#because her idea of a positive interaction with someone is 'well they had a vague recollection of my face even if they couldn't remember

[fadetouchedsilk]

i am so stuck on 'rook is. my favourite.' from spite

camellia, who has never once been anyone's first thought (or even second or third) has apparently just Shot Up in the ranks with this demon. she hasn't even done anything particularly special to earn it--she's just listening & trying to come up with a solution for the problem (which she doesn't even really do in the end, just laid the framework for someone else to figure things out). it's not special, it's like, well, what other option is there? brute force isn't the move here. but for once her best is enough to have a net positive impact on someone else. also, the demon has no reason to lie to her, it's not like she's possessed.

& maybe she's more than a bit embarrassed, because this can probably be added to the list of Scraps she's just happy to be getting in life (spirits are fully sentient though, so maybe not) but like. it's something! somehow she's more appealing than the person he's sharing a body with who she is pointedly not thinking about, lest that sow the seeds of hope, which is kind of wild for her to consider. it hits her harder than it has any right too, and thankfully no one decides to press the issue if she's maybe a little glassy-eyed after. she's always cried easily, it's not weird for her & nothing to take note of.

it's half a boost to her mood & half another knock to her perpetually fragile patchwork confidence. like, thank the gods that Someone in this lighthouse is openly acknowledging her as even likeable, but it makes her a little sad that it has to come from someone who isn't even corporeal.

[celestiamour]

haiii >_< could i request a myunggi (player 333) x fem reader. reader meets him at the games and falls for her because of the way she takes care of junhee and her baby (player 222)! i hope this isn’t too vague 🙈 do whatever ur heart desires with this!

ft. lee myung-gi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your kindness towards jun-hee & his faults┊0.5k words

contains: fluff! newly established relationship, past myung-gi/jun-hee but not anymore obviously, reader is very kind

➤ author's note: love girls supporting girls, but the reader is kinder than i am, i would have beat his ass (another short one, i’m so busy omfg i hope to have a proper fic coming soon)

it seemed a little strange to him at first when he realized how much attention he was paying to your interactions with his jun-hee, but truthfully, he was nervous about it all. you had only been dating for two weeks, and he had no idea how you would react to being told that his pregnant ex-fiancee was in these death games with the two of you. he’s surprised you didn’t tear his head off when it was revealed he had a little over a billion won in debt compared to the hundred thousand won he lied to you about, and you were only in this shit because you wanted to help him out too.

it’s only now that he’s noticing that your kindness seemed to have no bounds and that your sincerity was like that of an angel. when you first approached her, he half expected you to start a fight like most of his previous partners did when meeting each other: establishing their position as his girlfriend, telling the other to back up, and maybe even getting physical if they both were in a bad mood.

yet you did none of that, coming to her with all genuine smiles and concern for her well-being.

at first, she was a bit stand-offish for obvious reasons as she’s seen you plenty of times with the ex-youtuber, but once she saw your persistence to make friends with her, she eventually gave in and even smiled that myung-gi is a lucky man for having you in his life. after all, she couldn’t stay indifferent towards someone who went out of her way to help make makeshift accommodations for her pregnancy whether she needed extra food when eating for two, another pillow to sleep comfortably, or a buddy to go to the bathroom with. there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her and sometimes you even spent more time with her than your boyfriend. 

“aren’t you mad?”

“what do you mean?” 

“aren’t you mad at me for having a pregnant ex-fiancee? aren’t you jealous?”

“well, you didn’t know about it until we got here. besides, she said she doesn’t want you back anyway even if you are the father.”

“right, but… what about me keeping the severity of my debts a secret?”

“you didn’t want to worry me, i forgive you! listen, we’re all human and make mistakes, i’m not mad at you about anything. i just want to get out of here alive and use the money we earned surviving to pay everything you owe back then we can start being a real couple without all that on our shoulders.

he stared at you with his mouth slightly agape and shook his head lightly. there was nothing negative in your tone, nothing indicating that you didn’t care or that you just wanted to get the matter over with, you really were accepting the apologies made for his shitty past decisions out of the pure kindness of your heart. it made his own soar like a bird gliding along with the wind, feeling like he had the chance to improve and finally be the man you deserve. 

