#and I don’t think telling women they should be more comfortable saying yes to sex or exposing their bodies or whatever solves what the

[westerberg]

From “Sex Will Be Good Again” by Katherine Angel

[thewritetofreespeech]

A Gift from Madam Sylvi

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond wants to be a good husband. So he goes to the only person he can trust for education on the topic.

tags: heterosexual sex, cunnilingus (f!oral), readers first time for that, antiquated medieval views on sex & relationship styles, platonic Sylvi/Aemond relationship, he's a good man savannah

words: 2.4K

Ao3

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“I want to make her happy.”

Aemond rested with his head on Sylvi’s breast. The madam’s fingers combing through his long silver tresses. Lulling him to just the borderline of sleep, and this heart felt confession.

“Your lady wife?” He hummed in acknowledgement. His marriage to the lady had been recent and tactical. It was a marriage for allies, not love. Still, his chosen spouse was a much better candidate than that moon eyed doe from the braying buck they had originally tried to bind him too. His now wife was much prettier, sharper, sweeter. She didn’t seem afraid of him, although cautious like any two people amongst strangers. They were trying to get to know each other. But with a war going on there was not much time for long strolls or quite evenings of conversation. Or whatever it was that newlyweds did.

“Well, I think, the fact that you want to make her happy is an excellent start your grace.” Sylvi told him. “Most women don’t even get that much effort in a lifetime.”

“I do not want an ‘effort’. I want to do it.” Aemond had always been a man of results. She should know that by now.

He curled further down to rest his head in her lap now. Fully clothed, and him with his breeches still on. Since his marriage, his visit to the Street of Silk had been infrequent and always like this. He felt���wrong laying with another woman when he had a sweet wife at home in his chambers waiting for him. Aemond wasn’t sure how his brother or other men did it. How cheap was their cost of loyalty if it could be swayed with just a little cunny?

No, he came to Sylvi for something else. Comfort. And advice. He certainly couldn’t ask anyone else on how to be a good husband. His brother would laugh at him, and also was probably only a good candidate on what to not do as a husband. His mother would tell him something about duty. Criston hadn’t and couldn’t take a wife. So, who was he to ask, except the woman who traded in love for a living?

“Well, listening to them helps. Finding out what they like. What they don’t like.” The madam’s fingers in the prince’s hair stop. “Your grace…do you mean to make your wife happy…entirely.” The prince’s long body curled up further into itself. Small as it would go. “Is that what this is about then? You want to make her happy that way.”

“I don’t think she likes it.”

Sylvi chuckled softly. “Most first timers do not. I’m sure you were gentle with her. You were always gentle with me.” Her hands resume stroking his hair. “But you’re worried she won’t like you if she doesn’t like it.” He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders make some manner of motion next to her knee stating the affirmative.

“Does she say no when you ask her?”

Aemond shook his head.

“Does she fight you?”

Aemond shook his head again.

“Why do you think she doesn’t like it?”

He paused, then finally answered. “She does not make the noises like they do.” ‘They’ being Sylvi’s girls. ‘The noises’ being the faint orchestra of pleasure heard just outside the curtain and over the music.

The madam laughed. “Yes, well, they are paid to make the noises, my prince. Just because a woman makes those noises does not always mean she is truly feeling them.” Aemond’s head turned up towards her. His good eye glittering daggers up at her as much as his sapphire. Clearly contemplating if all his sexual experiences in the past had also been a lie for coin. “But that does not mean you can’t make them real.” Sylvi added quickly. “A woman’s body and pleasure is more complex than that of a man. It takes a skilled hand and sharp mind to master it properly.”

The prince sat up from her lap. Sylvi’s heartbeat quickened as she wondered if perhaps her gambit to his ego hadn’t worked and she had suddenly, finally, crossed the line with him. “Show me.”

The fire hearth crackled a sweet tune in the background as you read for a bit before bed. A gift from Aemond.

You had been cautious in telling him you enjoyed reading, as not all men & lords liked their women educated, but he had taken the news quite well. Or you assumed well, as you were not beaten and instead presented with books.

Your new husband was much harder to read than these books, however. He was an enigma. Besides not being able to read his facial expression like most, due to his eye patch and also the fact that he hardly had any tell at all, he wasn’t the best conversationalist. You carried most of them between you, but the parts you could glean from what he offered back was that he was very smart, very dedicated, and that he liked apples. You made sure to have them in your shared quarters now at all times.

You wanted to be a good wife for your husband. It was all your life had been leading up to. As a lady, your duty was to marry well, give your husband children, and serve his house well with your talents for the next generation to past the torch. You never imagined that torch might be one made of dragon fire. Nor that the children you raised might be the crown jewel of the realm.

Your head perked up and your book closed when you heard the door open, and the sound of heavy boots follow in. You stand up to greet your husband, knowing it was him before you turned around and saw him. “Hello husband. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

He hummed in acknowledgement of your question. You do not ask where he has been. “Have you eaten?”

“I did.” You told him. “I had dinner with your mother.” The dowager queen seemed committed to making you feel welcome since your arrival and marriage. Perhaps it was because she was fond of you. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that she remembered what it was like to be a young woman alone in a strange place. In any event, you were glad for her company. “But if you haven’t eaten, I can call for something and sit with you?” Though you appreciated the former queen’s company, you suddenly wondered if you were supposed to wait for your husband.

Aemond shook his head. Then reached out to cup your cheek and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were cool from being outside, but quickly warm against yours. You moan a little. Still a bit shy in kissing a man when it had been forbidden to you for a long time, but unable to deny that you found great pleasure in Aemond. “I am not hungry for food.”

Your cheeks flush. Your eyes cascade down shyly. But you cannot help the smile that pursed against your lips. “Alright. Shall I call my maid to get me ready for bed?”

“I think I can manage.”

He took your hand and led you from the sitting room into the inner chambers of your bedroom. The torches unlit. Aemond preferred it that way as he liked to sleep in complete dark. The moonlight flickering through the curtains your only guide.

He does more than manage as he was able to get you out of your lacings and ties rather quickly. The fragile garment pieces are no match for those nimble fingers trained for years to peak dexterity. “Lay on the bed.” He told you. You were a little confused, as that was your intention, but you realized he meant on top of the bed. So, you did just that.

Feeling a little exposed, you watch Aemond undress as well; then feeling a little embarrassed at ogling but then realized if there was anyone you should ogle it was your husband. He climbed onto the bed and on top of you once he was naked. Your legs spread open for him. To give him space and access. You were familiar with this part by now, so knew the part you were expected to play by heart. But you were surprised when Aemond’s lips left from kissing you to down your neck, over your breasts, down your stomach…. “What are you doing?”

The prince stopped to look up at you. His chin hovering over your navel. “Just trust me.”

You did trust him. However, this was not how you were instructed on how love making was supposed to go. How was he to give you children when his thing was all the way down there? You were suddenly a little nervous, remembering some of the stories, not fit for virgin ears that had still made their way to you, of husbands who humiliated their wives in all manner of ways in the bedroom. You didn’t think Aemond would that too you, but you hadn’t known each other that long. Still, you lay prone and let him go on with whatever he was doing.

His kisses continue. Down your stomach to the seam where it met your maidenhood. Your whole body flushed when he kissed your mound. Squirming at the feel of hot breath on your most sensitive parts. This was….odd. This was wrong.

Aemond seemed to sense your distress and held your legs still & open for him. He looked up your body at you, not saying anything, before he dipped his head down again and licked at your center. A jolt shot through your body, and you could see now why he was holding you. It felt odd. Wrong. His tongue brushed against you again and this time it tickled. A giggle bubble out of your mouth at the feeling before you tried to squirm out from under him again, before the ticklish feeling gave way to something more.

Your body felt warm as his tongue continued to lap at your core. As if his tongue were actual tongues of fire, licking white hot heat in little pin pricks and cracks of flame over your skin. “A-Aemond..s-stop…this isn’t…this isn’t….hn!” Your back bent unbeckoned as his tongue slithered inside you. Where his cock should be. That was the only suitable thing that was supposed to be inside you. Or at least that was what you were taught.

You began to pant as Aemond’s tongue lashing continued. Coiling inside you. Slinking back out to tease just your entrance. Toying with your nub like it was a marble or piece of hard candy in his mouth.

Your fists grip the fine bedding under you. White knuckled to match the white-hot heat inside of you. “A-Aemond….Aemond stop! S-Something is happening…!” Something felt like it was building inside you. It felt similar to the feeling of you were about to fall, and you were scared that you were going to fall off the bed, or fall through it, or…something! You didn’t know what was going to happen but you knew it was going to happen if Aemond kept going.

“Aemond please…please….mmmhm…I can’t…I’m scared…Aemond I….Aemond!”

The feeling of falling consumes you. Your body still while your mind tumbled through the darkness to a bright white light before landing in stars. When it fell back into your head, in the space fit for it in your body, your limbs felt heavy and weak. Your mind supple. What just happened?

The prince lifted from his position between your legs. Politely closed them for you. Then came to the head of the bed to lay beside you amongst the pillows. His hand wiping at his mouth along the way. “What was that?”

“A gift for you.” His eye watched you. Looking at you in a way as if for some kind of tell. “Did you not like it?”

“No. I mean….yes. I don’t know…” The experience had left your world much changed. You didn’t like it at first, but you didn’t not like it. You were confused yet enamored and still a bit tingly all over. “Where did you learn that from?”

“A friend.” That was his only answer, before he reached out and touched your cheek.

You know enough about men to not ask where they get their sordid information from. Men liked to pretend they didn’t gossip as much as ladies, but that wasn’t true. Instead, you just coiled your cheek into his hand affectionately and turned to face him side-by-side. “Shall we…I mean…did you want to…the regular way?”

“Hmm…not tonight.”

He leaned in and kissed the top of your forehead. You were surprised. You thought all men wanted to lay with their women once the sun went down. But perhaps that was another assumption you had been told. You could feel Aemond’s persistence against your thigh, however, when he wrapped himself around you under the covers. You asked him again, but again he said not tonight and seemed to fall asleep behind you not long after that.

You stayed awake a little longer. Focused on making out the cracks in the stone through the dark as your mind was reeling. Trying to make sense of what happened.

On the one hand it had been…wonderful. Confusing to be sure, but now that the shock was wearing off you realized how incredible of a feeling it had been. But why didn’t Aemond want anything in return? Why give you a ‘gift’ if he didn’t want anything in return? When he didn’t have to give you anything in the first place? You were his wife. It was your wifely duty to lie with your husband. And it wasn’t as if it was a chore like other ladies described. Did he not find you satisfactory? Surely not. Otherwise, why give you a ‘gift’?

Your mind kept reeling, until eventually the carousel in your mind slowed down as it refocused not on the stone but the breathing at your back, and you eventually fell asleep. Perhaps it was just best not to question a gift when offered. You were just happy you had a husband who was interested in making you happy. Most women don’t even get that much effort in a lifetime.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Shaved or not? HXH characters edition

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: I just had the most random need to write out what their pubic hair looks like… it kind of helps characterizing them for smut later on. I may do this with the ADULT jjk characters as well.

warning: talking about pubic hair, misogyny in Illumi’s and internalized misogyny in Kikyo’s, suggestive content

Kurapika

For his partner:

Kurapika isn’t too picky, and won’t care if you shave or not. He does have a preference for unshaven pussy though, he’s not sure why.

Himself:

He keeps himself trimmed, but rarely shaves off all his pubic hair. It’s blonde, neat, and soft!

Leorio

For his partner:

He’s very loud about his preference for unshaven pussy, but won’t complain either way. Once he’s between your legs it doesn’t make much of a difference.

For himself:

He tries to keep himself trimmed and neat, but alas he’s a bit wild down there. His hair is a bit wiry, but not unpleasant to the touch.

Illumi

For his partner:

On one hand, he holds onto the stupid misogynistic thought that women should be hairless for their husbands, but on the other he really loves hairy pussy…… let’s just say he unlearns a lot of the things he’s been taught when he’s with you

For himself:

He shaves, waxes sometimes even. When you randomly catch him between shaving, his pubic hair is really soft!

Chrollo

For his partner:

Mmm… I think he has a preference for shaven pussy, but again I don’t see him as being particularly picky? If he’s feeling really needy he’ll shave your pussy for you. After all, it’s safer if he does it, he can see better and has much more precise hands!

For himself:

He shaves most of the time, but will go hairy if you ask. He likes to at least stay trimmed up and neat though!

Feitan

For his partner:

He will grumble if you talk about shaving, so let’s just say he definitely has a preference for unshaven pussy.

For himself:

He naturally doesn’t have a lot of hair, so he doesn’t have much of a choice. If you ask him to shave the little hair he has he will, otherwise he doesn’t have to do much maintenance(lucky)

Shalnark

For his partner:

PICKY!! He likes it hairy and will whine and pout when you shave. He’s only okay with you trimming it, and likes when you trim it into a little landing strip or a heart(he thinks it’s cute)

For himself:

He has soft, pretty pubic hair. He’ll occasionally shave or trim it, but otherwise he lets it grow wild.

Uvogin

For his partner:

Unshaven. He needs hairy pussy, and loves shoving his nose into your pubic hair to inhale your natural scent.

For himself:

His pubic hair is wild and wiry. He doesn’t shave or trim, but will do some light maintenance if asked

Phinks

For his partner:

He likes bald pussy, but will never state it. He’s just happy when he pulls your panties down and sees you’re freshly shaved for him :3

For himself:

He shaves, and maintains it pretty well. Probably subscribed to manscape 😭

Nobunaga

For his partner:

No real preference, he’s desperate for pussy so he’ll dive in face first no matter what. He does get a little harder when you shaved recently tho!

For himself:

Before he met you he just let it grow wild, but now that you’re having sex he keeps it trimmed. His hair is decently soft, if a bit stringy

Shizuku

For her partner:

She likes it shaved, but with a landing strip or cute pattern. She likes to nuzzle her nose into the little bit of hair!

For herself:

She keeps that thang bald. It’s just easier!

Machi

For her partner:

She has a preference for hairy pussy… but she’s another one that won’t complain either way. She just loves being between your legs!

For herself:

She keeps herself trimmed, but she’s decently hairy, and yes it’s pink! Soft too, like twirl your finger in it soft

Pakunoda

For her partner:

She has a very blatant preference for hairy pussy, and will tell you straight up that’s what she wants. If you want to shave, she won’t stop you though. Your comfort and happiness comes first.

For herself:

She keeps herself shaved, with a landing strip. Sometimes she’ll stop shaving and just occasionally trim everything to keep her pubic hair nice and tidy. It’ll never be wild, just know that.

Silva

For his partner:

He likes it wild and hairy… idk where illumi got the thought that women needed to be hairless from(wait yes I do, it was his mom)

For himself:

Also wild. He trims occasionally, but other than that his hair is decently soft and long

Kikyo

For her partner:

Bald. She believes women should shave their pussies! But… she has a secret preference for hairy pussy(it’s been suppressed)

For herself:

Because of her beliefs, her pussy is also bald!

Meruem

For his partner:

He has no idea about human norms, so he doesn’t even register that you can shave down there. He seems to have a preference for however he sees your pussy first.

For himself:

He doesn’t… have hair…

Knuckle

For his partner:

Unshaven! He thinks hairy pussy is hot, what can he say?

For himself:

He keeps himself neat and trimmed for his partner, how polite!

[ash5monster01]

hey!! could you please write more neil perry smuts? they’re so rare and your writing is amazing

your wish is my command 🤍

It’s Just Practice

Pairing: older!Neil Perry x actress!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, smut, dirty talk, language, oral f & m receiving, p in v, fluff, MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s Neil’s first sex scene on a new acting job and not only is he terrified but he’s afraid he’ll be so uncomfortable it will affect his acting. You provide a solution.

word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

You don’t miss the way Neil wipes sweaty palms on the front of his jeans, eyes darting to the filming schedule for the week, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Ever since you both had started filming this movie he hadn’t been nervous, in fact he was a natural, which you appreciated considering you had been doing this your whole life. That’s why his behavior has caught you off guard, the script pages fanning against your fingers as you flip through them in search of the lines you’d have to brush up on this week.

“What’s up with you?” your voice comes out sharp, startling him as he jumps to turn and spot you in your director chair, legs crossed, and script open on your lap.

“Nothing, I’m fine” he says unconvincingly and it almost makes you snort considering an actor should be much better at lying than he is.

“No you’re not, take a seat Bambi” you tease, watching the doe eyed boy nervously approach his own director chair beside you and take a seat. You know he hates when you call him that but someone so innocent looking like him exploring the world of acting on unsteady legs reminded you of the sweet deer.

“I swear I’m fine” he says, stretching his fingers over his thighs, looking anywhere but you as he clearly battles with whatever inner thoughts currently had him this on edge.

“Neil, I’ve been doing this a long time. So let’s skip whatever this is and get to the part where you confide in your experienced friend” his cheeks burn red, taking your words in a context you don’t quite understand yet, because he was currently freaking out about the scene scheduled for tomorrow.

“It’s about tomorrow” he nearly whispers, causing you to lean closer to make sure you don’t miss what he says.

“What about it?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed together as you close the script and plop it on the ground beside your chair. A nervous hand meets the back of his neck, massaging the flesh there as he attempts to find his words.

“I-I’ve never filmed a sex scene before” he whispers again and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles past your lips, shocked that of all things you two had already filmed together this was the one that shook him the most. “Please, it’s not funny”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just-, usually the men I act with look forward to those scenes the most” you offer, trying to calm your laughter down. Neil shakes his head so you reach to place a hand on his arm, offering as much comfort as you can.

“I’ve never done one before and if I’m being honest the guy who went to an all boys high school wasn’t actively getting laid in college” he tells you and this is something new about him that you hadn’t known, it could explain why he was still so nervous and sweet around women unlike some people in this industry.

