#bc watching some of those now is like seeing it for the first time

[concenecxere]

this is so beautifully put. i mean gorgeous. i am not caught up so i am effectively spoiling myself but funnily enough i actually tried to talk to my mother about this while watching s1 bc at the same time i'd been reading a chapter of this book about compulsory sexuality (refusing compulsory sexuality: a black asexual lens on our sex-obsessed culture by sherronda j brown) which really encouraged this exploration for me. like so much of what stood out to me was the direct comparison of innie marks interrogation of his own creation being spurred on whilst dealing with integrating helly into the severed floor (and the loss of petey) vs his sister on the outside having her first child. helly r is almost a petulant child to him at first, an inconvenience to the order of things although necessary for their workplace function at lumon (like ops gf said, just like helena mark as her boss almost resents the freedom with which helly is defiant), until of course he really reconciles the severity and the lengths she goes to and turns inward and wonders why he never stopped to question it all himself. so we see these motivations for reproduction in direct contrast -- in the story of mark the final goal of his reproduction is productivity (by separating himself from his trauma), versus devon and rickan taking an approach to reproduction "more virtuously" by comparison (like excited for the journey of raising a unique human being). now this is the point where i realized i was talking to my mother and didnt really have my thoughts wrapped around it and wanted to begin that type of conversation with more nuance and the conversation naturally returned back to the show.

but! back to the book by sherronda j brown -- it has a whole chapter on productivity, partially tackling how capitalism incorporates productivity into nuclear family making which kind of effectively pulls the magic out of the point of a family. a child is not something that you can utilize/form for some present/later convenience, they're a human being with their own unique ambitions and the beauty of parenthood is often watching them discover that etc etc. but capitalism looks to control family making as it is a method of economic stimulation. again this requires a lot of nuance, because since we are so embedded in capitalism in some ways you have no choice but to be implicit even if you are aware, and you can be doing this wether you realize it or not. i also want to be sure i acknowledge that i am by no means an expert on this i just felt emboldened to get into it here. alongside those examples given by the amazing prev posts/tags this is illustrated in real life by how so many people are realizing using children as a contingency plan for who'll take care of you when you age or like expecting grandchildren from your own children. like its absolutely not a bad thing to want these things but assuming no matter how you treat your children that its their responsibility to fulfill that for you is bull -- and objectively to expect this is not even always guaranteed biologically for several reasons but i digress. a child is their own person worthy of respect and if you don't give it to them they don't/shouldn't owe you present or future compliance (again theres nuance, even in severance given the outies varying levels of awareness of/care about their innies treatment) but capitalism is a part of perpetuating this. as so many now realize if you are surrounded by real true community confirmed elder care and the opportunity to be a grandparent-like mentor is/should be available without nuclear family to fulfill it. the power of found family and all that beautiful stuff! particularly when imagined with a queer lens. but capitalism has taught us intentionally that all of this should come from the heteronormative nuclear family and is only valid when derived from a heteronormative nuclear family in order to isolate us from one another and sell us these opportunities in other ways for their own gain. anyways i've danced all around it myself but brown says the following far more concisely in their amazing book (which i look forward to finishing).

"anxiety about the sex recession among young people is also anxiety about an accompanying decrease in marriage, nuclear family making, and home ownership. all of these things are intimately related and impact our economy, especially because they are so easily capitalized on. those invested in the capitalist system work to convince us that these are necessary parts of life and that participation in them makes us more mature adults and 'productive' members of society... therefore, cisheterosexual sex itself becomes a means of productivity because it is understood to ultimately lead to marriage, procreation, and nuclear families, all of which are integral to patriarchal and white supremactist capitalist systems."

its so remarkably layered i would love to pick the brains of the writers about it all!! lumon offering severance and the creation of an innie as this amazing way to free themselves from the monotony of a job or like the weight of the outside world on their work. but of course this job is necessitated by the capitalist society they exist within and the thing that drives them all to severance is what capitalism forces them to believe they have wrong with themselves or have to achieve to be successful. so then when they create their innie, or "have their child" as it were, and the child demands more love than you ever thought you were allowed the capitalism worm in your brain has already prepped you to place the blame on the child and not realize the system is what has it all wrong. and even if you do understand the systems driven you to this point the cost that you've paid for being compliant all this time is this life you now get to watch your child live.

my gf said something sooo insane about helly the other day and i cannot stop thinking about it. she was like. helena and helly’s relationship is almost maternal. the way helena created helly as an extension of herself, to serve her interests, to try and impress her own family. she scolds helly, talks down to her like a child. “i understand you’re unhappy with the life you’ve been given” “i am a person, you are not”. the way she envies and resents helly’s freedom. the way she feels entitled to helly’s life and is now living vicariously through her in the most literal sense. what if you created life and now they’re experiencing the things you’ve always wanted for yourself. what if you created life and they were flawed and loud and demanding and they were loved more than you’ve ever been. and you hated them for it. the mother/daughterisms are insane my girlfriend is insane

[opal-owl-flight]

John. John Splatoon. The man, the goofball the sweetest man youll see. Chatty, bubbly, and gives really good team morale.