[dearestkong]

reflections // starting the summer term 🌷💌

(feel free to skip … just a lot of rambling about changes of mindset, i’ll sum it up later in my new pinned.)

it’s been more than a month since I’ve started this blog, and I’m really really glad that I did. not because my productivity has spiked or my anxiety has diminished or whatever (though there have been positive effects), but because just attempting to start something like this meant that I was no longer willing to suffer and rot in private. i talked about the “hole of dysfunction and self-hatred” in my old introduction: for so long, that hole was my best-kept secret and my greatest shame. being competent and ambitious was an aspect of my personality, and I couldn’t handle the idea that it wasn’t true.

but then…. dearestkong emerged!! and I started being completely transparent. telling strangers about every day of self-destructiveness. it was a good form of accountability, sure, but it was also a means of telling the truth. this blog has been a way for me to say: i’ve been struggling, and it’s not a fluke or a “flop era” or something entirely disconnected from the high achiever i used to be. the girl fighting off inertia and the girl seemingly doing everything with ease are the same person.

🌷☆彡

my posts have been getting more optimistic recently, and that isn’t a fluke, either. lots of things have happened: i’ve realised how many people support and believe in me, i started taking medication for a problem i’ve had for a while (it’s crazy how the world seems so much brighter now?!!?!), i started writing in my diary again. i’m now 27 days clean from a self-destructive behaviour (this blog isn’t about my relationship with that, but in the early days i used to make a note of relapses and just the fact of acknowledging it felt so freeing to me. it wasn’t something to hide anymore, but a fight i was making progress with.)

this seems like a rapid evolution for such a new blog, right?! but in the next six months, i’m going to be applying to university. i’m about to undergo some of the most rapid evolutions of my life.

🌷☆彡

for so long, i’ve had this vague and unspecified dream: “doing the best” “working my hardest” “impressing my teachers”. now my dream has a name and a face and admissions results attached to it and it’s making me so scared that i want to throw up. when i was in the depths of the hole i couldn’t stop seeing my life as a binary. either i get in, or i don’t. and if i don’t, what the hell is the point of living?

38 days later and i feel a little differently. i am someone who has climbed out the hole of inertia and lived. i have done many things and they’ve all turned out fine— great, actually. i have reason to believe that things will go well.

i still have a pretty nasty relationship with myself, lol. it makes me really happy when people on this blog interact and talk, but they’re all so nice and it makes me feel a little fake. in reality i’m standoffish, awkward, and often mean. i coast by on intellectual abilities while slacking off. i’m a judgemental egoist who is sometimes self-destructive. all of that is true—>

but at the same time, i still have this crazy belief that i deserve the best. it’s literally an overflow of egoism ;;;; there’s nobody i’m more in love with than myself. i think of the girl i’ll be in the future with such affection, and i don’t want her to feel ashamed or resentful of me. she deserves to have her hopes fulfilled!! she deserves the brightest, the best that i can give her.

in conclusion: even if i don’t like the person i am at the present, i have to do it anyway. 1 because there’s no other option and 2 because i love the person i’ll be in the future too much to stop.

🌷☆彡

so from now on, the purpose of this blog is changing slightly. it’s no longer “get out of the hole and survive” like it used to be. we’re past that, we’re already surviving.

now, the aim is to “do my best so my future self can live with no regrets”. that’s not very concise but I’ll work on it.

let’s do this! 加油！

[stromuprisahat]

What is your most unpopular Grishaverse opinion?

For me, I truly believe that the idea of every single Grishaverse book (yes, even Six of Crows) is better than it’s execution. They are fine books, sure, but they are definitely overhyped (I wouldn’t call them masterpieces as I’ve heard other people refer to them as such). Also, every time someone refers to these books as High Fantasy, a part of me dies.

As for a lighter opinion, I kinda ship Sasha and Genya together, not gonna lie (do they even have a name?). I do wish we would have seen more of their relationship in canon even if it would have remained platonic. If it weren’t for David and for Sasha’s attraction to morons, I believe they would have had the potential to be a good couple (more than canon!Alina or Zoya imo).