“You have… right?” you find yourself asking and Neil wears a panicked expression.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been with a woman. Just not on camera, not like this” he gestures to the script, knowing the scene the two of you were to perform tomorrow was a high stakes passionate moment between lovers.

“Take a breath Perry, it’s easier than you’d think” you assure him, squeezing his arm once more before letting go.

“How could it be easier?” he asks, exasperated and little shaken up about this whole thing. He’s nearly positive that if he had known there was a sex scene he may have never taken the job.

“It’s easier because not only are we professionals but we’re friends. You can’t look at it like an intimate moment being watched by an audience, you have to be comfortable and trust me” you tell him, reaching for your water bottle. Neil lets the words sink in as you take a sip, eyeing how some of the water dribbles along your lip and your tongue darts out to catch it.

“Friends don’t kiss each other” he says with the shake of his head and you snort, twisting the cap back on your water bottle.

“In this business they do, it’s nothing, it’s friendly!” you assure and Neil can’t help but chuckle, finding a semblance of amusement in this minor crisis of his.

“Well if you don’t remember, this is only like my third acting job that isn’t theater” Neil says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and rub his hands together. You watch as his biceps flex under that thin material of his shirt and gulp lightly.

“Alright, here’s the deal. After filming today, come to my place, I’ll cook you dinner and we can…. practice the scene. Make sure you’re comfortable” you suggest, wringing your hands together and hoping the boy doesn’t take it in some weird way. You had been doing suggestive scenes a long time, long before it was probably even appropriate, so this should be nothing. How hard could it be to make Neil comfortable with you?

“Okay, that sounds good. Thank you” he says and you crack a smile even though you were suddenly the one who was nervous. There was nothing normal about cooking dinner for a man and practicing fake sex but then again nothing about this job had been normal so far. So you nod your head and prepare for the worst.

“Yeah, anytime”

It’s taking everything in you to tear your eyes away from them nearly empty casserole dish, the very one you and Neil had just picked at in order to delay the next part of this hangout. You felt silly even making it considering it was the only thing you ever learned how to cook and you had to double the recipe to feed more than one person. It was even more embarrassing digging through your kitchen for more than a single serve dish to cook it in.

“The food was great” Neil offers and it springs you into action, shoving the chair away from the table as you collect the dishes and start towards the sink.

“Thanks, I’m not much of a cook” you say, smiling as he meets you at the sink with his own used plate. He smiles back as you take it from his hands, setting it in along with the other stack.

“I brought my script, you know, just incase. Even though there isn’t a lot of dialogue” he says and you giggle, realizing your were more comfortable with him than you had previously thought.

“Great, why don’t we go to my room” you sound silly saying it, like a teenage girl unsure of how to get a boy in her bedroom but Neil doesn’t even flinch as he nods at you and waits to follow in your direction.

You use the opportunity to snag your empty wine glasses and the rest of the bottle from dinner to bring with you, flashing him a quick smile over your shoulder as he follows you up the stairs and to your room. He’s ever the gentleman as you set the glasses on your dresser, pouring fresh glasses as he eyes the minimal belongings around the room.

“Cozy” is all he says and you smile, handing him a glass while sipping from your own.

“Temporary, I travel too much for work to ever get comfortable in one place” the notion surprises Neil, considering he stayed in the same place for nearly his entire life. Even through all of college and into his adult years he still hadn’t even spent as much time out of Welton as he did in it.

“Sounds lonely” he suggests as he moved to sit on the end of your bed and you tip back the rest of the wine before joining him.

“Maybe, but I’m used to it” you tell him, taking the script from his hands and opening to the pages. If you were to survive this, you’d have to be as professional as you could.

“Alright coach, how do we do this?” he asks, lacing his fingers and stretching his arms out in front of him. You chuckle, shaking your head lightly at the boy who was so nervous about this earlier.

“Well the beauty of a sex scene is we have creative freedom. You only have a few marks you have to hit, other than that there isn’t much direction to follow” you explain, holding out the script to show how the script indicates where they kiss, where their hands should be, certain sounds, in only various places.

“Okay so make it your own but also hit the marks” he nods, glancing at the script as he lets the new information sink in.

“I find it best to count and also pace it as if it was real. So from the moment we first kiss, count to five and then put your hand on my cheek” you explain, pointing to the written direction on the page and Neil nods.

“Okay, so it starts with us at the end of the bed and I lean in for a kiss” Neil says, holding the adorable glasses he wore up to his eyes. You smile as he drops them back down into his front shirt pocket again.

“If it makes you more comfortable we can practice, I promise I don’t bite and I haven’t been told I’m a bad kisser” you shrug and he bellows a laugh, moving the script from out of between you both. He was nervous earlier but he also liked you, thought you were funny, and if you were this willing to work with him there was really nothing he should be afraid of.

“Tell me if I do something wrong” he whispers, ducking in close and tracing the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours. You suck in a sharp breath, unprepared for his causality about the whole thing.

Slowly you tip your head up, eager to chase his lips with your own and finally, just as in the script he meets you, unpracticed lips fumbling together as he kisses you like it’s real. You kiss back slowly, sighing softly as his hand meets your cheek and slowly slides into your hair, fingers lacing through the locks and grabbing a fistful to steady your mouth against his own. If Neil was truly unexperienced it would not be this good.

Following the next part of the script he slowly eases you onto the mattress, chest pushing against your own until your head meets the soft cushion of your bed. For once you’re thankful your character doesn’t have to do much of the work, you just let out soft sounds of delight as his lips trail down your neck and meet the front of your chest. You’re not even sure if you’re acting anymore when you roll your hips into his own.

“We can stop here” he mutters against your skin but you feverishly shake your head, hands meeting his face and keeping him where he was.

“No, it’s okay. We’re gonna see a lot of each other tomorrow, better to just get it out of the way” you urge and he nods, continuing to kiss your neck as he starts shoving your dress up the sides of your hips just like it is in the script.

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable” he mutters, lips kissing along the fabric on your chest and stomach, inching his way down.

This would be the scene where he removed your panties, the camera would be just on your face as you moaned out words of pleasure, as if he was actually giving you head. Ever the actor though, Neil has found himself with his arms hooked under your legs and head awfully close to your underwear where he can undoubtedly see the wet patch beginning to form there. You both freeze, realizing fairly quickly this wasn’t a scene surrounded by a hundred workers, that you were alone and he had made you wet.

“I-I’ve never” Neil suddenly says and your cheeks tint pink, hands already reaching to shove your dress back down and over your hips. “Could I?”

“What?” you can’t help the shocked voice that leaves you as the brunette boy gives you a sheepish look.

“I know we don’t actually have to but I really am comfortable with you and if you’d let me?” he suddenly feels like an idiot, coming over here for help and then nearly begging to eat you out. You can practically see the thoughts racing in his head and you slowly pull your skirt back up.

“Go ahead” you urge and despite the initial shock Neil doesn’t let it falter him as he slips his fingers into the hem of your underwear and slowly begins to slide them down your legs. If you had known the night would turn out like this you probably would’ve never invited him over but it was already too late, you wanted him hopefully as much as he wanted you.

“Just, make sure I do it right” he says and before you can respond with some sort of agreement his tongue darts out and glides through your folds, a squeak escaping the back of your throat as your head drops back against the mattress.

Neil realizes the reaction you made is a good one so he dives right in, relishing in the taste of you as he licks and sucks, exploring all the new parts of a female body he’d never understood before. When his nose nudges against your clit a loud moan break free from your lips, making Neil’s eyes widen as he dares to do it again in order to confirm that was the spot to get such a reaction out of you. When he realizes it was no mistake he moves to suck hard on that one spot and your eyes nearly roll back in your head.

“Shit Neil, you really sure you haven’t done this?” you pant, whimpering as he slides a finger into you. Neil hums in response, the vibration of it tingling up through your whole body. He doesn’t pull away to give a verbal answer and instead speeds up his movements that you begin to feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

It’s when he slips a second finger into you and he moans against your clit do you feel your orgasm near the edge. On instinct your hand flies down to tangle into his hair, thighs slowly tightening around him as his movements never cease. Your other hand is wound so tightly into your sheets you miss the sly look he gives when he realizes you’re about to finish. With one last pump of his fingers and harsh suck to your clit you’re cumming swiftly, tightening around his hand as he continues to coax the orgasm out of you. The whines that leave your mouth are delectable and when your body finally relaxes against the mattress he pulls away, a happy smile on his face as his heart thrums in his chest.

“How was that for practice?” he says, breaking the silence, and you laugh quickly. At least he was able to be confident in this situation.

“I’d say we were a little too professional” you respond, breath coming out in heavy pants and Neil stands from the ground at the end of the bed, smiling down at you. Yet it’s impossible to miss how hard he is in his jeans, the length of him pressed uncomfortably against his zipper, and you gulp. Neil notices your eye line immediately, suddenly nervous all over again.

“You know the next part of the script is me helping you out?” you say in the form of the question even though you both know it’s not. Neil chuckles even though nothing is entirely funny about how your suggestion has suddenly made him harder and the look in your eyes proves you’re not going to let him off that easy.

“You don’t have to, I’ve kinda already stepped over the line” he shyly says, that nervous hand once again returning to the back of his neck. It doesn’t matter though because you’ve already sat up and started tugging at the zipper of his pants, fingers fumbling the button open.

“Shut up for once Perry and let’s finish what we started. Practice or not” and with one fowl sweep your tugging his pants and boxers down in one go. You had never considered the size of him before today but you’re not disappointed, in fact you’re shocked to see he had been hiding all that all this time.

Neil’s the one whining now, member standing tall and proud, grazing his lower abdomen and leaking with precum. You smile at him, hands pushing the T-shirt up and over his head before standing and pushing him down in the place you just were. He shifts, clearly in need of some relief, but you don’t touch him just yet. Instead you reach for the bottom of your dress, slowly tugging it up and over your own head just to reveal you had forgone a bra.

“Oh God” Neil says at the sight and you just grin, hands falling to his thighs as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling where he just was. Neil can barely watch as you place a soft kiss on his thigh, hand rubbing up to his pelvis and dangerously close to where he was desperate for your touch.

“You know Perry, of all things I never expected you to be so desperate” you tease and he goes to give a witty comeback, he really wants to, but you have your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and any words in his mouth are swallowed in an instant. You wait a beat before pumping your hand softly, when you earn a soft moan you finally dart your tongue out and slowly lick the tip.

Neil’s squeezes his eyes shut so tightly there is almost tears coming out of them. You smile at the sight before taking him into your mouth fully. The gasp he lets out is music to your ears and you take as much of him as you can. What you can’t reach you use your hand and just like that Neil Perry is a mess of a man in your bed, when not so long ago this was supposed to be an innocent and professional practice. When you speed up your movements he’s quick to snap his eyes open, sitting up in an attempt to push you off.

“Baby, I’m not gonna last if you keep going like this and personally I’d like to be inside you when I do finish” the pet name and the sentiment has your ears burning red but you release him with a pop anyway, arm wiping at your chin as you smile up at him.

“How does it go in the script? Me on top?” Neil blushes and you lift from your knees, crawling above him on the bed. His eyes dart from your own, to your breasts, to where the two of you will meet, and you can nearly see the gears turning in his head.

“God I’m in trouble” is all he says when you grind down onto his length, covering him in your slick.

“Why’s that?” you ask, an innocent look on your face as you settle above him and grind against his length again, not quite lining him up to slip inside yet.

“There’s no way I’m not going to get a hard on, on set tomorrow. Especially after I already know what it’s like to be inside you” he pants, hands gripping your hips as you move slowly against him, nearly killing him.

“You haven’t been inside me yet, in fact we could just stop right now and save you the embarrassment” you start to say lifting up, but his hands grip tighter, and bring you back down. You’re sure he might leave finger marks but at this point you don’t really care.

“Baby, I am painfully hard and this either ends with me inside you or me awkwardly going to the bathroom to resolve this little issue, and I’d much prefer the first one” the sentence makes you giggle loudly and Neil finally breaks a smile, grinding his hips up into your own and you’re quickly reminded of the sheer length of him nestled deliciously between you.

“I prefer it too” is all you say before you grab his member without warning and line it up with your entrance. Neil squeezes your hips tightly and watches with wide eyes as you slide down his length. Slowly, slowly, until you’re flush against him and your head is tipping back at the sensation.

It’s better than he could’ve ever imagined and without you looking he gains the courage to reach and grope your tits, shamelessly feeling them up. The action makes you grind against him and he stiffens, trying to make sure he lasts as long as he could. He didn’t want this to end. Yet you seemed to have enjoyed the feeling as well and without warning you’re grinding quickly against him, using his hold on your chest for balance. When the feeling doesn’t become enough you place your hands on his own chest and lift off him. His hands instantly leave your breasts and return to your hips where he guides you back down on him.

You stay like this for a while, filthy moans leaving both of your lips as you bounce on his length, your eyes rolling back every time he hits that spot inside you. When Neil is sure he can’t take it anymore he’s flipping you onto the bed, hovering above you and giving no warning as he starts drilling into you. The moan you let out is pornographic and as he continues to drive into you he leans down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. When he feels you tightening against him he smiles and meets his lips with your own.

“Come on baby, finish one more time for me” he encourages before pulling back and thrusting into you faster. When his fingers meet your clit and begin to rub, you feel the coil tighten in your stomach, ready for release.

“Shit Neil” you gasp, hands gripping his arms and holding on tightly. Neil smiles and never slows his pace.

“Come on baby, so fucking pretty like this” he says breathily, moaning softly in your face and it’s enough for the coil to snap. You tighten down around his length, legs trembling as they try to close together and he never ceases his movements as you cum hot and fast.

“I’m not gonna last much longer” he warns and you wrap your legs around him, indicating to finish in you, and it causes his hips to stutter. When your lips meet his own he’s finishing, warm ropes filling your inside, and he pushes in deeply once more as he settles against you.

You both lay there for a moment, letting the weight of what just happened settle in. You had never let a coworker step over that line before but it wasn’t regret you were feeling. In fact your stomach was warm with desire that hadn’t quite burned out yet. You had found Neil charming and kind from the start but you had not realized the feelings that bubbled there all along. Brewing into something much bigger and deeper than you ever realized. Something that made you go through with what you just did.

“So that just happened” Neil breaks the silence and you giggle loudly, hand falling against the back of his head and keeping him against you. The warmth spreading from your stomach and all the way up your chest.

“I told you there was no reason to be nervous” you say, fingers grazing through his hair and he chuckles, arms wrapping tighter around your bare waist.

“That may be true but now I’m more nervous everyone on set will see how into you I really am” Neil admits, lips brushing against your chest softly and ending with a soft kiss.

“Good acting is all, Oscar worthy” you say and he laughs again, head lifting to look in your eyes. They’re so full of adoration your heart stutters in your chest and you realize just how gone for him you really are.

“Hopefully that wasn’t all it was, acting” Neil says softly and you shake your head, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

“No, that was real” you admit and he smiles before leaning and pressing a firm kiss against your lips. One that conveyed he had no interest to stop kissing you after this moment. Maybe you were done for, in over your head, but at least you had this moment. A feeling, the idea of hope, that you could hold onto forever.

“It was real for me too”

[nightwriter357]

The most important part of a relationship

This short one shot is inspired by a message I received about the challenges of navigating intimacy and feeling safe with your partner. I hope this piece brings comfort to those who need it. Please note there are mentions of intimacy-related anxiety and brief references to past pressures around physical intimacy.

When you're not in the mood for intimacy, insecurities from the past begin to surface. But Damien, ever patient and kind, reminds you that love is about more than physical closeness—it's about feeling truly seen and valued, just as you are. Obviously no smut in this one.

The night was peaceful, the kind of evening where everything felt unhurried. You and Damien had spent hours together at his place, talking and laughing softly as the world outside grew quieter. There was a comfortable closeness between you, a feeling that being next to him was exactly where you wanted to be.

As you settled back on the couch, Damien's hand brushed along your arm, his gaze soft and warm, a familiar spark in his eyes. The subtle shift in his touch told you where his thoughts were drifting, and normally, you'd be right there with him. But tonight, something in you pulled back, the idea of intimacy feeling heavy instead of inviting.

You hesitated, feeling a knot form in your stomach. This wasn't the first time Damien had initiated something, but tonight, that old anxiety crept in, and you weren't sure how to tell him. After a pause, you took a shaky breath.

"I... I'm sorry," you said, your voice a bit quieter than you intended. "I don't think I'm up for that... right now."

Damien's hand paused immediately, his expression softening. "Okay," he said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, his tone gentle and understanding.

But despite his easy acceptance, a knot of worry began to twist in your chest. The old, familiar dread rose up, reminding you of things you'd been told—that sex was vital to any relationship, that a lack of it would only lead to distance. And for a moment, the fear that you'd somehow disappointed him clawed its way to the surface.

"I... I should probably leave," you murmured, the words spilling out in a rush.

His brow furrowed as he leaned back slightly, searching your face. "Why? Or... I mean, if you want to leave, then of course, but... do you want to?"

"No," you said, barely able to meet his eyes. "But... you know. I understand if you feel like it's kind of... unnecessary for me to stay."

Damien's gaze softened even more as he took your hand in his, his fingers lacing gently with yours. "I'm so sorry if I made you feel that way. I care about you so much, and I don't want you to feel like I'm just with you because we have sex."

Your throat tightened, that old fear making it hard to answer. "I know that, but still... it's important. And guys... have needs," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Sure, but that's not a need." His voice was steady, his thumb tracing a calming circle along your knuckles. "And besides, women have needs too, right? It's not all just... sexual."

You glanced up at him, the worry still heavy in your chest. "So... you'd be okay sleeping next to me all night without us... you know."