But things arent all sweet.

I wonder if he shuts himself up when he feels hes being *too* jolly.

His family is kind. Its not their fault. Yknow how people are fucking mean to those who are very excited abt things.

I think he had an experience like that. Tanara was thankfully there when things started getting really bad.

John was made fun of when he first started turfing. He was just sooo excited abt it all. So enthusiastic!! He studied abt the greats, the top players, all that. And the bitchass mean kids thought itd be funny to crush his dreams.

They made fun of him when he rambles abt strategy. They mocked him whenever he tries to be a hero and gets fucking splatted for it (OH GEE, IF HIS TEAMMATES WERE ACTUALLY *HELPING* HIM HE WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN GOT).

One time I think some bastard jammed his weapon so it was unusuable for a while, and he was unable to turf.

"Good riddance," the team had said. "That beak is finally quiet for once."

Tanara saw this happening and decided to stand up for him.

They saw this boy getting picked on, and didnt hesitate in open firing at the bastards. Didnt care if theyll get banned for a week for firing a weapon off the field.

"|Hey, are you the guy who cornered me in the last match? Color me impressed.|"

Tanara doesnt stand for bullies. Ever. They hate seeing these kinds of people in the leagues. They hate the fact that these nutjobs are so good at the game!!! they want to make the leagues a fun place for everyone. None of this fuckinh bullshit. From a young age theyve already defended others. Wanted to make a better world where everyone can just be who they wanted to be, grow into their best selves.

The orange squid was a big help. With them actually recognizing his talent and running by his side,,,

They made him believe in himself. Fuck what everyone else says.

"|We won because of your strategy,|" they sign. "|If it werent for you, we'd have lost the tournament.|"

And hes given a smile of encouragement. Oh, sweet understanding, sweet recognition.

For a tender year they and John built a strong team and friendship. John became this cheery man bc of them.

They helped him stand up for himself. Helped him in the art of not giving a fuck. Or raining retribution where it is applicable (the duo have sent bullies crying after giving fjem say -- a 20 second rainmaker match)

Whenever someone tries to make fun of him in the later years, or now -- even if Tanara is out of the picture bc theyre getting blended -- he will literally ignore the naysayers. Bc he knows. He knows Tanara believes in him. He knows his team believes in him. He knows many others do, as well.

He knows his own capabilities. He knows what his limits. And hes. God, theres a reason hes second in command. Hes smart about the sport. Hes scary on the field. Dont let the goofy attitude fool you. Hes having fun but you on enemy team wont!

Some people are recently saying that Tanara left their old team bc John was lagging too far behind them, that Ink Typh∞n is the natural next step for them.

Dead wrong dipshits. If anything, those two are eye to eye.

If Tanara wasnt forced to retire, theyf still be fighting by his side.

-----------

Ofc its not all perfect. He still shuts down sometimes. Shuts himself up if he gets scared of offending someone/in general.

If he doesnt get reassurance or proves to himself/his naysayers of his own capabilities, he starts going quiet, smiling less.

Those wounds still hurt, Im afraid....

-----------

And what about after Octo Expansion.

What was going through his mind?

Like....this is your best friend. The one who helped you become the man you are. They were your role model. Theyre so strong, so assured. Confident. Ruthless on the turf. So skilled that nothing can faze them. Believed in you like no one else did.

And youre watching them seem to get worse day by day.

Theyre closing up. Theyre not telling you anything. You reach out but they dismiss you. And their colors only get more desaturated with time. They still believe in you, but its clear that theres something bothering them.

You try to share your joy with them, talking about the things you liked. Like old times. It turns out however, that the character you idolized in the media you consume, is them.

And it explains everything.

An entire secret double life and they didnt tell you.

You were their best friend. They were by your side when you struggled to make it in this city. They gave you assurance when your confidence started to fail.

They were your hero.

Where were you then, when they needed one themself?

They slump into John's arms,,

Theyre only older than him by a year. but they feel so,,

They feel so frail. A shadow of how they used to be. A body broken by war, a mind and heart ravaged by worry and vigilance and the weight of the world on their shoulders.

They tell him that they dont want him to take this load. They tell him he doesnt deserve it.

He says he has no plans of getting into this, not directly. He just wants them to come back to him after duty, or allow him to help in any way he can.

He'll just wait by the door, like he always has.

And hes holding them. He wants to keep them there til everything becomes okay again.

[phannie-by-night]

We joke and jest about saw trap-style questions anytime Dan and Phil do a q&a but honestly our questions ain't shit compared to what dnp were doing to themselves regularly on bbc radio 1. That Lion Babe clip is like watching a three car pileup

[j-esbian]

maybe the real voltron was the friends we made along the way

[phagodyke]

I will say while I've loved most of elden ring I'm really glad I'm down to just 2 more main boss fights (malenia + maliketh) before I start the endgame boss fights... whew 😮‍💨

[hauntingblue]

Can't believe I spent so much time thinking kiku and kinemon were dead... they really got me there...

