your juices everywhere.” He tuts and pulls out from you, inch by inch, agonizingly slow.

You give out a pitiful lament at the loss and at his taunting words, the noise that comes from your throat utterly unbecoming of a grown woman, but you can't seem to care at this point.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know I-” Dean interrupts your expression of regret with the full weight of his dominant hand landing between your legs, slapping your puffy folds, and making you writhe on top of the table.

“Don't fucking apologize.” He snarls, leaning over to bury his nose in the crook of your neck and swipe his tongue on your feverish skin. “You did so good, I'm covered in your scent and everyone's gonna know.”

You mewl like a bitch in heat when he starts to jerk the span of his shaft on top of you, the mushroom head catching on your entrance from time to time while he strokes himself from base to glans. Precum weeps from the bulbous end and mixes with your own wetness.

“Gotta mark you now.” He tells you like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's obvious. His hot breath tickles your neck, the tips of his sharp teeth almost piercing your soft flesh and you shiver at the idea that he still might just lose control and do it.

You crane your head down and do your best to steal a glance at the steady rhythm he's building, managing to stare in awe as he pumps the meat of his member.

The tender tissue is flushed and throbbing in his firm grasp, his balls tensing up, full of pent-up energy. You can't believe how big it is, beautifully cut and well groomed. Painfully hard and thick, so thick you don’t even understand how it had entered you.

He grunts and squeezes the round edge before picking up his pace, not knowing where to look as his eyes roam from your swollen lips to your pert nipples, and then your quivering pussy.

“Gonna make you smell like me.” He mumbles, muscles straining and veins bulging, steaming ropes of white bursting from his urethra and landing on your face, on your boobs, and on your belly.

Dean roars as he covers you in his spent, dense and sticky and endless shots of cum painting you. You whine in surprise, licking off some of the substance that got on your lips. He tastes rich and tangy, full of a power unknown to you but still palpable, making your tongue tingle and your throat burn when you swallow.

He's out of breath and so are you, but he doesn't allow you time to recompose yourself since he's already rubbing his release over your belly, taking a glob of it and smearing it on your slit. You thrash about because the feeling is too overwhelming, but he holds you in place and pushes his seed into your welcoming hole.

“You look gorgeous like this.” He says, reverence in his tone while he bites your earlobe and stuffs you with his essence. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

You don't know what to say, you don't know how to act. You hadn't expected to be categorically ravished by the man you had always seen as an older brother today.

In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn't that Dean, the Dean you knew your whole life, at least not fully.

Something inhuman drummed beneath his emerald eyes, the familiar hazel long gone by now. And any shadow of doubt that you might have had about his feral state is pulverized when you feel his length harden again against your inner thigh.

There’s no refractory period and you scream as he bullies that fat dick inside you once more, feeding it into you more carefully this time.

“Holy shit!” You're hoarse, sinking your nails into his shoulders and drawing blood.

How can he be hard? How is that even possible?

He hisses when he bottoms out, filling you to the brim. His rough hands find leverage on the meat of your hips, clasping each side firmly before he begins to pound into you. He uses you as a cock sleeve, lusciously scraping the ridges of his hard-on against your clammy walls.

You can't find your voice, the room spins around you, and your head bangs on the hard surface of the table in time with his thrusts.

You can feel everything. Every nook and cranny that he reaches in you. The twitch of his shaft every time he hits your cervix. The furniture that supports you creaking below.

“Mine.” He proclaims, the smacking of his sweaty skin on yours upping in tempo, the dirty noises the two of you make bordering on offensive. “Say it, say you're mine.” It's an order and you want to comply, but your brain has turned into a scrambled, useless thing so all that comes out of you is a prolonged whimper.

Dean isn't able to handle your unresponsiveness, growling loudly and inflicting another slap where you are most sensitive, a broken sob erupting from you at the contact.

“Tell me who the fuck you belong to, kiddo.” His voice is so velvety it makes your eyes roll.

He’s everywhere all at once, you can’t see or hear or smell anything else but him. Somehow he’s still growing inside you and your lungs burn because you keep forgetting to breathe. You forget your own name in favor of being the center of his world in this moment.

“I- I'm yours.” You croak out, tears getting caught by your lashes, convinced that the speed in which he pumps in and out of you should be criminal. “I'm yours, Dean."

He pulls violently on your hair and howls, guttural and wild, the base of his member expanding impossibly larger still and stretching your opening when he begins to cum inside you. You try to pull away, but you physically can’t, not with the way he pins you down and plugs your cunt with his knot.