He smiled softly, his expression nothing but tender. "Thrilled," he replied, his voice full of quiet warmth. "Honestly. If that's what you want, that's more than enough for me."

There was a pause as he seemed to consider something, then he asked softly, "Do you feel like... maybe you have to said 'yes' sometimes, even when you don't want to?"

The question struck a chord, and you felt your cheeks flush as you nodded. "I don't know... maybe? It’s just that... in the past, whenever I didn’t feel up for it, it felt like it always caused tension, like I was letting them down." You hesitated, glancing away. "I just keep worrying that if we don’t… maybe you’ll get frustrated. Or that it’ll drive us apart if we don’t do it enough."

He frowned slightly, a look of concern filling his eyes as he took in your words. "You should never feel like you have to do something just to keep me around."

You speak up, almost without meaning to. "I guess… I’ve always believed that sex is supposed to be the most important part of a relationship," you say quietly, your insecurities slipping through.

Damien lets out a soft sigh, pulling you even closer. "For me, the most important part of this relation— is you," he murmurs, his voice full of warmth. "Everything else is just extra. You’re what matters most to me, nothing else even comes close."

The knot in your chest began to loosen as you listened, and you dared to ask, "So... you're not disappointed?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Not in the slightest. There are so many reasons I want to be with you, and intimacy is just a tiny part of that." He paused, as if making sure you understood. "The truth is, some of my favorite memories with you are just like this—the quiet, the closeness... That's what I love. Just being here with you is more than enough for me."

The anxiety eased a little more, and you felt yourself start to relax, a small wave of relief washing over you. But even as the tension began to ease, he looked at you again, as if making sure you felt completely safe.

"Would it be okay if I hold you?" he asked, his voice gentle, without a hint of pressure.

The thought of him holding you, just being close, was exactly what you needed. You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. "Yeah... I'd like that."

With a soft smile, Damien pulled you into his arms, his hold warm and steady. You melted into him, letting the worries fade as he held you close, his hand gently rubbing your back.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper. "And honestly, I'd be the luckiest person in the world just to fall asleep next to you tonight."

You felt a wave of warmth in your chest, the insecurities slipping away as you leaned into him, feeling safe. "I love you too, Damien."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. 

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 18 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer try to cope in the aftermath of running into each other. Spencer makes a series of stupid decisions which lead him back to you and then away from you once more.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - drinking, slightly tipsy reader, swearing, AA meetings, talk of therapy, tears, Spencer falls off the wagon, arguing, slightly aggressive and intimidating Spencer, mention of erectile dysfunction, making out, use of “good girl”, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial(?), Spencer goes from 0-100 and back again, Spencer is incredibly mean.

WC - 7.9k

Chapter 18 - Sandcastles

We built sandcastles that washed away,

I made you cry when I walked away.

Oh, and although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby,

Every promise don't work out that way, oh, babe.

Every promise don't work out that way. 

“How much further is this place? I said we should have gotten a cab.” Tara groaned, her feet howling from the high heels she was wearing. 

“Just a little further.” Penelope insisted. 

Tara glanced at Emily and JJ who seemed to be struggling just as much as she was. Garcia was the only one of the four who wore heels on a regular basis and as such the walk wasn’t bothering her like it was them. 

“You said that five blocks ago.” Emily moaned, clinging to Tara’s arm to help keep her balanced. 

“A little walk never hurt anyone.” Garcia clucked. 

“Tell that to my feet.” JJ rolled her eyes. 

They continued for another two blocks before Penelope picked up her pace and started pointing down the street towards a blue neon sign proclaiming the name Trouble Bird. 

According to Penelope it was the best cocktail bar in the district and she’d insisted they go there for girls' night. 

The four of them had already polished off a couple of bottles of wine at Garcia’s apartment and the blonde had assured them the bar was just around the corner.  

“I don’t care what you say, next time we are getting a cab.” Tara huffed as they closed in on the bar. 

All that walking had seriously sobered her up, making the pre-drinks pointless. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on a cocktail or two. Maybe even five. 

As they neared the entrance, someone heading in their direction clearly caught Penelope’s eye and she slowed until she came to a stop. 

The others did the same, a collective groan leaving their lips. 

“Please god don’t tell me it’s closed.” Emily threw her head back in frustration.

But Garcia wasn’t listening. She took a few steps closer to the woman wearing a long, black evening dress, heels hanging limply from her fingers. 

“Y/N?” She spoke and your eyes shot up from where you’d been looking at the pavement. 

You blinked a few times, eyes darting between the four women and recognising two of them. You wiped your face where your mascara was probably staining your cheeks from crying. 

“Penelope, right? Spencer’s friend. And JJ.” You looked between the two blondes. 

“Y/N?” Tara frowned. “The Y/N?” 

“Uh…yes?” You frowned. 

“This is Tara and Emily, we all worked with Spencer at the BAU.” Penelope informed you. “Are you ok? Have you been crying?” 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shook your head. “It was nice to see you and meet you. I should be going.” 

You started past the women, meanwhile Penelope was giving them all wide eyed glances. 

“Look at her,” she whispered. “We can’t let her leave.” 

“Are you proposing we ask Reid’s ex-girlfriend to hang out with us?” Emily hissed under her breath. 

“I feel bad for her.” JJ replied in equally hushed tones.

“Me too.” Tara agreed. 

“For the record,” you spun back to face them. “You’re not being as quiet as you think you are. I’m fine, really. I’m getting used to being broken up with recently. Growing a pretty thick skin.”

Penelope’s face fell, her heart bleeding for you. She hated seeing anyone upset, even people she barely knew. She moved past JJ, Emily and Tara closer to you. 

“I insist you join us for a drink. This bar is supposed to be great.” She pointed over her shoulder at the Trouble Bird. 

“I think that sounds super weird.” You pulled a face. “No offence, I’m sure you’re all really lovely but as Emily said, I’m your friend's ex-girlfriend. I’m sure Spencer would not love the idea of me drinking with you.” 

“Can I ask you one thing?” Emily stepped forward now, eyebrow raised.

“I guess.” You shrugged. 

“You being upset, does it have anything to do with Reid?” 

“Uh…” you inhaled. “In a roundabout way, kind of.” 

“In that case, you will drink with us. If he’s upset you, screw him.” Emily smiled at you, clamping a hand down on your shoulder. 

“But you’re his friend?” You pulled a face. 

“Guess what, girly?” Garcia clapped her hands together. “We’re your friends now too.” 

And with that she took you by the hand and the five of you continued on inside of the bar. 

***

Two shots of a tequila and an exuberantly large glass of wine later, you’d eased up a little, spilling your guts to four women you barely knew. 

“It’s not even like I care that much, you know?” You sighed. “Sam and I didn’t have a future, I wasn’t in love with him. But bumping into Spencer like that was…fuck it was the worst.” 

“What was Spence doing at an art gallery? I am struggling to picture that.” JJ shook her head. 

“Blair,” you spat her name out of your mouth like a bad taste. “Beautiful, sweet Blair. She works at the gallery.”

“I’m lost.” Tara looked at the others. 

“Yeah, who’s Blair?” Emily added.

“Spencer’s new girlfriend.” You whined. 

“Spence has a new girlfriend?” JJ pulled a face. 

“Oh!” Garcia gasped, clapping her hands to her face. “The mom! The mom of the boy Daisy likes.”

“You knew?” JJ glared at Penelope.

“I knew he had a date a while ago. Luke and I watched the girls and…” she trailed off as the three BAU ladies smirked. 

“You owe me fifty bucks.” Tara nudged Emily. “I told you Alvez and Garcia were dating.” 

“Oh boy,” Penelope blushed. “Uh…surprise?” 

“I really didn’t think it was true.” Emily shook her head, slapping a bill in Tara’s hand. 

“Oh please, Alvez gets all heart eyes every time she walks into a room.” Tara laughed. “But back to the matter at hand. Reid really has a new girlfriend?” 

“Yes,” you pouted. “And Sam broke up with me because I got all heart eyes over Spencer without even realising.” 

“What is up with him lately?” Emily scoffed. “I’ve never known him date like this.”

“He was married for a really long time.” JJ shrugged. 

“He's going through some stuff. Cut him some slack.” Tara sighed and suddenly all eyes were on her. 

“What do you know?” Penelope asked her. 

“What? I don’t know anything.” Tara tried to shake her off.

“Liar! You know something!” Penelope gasped again. “Spill!” 

“I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.” Tara pulled a face. “He’s trying to get sober, I went to a meeting with him a while ago. And he’s seeing a therapist.” 

All four of you looked at Tara, letting her words sink in. Tara looked painfully guilty, feeling terrible for breaking her promise to Spencer. But the girls were worried about him, she wanted to try and stem their fears. 

“So he’s got himself all shiny and new for Blair.” You huffed. “Fabulous. So I was just the rebound after his wife and now this woman gets the new and improved Spencer? Fucking super.”

Out of nowhere you started to cry. And it wasn’t just a few tears, you started sobbing. You doubled over in your chair, resting your head on the table and wrapping your arms around yourself while you wept.

Penelope was next to you and she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to her.

“Oh Y/N,” She cooed, rubbing your back. “Oh dear, sweet Y/N.”

“Spencer is not himself lately,” Emily reached across the table and stroked your hair. “He’s not always like this.”

“I feel like such an idiot.” You sat up, tears still falling rapidly. “I should not be crying about Spencer in front of you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it.” JJ tried to placate you. “Honestly, it's ok.” 

“No it’s not.” You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t leave, not like this.” Tara tried to insist but you were already on your feet. 

“Thanks for this, and I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You sniffed.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to go.” Penelope looked up at you sadly. 

“It’s best that I do. Enjoy the rest of your night, please don’t worry about me.” You turned on your heels and fled the bar, the four BAU ladies watching you go.

“Goddamn Reid.” Emily grunted. “She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is.” Penelope was pouting. “When Luke and I ran into them at Barkhaus they seemed so happy.” 

“I have so many questions about that sentence, that I am going to put a pin in for now.” JJ shook her head. “Clearly Spence is going through a lot.” 

“How long has he been going to therapy, Tara?” Emily asked her, turning to her left. 

But Tara wasn’t listening. 

She was looking down at her phone and the seven missed calls she’d had in the time they had been sitting here. As she stared at it, it started to ring again, the same number as all the others. 

“Who is it? Do you need to get that?” Emily nudged her arm. 

With a sign, Tara looked up at her friends, nodding her head stiffly.

“Yeah I probably should,” she exhaled. “It’s Reid.”

***

Spencer sat on the steps of the building with his head between his knees and his eyes closed. He listened to the passing cars, counted them in his head. He also kept count of every set of shoes he heard walk by.

He estimated he sat there for twenty four minutes before he heard another set of footsteps getting closer. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, her image coming into view.

“How many?” Tara asked softly although her body language was somewhat defensive. 

“Three.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I stopped at three scotch’s.” 

Tara exhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as she did so. She put her hand on his shoulder. 

“You should have called me sooner.” 

“Most likely.” He nodded, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess it's some kind of relief you stopped at three.” She guided him back towards the building steps he’d been sitting on. 

“Any more than that and I wouldn’t have made it back.” He confessed. 

He let Tara lead him inside to the meeting he so sorely needed. Afterwards she took him for coffee, despite the late hour. 

“Did I drag you out of bed?” He asked over his mug.

“No, I was at a bar a few blocks away with the girls.” She rolled her lip guiltily between her teeth.

“You told them, didn’t you?” 

“I had to.” She replied. “And uh, Y/N too.” 

Spencer almost dropped his mug. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he glared at her as if she’d just grown a second head.

“Excuse me?” He spat a little angrier than he’d meant to.

“We bumped into her outside the bar. Garcia and JJ recognised her. She’d been crying and we felt bad for her.” Tara shrugged meekly.

“She’d been crying?” His face fell and his bottom lip pouted at the thought.

“Yeah, she broke up with her boyfriend.” 

“She did?” He sat up straight suddenly, like he’d been juiced with an electric current. 

“Don’t get too excited,” Tara rolled her eyes. “She’s heartbroken, Reid. You did a real number on her. She thinks she was nothing more than a rebound from Maeve.”

“That’s not true.” He shook his head frantically. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“You moved on pretty fast.” Tara sighed, picking up her coffee.

“Only because she did.” He whined a little. “If anything, Blair is a rebound from Y/N. I love her Tara, I love her so much.” 

“I am not the one you should be telling this to.” She shrugged. 

“You’re right.” He nodded, slipping out of the booth and throwing some bills on the table.

“Where are you going?” Tara frowned up at him.

“To talk to Y/N.”

“Right now?”

“Yes right now!” 

“Seems like a pretty bad idea to me.” She cocked an eyebrow. 

“Don’t care. I need to see her.” He sounded like he’d made up his mind.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tara focused back on her coffee. 

“Thanks for coming to the meeting with me.” 

“You’re welcome. See you soon, Reid.” She sighed, watching him flee the diner.

She hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. But she feared this would only end in disaster. 

***

You were still awake, in bed and staring at the wall unblinking. The alcohol you’d consumed tonight seemed like a long distant memory and you felt horribly sober. 

Every muscle in your body hurt but you weren’t sure why. It was as though the heartache was spreading through your extremities, encompassing every pore. 

You’d missed Spencer every single second of every single day since you broke up. But after tonight you missed him with a renewed intensity. 

To see him with another woman, holding her hand, thinking about what they got up to behind closed doors tore your heart apart all over again. 

You’d meant nothing to him, it was as simple as that. You’d just been a notch on his bedpost, a rebound from his wife. 

You’d cried so many tears you physically couldn’t cry anymore. So you continued to stare at the wall and hope at some point sleep would wash over you. 

After a while there was a knock on your bedroom door but you ignored it. It came again twice more but both times you remained quiet. 

Then the door opened and your eyes flicked from the wall to the figure in the doorway. 

Your roommate Travis tentatively stepped inside, hands in his pockets. 

“Uh, you have a visitor.” He shrugged. 

“Don’t care.” You croaked. 

“I don’t think he’s going away.” Travis shrugged again. 

You frowned and shifted a little on the bed. 

“He? He who?” You grumbled, rubbing your sore eyes. 

Travis didn’t reply, instead he stepped aside so your visitor could enter the room. 

Spencer looked about as bad as you probably did as he shuffled in your room. Travis slipped out behind him and closed the door. 

His tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone under his jacket. 

You sat up in bed, glaring at him angrily whilst hugging the sheets around your body like some kind of protective armour. 

“You’ve got a nerve showing up here.” You tried to sound angry but your voice was no more than a pathetic croak. 

“I drank tonight.” He seemingly ignored you, stepping further into your room. “For the first time in weeks, I caved and I drank. Because I saw you.”

“Am I supposed to apologise for that? You’re a grown man Spencer, if you can’t handle your alcohol then that’s on you.” You managed to sound angrier this time. 

“It’s called an addiction, Y/N! I don’t have any control of it! I don’t have a healthy, normal attitude towards alcohol. I’m not the kind of person that can just have a drink, I have to drink to excess, get wasted to forget my pathetic fucking life!” He yelled at you and you flinched a little. 

“If you just came here to yell at me then leave. I am in no mood to listen to your bullshit, Spencer. Go back to your girlfriend. I don’t want you here.” You shook your head at him. 

“No,” he stepped even further into the room. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said what I came here to say.” 

“And what did you come here to say?” You got out of bed as he got closer, hating the way he was looming over you. 

You only wore a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and you tried to ignore how exposed you felt. 

“I quit drinking, or at least it tried, I’m trying. I started therapy, I’m trying to be a better version of myself.” 

“Yeah, for your new girlfriend.” You scoffed. 

“Seriously? That’s what you think? You think I’m doing all of this for her?” He sounded incredulous. 

“Who did you do it for then? Enlighten me.” You growled, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“For a start, I’m doing it for my daughters because they deserve more from me.” 

“Agreed.” You rolled your eyes. 

“But I’m also doing it for you! I’m doing it because I want to be the kind of man who is worthy of your love.” He lowered his voice a little but the anger still shone through. 

“Oh please,” you shook your head. “You didn’t love me, Spencer. You love your ex-wife. Or maybe you love Blair, who knows? I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Yeah, I do love my ex-wife, ok?” He grabbed you by the biceps suddenly, making you whimper. “Of course I do! It’s normal for me to feel that way. Her hurting me doesn’t change the fact that we had a lot of good years together. It doesn’t erase the fact she’s the mother of my kids. But it also doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t also love you.”

“I think you’re just scared to be alone.” You shook your head. “You can’t stand to be lonely. You don’t love me Spencer, you just want someone to play happy families with. Well it won’t be me.” 

Spencer hissed and suddenly, using his grip on your arms he spun you around and shoved you up against the wall. 

You whined as your back slammed into it, his grip on your biceps tightening. 

“You think I’m lying? You think I would stand here and lie to you?” He spat right in your face. 

“I didn’t say that. You might think you love me, but you only want me until the next pretty face walks by.” 

“What the fuck do you think of me?” He shook you a little. “You think I’m some kind of fucking asshole who uses women and throws them aside once he’s done with them?” 

“If the shoe fits.” You shrugged. 

His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes were brimming with his rage. 

“I didn’t throw you aside, Y/N, you walked away.” 

“Because I heard you telling your ex you were still in love with her!” You yelled again, fighting against his hold on you but he was stronger. “And then suddenly you’re dating someone else entirely. How is that supposed to make me feel?” 

“I thought she was what I needed. She knows what I’ve been through, she understands because she’s been there too. But she’s not you, she’ll never be you. And you aren’t exactly innocent in all of this, you moved on from me pretty fast if I remember correctly.” He was caging you into the wall, trapping you in your own room. 