[bookworm-2692]

I gotta say the tags you left on that reblog on why you followed me are by far one of the best collections of tags I've ever gotten. but you've awakened my curiosity. What was the Twitch chat that started this? What did I say???? I'M SO CURIOUS BECAUSE BOY HOWDY I'VE SAID SOME INTERESTING THINGS-

I couldn't remember exactly, so I went back and searched Discord for images I sent and apparently it was just a super tame message.

The thing that made it significant, however, was the fact that I had never heard the Diggy Diggy Hole song before this year... despite having watched minecraft youtube videos since 2012. Somehow I missed that. A month or two ago I mentioned something from a different Impulse stream about diggy diggy and my friend @bibliobasilisk forced me to watch several iterations of the song (which I'm grateful for. It's a bop. As you would know).

So anyway I sent that screenshot to her like "hey look someone in chat said this" because i thought it was hilarious and then I was like "also I recognise their name from tumblr. unrelatedly". And then she was like "ah swedish tumblr, just looked them up" and then, being half swedish myself, I got hella excited:

And then I proceeded to scroll on your tumblr for like 20 minutes before unpausing the Impulse vod to continue watching. And I've been following you ever since then.

So a combination of me recognising your name, and my friend sussing out that you're Swedish (and the fact that diggy diggy is still relatively new to me) and bam. I'm here now.

Also in looking for that screenshot, it turns out that I screenshotted a second message of yours from a different stream:

Because Hermitgang my beloved

[islandoforder]

hey i havent watched crown of candy can i still watch ravening war or should i watch crown of candy first? hope its ok to ask <3<3<3

Hey!! I think you definitely can watch ravening war (at least so far there haven’t been any major spoilers) but there are definitely references/jokes that you may miss as a result… nothing major, but if the cast burst into laughter and you can’t tell why you can safely assume it’s an acoc ref!

Also omg totally fine to ask me questions always ☺️

[thepandalion]

I have a fic idea and I dont know if I want to write it or not send help

[itsalwaysdark]

thank GODDD the doctor is taking time to work on himself maybe now he can stop ruining womens lives .

[indiegame]

today was. good. yeah. needed that.

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side

[oh-no-its-bird]

Really stupid au where when they were younger, Kakashi and Obito shared an accidental kiss a lot like Sasuke and Naruto. (Kakashi commits to his mask shortly after but will never not insist it's unrelated)

Years later and Kakashi, trying to cheer up Naruto and Sasuke ab their own embaressing accidental first kiss, shares his own story

Then, years later when Obito reveals himself on the battlefield, instead of going "woah, another Uchiha!?" when he hears his name, Naruto can't help but point and shout OH MY GOD UR THE GUY WHO KISSED SENSEI!!!!!!!!

Instant dead silence. (Obito wants to die)

Sakura, who never heard the story ab how it was a one time accidental kiss: "omg... sensei's childhood boyfriend went evil on him... this is so fucked up"

Obito is VIOLENTLY thrown off by this turn of events (and also hasn't actually thought ab it in years oh my god that did happen didn't it)

Kakashi, seeing how badly it threw him off, and also the kind of person who plays hard into throwing people off and generally fucking w them to gain an edge, seeing Sakura mumbling ab lovers to enemies and just kinda goes "Yeah Obito I can't believe you'd do this to me I thought we had smthn special."

"Yeah a rivalry????"

"So I was only ever a way for u to get stronger,, figures u were using me,,,"

[Confused Obito car crash noises]

Sakura yells smthn ab him being a deadbeat and how Kakashi can do so much better and Naruto is instantly shouting in agreement as Sasuke stands there like "hn." Which is basically the same thing for him

Kakashi just starts straight up lying actually

"What about all those picnics we went on... watching the sun set over konoha..."

"Are you talking about when Minato said we weren't allowed to come back inside till we stopped arguing and ate on opposite ends of the roof bc we couldn't even look at eachother without yelling???"

"It was so romantic."

Obito, starting to actually doubt himself, "was that a date????"

(It was not.)

"You died in my arms..."

"I died under a rock"

"We literally got eye married" (not a thing, he just made this up 3 seconds ago)

"We got WHAT" (no one can prove him wrong tho bc no surviving Uchiha knows that much ab their clans marriage traditions)

"Oh my god sensei's husband is a deadbeat" - sakura, horrified (and maybe a little delighted)

"Figures." -Sasuke, who's been in proximity w Obito for some time now and absoloutley believes every word ab this topic Kakashi is saying

"Woah. This is almost as bad as the fact he murdered my parents when I was a baby dattebayo" - Naruto who's priorities are NOT what they should be

"Ok. I wouldn't go that far." - Sasuke, who's priorities are also fucked but not THAT fucked, oh my god Naruto

"No, no he's right. We should kill him even harder for this" - Sakura, who doesn't actually agree but wants an excuse for more juicy sensei love drama (and also wants to see Obito beaten to death anyways)

[atlabeth]

heat lightning

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you end up at the heart of the bau's latest case.

a/n: took way too long but here's more gideon reader! just as irritable as ever with some actual human emotions this time around. send help and prayers bc she's gonna need it. and before you ask there will in fact be some more parts to close up this case, i just have to write them first and it may take approximately 10 years. thank you for your consideration

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): reader still has daddy issues, still hates spence, and still argues w gideon the whole time. more angst! typical cm case stuff (a stalker that has taken vulnerable pics of reader) read w/ discretion if you are sensitive to those things. more drama and more tension and more not being a good time for anyone but me

“On your right, pretty boy.” 