How did that happen? How did you end up here?

“This isn’t real.” You think you say it out loud, but maybe you didn’t and there’s no way of knowing for sure.

You can still feel him pulsating and ejecting spurt after spurt of his milk into you, purring so loudly you can’t even hear your own thoughts.

He rests his head on your chest, the both of you stuck to each other until you don’t know when, but he seems content with that. His fingertips draw irregular shapes up and down the expanse of your arm as he regains his wind much quicker than you do.

You stay like this with him, and at some point, he senses something you don’t and tenses up, straightening his back to look to the right of him, careful not to tug where he’s joined to you.

“Dean!” You faintly catch Sam’s voice when he shouts, but it’s muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The younger Winchester is standing by the end of the staircase, features overtaken by shock, a syringe filled with blood in his hand as he stares bug-eyed at the scene before him.

His brother on top of you while you lay naked on the table in the middle of the bunker, covered in cum and trapped on his dick, eyes dazed and blissed out, panting through parted lips.

Dean looks at Sam, then at you, then back at Sam. The supernatural glow in his irises dies down and he seems like his true self for the first time since you got there, brows furrowing while he clicks his tongue and considers the situation.

“Listen.” He raises his index finger at the furious brunet, a sheepish grin on the corners of his mouth. “In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #Supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean x reader #spn fandom #request #story prompt #sexy times in the bunker #werewolf dean #eat my heart out #bite the fuck out of me #paint me like one of your dallas girls

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 year ago

Text

Shooting a Movie

Note: I have nothing to say for myself. shoutout to @foxyanon for letting me ramble about this fic to her as I made it up.

Warnings: 18+!! smut/pwp. reader and Masema are pornstars, what else do I need to say? All the clichés are there.

pairing: Modern!Masema x you (f)

summary: Before shooting an adult film with Masema, he wanted to meet you for a chemistry check. And a test ride.

wordcount: 3,1k

Masterlist

Working with Masema was like a dream come true. Everyone knew he was simply the hottest guy in the porn industry and everyone wanted to work with him. But Masema was picky with who he worked with, being able to have that privilege, so you couldn't believe it when you heard he wanted to make a movie with you and therefore invited you over to his house 'to see if the chemistry is there,' as his email had said.

You were an up and coming name in the business, being the shy and innocent looking bombshell everyone wants to be or wants to be with, and Masema was interested in working with you because he knew for a fact he could corrupt a little delicate and shy thing such as yourself. He knew he could make you shed that innocence and pull out a wild and filthy side of you that you hadn't discovered yet. There was nothing wrong with making soft porn, as you did, but he wanted to make a mess out of you and he was determined to do so. But first he wanted to meet you, because no matter how beautiful you were; if there was no real chemistry, Masema didn't want it.

Masema's house was big, kind of what you'd expect from a guy with his profession who made a lot of money just because of the way he looked. And he did well for himself, very well.

Masema greeted you at the door, dressed in tight grey jeans that showed off the shape of his legs and he wore a black sleeveless shirt on top, immediately impressing you with the size of his biceps. You weakened at the thought of how easily this man could pick you up with just one arm and throw you around, only to use you as his toy, and you would let him use you the way he pleased, no questions asked. His hair was tied back, sporting his signature top knot cut, and his mismatched eyes were even prettier in real life than you could've imagined. His voice was low and smooth each time he spoke, so honeyed and warm that you knew from the get go you would do everything he'd tell you to do, on and off camera. His smile was flirty and it became clear within seconds that he's quite touchy, as he constantly brushed his fingers over your bare arms and lightly touched your lower back as he guided you through his massive house and into his backyard, where you both sat back on his luxurious loungeset, overlooking his pool with sparkling clear water, and he offered you something to drink to break the ice.

Masema sat close to you, manspreading and with his arms spread out across the sofa's backrest. His eyes were now hidden behind his dark shades as they trailed up from your bare legs to your face while you enjoyed your drink, and he very much enjoyed the sight of you in those cute white hot pants and white cropped shirt on top. As always so innocent and cute looking, he simply loved it because he couldn't wait to break you.

'So,' he said, his voice barely above a murmur, 'I'm actually surprised you wanted to work with me.'

'And why is that?' you smiled.

'I've seen your movies,' Masema replied and licked his lips, 'and we're quite the opposite, aren't we, doll?' he tilted his head to the side with a half smile as he looked at you.