“I was trying to get over you.” You scoffed. 

“By fucking some frat boy looking behemoth?” He raised his voice again. 

“Don’t turn this around on me. It was your fault we broke up, not mine. If you’re allowed to sleep with every single mom who looks your way then I’m allowed to sleep with the decent guy who has had feelings for me since college!” You yelled back but you noticed his expression falter. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, finally letting go of you and taking a step back. 

“What is it? I touched a nerve.” 

“I didn’t sleep with her, ok? Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t sleep with her.” 

“You expect me to believe that? You couldn’t get me into bed fast enough when we met!” You shook your head. 

“You want to know the truth?” He suddenly grabbed you again and you found yourself quickly being pinned to the wall once more. “The truth is I couldn’t get it up for her. And I thought it was because of my goddamn antidepressants but it wasn’t. It wasn’t my meds, it couldn’t have been.” 

“Why couldn’t it have been?” You swallowed thickly. 

“Because,” he clenched his jaw again. “From the second you got out of bed and I saw what you were wearing…I got hard without so much as touching you and I have been ever since.” 

You felt the air leave your lungs and you couldn’t stop from glancing down between your bodies, as if you needed proof. But low and behold you saw it, the obvious tenting in his slacks. 

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and he was staring intently at you. 

“So while you might have been spreading your legs for someone else, I couldn’t physically bring myself to sleep with her. I couldn’t even fucking masturbate because my hand isn’t you!” He spat. 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You scowled at him. “Am I supposed to fall to my knees and thank you? You think you can come here and tell me you can’t get it up for another woman and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” 

“You got in my head, don’t you understand? You got in my head and into my heart. You’re under my skin, in my veins like a drug. Maeve, Blair; they have nothing on you. I thought Maeve was the love of my life because I didn’t know any better. She’s not the love of my life, you are!” He pushed you more firmly against the wall, his hips now pressing into yours and you could feel just how hard he was. 

Did it make you a complete idiot for thinking you may fall back into bed with him? He made it so easy to hate him, but he also made it impossible not to love him. 

You didn’t want to forgive him, didn’t want to give in and relent to him but it felt inevitable. The way he was looking at you coupled with his firm hold on your arms and his hard cock pressing against you was making you weak. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“I’m not even sure you know what love is.” You scoffed. 

Were you deliberately baiting him? Were you purposefully trying to anger him further? Was there a part of you that liked seeing him like this, pushed to his limits? 

As expected he tightened his grip on you and you could feel the bruises starting to form. 

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me, sweetheart?” He spoke, practically reading your mind. 

“Whether I am or not, clearly it’s working.” You shrugged. “But if I really wanted to get a rise out of you I suppose I could tell you that while you couldn’t get it up for your girlfriend, I was having some incredibly mind blowing sex with Sam.” 

Why were you doing this? What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Perhaps it was the anger still flooding your veins, the hurt Spencer had caused you lingered like a rain cloud. Maybe you wanted him to know how it felt, you wanted him to feel your pain. 

His eyes darkened as he stared at you and a menacing kind of smirk spread across his lips. 

“Oh darling,” he chuckled deeply, angrily. “You and I both know he has nothing on me.” 

“Wow, big headed much?” 

“It’s not big headed if it’s a fact.” He laughed darkly again. “I put my all into everything I do, research and study so I am the very best at anything I set my mind to. And that is how I know I am good in bed. Better than that oversized asshat you spent your time with.” 

You swallowed again, subconsciously pressing your thighs together. You hoped he didn’t notice but of course he did. 

“How wet are you right now, Y/N?” He smirked, his eyes practically black. 

“I’m…not.” You lied and he saw right through you. 

“Oh ok,” he laughed again with a roll of his eyes. “So if I was to do this…” 

He trailed off and removed one hand from your bicep. You watched it move between your bodies and suddenly it was between your legs, ghosting over the fabric of your shorts.

The soaking wet fabric of your shorts. 

You hissed involuntarily and Spencer moved his hand back up to your bicep looking incredibly smug. 

“I thought so.” He grinned dangerously. “You know you only need to say the word and I’m yours.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “You hurt me, you broke my fucking heart!” 

“Let me make it better, princess. I can make it up to you.” He softened, looking at you with something akin to love in his eyes. 

“No.” You whimpered. “You can’t make up for what you’ve done.” 

The darkness quickly returned to his eyes and in one swift move his lips were slamming into yours. You whined and the second your lips were parted his tongue plunged into your mouth. 

You allowed him to kiss you, his hips grinding against yours. You were putty in his hands, a complete and utter idiot. But you didn’t care. 

The kiss didn’t last very long before he was pulling back and staring deep into your eyes. 

“You don’t want me?” He narrowed his eyes on you. “You want me to leave?” 

You swallowed, trying to muster the strength to tell him to go, to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. 

Instead you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him back in for another kiss. And if you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he was smirking into your lips. 

Soon enough he was manoeuvring you away from the wall and over to your bed. His lips remained on yours, deepening the kiss as he went. You felt the back of your calves hit the bed but Spencer kept you upright with his hold still on your arms. 

He moved his hands now, fingertips grazing down the sides of your rib cage, lower and lower until they reached the hem of your tank top. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and started raking it up your body. 

He pulled back from the kiss, his lips puffy and swollen, and you raised your arms for him to lift the top the rest of the way off. He tossed it aside quickly and your hands found the ends of his tie, still hanging around his neck. 

You used it to pull him back in for another kiss and then started on the buttons of his shirt. He shrugged his jacket off in the meantime and let it hit the floor. 

You got him out of his shirt and it joined the other clothes on the floor. And then he pushed you back to the bed until your back collided with the mattress. 

He regarded you with his dark eyes and a sinful smirk before crawling on the bed, kneeling either side of your hips. He laid on top of you, hissing at the contact from your bare chests. 

He stroked your hair lovingly back off of your face in a stark contrast to his previous roughness. But it only lasted a moment as soon he was kissing you again with renewed fervour. 

He grinded his hips against yours, relishing in the feeling of being able to get hard again. He should have known it wasn’t his meds. He should have known you’d be the cure. 

His lips left yours and peppered kisses along your jawline. Your head rolled back to allow him access to your neck. In kind he moved lower, lips sucking against the skin on the front of your throat. 

Your hands wandered to his shoulder blades, nails kneading the muscles while he moved on to place kisses all along your collarbones. 

Soon they ebbed lower, lips leaving their trail over the tops of your breasts and then down your sternum. 

He circled back to place a deep kiss on the swell of your breast before you felt his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple. 

You moaned as he took the bud in his mouth, teeth grazing your peak, teasingly nibbling it. You arched your back, toes curling. 

He sucked and nipped for a few moments before offering the same treatment to your other nipple. You were writhing beneath him on the bed, wanton moans and breathy pants leaving your parted lips. 

A few more strategically placed kisses between your breasts and he was continuing his journey down your stomach, around your belly button and then across each hip. 

You were rolling your hips up to meet him, desperate for more. He smirked against your skin, knowing he was driving you crazy but that was part of the fun. 

He looked up at you through his hair which had now fallen into his face, while he placed kisses along the waistband of your cotton shorts. 

You’d moved to grip his shoulders and were not so subtly trying to push him lower. 

“Use your words, princess.” He spoke against your shorts. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” You whined. 

“Do I?” He teased. “I think you might have to spell it out for me.” 

He sat back a few inches, his large hands now on your thighs and parting them so he could kneel between them. 

Your pupils were blown out as you looked up at him, face flushed red with your arousal. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please, what?” He was enjoying this. He was enjoying this too much. 

“Please go down on me. Please, Spencer? God I missed your mouth between my legs.” 

He made the most animalistic sound, closing his eyes and feeling his cock throb painfully. When he opened his eyes again you were staring right at him, begging him with your gaze. 

“Oh how I have missed being between your legs.” He lowered himself again, kissing along your stomach once more whilst tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You arched your back again to aid him pulling them down your legs, the wet patch left behind in the fabric making Spencer feral. 

He balled up the garment and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply and moaning as the scent of your arousal encompassed him. 

“Is this all for me, angel?” He smirked, dropping the shorts on the floor. 

“Of course,” you nodded, hooking your legs over his shoulders. “Only ever for you, Spence.” 

“Such a good girl for me.” He rewarded you by placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Who do you belong to?” 

“Y-you.” You stuttered, desperate for him. 

“Good girl.” He repeated and kissed the inside of your other thigh. “Who’s better in bed, angel? Me or that pumped up frat boy?”

“You are!” You whined. “No one’s better than you.” 

“You really are such a good girl for me, Y/N.” He smiled, kissing slightly higher on your thigh. 

“So g-good.” You agreed. “P-please?” 

“Well, since you did ask so nicely.” He bowed his head, blowing air between your legs and making you squirm. 

He lifted one arm and pressed his forearm over your hips, holding you in place. And then his tongue cautiously swiped through your silken folds. 

He collected your arousal on his tongue, moaning at how good you tasted. You whimpered and your eyes fell shut, blindly reaching out until you found his head and threaded your fingers into his locks. 

You dug your nails into his roots when he found purchase on your clit. He swiped his tongue back and forth over your sensitive bud a couple of times before wrapping his lips around it. 

He suckled on you, tongue jutting out every so often to add to the pleasure. You tugged at his hair, grinding against his face, needing more. 

He smiled against you, his free hand edging up your thigh. You felt two long, nimble fingers press against you. 

He glanced up at you through his lashes and he saw your eyes squeezed tightly shut and a few tears forcing their way out. 

He continued to lap over your clit while he pushed his two digits inside of you. He growled against you, he’d almost forgotten how good you felt. The way you stretched around his fingers was heaven, and suddenly he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again. 

He’d had every intention of bringing you to orgasm like this and he knew it wouldn’t take a lot. But as he fingered you, his digits moving deftly in and out of your throbbing cunt, he simply couldn’t wait any longer. 

He pulled his mouth away from you, causing your eyes to suddenly open. He kept his fingers inside of you, stretching you as much as he could in preparation.

“Why’d you stop?” You whimpered, tears staining your face. 

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” His fingers brushed against your cervix and you shuddered and moaned. “I’m sorry, I need to be inside of you so badly.”

“Ok.” You nodded. “Please?” 

He kissed your hip bones whilst scissoring his fingers inside of you a few more times. His other hand worked on the button of his slacks. 

When he removed his fingers you whined again, feeling horribly empty. Spencer sat back so he could shimmy off his pants and underwear before laying back down on top of you. 

His hard member found its way between your legs and he moved back and forth through your slick a few times. He bowed his head to kiss you, cupping your jaw tenderly. 

“You’re not on birth control are you?” He spoke against your lips. 

“I am now, I started on the pill.” You replied. 

What you didn't say was that you’d gone on it because of his own paranoia. He’d somehow transferred his obsession with birth control onto you. He’d told you condoms were ninety eight percent effective, eighty five when factoring in human error. The pill, as you’d researched, was over ninety nine percent effective when taken at the same time every day, which you did religiously. 

“Great.” He swallowed thickly, sitting back between your parted legs. 

He held the base of his shaft and lined himself up with your desperate hole. 

“I have condoms though.” You frowned up at him. 

“I want to do this. I want to feel you, really feel you.” He insisted. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Did you use protection with him?” 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

“Then I’m sure.” He nodded although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

He did want this, more than anything, but that didn’t take away his fear of getting you pregnant. Realistically he knew the pill was incredibly safe, and the likelihood of you getting pregnant was very low. He couldn’t help but be paranoid. 

But he wanted this, needed this. He wanted to take your relationship to a level he never thought he’d experience again. He wanted to be sheathed inside of you with no barrier, nothing between his cock and your throbbing walls. 

“I will warn you I have not had unprotected sex in a very long time and I’m already dangerously close so if this doesn’t last long…” 

“I don’t care.” You rolled your hips against him. “Please, Spencer?” 

He nodded, taking a breath to stem his nerves. Keeping hold of the base of his cock he slowly pushed his way inside of you, his eyes rolling back in his head the second he inched passed your entrance. 

The sounds emanating from his lips could only be described as sinful. He was careful in his movements, disappearing inside of you inch by painful inch. 

It felt like coming up for air. Being inside of you like this was the most incredible feeling of his whole life. He could feel every tiny movement of you stretching around his heavy length, the smallest fluttering of your walls.

He bottomed out inside of you and collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face against your neck and breathing heavily. 

“There are no words in any human language to describe what that feels like.” He spoke into your skin. “You're definitely on the pill?”

“One hundred percent.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Good,” he lifted his head enough to look you in the eyes. “Because I want nothing more than to come inside of you.” 

You moaned deeply and he felt you clench around him. His hips bucked involuntarily. 

“P-please,” you nodded. “Please I want you to come inside me.” 

He pushed himself back up, his hands either side of your face. You wrapped your own hands around his biceps, squeezing him to encourage him to move. 

He started slowly, not wanting this feeling to end too soon. He pulled back almost all the way before leisurely sinking back inside of you. 

He stared down on you, not breaking eye contact as he moved in and out of you. He was already close and he didn’t want this to end so soon so he continued his slow thrusts. 

With each one his blunt head nudged against your bundle of nerves, and elicited a deep moan from your lungs. He was panting and grunting, closing his eyes briefly every time you clenched around his bare dick. 

At that moment he had never felt so intrinsically connected to someone. He felt like he’d become a part of you and you him. Your body was simply an extension of his own. 

He could feel so much, he’d forgotten what it was like to be like this, it was a feeling he wanted to last forever. 

He’d never been so raw and exposed with another person and for a while that was the most wonderful feeling. But as he felt his orgasm start to build in the pit of his stomach, another unwelcome sensation joined it.

What the fuck am I doing? 

He closed his eyes as an onslaught of emotions erupted inside of him. The voice of a woman he’d had a one night stand with telling him she was pregnant. Falling in love with a woman who could so easily tear apart the life they’d built together like it was a house of cards. 

Spencer I’m keeping this baby whether you want to be a part of its life or not. 

Spencer I’ve been having an affair. 

Spencer, this is Bobby, my boyfriend. 

Why is mommy leaving? 

Why doesn’t she want to live with us anymore? 

“Can’t do this.” He mumbled, his movements slowing ever further. 

“Huh?” You panted squeezing his biceps. “I’m close Spence, don’t stop.” 

“Can’t do this.” He repeated, his eyes snapping open. 

He stared down at you again, stilling his movements completely. A look of remorse washed over him and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He withdrew you, physically and mentally. 

You whined when he pulled out, sitting up and frowning at him. 

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, head hazy with your impending orgasm of which you’d been denied. 

“I can’t do it.” He moved off the bed, getting to his feet, ignoring the fact his cock was still standing at attention. 

“So we’ll use a condom.” You stared at his back. 

“No, it’s not just that.” He turned back to you, eyes full of sorrow. “I should go.” 

“What? Why?” You pulled the sheet around your body feeling exposed although Spencer didn’t seem to notice he was still naked. 

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry. I can’t do this Y/N.” 

“Do what?” 

“This. Us. It’s not going to work is it? We know that.” 

“How do we know that?” You frowned at him. 

“Have you just completely forgotten that we want different things? That hasn’t changed.” He shrugged, finding his boxers on the floor and pulling them on now as his dick started to soften with his overwhelming emotions. 

“You came to me. You came to me, not the other way around. You come here and tell me you love me and sleep with me and now you’re saying this?” You were incredulous. 

You jumped out of bed, quickly throwing your clothes back on while Spencer did the same. He didn’t button his shirt properly but he didn’t care or notice. 

“I can’t do this, I can’t bring someone into my girls lives when it’s not going to work out. They’ve already been hurt by one woman, I can’t have them be hurt by another.” He raised his voice a little, stuffing his tie in his pocket. 

“They have or you have?” You scoffed. “Let’s be honest here, Spencer. This isn’t about your kids, it’s about you.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “No it’s not.” 

“Maeve hurt you, I get it. But not everyone is like that.” You tried to reason with him but he kept shaking his head. 

“I’ve known you for all of five minutes Y/N, I knew her for thirteen years. If someone can hurt another person that way after over a decade of marriage and two children then who’s to say you couldn’t do the same?” He spat, pushing his hair back from his face. 

“So this is about you.” 

“No,” he frowned. “What is meant is, if someone can hurt their own daughters that way, who’s to say a stranger couldn’t do it too.” 

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re scared Spencer and I understand that. What Maeve did to you was horrible, I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like for you. But you have to have faith that not everyone is out to hurt you.” 

“Faith?” He scoffed, his expression indignant. “I have to have faith? Faith in another human being not to hurt my girls the way their own mother hurt them?” 

“Spencer, come on. This isn’t just about them and you know it!” You yelled, getting frustrated by his deflection.

“You don’t get it.” He growled. “You don’t get it because you don’t have kids.” 

“Kids are tough. They bounce back quicker. It’s adults that are the vulnerable ones. We’re the ones that hang onto those losses, that feel the pain longer. I’m not doubting for a second that your wife hurt them when she left and I am not saying they probably aren’t still harbouring some kind of feelings about it. But they are buoyant and you’ve let yourself drown.” You folded your arms over your chest, shaking a head a little in disappointment. 

You saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his eyes darkened again and it didn’t at all take you by surprise when he stepped forward and grabbed you roughly by the arm. 

“You don’t know anything,” he was really close to you, spitting his words right in your face. “You don’t have kids, you don’t get it. You don’t get to tell me what my kids are going through. You don’t get to tell me what I’m going through. You don’t know my girls, and you don’t know me.” He shook you by the arm but you wouldn’t show him your fear. 

“You think I don’t know you? Oh please.” You scoffed, his grip on you getting firmer, blunt fingernails pressing into the previous marks he’d left behind. 