Spencer stops as Morgan rushes past him back to his desk, eyes trained on the hallway. 

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he complains. “I nearly spilled my coffee.”

“Gideon’s daughter is here again,” he says. “Did you not feel the temperature drop five degrees?”

Spencer frowns. He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the telltale signs of your arrival: arguing. 

“—so typical of you! I have to drop everything the moment you need me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”

Gideon turns the corner with you in tow. He has a duffle bag in one hand and a file in his other, his brow furrowed in frustration. 

“That’s because this is important,” he says. 

“Oh, and everything else I try to get you to be around for isn’t?” 

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Gideon says, keeping his voice level. 

“This is ridiculous,” you spit. 

“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “I’m not going to play games with your safety.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you mock. “Because you’ve always cared about that.” 

He just shakes his head. “I’m not debating this with you.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

You follow Gideon into his office and Spencer watches him close the blinds. The door slams shut, and though he can still hear the muffled argument he can’t make anything out.

“Oh, great,” Morgan says. “Now we can’t even get Reid to read their lips.”

“I don’t think we need it to know what they’re talking about,” Elle says. “They’ve been arguing since she was brought in.”

“Of course they have,” JJ says. “Gideon sent Hotch to pick her up instead of doing it himself. She sees it as another slight.”

“She sees everything as a slight,” Spencer says. “She hates him.” 

“I don’t blame her,” Morgan mutters. “Not when we only found out about her last month.” 

“Surely this isn’t helping with anything,” JJ says wryly. 

Elle shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes pointless arguing makes you feel better, even when you’re in the wrong.” 

“That’s enough, agents.” Spencer’s attention—along with everyone else’s—snaps to the top of the bullpen to see Hotch holding a file with the same expression as always. “I need you all in the conference room.” 

“Does it have anything to do with that?” Morgan asks, tilting his head towards Gideon’s office. 

“You’ll find out,” he says. Hotch starts walking to the conference room, the conversation clearly over. 

JJ sighs as she stands up and grabs the files on her desk. “I’ll get Penelope. The rest of you try not to gossip too much.” 

She goes off, and the others disperse back to their desk to finish up some last-minute things before the case takes them away. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Gideon’s office, even though he’s not getting anything. 

All he can think about is the last time you were here, when he got caught in the middle of your argument with Gideon—your dad, which was still a little weird—and he can’t help but feel guilty. 

Gideon is a father figure to him, sure, but it isn’t that difficult to end up with that dynamic when Spencer’s the youngest on the team. And he can go into everything about his father leaving and the psychology of that, but it doesn’t matter. Gideon treated him like a son when he had a daughter all along that he’d been neglecting. 

For all Spencer knows, it is his fault. 

“Reid,” Elle says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “you coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding far too many times as he catches up to her in a few quick strides. “Sorry.”

“No need,” she remarks. “Gideon’s kid was all anyone could talk about when she first showed up here. This is only gonna make things worse.”

“He can’t really be that bad of a dad,” Spencer says, “right?”

“All I know is that having a parent in the force rarely ends well,” Elle murmurs. She opens the door to the conference room and looks at him. “We can’t be too hard on her when we probably see Gideon more than she does.”

Spencer recalls his meeting with you, how he barely got a word in edgewise while you spent the whole time arguing with someone half the office viewed as immovable. 

“Yeah,” he says distantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

-

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?” 

Your dad shuts the blinds on all the windows in his office, then closes the door behind you. He sets your duffle down on the floor then looks at you, that infuriatingly even expression still unchanged.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he says. “Sit down and lower your voice, please. We have some things to talk about.” 

“I gathered that when you sent your guy to pick me up,” you say, crossing your arms as he walks over to his desk. “Couldn’t even do it yourself?” 

“Aaron Hotchner is the chief of this unit and one of the most accomplished agents here,” he says. “He lives closer to you than I do, and I asked him to pick you up on his way in because I knew you would be safe with him. Sit down, please.” 

“There it is again. My safety.” You remain standing. “Tell me what this is about. I’m missing work right now— I know you can understand that, at least.” 

He lets out a sigh as he says your name and looks at you. “Can we get through this without any arguments for once?” 

“That depends. Are you going to treat me like your daughter or an inconvenience?” 

“You’re my daughter, I love you, and your life is in danger,” he says evenly. 

You open your mouth to retort, but your dad opens the file in his hands and sets it down on the other side of the desk. You can see from your position that they’re photos, but your curiosity ultimately wins out. You walk over to get a closer look, and any words die in your throat as you pick up the first photo. 