'Oh, well, yes,' you chuckled, 'I know I'm more in the soft porn category, whereas you are, you know,' you cleared your throat and shrugged lightly.

'Hardcore,' Masema added, 'yes. So, how did you envision this then, sweetheart? Because surely no one wants me to make a soft movie.'

'No, I know,' you said quickly, 'that's also not what I am expecting. But I thought maybe we could somehow combine the two.'

Masema hummed and looked out over his pool, as if he was pondering over your idea. And after a moment of long silence he looked back at you and smiled faintly.

'So, what do you have in mind?' he asked.

'I thought we could just start of slow, some touching and kissing-'

'I don't kiss in my movies, darling,' Masema interrupted, but he then paused and lowered his head slightly so he could look into your eyes over the rim of his glasses, 'but if you can make me want to kiss you,' he said, 'then you'd have a first time thing with me that would surely draw attention,' he winked.

'I can make you,' you purred as you leaned in closer, 'trust me.'

Masema watched how you lightly trailed your fingers up his thighs, and he wetted his smirking lips with the tip of his tongue. He wouldn't hand it to you that easily, but you were right. He wouldn't mind kissing you at all, even though that was always a hard no for him with everyone else. But he wasn't going to give in this fast, he would first just enjoy seeing you work for it and what you were capable of without being on set and having directors tell you what to do and what to say.

'Quite a statement,' he smiled and placed his big hand on your thigh.

'I know what I'm capable of,' you said with a cocky grin, your hand slowly moving up to his inner thigh.

You then began to rub his bulge through his pants, knowing exactly that the only reason you were invited was to show him what you were capable of, and you would make sure to give him exactly what he wanted in order to get that movie made as it would surely boost your career. Masema looked at you through his sunglasses, keeping his unphased posture while he wanted nothing more than to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name anymore, which is what he'd usually do, but he'd play by your rules for once now and sit it out.

He lightly traced your bare shoulder with his fingers while you continued to palm his trapped erection, and he felt a little lightheaded when you suddenly got up and stood in front of him. He watched you in silence as you slowly took off your cropped shirt and then sat down, straddling his lap. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders and teasingly grinded down onto him while you leaned in closer.

'So fucking hard already,' you purred as your noses touched lightly.

Masema hummed in response, his arms still spread while he enjoyed the friction you gave him, even if it was nowhere near enough.

'Can't wait to put you in my mouth and suck you dry, big boy,' you chuckled, to which Masema flashed a sly smile.

He then took your chin, firmly holding it with just three fingers while he nuzzled your nose briefly.

'And I can't wait to see your tears run down your cute little face while you choke on it,' he husked.

You sat back and laughed softly, that cheeky little laugh you always did in your movies, Masema had heard it before. But it was a little different this time, he could tell that this time it was genuine. And in response to that he suddenly grabbed your throat, pleasantly tight as he was squeezing, and he pulled you back to him to crash his lips onto yours, making it the sloppiest and hottest kiss you had ever received and it left your head spinning once he pulled away.

You then smoothly dropped to your knees while you were still recovering from the unexpected kiss. You were quick to unbutton his jeans while Masema just looked down at you, his lower lip drawn between his teeth and his head slightly tilted to the side. You pulled out his hard length, which was throbbing and you felt every vein as you gave his thick cock a few firm strokes. He was even thicker and longer than you anticipated.

You looked up at him as you dragged the tip of your tongue up from the base of his cock to his tip, which you teased with your tongue while he still sat back with his arms stretched out over the couch. He smiled faintly at you before he brought one hand up to the back of your head.

'That's it,' he said with a soft hum, 'wrap your pretty lips around my cock,' he then took off his shades, 'and look into my eyes while you suck me off.'

Your eyes remained locked intensely as you enthusiastically began to bop your head, while he gradually pushed your head down further, shoving his cock all the way down your throat until you gagged and your eyes teared up. You pulled away when he released his grip on your head, and he took your chin as you gasped for a moment of air.

'Already too much?' he smirked.

'No,' you smiled and wiped your mouth, drool and precum already coating your lips and chin.

'Good,' Masema murmured and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, 'tell me, beautiful, have you been slapped before?'

'No,' you almost giggled and gave him a daring look as you worked him with your hands.

Masema understood your gaze, and he then suddenly slapped your cheek, causing you to gasp and half moan with excitement before your cheeky laughter sounded again as you looked back into his eyes, hungry for more.