“You know the things I’ve actively shown you. You know the side of me I am willing for you to see. You don’t know me. Not the real me.” He growled, spittal flying from his lips. 

“I know you.” You spat back. “I know you’re scared of being vulnerable, terrified of letting someone close to you because you were hurt in a way no one should ever have to be hurt by someone they love. You built up walls to protect your heart from another beating. You use your kids as an excuse not to let anyone in. Because deep down you are petrified of getting your heart broken again. So you’re pushing me away because you think it’ll be easier than giving me a chance to hurt you.”

His eyes were practically black now, his pupils and irises bleeding together in his anger. His grip on you was so tight it was starting to hurt but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him as much. 

“You don’t know shit. You think because you're getting your doctorate in psychology that you can read me? If that’s the best you’ve got you’ve got a lot to learn.” He let go of you now, turning away from you. “This isn’t up for debate Y/N. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here and now I’m leaving.”

“Coward,” you spat. “Fucking coward.” 

He spun back to you, eyes somehow even darker than before. 

“Fuck you.” He replied childishly. 

“You’d rather be alone and miserable than be with someone you love on the off chance you might get hurt? That’s pretty cowardly Spencer.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I only told you I loved you to get you into bed?” A menacing smirk blossomed on his lips. “You said it yourself, I couldn’t get you into bed fast enough when we met. I was touch starved, I needed to get laid. I would have said just about anything to get in your pants.”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head meekly. 

“It most certainly is true, Y/N.” He chuckled darkly.

“You’re lying.” You whimpered. 

“Am I?” He clucked. “Do you really believe that?” 

“If that’s true you are exceptionally cruel.” Your eyes misted over with tears. 

“Like I said, you don’t know me. Maybe I’m just a cruel person.” He shrugged, taking a few steps backwards. 

“I hope one day you wake up and realise you made a huge mistake.” You snarled at him. “I hope you wake up and it hurts, it hurts everywhere. It hurts because you threw away a chance at real happiness. I hope that day comes and I hope you track me down to tell me how much it fucking hurts. Just so I can say, respectfully Doctor Reid, go burn in hell.” 

You stormed past him, flinging the door open and glaring at him angrily. His expression faltered a little, the darkness in his eyes fading.

“Y/N I…”

“Leave.” You motioned to the open door. “Get out of my apartment you asshole.” 

He clenched his jaw, feeling a tightness spread to chest. It was as though he had been possessed for a moment, like something else had taken over his body. Now he looked at you, the pain behind your eyes, he wanted to take back every single word he hadn’t meant to say. 

“I don’t think that I-”

“Don’t care.” You cut him off. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t care. I am done listening to you now. Get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t even think about coming back here. You might have saved yourself and your kids the pain but you have shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces Spencer Reid. I hope you’re fucking happy.” 

“Y/N…”

“Go!” You yelled. “Now! Or I’ll call the cops.” 

Spencer clenched his jaw again, rhythmically grinding his rear molars together to try and stem any tears that might threaten to fall. He gave you one last look before he nodded and headed past you through the open door. 

Seconds later, before he even made it to your front door, he heard the bedroom one slam, so loudly the walls shook. 

And he knew before he even got to the door that he was going to leave here, find a bar and get so drunk he may never wake up. 

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24

@pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @hades-disappointment-child @weirdothatwritess

[daisynik7]

Dirty Thirty

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, spit play, vaginal sex (doggy, cowgirl), cockwarming, use of pet names (princess and Master)

Word Count: ~5.6k

Summary: An alluring stranger gives you a special treat on the night of your 30th birthday. 

Notes: Kishibe is in his mid 40s. Also, apparently he is 6’4”, so reader is shorter, below 6’. This is very self-indulgent considering my own 30th is in a few days (shout out to all my fellow Pisces babes)! Also, I started this after finishing Chainsaw Man a few weeks ago, so this is a result of heavy Kishibe brainrot.

Additional Note: Check out Part 2 here: After Last Night! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!

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

The bass of EDM music reverberates through the speakers at the DJ’s booth. This particular bar you frequent turns into a club at 11 PM. College kids from the university down the street congregate in this establishment on the weekends, like today. You and your friends have been here since an hour ago, drinking and chatting in a booth hidden away to the side of the dancefloor. After dinner, you stopped by for a quick drink. With the booze and vibes just right, you ended up staying. 

Tonight, you celebrate your birthday. It’s the end of an era, really. You’re officially thirty. You’ve been dreading this day for the past few months, sad to bid farewell to your twenties, which wasn’t all that anyways. The number of times your friends reassure you that your thirties are the new twenties only brings you mild comfort. Glancing at the crowd tearing up the dancefloor, you can’t help being envious of their youth. 

Maybe it’s your buzz talking. You’re not one to feel sorry for yourself, especially about something as inevitable as aging. Thirty is young. Who cares if you’re the only one in your inner circle who’s single, unmarried, or childless? There’s no shame in it. You’re sick of women being scrutinized each year they get older for not doing what society tells them they should do. Who the fuck cares if you don’t have a ring on your finger or haven’t popped a baby out your vagina yet? It isn’t on your radar, and that’s perfectly fine. Men don’t get this much shit for remaining bachelors well into their forties or fifties, why should you?

You fidget with the glittery Dirty 30! sash you wear over your little black dress. A shimmering tiara sparkles on top of your head to complete your ensemble. Your friend’s voice in your ear snaps you out of your thoughts. “Hey birthday girl, how’s it going?”

Smiling, you hold your half empty glass up towards the middle. “Good. Thanks so much for coming out to celebrate tonight!” You’re ready to chug the rest of your liquor so you can head to the dancefloor. The other three women in your group cheers, clinking their drinks with yours. 

You’re about to suggest dancing when your friend says, “Shall we call it a night?”

It catches you off guard. The music just started and it’s not even midnight yet. You’re not ready to go back to the real world; it’s your special day until you fall asleep, which you don’t plan to do for a few more hours. You’re silent though, listening as the other girls repeat a similar sentiment. 

“My husband is waiting for me at home, so yes.”

“And my babies have an early morning play date tomorrow!”

Your friend beside you turns to you and asks, “Ready to go?”

Contemplating for a moment, you respond, “I think I might stay, actually. Have another drink or two.”

They stare at you bewildered, surprised you want to be here alone, which is unusual for you. “Are you sure?” they clarify.

“Yeah! Go ahead, I’ll be fine! I’m a big girl now,” you joke, standing up to hug them. They kiss you on the cheek, greeting you one last happy birthday before leaving together to go home to their husbands and children. 

Craving another drink, you abandon your booth to approach the bar. You order your favorite: a vodka cranberry, your comfort cocktail throughout your 20s. A reminder that you’re still the same you despite moving up a decade. 

You close your tab, promising yourself this is your last, and go back to your table. It’s now occupied by an older man in a black coat, sipping on amber liquor. Annoyed, and slightly intrigued, you sit opposite of him in the same booth. He lifts his head up slowly, noticing you. 

“Hi there,” you greet him. Even in the dim light, the stitched scar on his left cheek stands out. The metal piercings on his ears glisten, the strobe lights reflecting off them from the dancefloor. 

“Can I help you?” His voice is low and raspy, either naturally or from the alcohol. 

“I was sitting here earlier. The other tables are all occupied, and I really don’t want to stand around on the dancefloor by myself. Can I sit here until I finish my drink? There’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You put on your most charming smile.

“Where are your friends? I’m sure you’d rather sit with them instead of with an old man like me.”

“They ditched me to go home. Besides, it looks like you could use the company.” You tip your cocktail into your mouth, keeping your gaze on him. 

He watches you, skeptical. “How old are you?”

You glance down at your sash, which is now twisted so that the answer to his question is on your back where he can’t see. You grin at him. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”

He hums, unamused. “I’m not keen on hanging out with girls in their 20s. Not really my style. Not tonight, anyways.”

“How old do you think I am?” 

Narrowing his eyes at your tiara, he responds, “You’re wearing a crown, drinking a cranberry vodka at a bar that plays this shit music. I’d say you’re 23.”

This amuses you, like getting asked for your ID does, which is becoming rarer nowadays. It’s flattering.

“Hey, you’re here too. The only difference is that you’re drinking a whiskey,” you tease him, pointing at his glass. 

“In my defense, I finished work nearby and this shitty cesspool was the closest bar I could find.” He takes a swig of his alcohol. “So, am I right?”

Sliding the sash to face him, you answer, “Nope. You’re wrong. Lucky for you, today is my birthday. And I just turned thirty.” 

He cracks a smile at this, giving you a flutter below your belly. You’re not typically into older men; however, this guy has piqued your interest. There’s something about him that is alluring. Exciting. 

“Happy birthday,” he says, swallowing the rest of his whiskey. “Get anything good?” 

“No. But the night’s not over yet.” You’re full-on flirting now, not at all ashamed of how brazen you’re acting. Fuck it. You only turn thirty once, right?

There’s distance between you, but the tension is so thick, you could smell the bold scent of liquor coating his lips. He leans closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s my responsibility now to give you something good.”

~~~

Minutes later, you’re in the back of the cab, riding towards an address he mutters to the driver. He holds you, interlocking his fingers with yours, peering out his window in silence. You focus on your entwined hands resting on the middle seat, the intimacy of it all distracting you from the fact that you’re about to hook up with this attractive stranger. 

The driver arrives to a swanky apartment complex. Once inside, Kishibe doesn’t give you enough time to marvel at the beautiful interior of the room. In an instant, his lips are on yours, both palms cupping your cheeks assertively. Breath hot and chalky from the mint you saw him savor earlier in the car. It barely masks the lingering taste of that cigarette you witnessed him drag waiting for your ride. He didn’t have the same type of smoker’s breath that you’re sick of from your coworkers. With him, you don’t mind it at all. 

His hand trails down your neck, thumb carefully brushing over a pulse point right below your chin. His skin is rough and calloused compared to yours. The scraggly facial hair scattered along his jaw is scratchy on your cheeks. 

He breaks the kiss, gazing at you while he removes his overcoat, hanging it on the rack in the corner, kicking his shoes off in the process. There’s a small bar cart in the kitchen, where he pours himself a whiskey. At the freezer, he reaches for the ice, dropping three cubes into the dark liquor with a plop. You stand still, observing him, nervous and thrilled about what this mysterious man will do to you tonight.

At the couch, he takes a seat, thighs spread wide, his wrist hanging low between them, gripping the top of the glass with his fingertips. “Come here,” he beckons. 

Removing your heels quickly and abandoning your purse, you step towards him, ready to sit beside him until he demands, “No. Not there.” He pats his thigh with his free hand. “Here.”

Your body trembles with lust as you straddle him, pussy pulsing against his muscular thigh. He studies you, from your hazy stare down to him between your legs, savoring his cold liquor all the while. You gulp loudly, obediently waiting for his next command. 

Gently removing the crown atop your head and tossing it aside, he asks, “What do you want from me, princess? It’s your birthday after all.” Hearing him call you princess gives you a rush you can no longer contain. You start moving on his thigh, riding it to feel the glorious sensations on your clit.

His chuckle vibrates through his chest as you grasp at his collar to hold you steady. “This is what you want? Okay. Take what you need. Come on my thigh. I’ll watch.” His gravelly voice in your ear makes you ride him harder, grinding against him until your creamy mess is soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. You clench his tie, loosening it around his neck. He continues to watch you, sipping on his booze, enjoying his own private show.

Once the glass is empty except for the melting ice, he sets it down on the coffee table, pulling you in closer, his hand behind your neck. Lightly blowing cool, whiskey breath along your lips. You lean forward to kiss him, his tongue slipping past to explore your needy mouth. The longing for his touch on every inch of your body grows stronger by the second as you moan into the kiss, bouncing on his leg. 

“Can you come by yourself? Or do you need my tongue on it? I can lick it up real good if you’ll let me.” His obscene suggestion surprises you, as if you weren’t already performing lewd acts on his lap. You tug at his tie to pull him into another fierce kiss before sitting next to him on the couch, lifting the hem of your dress up to reveal your wet undergarments. 

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. But I’m not calling you Daddy,” you tease, spreading wide for him. 

His voice is low in his throat, kneeling on the carpet, face positioned between your thighs. “Good, because I prefer to be called Master.”

You roll your eyes at him, to which he responds, “What? You don’t like that? I bet I’ll have you screaming it all night long.”

This has you speechless as he drifts towards you, staring at the wet spot soaking through your lingerie. “Look how fucking wet you are for me.” He hooks his fingers around the fabric, stretching it to the side to expose your sopping cunt. Leaning in closer, he flicks his tongue gently onto your clit, causing you to squirm above him. 

He’s testing the waters, starting slow to gauge your limit. It’s gentle at first, toying with your bud until it’s plump and sensitive. Until your wanton moans are bouncing off the walls of his big, fancy apartment. There’s no doubt that he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s obvious this man has years of experience beyond you. Having this stranger swirl his tongue on the most intimate parts of your body makes you weak in the knees. This is the first time all night that you’re thankful to be turning thirty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this apartment, getting wrecked and torn apart by him.

“I’ve always wanted a plaything I can ruin,” he breathes out, finally wrapping his lips around you. “Will you be my pretty plaything tonight?” He surrounds your clit, drawing an erotic whimper from your mouth. 

“Fuck, Kishibe. Yes. Use me as your plaything, fuck.”

He eats you out noisily, emphasizing every wet sound his mouth makes on your swollen bud. Several times, he spits on it, spreading his saliva up and down your pussy, plunging his tongue into your entrance to get it lubricated with his own drool.  

“You’re fucking drenched down here. When’s the last time you let a grown man eat you out like this? I bet you’ve never been with someone like me, huh?”

You shake your head, swiping through his hair, spreading yourself wider for him. “Never.”

“I can tell,” he says, slipping his middle and ring finger into your entrance. “So fucking wet for me. I love it.” He pumps into you, curling his digits just right, resonating all the way down to your toes. His lips latch onto your clit, drinking you up to quench his insatiable thirst. 

“Hold these for me,” he says, guiding your fingers to your panties. “Want to stroke my cock while I eat this gorgeous pussy out.” You hear the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of him shoving his fist into his slacks to jerk off. The vibrations from his moans tickle your skin as he nuzzles himself deeper into your arousal, practically drowning in it, flattening his tongue to smear his warm saliva all over. You whine in ecstasy, heedless of attracting any neighboring attention to your explicit blubbering. 

“Come on my face,” he muffles, too busy lapping up your clit to pull away, fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny and sleek with your slick.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your orgasm, pleasure jolting through your body while he works you until you’re overstimulated, twitching from the euphoria. He laughs softly, face glistening with your essence, taking a seat beside you. You watch him in a daze as he sticks his cum-coated fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “You want a taste, too?”

You nod, disoriented from your intense climax. He drags your bottom lip down using the pad of his thumb, mumbling, “Open.”

Obediently, you stick your tongue out for him, knowing fully well what he’s about to do. Your pussy throbs again, ready to be fucked for real by this provocative stranger you were so fortunate to meet tonight. 

He grazes your open tongue, then spits in your mouth. “Swallow,” he demands, voice husky with desire. You do, making sure to gulp loudly, incredibly aroused and needy for his cock. 

“Show me,” he whispers, opening his own mouth to mimic you. “Ah.”

You show him your tongue again, a dumb expression on your face while he inspects. Satisfied, he grunts, “Fuck, you’re bad. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” He reaches down to your soaked panties clinging to you. “Take these off.”

He slides out of his trousers, revealing briefs that barely conceal his obvious bulge. As you slip out of your underwear, he removes his, displaying his impressive cock. “You going to ride this cock now?”

Without a word, you nod. You’re already anticipating how fucking amazing he’s going to feel inside you. Your brain is jumbled with naughty thoughts of him taking you in all positions in every room of his apartment. 

There’s a hungry gleam in his eyes as he watches you mount him. You hoist your dress up, stripping it from your body. He unclasps your bra, baring your breasts to him while he still wears his dress shirt and tie. For some reason, you want him to keep it on. Get it nice and dirty with slick and sweat.

You reach behind you to position him at your entrance. Once aligned, you slowly sink onto his cock, allowing yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size. Given his stature, it’s not surprising how big he is, both in length and girth. When you bottom out, he lets out a raspy fuck, holding your ass to squeeze your plush cheeks. “I’m ready whenever you are, princess. Like I said, take what you need from me. Milk me dry. I know you want to.”

Spurred by his provocative encouragement, you ride him, rocking your hips back and forth onto his lap, gripping his cock tight with your wet cunt. Forehead pressed to his, lids closed, jaw hanging open, experiencing the best fuck of your life. With a brief glance, you catch him watching you, a similar dazed expression on his face. You bounce on him faster, his dick pounding into you over and over again, determined to feel every inch you possibly can. 

“Fuck, Kishibe, feels so fucking good,” you moan, directing his fingers down to your clit. “I want to come all over this cock. Make me come, Master.”

Bingo. His eyes widen as soon as it slips from your mouth. It’s the magic word. The trigger. 

Without hesitation, he brushes his thumb ruthlessly onto your swollen bud. “Say it again,” he demands, pressing it hard as he massages it, eyes wild with lust.

“Fuck, make me come, Master. Make me come.” You’re riding him so fucking good, couch creaking, clutching his shoulders tight, his carnal stare locked on your every movement. 

“Tell me when you’re close,” he growls.

“I’m close, I’m close!”

Suddenly, he pulls out, cock covered in your arousal, wet and stiff against his abdomen. Strings of slick cling to the hem of his dress shirt. You’re about ready to yell at him for teasing you. Before you can, he stands up, grabbing your wrist to lead you into the bedroom. His breathing is heavy as he points to the bed, hastily removing his clothes. “On your knees, ass up. I’m going to fuck you so good. Make you squirt all over my fucking sheets.”

The anger immediately subsides and you’re back to being eager again, knowing damn well that he means every fucking word he says. You do as he commands, wiggling your ass to entice him. He chuckles behind you. “I’m sorry for denying you earlier. I just really want to see this ass bounce on my cock like this.” He teases you with his tip, tapping your clit, sliding it along your pussy lips. 

“You’re not forgiven,” you pout, growing impatient. 

Placing a soft kiss on your lower back, he laughs again. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about this stranger you met mere hours ago, it’s that he is a man of his word. 

He guides his cock into you slowly, stretching you little by little until you’re squeezing him, his entire length inside you. “Look at you, sucking me in again like you were made for me.” He starts thrusting, holding you steady to penetrate you deeper. 

“So fucking good!” you cry out, fists bunched on his silky sheets, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, princess. It’s amazing for me too.” His heavy balls slap your damp skin with every brutal thrust of his hips, fucking you hard, dipping into your sweet spot until you’re woozy with pleasure. “You take it so good. So fucking sexy.” He tightens his grip on you, increasing his pace. “So fucking beautiful.”

You throw your ass back, arching your spine to get the perfect angle. With your cheeks bouncing obscenely against his thighs, you beg, “Spank me, Master. Spank me like a bad girl.”

Not wasting a second, his rough palm connects with your ass, the loud smack ringing in your ears. He spanks you again and again, your pussy clenching him tighter while you continue to thrust back onto his cock. You’re about ready to burst, desperate to reach your second orgasm after being denied earlier. You play with your puffy clit, electricity rippling through your body upon contact. Whimpering, you rub your bud faster as he pounds into you, cursing under his breath. 

“Fuck,” he moans, staring at your ass jiggle after each fresh slap he delivers. “Come on my cock, princess. That’s it. Get it creamy. Just like that, fuck.”

Waves of pleasure sweep over you, the intensity of it causing you to tremble before him. In the midst of your climax, you plead for him to finish inside you, greedy for his cum. It doesn’t take long for him to fill you up, staying nestled deep in you as he releases his warm load, letting out a husky fuck.

He pulls out, his warm release leaking from your pussy, dripping onto his sheets. He ogles at the pornographic sight in front of him, pleased with himself.

“Like what you see?” you tease, lowering your torso and relaxing on the bed.

“You are a naughty, naughty girl,” he says, collapsing beside you. “Can’t believe I let you seduce me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You were the one who offered to give me something good for my birthday.” 

He raises a brow at you. “Did I succeed?”

You gaze at him, properly examining his appearance. Scruffy facial hair, eyes that are perpetually tired, the striking scar aligned with his frown. You find yourself wondering what his story is; someone this fetching must have a story.  

“Considering the mess we made, I would say you exceeded my expectations.” You lay your palm on his firm chest, his now steady heartbeat lightly thumping against your fingertips.

“I’m glad to hear I wasn’t a disappointment.” He doesn’t take his gaze off you. Normally, you’d be intimidated by such intense eye contact. With him, it’s different. You feel safe. He places his hand on top of yours, rugged thumb gently caressing the skin of your knuckles. The two of you stay like this, enjoying each other’s presence in an easy silence. 

“We can’t do this again,” he mutters, finally looking away from you. He turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, your hand still snug under his.

“Why not?” The shift in energy surprises you. This is not the typical pillow talk you’re accustomed too. 

“I’ll keep wanting to see you if we keep this up,” he admits. Although it’s a sweet sentiment, he’s deciding to end it here and now, not even waiting until the morning like in a typical one-night-stand.

Matching his candid demeanor, you ask, “What’s wrong with wanting to see me again?” A strange feeling of unease swells in your chest, anxious for whatever truth he’s about to reveal. 

He takes a breath before explaining, “I’m a Devil Hunter. The best in the world. My job is very dangerous. A young woman like yourself shouldn’t get attached to me. My life is expendable.” He avoids you while he speaks, eyes laser focused on the ceiling, barely blinking. It’s as if he doesn’t want to say it; rather, it’s part of a script, forced to recite the lines like it’s standard procedure. How often has he had to deliver this sober spiel to his ex-lovers? You start to pity him, speculating how detached he must remain to the outside world strictly because of his risky profession. 

You continue to stare at him, letting the information sink it. The air is thick with a serious tension. It’s a sudden switch from the wild romp you just experienced. Choosing not to pester him further, you decide to lighten the mood. You scoot towards him, mouth skimming his ear, muttering, “Well, l didn’t really like you anyways.” The cold metal of his piercings contrast the soft warmth of your lips.

He turns to you again, the tension in his brows easing slowly as he gives you a small smirk. “Oh yeah?”

You nuzzle your nose against his. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’s better this way,” he says, planting a kiss on the forehead. 

Sighing, you ask, “Can I at least spend the night?” 

“Of course. I’ll even cook you breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean a cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey and a couple cigarettes,” you joke. 

He chuckles. “I’ll throw in some eggs for protein, does that work?”

“Sure. I’ll take whatever I can get, since this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other.” 

There’s a small smile on his lips as he gazes at you. A minute passes and he reaches for you, grazing your cheek delicately. You feel comfortable in bed with him. Protected. You snuggle into his chest, his arms wrapping you into a bear hug. Cozy in his embrace, you listen to his rhythmic breathing, lulling you to sleep.