A photo of you. 

You pick up the next one, only to see it’s another picture of you. At least ten photos are tucked away in the file, and they’re all of you. Taken outside your work, at your apartment, on your morning run— god, there’s even one taken through the window of your bedroom, half-naked in a towel after a shower. 

You fall silently into the chair, your heart hammering inside your chest as your eyes dart between all of the photos. You want to crawl out of your skin. 

“What the fuck is this?” you breathe. 

“The heart of our newest case,” your dad says. “It appears that you have a stalker.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still glued to your oblivious self, “I would fucking think so.”

“These photos were dropped off at my door this morning,” he says, and he flips to the next section of the file, “with that note.”

The erratic handwriting instantly stands out to you as you pick the photocopy up, the lump in your throat growing with every word you read. 

such a pretty little thing. I wonder if she knows it.

you don’t care about her, but I do. she’s just like all the rest of us, everyone that you’ve ruined.

think about your priorities, agent gideon. I’ll be watching.  

“What the fuck is this?” you repeat. Blood pounds in your skull as a distant chill creeps down your spine. “I— I’m one of your cases now?” 

“We’re not sure yet,” he admits. “These only appeared yesterday, but from the looks of it, the unsub has been watching you for a while. Can you pinpoint when any of these photos were taken? 

You stare at him. “Some psycho has been stalking me for a while?” 

Your dad says your name again, slightly strained. “Please. I know this is difficult to think about, but figuring out a time frame would help us.” 

“Difficult,” you scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” 

But it doesn’t have the bite your words usually hold. For once, you don’t think you’re mad at your dad. You think you’re terrified. 

“...Yeah,” you finally murmur, and you pick up one of the photos. “I thrifted a mirror a month ago, and this one doesn’t have it.”

Your dad nods, and he picks up two others. “Neither do these.” 

“So this has been going on for at least a month,” you say bitterly. “Great.”

Your dad says your name, quieter this time, and when you finally look at him his eyes have softened. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “This is a threat against an FBI agent’s family, and it will be treated accordingly. Forensics is doing tests on all the original copies to try and find a lead. The whole BAU will be on your case—I will be on it, and we won’t rest until we find whoever’s doing this.” 

“Yeah,” you say numbly. “You sure that’ll help? Because it looks like all this is happening because I’m your daughter.” 

“I know this is scary,” he says. “This… this is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But you have to trust my team. We know what we’re doing.” 

“Of course you know what you’re doing,” you say. “You’re always here.” 

Your words have no bite behind them, more of an instinct as you grab your purse from the ground. You can feel the pinpricks of incoming tears, and you refuse to cry in front of your dad. 

“I— I need a minute,” you say. “This is all just—” 

“I understand,” he says. “Just don’t go far. Stay on this floor.”

You nod and start towards the door, but you pause right before you reach it. Your mouth opens as you try to think of something to say, but it falls shut just as quickly. You shake your head as you reach for the door handle, but before you get the chance, it swings open and you’re met with a familiar face. 

Spencer Reid, the kid your dad likes more than you. He’s nothing less than surprised to see you, from his stumbled step back, the slightly wide eyes, his hand poised to knock on the door. 

A mumbled apology falls from your lips as you move around him, and you can still feel his eyes on you as you speed off. You wonder what ideas he and the rest of the BAU have drawn up about you since your last visit to the office. 

You don’t really care. 

True to your word, you don’t go far—just to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s close, because the moment you make it to one of the stalls, knees stinging as you fall to the tiled floor, you vomit. 

By the time you’ve expelled the contents of your stomach, it feels just as empty as the rest of you. You stare at the wall, breathing slightly harried and skin warm to the touch, and you resist the urge to punch it. 

You have a stalker. Someone has been watching you for a month—at least a month, maybe longer—and you had no fucking clue, and now your only decent hope lies with your dad and his team. 

Normally, you wrote off anything depending on your dad as fruitless, but this involved the thing he loved more than anything in the world: his job. 

You huff a wry laugh at the thought. This wouldn’t get solved because it concerned you, it would get solved because it concerned his job. 

You stand up and walk over to the sink. You rinse your mouth, then just stare at yourself in the mirror. 

It— it feels strange. Looking at yourself like this, knowing someone has been—still is—watching you. 

You recall their words. 

Pretty little thing. 

You don’t care about her, but I do. 

A chill crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the dread settling all over you. 

What the fuck are you going to do?

You have to trust your dad, but you’ve never trusted your dad. God, he’s not even really your dad. He’s Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, nothing more—the estranged kid is an unfortunate side effect of the estranged wife.

You let out another breathy laugh. Would he even care if this psycho actually ends up killing you? 

You stand there for another couple minutes, time idling in the background as you continue to stare at the mirror. 

You haven’t cried, at least. That’s certainly something.

The door opens ever so slightly and someone says your name. Your eyes flick to the mirror almost immediately as your body tenses, and you recognize her as one of the BAU’s agents. She’s pretty and blonde with sympathetic eyes, and you know they’ve been briefed on your situation. 