'Hm, you like that, don't you?' he asked and gently caressed your reddening cheek.

'Yes,' you smiled with hooded eyes while tears of pleasure slowly escaped and rolled down your face.

Masema hummed with a satisfied smile and slapped you again, then immediately took your face firmly as he leaned in.

'I'm going to corrupt you,' he said softly with his warm and raspy voice, 'I'll turn you into the dirty slut that you are.'

You bit down on your lip as you nodded and smiled, your eyes darting up and down between his deliciously twitching cock and his beautiful mismatched eyes.

'You want my cock?' he purred, seeing the hunger and need in your eyes.

'Yes, please,' you said desperately, 'I want to suck your big and pretty cock.'

'I know you do,' Masema murmured, 'you're practically drooling all over it, aren't you?' he teasingly slapped the tip of his cock against your parted lips while your eyes pleaded for more.

'Please,' you begged, then opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as Masema stood up and towered over you.

He leaned in and took your chin firmly again to kiss you.

'So pretty when you beg for me,' he husked and teased your watering mouth again with his cock, giving you only the tip before he pulled away again, 'so pretty on your knees for me.'

You smiled and squeezed your thighs together in search of relief as you watched him stroke his cock above your face. Masema slid his fingers in your hair, clenching a fistful to keep you in place and then shoved his whole length down your throat again. He exhaled sharp with pleasure and threw his head back, and he continued to fuck your mouth with a steady pace until he felt his climax was slowly approaching and the tears rolled down your face. He pulled out before he came at the sight of the mess you were, and he told you to take off your pants. You obeyed, but in return you told him to take off his shirt, to which he grinned and listened. You were then completely exposed, standing in front of Masema while he teasingly slowly slid down his boxers after he had taken off his jeans.

You admired his body; his toned biceps and muscular chest were to die for, his broad shoulders were perfect to hold onto, and his abs were simply an invitation to drag your tongue across. His thighs were muscular too and perfect to get off on if he wouldn't allow you the joy of getting fucked by him, but luckily he wasn't going to deny you that pleasure.

He picked you up with ease and threw you onto the comfortable bean bag next to the pool and, instead of getting straight to the point like he usually does, he granted you some of the soft porn sensuality you were used to and he slowly kissed his way from your ankle to your inner thighs. He then locked your hips with his arms as he kissed your soaked folds, before delving his tongue right in and pleasing you orally just the way you had done for him. He used his tongue and fucked you with his fingers until he felt your walls clench around his digits. He then pulled away, not allowing you your high yet, and before you could whine at the loss he had you already picked up in his strong arms again, and he slid his thick cock inside you with ease, stretching and filling you completely. He pounded your pussy without mercy, his hands holding your thighs bruisingly while you desperately clung onto his shoulders and kept your legs wrapped around his waist.

You both began to moan at the feeling, but before it became too much he pulled out again and quickly bended you over the table nearby, taking you from behind and causing your moans to become out of control while he ravaged you perfectly. He held your wrists with one hand, keeping your arms behind your back while his other hand was between your shoulders, keeping you pressed down on the table while he had his way with you.

'Nice and tight,' Masema moaned and laughed, 'fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.'

'Ahh, fuck,' you moaned with ragged breaths, 'more, please,' you begged and squirmed when he suddenly pulled out.

You moaned in protest, but then he unexpectedly shoved his cock fully back inside you again rather slowly, which made you whine with pleasure and was the reason for your eyes to roll back and your mouth to fall open with a smile curled on your lips.

'Harder,' you begged with a whisper.

'Look at you,' Masema said with a mocking tone as he pulled out slowly again, 'begging to be fucked harder,' he grabbed your hair and made you look up at him while he leaned in from behind, 'is that what cute and innocent girls do, hm?'

Before you could respond he slammed back into you again, and he felt you immediately clench around him while you squealed and screamed out in absolute pleasure.

'Oh, you're my favourite,' he grunted, repeating the movement again and again, 'so easy to corrupt. I'm going to enjoy having my way with you, doll,' he laughed and pulled out again, then easily picked you up once more and threw you over his shoulder.

He slapped your ass hard, to which you gasped and laughed as he manhandled you with ease, and you loved every second of it. He took you back to the loungeset, where he sat down and pulled you in his lap so he could fuck you from underneath. Your head was resting back on his shoulder while he fucked you out of your mind, hearing his low and ragged breathing in your ear while you felt his hand around your throat and his other on your waist. You could only mumble incoherently and moan loudly as he fucked into you deeply, his balls violently slamming against your pussy with each thrust, driving you both nearly to the edge.