~~~

In the morning, you wake up alone, tucked under the covers, clothed only in a dress shirt, barely buttoned. The bedroom door is wide open, the sound of a pan scraping on iron ringing in your ears and the inviting smell of food cooking wafting from the kitchen. 

You spot a pack of baby wipes on the drawer next to you, noticing that your body is fresh and clean, opposite the sticky mess you fell asleep to. Next to it is a brand-new toothbrush and toothpaste. With these items in hand, you tip-toe into the bathroom, appreciating his thoughtfulness.  

When you’re done, you study his bedroom for the first time, and probably last. There are no pictures hung anywhere, no personal touch to anything. Only small traces of a man whose entire existence is his job. Several ties scattered on his dresser next to a metal flask. A mini calendar on his nightstand with random scribblings of future work commitments. Hamper in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with white dress shirts, black slacks, and a couple of mismatched argyle socks. You’re slightly tempted to investigate some drawers to see the type of weapons a Devil Hunter of his caliber carries, but you don’t.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him in the kitchen. He’s in a plain white t-shirt with navy-blue pajama pants. As promised, he is cooking a batch of scrambled eggs over the stove, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, spatula in the other. Looking domestic and sexy as hell. His words replay in your mind. You shouldn’t get attached to someone like me. You almost regret sleeping with him, knowing you’ll miss him after you leave. 

Quietly, you stroll towards him until he notices you. When he does, he takes a sip of coffee and mutters, “Morning, princess.” 

Positioned behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist, raising your heels to place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. It’s only now that you realize how much taller he is than you. “Good morning, handsome. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I told you I’d cook you breakfast, didn’t I?” He cranes his neck to face you, smirking. 

“You did. I’m pleased to see you keep your promise,” you tell him, resting your cheek on his back. “You’re truly a man of your word. I think that deserves a reward.” You slide your thumbs under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, teasing him. 

“If you tempt me, you won’t be able to taste this delicious meal I prepared for you,” he comments, setting his coffee mug down the counter and turning off the burner. His hand covers yours, maneuvering it over the growing bulge in his pants. 

“Maybe I’m craving something else for breakfast.” You start palming his erection, suddenly hungry for him rather than the food. 

He turns to face you, looking at you up and down in his dress shirt, your legs clenched together to hide your arousal. Still smirking, he says, “You’re making this much harder than it needs to be.” He slowly pushes you against the counter, running his fingers up your inner thigh, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt. 

You moan, anticipating another round of intense fucking, this time in his kitchen. It makes you want to christen every part of his apartment. 

“How are you this fucking wet for me already?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb on your throbbing clit. “You’re so sexy, it’s driving me insane.”

“Kishibe,” you breath out, struggling to steady yourself. “Fuck.”

“I got you. Get on the counter for me, princess. Spread those legs so I can lick that pussy clean.” 

With his hands on your waist guiding you, you hop up, opening wide for him. Knees bent and body folded forward, he starts licking your clit, palming his erection through his pants. You come within minutes, gushing over his tongue as it glides along your slit, nose digging firmly onto your swollen bud. 

“Fuck me, Kishibe. Want that big cock inside me. Want you to fill me up again with your cum.” You hop back down, turning around and lifting the hem of the dress shirt past your ass, ready to get railed right there on the countertop.

“Not like this,” he murmurs, kissing you on the cheek. “Wait for me in my room. We’re going to have breakfast in bed together.”

Minutes later, a tray with a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon set on top is temporarily forgotten as the two of you fuck on the other side of the bed. Him sitting up, back pressed to the headboard, you riding him until he spills inside you, causing you to orgasm again all over him. 

You slump forward, resting your head on his shoulder, tired and satiated from another amazing fuck. Attempting to slide off him, he kisses you on the lips, his grip firm on your waist, unyielding. “Keep my cock inside you. Can you do that for me?” 

In your blissful state, all you can do is nod, getting comfortable on his lap. He reaches for a slice of bacon on the tray, letting you take the first bites before he finishes it, doing the same for a piece of buttered toast. He feeds you forkfuls of scrambled eggs, using the same utensil for himself. It’s pleasantly intimate for two people who just met. Playing the role of a long-term couple, indulging in simple delights together, like breakfast in bed.

Plate cleared, both your bellies full of nourishment, you stay in this position, kissing each other leisurely, no rush to separate. He whispers your name, fondling your breasts through the fabric of his dress shirt that you’ve made yours. He repeats it a few more times, relishing how it feels on his lips before he never has to utter it again. 

It’s bittersweet, knowing it’s ending as soon as it begun. You have no reason to be so smitten with him. You’re two people who hardly know each other. Still, you find yourself not wanting to say goodbye yet. Something’s there. A tiny spark flickering in the distance. Maybe you’re one of many women he’s done this with before. Maybe you’re nothing special. But in this fleeting moment, you let yourself believe it’s real.

The two of you reluctantly part after an especially long, passionate kiss. You dismount him, grabbing the wipes to clean up the mess that was made earlier. He gives you a smooch on the forehead before getting out of bed to exit the room, returning in less than a minute to hand you your outfit from last night. You briefly recall carelessly discarding it all over his living room floor right before you pounced on him. Is it too soon to consider that a fond memory? It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you’re reminiscing about him already. 

He leaves you alone in the bedroom to change. Before you undress, you bring the sleeves of the shirt to your nose and inhale deeply, memorizing his scent. You almost want to keep this shirt as proof that this happened. That Kishibe is real.

Back in your black dress, you sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his return. When he walks in, he points at the sash and tiara next to you on the bed. “You’re not going to wear that?”

Shrugging, you respond, “It’s no longer my birthday, so it feels silly wearing it. Just toss it.”

You check your phone, estimating the time of arrival for the ride you requested. Any minute now, they’ll be here, ending your short-lived tryst. He offers to drop you off, but you refuse, not bothering to explain that doing that will result in you dragging him into your own apartment and keeping him a willing hostage for another few hours. It’ll only make it more difficult to not get attached. He doesn’t question it, probably understanding this himself. 

The ping from the app chimes through your phone. You stand up, smiling at him, swinging your purse over your shoulder. “That’s my ride.”

He walks you to the door, waiting for you to strap on your heels. Once they’re on, you smile. “I guess this is it. Thank you for a fun night.”

“Thank you too. This was fun.” It could be wishful thinking, but you hear a waver in his voice. Is he a little bit sad too?

You face the door, ready to turn the knob, when you feel his grip on your wrist. He spins you towards him, kissing you feverishly, his hand caressing your cheek, the other behind your neck. Yearning for one more moment of intimacy with you. He breaks away, resting his forehead against yours, eyes shut as he says goodbye with one last whisper of your name. You avoid his gaze as you exit, walking out of his life.

It’s better this way. 

[pagannatural]

1.20

Dead Man’s Blood

-Dean offers to drive to ny so that Sam can see Sarah (the art dealer) again and Sam shuts that shit down right away. Dean only encourages Sam to have Dean-sanctioned relationships and sex. Dean’s Freudian nonsense is that he likes to pressure Sam into being involved with women, be certain that he’s the reason Sam is doing it, and then convince himself it’s good for Sam. I don’t think there’s anything malicious in this pattern, I think Dean is just operating at a high level of cognitive dissonance and avoids question his own motivations and feelings.

-Dean manhandles Sam away from John, de-escalating, then things escalate again and Sam and John grab at each other and it looks like they’re going to fight so Dean changes tactics. He forces them apart and puts himself physically in front of Sam, telling John to back off. First he tries to get Sam away, then he stands in front of him to protect him and waits until John walks away.

And now seems like a good time to talk about the fact that John was probably violent when they were kids. They don’t seem particularly scared of him, and they seem all to genuinely love each other and be able to find moments of ease and humor, so it was probably more a violence born of dysfunction than systematic abuse. There’s enough evidence for this that it’s safe to assume. For example, John says “I stopped being your father and I became your drill sergeant,” and he’s a vet, so he probably means that pretty literally and that in itself is a brutal way to treat children. In season 6, when Dean is explicitly trying not be become his father but falling more and more into re-enacting John’s behaviors, he slaps Ben across the face to try getting him out of shock. In s7 teenage Sam says that his dad has a temper and you wouldn’t want to see him after he’s been drinking. And then of course there’s this scene.

Neither Sam nor John see Dean’s diffusion of the situation as unusual. He’s done it before. Dean’s primary order is to look after Sammy. So I can’t really see him letting John get escalated with Sam, especially with how comfortable Sam is with Dean protecting him.

As codependent as Dean is with John, it seems like Sam is the subject on which he challenges him. He doesn’t have to break from his role as John’s surrogate co-parent and partner or as Sam’s (everything, but first and foremost) protector to do this, so it’s not really even him breaking rank. Dean follows John’s orders because he wants to keep Sam safe in the first place, so it makes perfect sense that this is normal for him. His motivations revolve around Sam.

-Sam, pacing, waiting for Dean to return from the morgue: “it shouldn’t be taking this long, I should go help.” Sam worrying about Dean part 497.

-John uses the vampire’s mate as a hostage because they mate for life. Immediately after this, a vampire uses Sam as a hostage to make Dean back off. It takes one to know one.

-When John kills the vampire Sam stumbles into Dean, who catches him. Dean holds onto Sam until the vampire dies, which takes a moment. Maybe even after that.

-John tells the boys they disobeyed a direct order and Sam says yes sir and Dean says “but we saved your ass.”

Sam can’t believe Dean said that. He looks afraid of what John will do.

Dean showed Sam that he can stand up to their dad too, and not just when it comes to de-escalating situations where Sam is involved- he stands up for himself.

This is important because it’s Dean breaking away from John and coming into his own. Sam has come to understand and even appreciate Dean’s obedience to John, but he still couldn’t choose to be with Dean rather than living a normal life when Dean was following John without question. Now Sam can believe in Dean’s ability to break the pattern Sam couldn’t live with. They’re a team.

[electricgoldtendercare]

confession.

hi babes!! i’ve been working on this one for ages and finally finished it yesterday. it’s a joel miller au where he is a priest🧍🏼‍♀️😇. definitely sacrilegious so please avoid reading if that can be a trigger for you!! basically just filth! maybe a part 2 coming if anyone is interested? tia 💗

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

warnings: smut, pure filth, religious terms, reader afab, gendered terms, oral male receiving, slight voyeurism??, sex in a church, i’m so sorry, praying so hard after this one, age gap (24 & 56), more of my terrible endings, not super edited,

————————

Okay, you can do this. You’ve confessed so many times before. It’s simple. You tried to convince yourself as you walked up the steps to church. It shouldn’t be different, should be the way it usually was but something was different. That something being the new Priest, the man who prompted you to even need to confess in the first place. Father J, that’s what he liked the congregation to call him. Everyone immediately fell in love with him, all the women whispered that he was handsome and all the men wanted to invite him over to their barbecues. You hadn’t been immune to his charm either, that being what got you into this mess. 24 years old and marching up the church steps to confess to probably the most embarrassing thing you could think of. You should have dressed up a bit more, clad in your work uniform and messy hair tied up in a bun. Just tight jeans and a fitting t-shirt that proudly displayed the name of the restaurant you worked at across the chest. Church was meant to be judgment free but you knew if any of the old ladies in the congregation saw you walk in that way you’d be the talk of the week until another young woman did something that they deemed worse. Regardless, you walked to the front of the church and found the confessional with the door open, inviting you in to make a fool of yourself.

Stepping inside, you shut the door behind you and settle into your seat. scratching at the denim of your jeans to release some anxiety. “Good Afternoon and Bless you, my child.” You hear, his voice bringing you comfort along with more stress. “Hi…” You sigh, remembering your next words. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” You say quietly, looking towards the wall between you and seeing the outline of his head and broad shoulders. “Go ahead, confess your sins.” Going quiet to allow you to confess. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself before speaking up. “I don’t know..exactly how to say this. Ever since you came to our church, well, your church now, ever since then i’ve had these feelings. You obviously know, ok well maybe you don’t know, but you’re very handsome. All the women in the congregation talk about it like all of the time.” You laugh and you hear him chuckle quietly, you wouldn’t have been able to even hear him if you weren’t in such a confined place. “Anyways, i’m sorry. This is weird for me to admit..” You whisper. “Would it be easier if we were face to face?” He asks, “No! No, I'm sorry. No, sir. I think my face would be far too red telling you this to your face.” You admit, taking yet another deep breath before deciding to just come out and say it.