If you have to deal with an office of pitying looks, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Are you alright?” she asks softly. 

“Just peachy,” you mumble. “My dad ask you to check up on me?” 

She nods. “You can imagine why Gideon is a bit high strung at the moment.” 

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I just… needed a second.” 

“I understand,” she murmurs. “Do you still need some time?” 

“What do you need?” 

“Gideon wants to talk to you. It’s best if he explains it.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. “Fine. Lead the way, Agent…” 

“Jareau,” she supplies. “But call me JJ, please.” 

In lieu of a response, you walk over to her. She offers a thin smile and holds the door for you, then falls into step with you. A moment of silence passes before she speaks up. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” JJ says. “Your dad is one of the best to walk through these doors. If anyone can solve this, he can.” 

“So I keep hearing,” you murmur. 

-

Spencer watches you hurry off with wide eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it. He’s less surprised by your pace, and more surprised that you actually apologized for bumping into him. 

“Reid,” Gideon speaks up, and his attention snaps back over to his superior. “What do you need?” 

“Is she okay?” he asks instead. He can’t help it—after what Hotch just told all of them, he’s worried about you. 

Gideon gathers the photos back into the file then stands up. “Our job is to make sure she will be.”

“Hotch briefed us,” he says, and his eyes darted back to the doorway almost on instinct. “This— this is crazy. We just found out about her last month, and some guy’s been after her for longer?” 

“What this is is one of my enemies targeting my daughter because they’re too much of a coward to go after me,” Gideon says evenly. “We just have to figure out which one before they escalate.”

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“What you said is true,” he admits. “Hardly anyone knows I have a daughter. Even fewer would know where she lives. Someone who wants to hurt me would have incentive to discover both.” 

“So we look into unsubs you’ve put away that have been released,” Spencer says. “Or ones that are still in, but have family that might be bitter.”

“Exactly,” Gideon nods. “But I have to ask something of you, Reid.”

He frowns. “Anything.”

“We’re working on getting a safe house for my daughter,” Gideon says. “I need you to stay there with her.” 

Somehow, his frown deepens. “What?”

“I need to know she’s with someone I can trust,” he says. “There’s someone after her, and we don’t know who—that means we need to keep this circle tight.”

“So you want me to be her bodyguard?” Spencer marvels. “Do you remember that you had to waive all my physical tests?”

“Less of a bodyguard,” he says. “More just… keeping her company. Making sure she’s alright—mentally as much as physically.”

“Why am I the one that has to keep an eye on her?” Spencer asks. “She hates me!” 

“Don’t take it personally,” Gideon says. “She hates a lot of things.” 

“But it is personal,” Spencer insists. “She hates me because she thinks you like me more than her.” 

Gideon doesn’t seem phased at the comment. “She’s opinionated, but she’s harmless. And right now, I need to know that she’s with someone I can trust.”

“I— I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, Reid.” Gideon leans forward, and there’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. "If I'm going to be on this case, I need to know that she's safe. I won't be able to focus otherwise."

Spencer wasn’t going to lie—he genuinely thought it was a bad idea. But… Gideon said he trusted him. And this was his daughter—they might’ve argued, but they still cared about each other. if he could keep Lila Archer safe, he could keep you safe. 

“…Okay,” he finally concedes. “Okay.”

Gideon nods, and he watches the change in his eyes, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Just… make sure there are two bedrooms,” Spencer says. “I don’t need her to kill me one day in.”

At that, he cracks a rare smile. Spencer is thankful for it, that he can bring even the smallest amount of levity to Gideon’s life right now. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

-

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your dad says your name, but you hardly let him finish. 

“No! First I find out I have a stalker, then my whole life’s going to be uprooted until you find them, and now I have to be stuck with boy genius?”

“You know, we’re about the same age—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you cry, whirling on Spencer.

“I actually don’t talk that much when I’m around you,” Spencer says, his brows creasing. “This is the third time I’ve met you, and I’ve only said nine sentences across those meetings. Thirteen, if you count all of these too.”

You let out a strained laugh as you shake your head, trying to blink back tears. “This is fucking unbelievable. I know he’s practically your son, but this is just—”

“A safety precaution,” your dad interrupts. “Doctor Spencer Reid is another one of the BAU’s finest agents, and he is fully qualified to keep you safe.”

“He looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half.”

“This is not a joke,” your dad says sternly. “None of this is a joke. Your life is in danger—you have a stalker that has been watching your every move for at least a month, and we have no idea what their next move will be. Doctor Reid is more experienced than you in every facet of this, and I am entrusting him to your care. I respect him immensely, and you will do so as well.”

You don’t even look at Spencer, quiet rage simmering beneath the surface as you stare at your father.

“You really don’t get it,” you murmur. “Do you?”

“The only thing to get is that your life is in increasing danger with every moment you spend pushing against me,” your dad says, and he stands up. “Get your purse. Reid, get her duffle. We’re leaving.”

He leaves before you get the chance to do anything—you assume he’s finally tired of you. 