He then swiftly swapped places and pinned your knees next to your head so he could fuck you even deeper while he looked down into your eyes. He fucked you like that until your legs were shaking and your moans sounded with a faint tremble as you both watched his cock slide in and out of you.

'Fuck,' you whined and looked back up into his eyes, only being able to murmur your words while you were simply cock drunk, 'ahh, fuck, you're so good. So fucking good,' you half drooled, 'I love your cock,' you laughed cheekily again, 'hm, I love your big fucking cock inside of me.'

'Yeah,' he husked and grabbed your throat, 'you dirty slut,' he laughed, 'you don't like to be fucked only soft, do you?'

'No,' you babbled as you struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling him bruisingly deep inside you.

'Taking me so well,' Masema rasped, 'I've never seen you this fucked out before,' he smiled, 'you just needed a real man to fuck you stupid like this, didn't you?'

'Mhm,' you hummed and moaned as you felt your core tighten abruptly.

And before you could even try to stop it, you felt your release coming in heavy waves with loud moans as you clawed at his back. Masema climaxed quickly after you, with a heavy groan, and he took your face to look at you while he slowly fucked you through both your highs.

'That's it,' he cooed, 'good girl, so beautiful,' he smiled a little dazed and kissed your lips gently.

'Oh, fuck,' you sighed, satisfied, 'fuck,' you said again and laughed before you kissed him, 'fuck, I think I'm in love with you,' you murmured against his lips.

Masema chuckled and shook his head as he stilled inside you.

'That's what they all say once I'm done with them,' he said and pulled out of you.

He helped you sit back gently and then gathered your clothes and gave them to you before he was fast to slip his own boxers on again.

'You can use the bathroom upstairs to clean up,' Masema said, 'second door on the left.'

You thanked him and went to clean up, needing a moment to yourself to gather some strength again. But still, your legs felt unsteady once you walked down the marble stairs and returned to the Masema's backyard, where he sat back on one of the lounge chairs with his shades on again.

'You good?' he asked.

'Yeah, you smiled, 'I should get going.'

'Sure, let me walk you out then.'

Masema walked you to his door and told you to have your manager hit up his manager, so a date and location to shoot an actual movie could be arranged, to which you happily agreed.

'Thanks for the good time,' he said and kissed your cheek, 'I'll see you soon, yeah?'

'For sure,' you smiled and felt yourself blush lightly, 'you'll see me soon.'

'Should be a good time again,' Masema said and winked, then checked out your ass while you walked as steady as you could to your car, so you could drive home and arrange the shoot.

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pathologickinkmeme · 10 days ago

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5 Year Anniversary Stats Post!

Can you believe that the Pathologic Kink Meme has lasted 5 whole years now? It's true! We got started on April 28th 2020 and we're still going. To honor this achievement, I thought it might be interesting to compile some current stats from the meme and compare it with the original 2021 post and see how the fandom has changed since the beginning. Let's start with the most popular characters and ships! Disclaimer: We are not professional statisticians and this was mostly for fun, so while we did our best to catalogue exhaustively and calculate accurately, we cannot guarantee 100% perfect accuracy. We also tried to avoid assessing for values that would require more than a brief skim of the fills to ascertain. Most Popular Characters

Fig 1.1 (2025)

Fig 1.2 (2021)

Artemy and Daniil still taking the top spots as the characters who feature in the most fics on the kink meme, but there's a notable trend here that we'll be seeing more of in other charts and that's the measurable explosion of Stamatin content in the fandom since 2021. Andrey and Peter were in about 4x as many fills as they were in 2021 while everyone else is only in around 2x as many. Stamatin Nation rise up! Most Popular Ships Fig 2.1 (2025)

Fig 2.2 (2021)

The kink meme has always been a rarepair haven and it looks like we've largely stayed that way, though a few ships have really taken off since 2021. Daniil/Peter and Daniil/Rubin have breached the 2% threshold to appear on the chart and Artemy and General Block are now vying for Lara's heart. Burakhovsky and Artemy/Rubin have remained remarkably stable, but Stamatincest has risen from a taboo niche to the second most popular ship on the kink meme (i'm so proud of us).

In case anyone is curious, last I checked, the Burakhovsky percentage on AO3 was at around 36%, so while we are certainly love the juggernaut on the kink meme, there's a lot more appreciation for everything else, too!