“I had a se-explicit dream about you and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I’m so sorry. I feel so so bad!” You say, bracing yourself for the man to raise his voice or leave the cupboard for you to sit in silence with your filthy thoughts. You notice the air around you change, becoming more heavy as the seconds tick by. Finally, after what feels like forever he speaks up. “I-There’s no need to apologize, this is why i’m here.” His voice is strained, an octave lower than normal but you were far too embarrassed to even notice. “Just this one dream?”

“Yes…well, no. Father, please forgive me. I keep having this same dream: I find myself daydreaming about it when I know I shouldn’t. I tried to tell my mom but she told me I should come share with you so…yeah.” The man next to you nods slowly, letting out a shaky breath as he attempts to compose himself. He knew it was you over there, he had seen you walk in and through the rows of benches closer to where he was.

“I see…Well, dreams of that variety are common. I have people coming in all the time to confess them. Do you remember what happened in this dream? and these daydreams..” He was toeing a very thin line, knowing that what he heard next might not be easy to sit still during. As much as he attempted to be immune to thoughts about sins of the flesh he was just a man, a man who had a beautiful young woman admitting something like this about him, to him. Your cheeks turn bright red, not having expected to be asked for specifics. You had been prepared to confess and then forget it ever happened, but here you were opening your mouth to explain the dream to your priest. Your sweet, kind, handsome priest…No! God Forgive me. You were just going to have to live in the confession box if your thoughts kept moving that way.

“Okay well..” Here goes nothing. How specific were you supposed to be?? “It starts the same every time..you ask me to stay after mass to help you with something. Once everyone is out of the building..i’m helping you put the hymn books back. Most of the time I feel you come up behind me while I'm putting them away…your hands touching my waist and I can feel your breath across my neck.” You reach up to rub the back of your neck instinctively, trying to ignore the steady heat that was beginning to burn in your belly. “After I would feel your breath I'd..I’d…it’d be your lips on my neck. Kissing and..and sucking.” You whisper, not daring to look over at him. “Go on..”

“Well you’d leave a lot of marks..all over my skin. I remember one you said that you wanted everyone in the congregation to know how much..how..oh i’m sorry, father but how slutty I was being for you..”

“Shh, it’s alright.” He whispers, voice deep with something you couldn’t put a finger on. It couldn’t have possibly been lust, could it? “Would it make you feel better if you came and sat with me while you told me more?” He asks and you think on it quickly before nodding. “Yes Father. That’d feel better.” You say and leave your side, walking around to the side of the confession box he was in and stepping inside. Bodies were close together, fingers brushing over each other as you found a place to stand. “Kneel, my child. Then continue on.” He orders, voice still soft and kind which makes it easier for you to follow his direction. You put your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you knelt down in front of him, cheeks bright red at the compromising position. He nods his head to urge you to continue and you take a deep breath before you do. “This happened in the dream too…all over the church. You’d ask me to kneel and pray but it always ended up with…well, you know.”

“Use your words.” The voice came out gruff and more pointed than it had been, catching you off guard. “Oh, um. It always ended up with your co-with me on my knees giving you a blowjob.” You whispered the last word, even if the way he was staring at you made you want to admit every dirty thought you had ever had about him you still felt like you should have some shame.

“Are you thinking about it right now?” He asks, hands laying gently on yours where they held his knees. You stared at his hands, slowly letting your gaze wander up to his face where you found his pupils blown out and his lips parted ever so slightly. You weren’t sure where the situation was going, preparing yourself for anything as you slowly nod. “I am…I’m sorry.��� You whisper and you hear him let out a shaky breath. One of his hands moves to push your hair out of your eyes, fighting himself in his mind over what to do next. He absolutely should kick you out, apologize for letting it get so far out of hand but he was frozen, unable to glance away from you. His fingers move down your jaw and you lean into his touch, feeling his thumb brush over the side of your mouth which causes your lips to part, head pathetically turning to find the finger to wrap your lips around it. Keeping your eyes on his, you start to suck on his thumb slowly and surely, letting all of the desire drip out of you and into the action. Your eyes found his once again as you used your tongue and lips around his finger, the digit becoming coated in saliva as you did so. He let his other hand move to the back of your head, a gentle touch turning into a grip on your hair to keep you in position as you worked his thumb. You felt so filthy, your knees aching from kneeling in the confession box as you hollowed out your cheeks. You felt the urge from your chest and down between your thighs to please the man in front of you in any way you could.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, a trail of spit connecting it to your lips and away as he did so. You lay your head on his thigh, staring up at him expectantly. You were pretty sure that you’d do absolutely anything he asked in that moment, mind clouded with lust and senses overwhelmed with the scent and feel of him. Gone were the worries of even having these feelings for your priest, all you wanted was to be a good girl for him and the feelings were stronger than ever. You open your mouth to ask him what he’d like from you next but the words died out when you both heard the door to the chapel swing open and shut. His eyes filled with panic as he glanced between you and where the footsteps were coming from. You squeeze his thigh to get his attention and mime a zipper closing your mouth before throwing out the key. It looked as though he was about to make you leave but the other side of the booth was filled before he was able to make the decision. “G-good afternoon, and bless you child.” He says, shaking his head at the way he was tripping on his words. You thought it was cute, the way he seemed so nervous from here, though you were sure whoever was in the booth next to you would never guess.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” You hear, trying to decide the best way to make your next move. You slowly slid your hands up his thighs, dangerously close to where you could see a tent in his pants just waiting for you. You stifle a groan when you feel his hands grip your wrists tightly to attempt to stop you, sending you a warning glance as he listens to the member. You stop, but only for a moment before you let your fingers brush over his covered member. You went teasingly slow, partially to tease him but also so he wouldn’t trip on his words in the middle of his prayer. You were unsure where the newfound confidence was coming from, maybe the way he was reacting from your touch was encouraging you to keep this up, keep up the act of being over confident when in reality you were not. You make careful movements to undo the button of his pants, moving extra slow with the zipper so it wouldn't make any noise. Once it was down you were able to see the outline of his cock in his underwear, licking your lips subconsciously as you let your hand lay against it with the lightest touch. His hand was still on your wrist, gripping tightly but not moving you. You’d have a bruise in the morning and the thought brought you more excitement than anything else.

At a lull in the conversation you took a deep breath in preparation before sitting yourself up on your knees and leaning over to press a small, open mouthed kiss against the clothed outline. It felt warm against your lips and you had to suppress a giggle when you felt it twitch against your touch. You feel his stare watching your every move, like a lion about to attack it’s prey. You let your mouth wrap around the tip, using your tongue to slowly soak the fabric that proved as a barrier. You quickly look up through your lashes and notice it seems he has stopped breathing, bringing a smile to your face and causing pride to grow through your chest. You slide your mouth up and down his length, coating it in saliva and enjoying the way the outline becomes more prominent. You hear the boring lull of whoever was next to you drone on, a reminder that staying quiet was the safest thing to do. You pull back, watching him curiously as you slowly slide two fingers below his waistband and start to pull them down. You wait to make sure he won’t stop you, that he wants this as much as you do. He only nods as he keeps speaking and soon you have his boxers pulled down, letting his cock spring up before you.

So, you’d never actually seen one in person before and the way it stood proudly in front of you gave you pause, the newfound confidence you had was dissipating until you just felt nervous. Sensing a change in you, he raises an eyebrow as if to ask if you were still wanting to do this. You nod back almost too quickly, taking a deep breath before moving forward. You feel his hand on the back of your head and watch as his other wraps around the base of his cock, guiding it to your open mouth. You feel him rub the tip over your lips, biting down roughly on his own. You let him hit the tip on your tongue a bit, feeling as though you could moan simply at the taste of him. This was so much better than your dreams, the weight of his cock on your tongue and the way his hand gripped the back of your head harder each time was better than anything you could even imagine. “Suck” He mouths the word and you nod obediently, wrapping your lips around the swollen tip. You let your eyes flutter shut as you did so, reveling in the feeling before you felt a yank on your hair. Your eyes pop open quickly and looked at him with concern, had you hurt him? had you been caught? You watch as he points to his eyes and then to yours and you nod in understanding. Maintaining eye contact, you wrap your lips around the tip again and take it fully into. your mouth, using your tongue to lick the leaking slit like you’d seen in films you certainly shouldn’t have watched. You watched as his lips moved but you were too focused on the way your own stretched around him to hear any of the words he was saying. You felt his hand that was on the back of your head pushing against it, taking more of him into your mouth. You could only hope that what you were doing was good, that you were pleasing him in a way he deserved. You wished you could hear the way you were making him feel but you had to rely on the way his hand gripped the back of your head and the look in his eyes. You vaguely can hear the confessional door shut and footsteps walking away from the two of you. You pulled up, staring up at him expectantly.

“You’re doing so well, how about you keep going?” He asks when the door to the church shuts and you nod eagerly, fueled by the praise he had given you. You take his cock back into your mouth and finally you hear a deep grunt fall from his lips and land right between your thighs. You test out a small moan, letting your lips vibrate against him which brought out another moan from the man above you. You were sure you could die and go to Heaven…well if you weren’t already fairly sure sucking off your Priest in the confession box took away your invitation there. Though his moans may be the most heavenly sound to grace your ears and you wanted to be the one to elicit such sounds from him forever. Soon the booth was full of the noise of your mouth working his cock, having ventured down further to take as much of him as you could, his hand helping you stroke the rest of his length as you did so. “Such a good girl.” He would mutter, the hand not gripping your hair brushing across your forehead and down your cheek, admiring the way they hollowed to take him in. You felt his hips stutter against your hands and glance up at him with a questioning gaze. He nods in response, looking like he was about to ask you a question but stopped himself. You pull off slowly, keeping your lips close enough to brush against the tip as you speak. “You can come in my mouth..” You whisper before wrapping your lip back around him once more. That seemed to elicit the response you wanted from him as you hear his moans speed up and his hand grip your head the hardest he had yet. You pause your movements just long enough to let him maneuver his hips up to thrust into your mouth, once, twice, three times and he was letting out a string of whimpers as your mouth filled with his cum, struggling to keep it all in.

Once he was seemingly done, you take your time licking up his length to clean him up, planting a soft kiss on the head before sitting back on your knees and wiping your mouth with a thumb. You look up at him with a proud but shy smile, watching as he tucks himself back into his pants and lean back against the wall. There was evident struggle behind his eyes, one you could tell was from fighting himself over what had just happened and if he was strong enough to stop it. He reaches forward to pull you up, helping you sit on his lap and face him. He pushes some of your hair back out of your eyes when his own land on your now extra plump lips. After what felt like a minute, he was pulling you close to press your lips together. Your heart raced even more than it had being on your knees for him and you let your hands lay on his chest as the kiss deepened. You took note to remember how his facial hair felt against your skin, the pattern of his now calmed breathing, even the way the fingers on his left hand fidgeted as you kissed. Your skin burned where he held you and you were sure you could stay there forever. Unfortunately for both of you, you needed some air. No words were shared as you both caught your breath, chests rising and falling in time with each other. Suddenly there was a loud ringing and you realized it was your phone, your mom calling you specifically. You compose yourself before answering, letting her know you’d be home for dinner soon but leaving out the specifics of where you had been. You knew she wouldn’t be upset that you went to confess but you were sure if she asked you about it later you’d have no way to hide the flush on your cheeks as you reminisced.

“I better go..” You speak, staring at your priest with a small pout on your face. His thumb finds your bottom lip, rubbing softly to rid you of the sour expression you held. “Go see your family, it’s important.” He says and you nod, opening the door before stepping out into the empty church with him behind you. You saunter towards the front doors before turning on your heel to face him, twiddling your thumbs a bit “Thank you, Father.” You says sweetly, leaning up and kissing his cheek before quickly turning to leave the building. He watches you as you make your way towards your car, shaking his head a bit. He signs the cross as he walks inside, heading straight to his prayer cabinet to repent for his sins and the ones he was already thinking about committing with you.

[babiebom]

What Type of Person They would Go For

A/N: I restarted criminal minds before finishing it because I don’t want it to end even though I know it’s been renewed. So now I’m back on season one and I wanted to write something for it lmao

Tw: none but let me know if I should tag something!!

Bc: at least 5 for each!! (Morgan, Hotch, and Reid)

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Aaron Hotchner

I think he likes more maternal women. He’s a family man and he’d love someone who is just as family oriented as him.

I also think he likes particularly patient people he has a demanding job so he wants a person that’s understanding of his situation.

I also think for women he’d prefer a more submissive person that also allows and supports his growth. He wants someone that allows him to be the protector but also is not so submissive that they allow him to do just anything. He wants to be challenged in a healthy way.

For men I think it’s the same thing he wants someone that allows him to take charge but not someone that allows him to do anything.

For looks I think he likes people with soft looks but sharp features if that makes sense.

Spencer Reid

His type is quite literally everywhere I think his type is squally based on two things that can be both or either of them it doesn’t really matter.

The first type is smart people. I think Spencer would like a really smart person he is attracted to intelligence and looks in this case do not matter for him he just wants someone that he can infodump to and that he can have an actual meaningful conversation with

The second type is literally just beautiful people. There have been times in the series where intelligence doesn’t matter to him when he thinks a person is insanely attractive. Like I do think he would do well with a himbo/bimbo significant other that also allows him to infodump and doesn’t judge him.

For both men and women I think he thinks he would prefer a more dominant personality to be his significant other but would find that it’s kinda annoying for him. Yes he’s good at following directions but he would also want the freedom to make the decisions and would probably end up with a switch unless he wants to give being the dominant a try.

Prefers people with softer looks that are striking. Like the person doesn’t have to have sharp features their face just has to be captivating to him.

Derek Morgan

Definitely prefers women that are a bit spicy and dominant. He wants a challenge and he likes women who won’t back down to him even if it annoys him. Likes a woman who will tell him off and stand up for themself.

Also likes protective women and though he would say that children aren’t on his mind he would probably go after a family oriented person without thinking about it

For men I think he would specifically prefer a more submissive man. I think he would have a lowkey problematic pov where it’s like the “who’s the woman/man” in a same sex relationship. He would want to be the male role in the relationship. Would absolutely refuse to bottom.

Would also want a guy that can comfort him. Personally because of his childhood I think he would have some trouble with this type of relationship and would need someone that could make all of his doubts and fear go away.

I think he would prefer someone with a sharp face. Like their face is angles and lines and they have very prominent features. He likes a sexy and model like person.

[mywingsareonwheels]

Why it matters actually that some Christians are LGBT+ or good allies (ditto plenty of other religious people)

Right now, the SNP leadership elections in Scotland are being hampered by the fact that one of the candidates (Kate Forbes) is a Christian fundamentalist (from the Free Church of Scotland) who is very homophobic, transphobic, and misogynist. She’s also not great on the environment.

[More behind the cut, includes discussion of various bigotries.]

The second candidate (Ash Regan) is better on cis women’s rights and cis gay rights (and is gay herself), but she’s even worse on the environment and is also very transphobic.

And the third (Hamza Yousaf) is pretty good on all of those things. He happens also to be a brown, Muslim man.

And here is a very very annoying thing: Kate Forbes, the fundamentalist, keeps claiming that her views on trans issues, same sex marriage, abortion, and sex/childbirth outside marriage are just normal for “all Christians, Jews, and Muslims”. And some absolute twits in the independence movement, all as far as I can tell white secularists, are going, “welp I hate Forbes views but I prefer her to Yousaf because he clearly must think the same as her as he’s Muslim and at least she’s honest about it”.

[facepalms, a lot, with some swearing]

The thing is this. Forbes is clearly very strongly influenced by low church fundamentalists in the US. She is absolutely wrong about Christians in Scotland. The Church of Scotland (Presbyterian) permits ministers to perform same-sex marriage and has some congregations which are actively LGBT+ (yes, all of it inc. trans) affirming. That’s a decision they made that was voted on by members, by the way, and I believe the vote was not close. The Episcopalian church in Scotland (in communion with the Anglican church but not tied to its silly attitudes) is similarly good on all this. Scotland has a lot of LGBT+ Christians, as well as Christians who are active and excellent allies, or who are at worst neutral/focused on other things.

And she’s clearly wrong about Jewish people and Muslims also; I mean do I even need to argue this point? I am a vaguely Christo-Pagan gentile; I don’t speak from much knowledge here. But I know perfectly well that there are plenty of LGBT+ and allied Jewish and Muslim people and that saying otherwise is outright bigoted.

The assumption that Yousaf must be a transphobe, a homophobe, and anti-abortion and anti sex-outside-marriage because he’s Muslim (despite the fact that he has conducted himself as an MSP as sensible on all these issues) is just plain racist and Islamophobic.

Hopefully he’ll become leader. He’s got the most support from other Holyrood and Westminster members, and the membership in general apparently does tend to be more left-wing than the parliamentary party (so he should do even better there), so unless he totally fails to get his message across (or the Scottish as well as English media are appalling which... they can be.. :-S) he ought to pull this off. He’s the only one who the Scottish Greens (with whom the SNP are in a semi-coalition) would comfortably work with. He’s the only one who’s properly left-wing. He’s doesn’t seem to be as brilliant or competent as Sturgeon but then very few people are, and he is clearly pretty decent. At any rate, as a Scottish Greens member who also liked the SNP under Sturgeon a lot, I’m rooting for him. <3

Anyway: plenty of people in every religion are LGBT+ or allied. And it does matter that not all Christians are the same. Because, for instance, the Scottish Green MSPs include Ross Greer, a devout Christian about the same age as Forbes, who openly and sincerely regards his (extremely good) allyship of queer and trans people and women as a crucial duty as part of his religious practice, of honouring the humanity in everyone and opposing injustice. The idea that being “conservative” on social justice issues is intrinsic to any of Christianity, Judaism, and/or Islam is both completely wrong, and risks letting my beloved adopted country getting a leader who most definitely thinks that it is, and is an absolute shit. Gah.