You just shake your head and pick up your purse, and Spencer clears his throat as he reaches for your duffle bag. You wonder if it even has anything useful—Aaron Hotchner was the one who packed it. 

“…So,” Spencer says. “I guess we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

You huff in fully unveiled annoyance, and you push past him on your way out. 

“Great,” he mutters to himself as he follows you. “So this is what Gideon’s trust earns me.” 

It doesn’t take him too long to catch up to you, despite the unnecessary quick pace you’re taking. You bypass the elevator and head towards the stairwell, and Spencer catches the door before it’s able to slam on him. 

He says your name, but you just shake your head. 

“If we’re gonna be stuck together until this is over, I’d prefer silence.” 

“I don’t really do silence,” Spencer says. 

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of books for you to read in whatever jail cell they throw me in.” 

“It’s actually going to be a pretty nice safe house,” he starts, throwing his hand up against the wall to catch himself from running into it as he turns, because god you are moving fast, “Gideon picked it out himself.” 

“Oh, then it’ll definitely be a jail cell,” you mock. “It’s not like he knows anything about me, so he’ll probably think that it’s perfect.” 

Spencer frowns. “Cut him some slack. This is all just as hard on him as it is on you.” 

You come to a sudden stop, whirling around to face him, and Spencer has to reel to the side to prevent himself from running into you. Had he not already been pressed up against the wall, he would have moved back further, what with the fire blazing in your eyes. 

“I’m not going to cut him any slack,” you spit. “This is the most time I’ve gotten to spend with my dad in months, and it’s only because some creep is stalking me to get back at him. The only reason I’m in this at all is because of his job that he cares about more than me, and now he’s sticking me with the guy that he wishes was his kid. So no, Doctor Reid—I’m not going to cut him any slack.” 

You’re already off on your way again before Spencer even has time to blink, and you’ve made it down the whole last flight by the time he pushes himself back up. 

He takes the steps three at a time to catch up to you, and he once again barely manages to catch the door before it slams on him. He calls your name, finally managing to fall into step with you right before you reach Gideon. He, like a normal person, deigned to take the elevator. 

“You haven’t started arguing already,” he says, passing a glance at Spencer, “have you?” 

“What do you think?” you ask, your arms crossed. 

“I think you’re giving him a hard time that you usually reserve for me,” he says. “Cut him some slack.” 

Your jaw clenches. “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Save the profiling for my stalker, will you?”  

“There’s plenty of profiling to go around,” Gideon says. “You two wait here—I need to confirm the safe house location before we head out.” 

“Can we stop by my place before we go?” Spencer asks. “I need to pick up some things.” 

“You have a go bag, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but I— I wasn’t exactly prepared for this sort of thing when I came in today.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Gideon says. He walks off before Spencer can protest, and he sighs. 

You lean against the wall, your arms crossed with your purse hanging off your shoulder, and for once you don’t pass judgment on his—admittedly small—plight. 

“I changed my mind,” Spencer speaks up, deciding to try and break the remarkably high amount of tension that had built up in such a short time, and your eyebrows rise as you glance at him. 

“About what?” 

“I— I think I can do silence,” he says. “Temporarily.” 

You huff a laugh. “Really?” 

“I don’t really want to annoy you while we’re stuck together in an undisclosed location,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.” 

And for the first time since Spencer has met you, you actually smile. It’s the smallest thing, just a slight tilt of your lips that’s more akin to Hotch’s moments of levity than anything, but it’s a smile. 

“...Good choice,” you say. It feels like a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure. 

He smiles anyway. You meet his eyes, and for a moment, you’re just another girl. Someone that Spencer could imagine himself stealing glances at in a lecture hall, a regular at his favorite coffee shop that he falls for over the course of an especially cold winter, someone he meets on a night out with the team that he ends up talking to all night. 

You really do have pretty eyes. 

And then your gaze hardens, darts away from him, and Spencer sees Gideon coming back in his peripherals. The moment fractures. 

You’re not just a girl. You’re Gideon’s daughter, you’re in a remarkable amount of danger, and lest he forget, you do in fact hate him. 

Spencer lets out another short sigh. 

At least this safe house won’t have a pool.

[deansbeer]

prized possession ⎯⎯ DEAN WINCHESTER.

⎯⎯ DEMON!DEAN decides to keep your soaked lace panties, because it drives his heightened senses wild for you. and the guy is not one bit shameful about it.

♡ KARI YAPS! god, hes such a freak && i love it sm. i thought of this idea w @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc earlier in the day bc i fear demon!dean's corrupted my mind entirely.

♡ WARNING(S) filthy smut | oral sex (f!receiving) | possessive!dean | overstimulation | power dynamics | dom!dean | praise kink | lace panties kink (?) | explicit language | little bit of manhandling. mdni ♱ 18 plus. adult content.

📖 JACKLES library.

sex with dean has always been intense, but now that he's a demon, it's on a whole other level—like everything about him, his hunger for you has amplified tenfold. every time he touches you, it's like he's trying to ruin you, to mark you in a way that'll never fully fade. and when it's over, he's always got that cocky, unbothered smirk that drives you insane. tonight's no different.

you're sprawled out on the bed, still catching your breath, your body a trembling mess from what he just put you through. he's leaning against the wall now, shirtless, his jeans hanging low on his hips. his hair is a mess, his lips still swollen from kissing every inch of you, and yet he looks like the devil himself—because, well, technically he is.

you roll onto your side, groaning softly as you reach out for your panties, the pretty black lace pair you'd been wearing before he tore them off of you like they'd offended him.

except… they're not there.

"dean," you say, your voice sharp despite how wrecked you feel. "where the hell are my panties?"

he raises an eyebrow, looking at you like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "what panties?"

"don't play dumb, winchester," you huff, sitting up on the bed and glaring at him. "the black lace ones. the ones you just ripped off me."

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and your stomach sinks. "oh, those," he says, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. "yeah, those are mine now."

your jaw drops. "what the fuck do you mean 'yours'?"

he shrugs, completely unfazed. "i mean i'm keepin' 'em. they're soaked, sweetheart. absolutely drenched. you think i'm just gonna let you throw those in the laundry like they're not a fuckin' work of art?"

you grab a pillow and chuck it at him, but he dodges it easily, laughing as he disappears out the door. "un-fucking-believable," you mutter, shaking your head. luckily, you're home—so you grab another clean pair of panties from your dresser and slip them on, grumbling to yourself about how ridiculous he is.

you think that's the end of it. you really do. but then, over the next few days, you start to notice something… weird. for one, the black lace panties are nowhere to be found in your dirty laundry, even though you were sure he'd just been messing with you. and two, dean's been acting a little… off. not in a bad way! but in a way that makes your face flush whenever he looks at you. like he knows something you don't.

it's not until one night that you catch him red-handed. you're heading down the hallway, on your way to grab some water, when you spot him leaning against the wall, his back to you. at first, you don't think much of it—until you see what he's holding in his hand.

your fucking panties.

you stop dead in your tracks, your mouth falling open as you watch him lift them to his nose and take a deep, slow inhale, his eyes fluttering shut like he's savoring the scent.

"are you kidding me?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

he doesn't even flinch. instead, he turns to you, completely unabashedly, holding the panties up like a trophy. "nah," he says, smirking. "not kidding."

"dean," you groan, your voice low but stern as you stalk toward him. "you've kept those this whole time? what is wrong with you?"

"what's wrong with me?" he repeats, his grin widening as he tucks the panties into his back pocket like they belong there. "what’s wrong with you? you're the one who smells like that."

you gape at him, heat flushing down the back of your neck. "i don't even—what does that even mean?"

he steps closer, crowding into your space, and you can feel the heat rolling off him, thick and heavy. "it means, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "that every time i get a whiff of these"—he pats his pocket—"i wanna fuck you all over again. so, yeah, i kept 'em. you got a problem with that?"

you're speechless, torn between being upset and… turned on. because of course you're turned on. he's DEAN WINCHESTER, and he's looking at you like he's seconds away from devouring you.

"you're insane," you manage, shaking your head.

"yeah?" he drawls, his hand curling around your waist. "well, you're about to be."

before you can respond, he's grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. you yelp, your palms against his back to steady yourself, but he doesn't even slow down, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

"dean! put me down!" you protest, but he just chuckles, slapping your ass hard enough to make you gasp.

"not a chance, baby," he says, tossing you onto the bed like a rag doll.

you barely have time to sit up before he's on you, yanking at your jeans with a single-minded determination that has your heart racing. "dean—"

"shut up," he growls, his voice dark and commanding as he strips you down, practically ripping your panties off in the process. "you've been walkin' around all day with this fuckin' scent, drivin' me insane. you think i'm just gonna let that slide?"

before you can answer, his mouth is on you, his tongue dragging through your folds like he's starved. he grips your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, his light stubble scratching against your sensitive skin.

"fuck," he groans, pulling back just enough to look at you, his lips glistening. "you taste good, babydoll. could do this for hours."

your head falls back against the bed, a moan slipping from your lips as he plunges back in, licking and sucking like he's on a mission. his grip tightens when you try to squirm away, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place.

"dean—mmm, fuck, shit—" you whimper, your hands tugging at his hair.

"you can do it," he growls against you, the vibrations making you shudder. "and you fuckin' will."

he doesn't stop, doesn't let up, and soon you're trembling beneath him, the pressure building low in your belly until it snaps, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he doesn't pull away, even as you try to push at his shoulders, too sensitive to handle the way his tongue keeps teasing your clit. "oh, fuck! dean—s'too much—"

"nah," he mutters, his voice muffled against you. "not done yet."

and he means it. by the time he's finished with you, you're a wreck—sweaty, breathless, and completely at his mercy. he finally pulls back, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"told you," he says, leaning down to kiss you, slow and filthy. "you're fuckin' addictive, sweetheart."

you're too exhausted to respond, but the look in his eyes tells you this isn't the last time he't pulling a stunt like this. and honestly? you don't really mind.