[swaggy-pregnant-elf-man]

I posted 2,985 times in 2022

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

HELP ITS ME SUMI

The londoner in ur birmie squad sjdhhdf

i am so sorry bro i dont think i am who u think i am 😭😭

8 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

#4

aras have you seen the Joan of Arc outfit yet

I HAVE NOW KSKDKLEODJ DKDOEOL I AM GOING RVEN MORE INSANE GOING TO WATCH THE STREAM NOW

10 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

#3

3000 posts!

ashamed 😔

16 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

#2

clownwife

19 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I love the energy and all and I don’t want to offend but as a Muslim girl i can tell you that it is literally haram to identify as anything other than your god given gender. Like I’m not trying to be rude and I’m glad that there a respectful supportive people out there but if you’re looking at the Quran and other islamic book you’ll find stories about how its considered haram. Accepting the islam religion means accepting everything and dedicating yourself to it you can’t just pick and choose.

omg my first anon hate hahaha

i know im not obligated to answer hate but im going to anyway bcuz of i have things to say (sparkle emoji) (im on pc and dont have the energy to find an emoji keyboard)

okay first of all nowhere did i say that I identify as Muslim. i get that it was ambiguous tho so its cool. to clarify,, I am personally not Muslim but I kind of have to act like one so I don't get kicked to the streets or some shit lol and maybe I'm a bit of a coward idkkk but anyways

I would be interested to know what other Islamic books ur talking about btw, but I'm pretty sure the quran doesn't mention being trans anywhere at all. in fact I'm pretty certain, I've read it multiple times with translation and commentary interpretations and anyway being trans wasn't really a 'known' thing back then? bcuz obviously patriarchy and gender roles n segregation blah blah was wayyyy more yk. shit I forgot the word. uhhh yk like prevalent?? ofc the quran does mention a shitton about gender roles,, so yk men r the breadwinners, women raise the kids and keep house and be good wives etc. and also remember the big important fact:: GENDER AND SEX R DIFFERENT THINGS!!! meaning technically u cant be 'born' a gender (omfg my keyboard hates me imagine a question mark here) ur born with certain genitals and society assigns u a gender based on that . sounds a bit fucked when u put it like that actually but anyway back when the quran was being revealed this wasn't a known thing cuz yk they didn't have studies on this stuff,, and yea ur probably gonna say 'but the quran came from allah and he knows everything' well the fact of the matter is he either forgot or smth idk I don't speak for God but trans people definitely exist that's a fact we know so yeah. oh I should come back to my point which was, even with the quran saying those things about what ur supposed to do based on whats in ur pants which is crazy outdated anyway it doesn't take gender ≠ sex into consideration either soo ye that's the most it could've said about being trans and that not very valid anymore rip and that's not even mentioning non-binary people

and anyway Islam is literally all about acceptance and respect and everything so idk it would probably be better if u didn't go around telling ppl they're 'literally haram' for being trans or gay or any typa queer bcuz its literally not our choice (insert question marks) believe me I would fucking love to be comfortable in my 'female' body but I cant no matter how much I try to force myself so I'm sorry dude. no one would choose to be stuck in a situation like this. personally, I believe Islam needs a super massive reformation. well not Islam exactly, but a lot of things said in the quran r outdated wildly now, while a lot of it will also always be relevant, eg. everyone being equal and yk give to the poor etc. i have absolutely nothing against Muslims (I have it against my family for being so forceful about religion - different thing) yall r super cool and ik being a Muslim girl isn't easy believe me, but genuinely seeing Muslim people around and yk, just existing in wider society outside of Islamic spaces makes me feel so proud of where I came from even if its not been the best experience. have u seen the show We are Lady Parts (question mark) its about an all female Muslim punk band and there's only six episodes I literally watched it all today but the message of it is what I'm trying to get to you. u don't have to be the perfect pious wife to be considered a 'good Muslim',, there are so many ways u can show faith. you don't have to be a big strong man who can handle all pain with ease while single-handedly providing for a family either.

anyways peace out that sure was a journey lol and I definitely have forgot some of the things I wanted to say but yea that's all don't forget to like and subscribe &lt;3

(colours r to make it easier to read for people with shorter attention spans,, they don't have any other significance)

36 notes - Posted February 9, 2022

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[queen-mihai]

Ugh this isn't gonna help me not be shadowbanned but I think I have to engage with it.

I'm gonna "yes, and" this a bit.

I do agree with you, and I wonder how much damage and delay it causes to real trans people.

Like, I watched Ranma 1/2 a lot. And I SO desperately wanted that "spring of drowned girl" to be a real thing. Heck, if you look at Ranma in girl form as a story of an FTM trans man, it might actually be a pretty good trans story. I'm not transmasc, so I couldn't tell you. It is kinda cool listening to Ranma in that tiny female presenting body scream out "I'm a GUY, OKAY! A GUY!" and then watch him be SO much more comfortable when somebody breaks out that tea pot. That part really is what it feels like.

But that being said, there are some damaging elements to it too. Like geez how many times was Ranma called a pervert in that show? Holy crap that made me not wanna be trans because "if being trans means being a pervert and some sort of deviant weirdo, then I guess it's better that that's just a TV show and not my real life... although it would be cool if I could turn into a girl..."

One of the things that has helped me a lot is that now I AM a gigantic pervert and deviant. I needed to tie a load of metal to the front of a forklift and we only had some loose rope. I eventually had to explain that the reason I knew exactly how to secure the loose flailing pieces to the frame was because I've sorta become efficient at shibari. And then I had to explain what shibari was. (I don't wanna look up a textbook definition but I'll call it "The artistic tying up of people in ropes". I think it's very pretty and I've gotten halfway decent at it) I've come to appreciate the bdsm community for being so welcoming and accepting and open. They've helped me feel a lot more okay with just being me. I've seen lots of trans people just being normal and okay, and that helped me break out of my shell. But I kind of can't help now but think, if Ranma hadn't been quite so aggressive with the "trans=perv" stuff, maybe it wouldn't have taken me so long to realize.

Also, I had to square with the concept of BEING a person who thinks sex can be a fun and interesting thing to do. I had to wrestle with *that* for YEARS before I even had the wherewithal to even consider my own gender identity.

And just think what that does. I mean, really...tying gender to sex is just so...I don’t know.. sick

I work in a technical field and I wish there were more women. Cis women. Trans women. I love to see a woman twisting a wrench. I think it's extremely useful for all of us to be able to fix things. I can't know everything all the time and it's always nice to have a second set of eyes. Giving women mechanical knowledge just improves all of our chances to keep things running smoothly. There's no reason that field service engineering should be dominated by mostly men.

Now let me ask you: what part of that previous paragraph made you think about people having sex with such other?

Wishing there were more female mechanical engineers has NOTHING TO DO WITH SEX. And when I say sex, I don't mean the stuff between your legs, I'm talking about people HAVING sex. Having more female mechanical engineers or not does not depend or rely in any way on anybody being attracted to each other or jumping in bed. So WHY does gender need to be tied to the ACT of sex all the goddamn time? Holy shit this is a rant now but I just realized how freaking damaging that is! Yeah, cis people want DESPERATELY to tie trans identities to the ACT of sex.

They (terfs) want you thinking about people HAVING sex every time you think of a trans person. And then they want to say "that's why it's not safe for kids". That's why they're constantly on about the stupid bathroom thing. They think "Bathroom=genitals. Genitals=the act of sex. Trans people=a pervert in the act of sex. Thus trans people going to the bathroom means somebody will be having sex, and do you really want that in YOUR bathrooms?"

Ugh I gotta cut this off before I start screaming. Somebody else feel free to run with it

The fact is that most “crossdressing boy” mangas we have nowadays can trace their lineage back to Stop Hibari-Kun (1982) which carried the same general premise of the male lead being confused by an amab love interest who dresses as a woman, but critically also had the context of Hibari explicitly being a trans woman who hid this fact from her peers. This gave her a real, grounded reason to be the way she is.

Without the love interest being trans, the modern crossdressing boy trope just functions entirely on make-belief scenarios of a guy just randomly deciding to come to school as a girl one day while skirting around the obvious trans implications with little more than a “nuh-uh he’s still male because I said so”, and once you recognize that’s what’s going on it becomes hard to see most crossdressing boys in media as little more than a kind of tourist version of attraction to trans women, letting cis readers live out a fantasy of trans sexuality without ever having to engage with the reality of the problems real trans people face. We saw this in action recently with the confirmation that Bridget from Guilty Gear is canonically a transgender woman: a lot of people were outraged at the idea of not being able to have sexual fantasies about her without acknowledging that she was transgender.

[cruelestpoetryever]

Hi yeah believe it or not I'm not actually a public figure and my criticisms of Kamala Harris didn't impact literally anyone's decisions whatsoever.

Yeah, no shit, either way you had the right to vote and didn’t. It sucks that the elections in the US don’t make any sense whatsoever, but stick to your morals even when criticizing celebrities.

And also the post I reblogged wasn't comparing Chappell Roan to a Nazi it was comparing her to someone who is content and comfortable with Nazis and are under the protection of Nazi family members which she literally is.

Implying she’s ok with nazis is not comparing her to one? If it isn’t then fine, probably a language barrier.

But sorry I should have thought about how hard and crazy her life is like in kaleidoscope. Have you guys heard kaleidoscope that just proves Chappell Roan is a good person because her life is just so sad and complicated.

No, it’s just that it’s weird you only seem to hate on Chappell while Taylor’s image was used in Trump’s campaign. The 180º shifts are wild, hate to love to hate again (and never blocking tags)

And sorry I didn't think about fighting back. It's very important in a country that arrests protestors for trans women to go out and protest and then get put in men's prisons where they are intentionally used as sex slaves to help keep male prisoners more well behaved.

How do you think people fought before? Do you think black people or queer people stood still while things were happening? Yes, it sucks that authoritarian governments try to stop the opposition by any means they deem necessary, but I assure you, a lot of big political issues were affected by normal people, like you and me, fighting even though they knew (and know) that fighting back was/is dangerous. Attacking anyone that tries to be positive does jack shit, wallowing in self-pity does jack shit as well.

I'll be at an encampment immediately I should have just been thinking of that the whole time instead of just crying for myself.

No, mourning the election is fine. Threatening to kill yourself, attacking people that have nothing to do with your problems, picking fights? Yeah, that sucks, Cruelest. It’s not healthy for anyone.

The 45 second high she got from being better than everyone else was actually worth my right to live. I'm sorry for being such a piece of shit I promise I'll do better in the future.

It isn’t worth your right to live. And it really sucks to elect a right-wing asshole. But that’s why people have been telling you time and time again to log off, take care of yourself and find community. If you don’t look for help you won’t get better.

As I said before, my country was affected by US imperialism (think about a US backed dictatorship), and people fought back. A few right-wing assholes were elected as well, people fought back. People are fighting back even now, with a more progressive government— because protesting for a better life if not a one time thing. It sucks that fighting back endangers protesters, but it is the right thing to do, fighting back against fascism is always the right thing to do. If you personally can’t protest, find ways to help people and help yourself.

Find a community that will help you be safe, seek help for suicidal ideation, if you need seek help for alcoholism, but just know that whatever it is that you’re doing right now won’t help (as I said, been there done that).

Okay yes if saying someone is okay with Nazis is comparing them to a Nazi then yeah I'm comparing Chappell Roan to a Nazi. And Taylor Swift was used by Donald trump in ai art without her consent and she spoke against that so it's not relevant to her at all. And I genuinely do not understand how you can tell me that I should be risking arrest to protest unless you just genuinely don't understand what happens to trans women in prison. It is literally not an option at all for me I cannot protest if there's a chance it would mean I get arrested. I just hate Chappell Roan anyway and I don't think that's unreasonable at all

[conflictandscotchblog]

With Friends Like These

For my entire corporate career (ha, career) I always had more women friends than men. Not sure why, but that’s the way it always was. During my last job, I had a group of friends that I saw every day. Apparently, that wasn’t enough, because we also got together outside of work.

For example, a few summers ago, we had a barbecue at one of those friend’s house. It was make your own plate, then find a place to sit. Turns out, all my work friends (women) ended up sitting in the dining room inside, while their spouses/significant others (men) sat on the deck outside.

I made my plate, headed to the dining room, and sat down at the table with my friends.

“All the guys are on the deck,” I smiled.

Well, all the guys except me, as I began to eat my food.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the guys on the deck, all great friends, but I never worked with any of them.

Now that I’m retired, I don’t see my work friends as often, so when an opportunity arose to get together, we all jumped at it.

A few weekends ago, this group of friends continued a tradition – an after New Year party at one of those friend’s house. We have been doing this for well over a decade.

And since all the people that worked with me at these parties are women, it sometimes creates a unique dynamic.

Their are benefits to having strong woman friends. Relationship advice, what I should and shouldn’t do on a variety of situations, and they get me to go to the doctor when I’m too hard headed to go myself.

It’s like having a wife, but without the sex (so, yes, it is exactly like having a wife).

Actually, I did have one friend who was my work wife, and I was her work husband (and, yes, there was also no sex).

Being so close with these women, they know more about my personal life then most people in my family. Especially, over the years, when I was in a long term relationship they knew just about everything. And, I mean...everything.

In return, I knew a lot about theirs.

With that said, I should not have been surprised by the following conversation that I overheard, but I was.

Dinner was just finishing up, I still worked on a piece of lasagna, and the rest of the men went off to the living to watch football. Once again, it was just me and the women; them on one side of the dinning room table, and me on the other.

Besides my work friends, two of them had their daughters with them, early twenties, early thirties. I could half hear their conversations, but my ears perked up when one of my friends said, “Sorry, Al.”

That’s when I realized each of the women were telling stories about the first time they had their periods.

Now I’m thinking, do they feel comfortable with me because we have shared a lot of information about each other’s lives before? Or, are they thinking, “It’s okay, it just Al.”

Hopefully its the former, would be disappointed if it was the later.

Now, I’m not about to share this round-robin discussion about first time periods, but some sounded horrific for a young woman being caught by surprise, with this aspect of their lives.

And yet, there was a lot of laughter coming from their end of the table.

I guess file it under the heading, “Well, I can laugh about it now but, let me tell you a story…”

Each story tried to top the last until the hostess, Angela, came into the dinning room. She looked at this arrangement, the women at one end of the table, me at the other.

“You know,” she said, “he’s only sitting there so he could write about it in his blog.”

I replied, “I never thought of that (of course I did), but thank you, Angela, for the idea.”

Truth is, the real problem was, I had nothing to contribute to this particular conversation.

Now, if they spoke about a different topic, say, how each of us lost our virginity, then maybe I could have added something to the conversation.

“Well, I can laugh about it now,” I would have said, “but, let me tell you a story.”

[dichromaticdyke]

Genuinely not trying to start drama just to preface this I'm just curious, but do you have an opinion on bi/mspec lesbians?

*sigh* top one ask to send panic into my very heart.

yes, i do have an opinion.

i thought about just leaving it at that and refusing to elaborate further, but one of my new year’s resolutions is to stop being afraid of saying what’s on my mind and being assertive so. full opinion below the cut. i’m posting it here, and i’m never talking about it publicly again. if you disagree with me, that’s fine! you’re more than welcome to unfollow or block if my opinion rubs you the wrong way—i do the same. it’s fine. i will block anyone being a dick to me about this.

before we start, let’s just make two things clear:

this conversation is trans-inclusive. when i say women, i mean cis women, trans women, and nonbinary people whose genders and/or material experiences are similar to the social class of “woman.” when i say men, i mean cis men, trans men, and nonbinary people whose genders and/or material experiences are similar to the social class of “man.” we’re not going to use this conversation as a means of transphobia.

i’m a stranger on the internet. i have one opinion. my opinion is my own and does not reflect all lesbians’ opinions, or even the “correct” opinion—if you think my opinion is wrong, that’s your prerogative. i’m not gonna tell anyone how to identify, and i don’t have the power to enforce that either way. this is just how i feel.

i don’t understand why some people want to use the label lesbian when they’re attracted to men. i just don’t get it. there are multiple labels for experiencing attraction to multiple genders—bisexual, pansexual, polysexual, omnisexual. i’m sure there are ones i’ve never heard of, too. but there’s only one label that is, by definition, exclusive of men as either the subject or object of attraction. that’s lesbian. and if you want to emphasize your preference for women, there are multiple words for that too: sapphic, wlw/nblw, even queer can imply that preference. i never understand why the people who insist on calling themselves bi lesbians never seem to offer an alternative word for women who are exclusively attracted to women. because if that word isn’t lesbian, then what is it?

combining bisexuality and lesbianism also ignores the experiences and histories of both communities. yes, i know lesbian used to mean something you did instead of something you were. bisexual also used to literally mean being double-sexed or double-gendered. words change and meanings evolved. both lesbians and bisexuals forged their own communities around those words to describe the specific experiences they go through. sapphic, wlw/nblw, queer, etc. are all umbrella terms to describe shared experiences; lesbian and bisexual are not.

and, because this conversation almost always centers around lesbians but the lesbians who assert that they don’t feel comfortable with people insisting that they can/should like men, i asked a friend of mine her opinion. she’s bisexual but identified as a lesbian for almost half of her life, and so i thought she would have good insight as someone who was deeply, deeply passionate about the lesbian community but still realized she didn’t have a place there upon recognizing that she did, in fact, love and want to be with men [transcript in alt text]:

if you feel called to identify as a lesbian, i do encourage you to investigate that. maybe you’re not actually attracted to men but are dealing with compulsory heterosexuality. that’s fine! but if you investigate it and determine, yes, you do love and want to be with men, that’s also fine! it’s just in my opinion that you use a different word instead of lesbian. again, i won’t tell you what to do, you can ignore me. but that’s how i feel.

no one publicly ask me about this again, i’m serious.