Oh honey, you've asked the right person, because recently I've discovered my takes are rather unpopular in certain circles- you wouldn't guess- because I love the Darkling, therefore my observations are disagreeable whether Sashka's involved or not. I'm especially proud it renders any history- or politics-related criticism fallacious.

So if you want an unpopular opinion, just go through my grishanalyticritical tag, randomly pick something, and you likely can't choose wrong.

Fully agree about Grishaverse books. SoC has the advantage of being written from several POVs, so reader finds their prefered character, whose chapters can they look forward to, AND better pacing, so they devour a page after page, while unable to contemplate events on a deeper level.

I've never seen anyone refer to them as High Fantasy. That's Tolkien, The Last Unicorn or ASoIaF. Grishaverse might've had the potential to become one, but the themes are totally fucked up.

I don't ship Genya and Sasha myself, but I would kill for more of their pre-S&S interactions. From what we know, they have a lot in common and seemed to be on rather friendly terms. I also have a suspicion (and half-formed draft) Aleksander intended to guide and tutor her further in preparation for a specific, specialized position among his closest in the future. They're amazing duo, overflowing with potential, and I'm a sucker for well-executed mentor/mentee dynamic. If you add (vague) sexual undertones- all the better!

[katsu-curry835]

I cannot stress this enough tiktok has a policy whereby it CENSORS CONVENTIONALLY UNATTRACTIVE PPL. They will demote your video if you have wrinkles, an obvious beer belly, are too fat or too thin or have dwarfism. Among other horrid policies of course. The below is a leaked document from the moderators detailing what should be demoted by the algorithm.

I’m aware that most social media apps harvest your data, are prone to pipelines and shadowbanning and don’t pay their creators enough but TikTok is genuinely the w o r s t in every category. You genuinely lose nothing by not using it. Below is another image of a glitch that showed activist hashtags such relating to BLM with 0 views (they got shadowbanned)

Another huge problem that exists on the app is the radicalisation pipelines are so strong because the three minute vid and 150 character comment format completely flattens nuance. All it takes is for someone to sound confident and talk fast enough with a vaguely coherent argument before you start thinking that overpopulation is a myth and engaging in needless drama (see: Drew Afualo and Bela Delgato, Danisha Carter and her critics etc.) This is poisoning how we interact with politics. YouTube is nowhere near perfect but it at the very least rewards longer form content this stuff like video essays is promoted on there. Tumblr has no character limit so you can read the entirety of this shitty essay without me needing to cut things for brevity. Typing a TikTok comment has driven me insane before because 150 characters is not even close to enough to have an informed discussion. Who is correct has now become who can slam dunk on someone else the best.

I do genuinely think that Drew Afualo is a net positive for the world and I’m glad she’s using the TikTok algorithm to spread good messages. But let’s be honest here, her videos aren’t well researched takes on misogyny. And I don’t think they’re trying to be either. Drew shouldn’t be expected to sit down and research a TikTok while she’s shitting on some asshole; that’s not her style. I think the problem is beyond her control. People are taking her quips and one-liners to formulate their opinions on the world around them. This is ok in this example given that Drew a positive influence. But this can and has been weaponised so easily to spread harmful rhetoric left and right and when you’re on political TikTok it’s impossible to tell which is which. Misinformation is also shockingly common and incentivised by the format.

Finally, your attention span is dying. Let’s look at YouTube. YouTube’s policies make it so that longer content is rewarded and, and this is a crucial point, you choose what you want to watch. On TikTok, because you are given content with the assumption you’ll enjoy it, you have to decide while watching if you want to scroll or not. Eventually your window of tolerance of videos before they get good shrinks and you’ll end up judging the quality of the content based on the first seven seconds. Comparatively, YouTube has you choose videos assuming you’ll like them and therefore you’ll spend more time with the art before you decide whether or not it’s for you. When your attention shrinks to seven seconds on TikTok, this bleeds into other aspects of your life and is incredibly unhealthy (speaking from experience). I had to watch two hour long video essays to compensate for how TikTok was just wrecking my focus.

Most people know TikTok sucks and use it anyway but then encourage others not to get it. Why don’t we delete it? Here’s an idea, if you have TikTok, get rid of it now. Destroy its ubiquity and only use Tumblr and YouTube /j No but seriously delete the app I’m so happy I did. My life has improved infinitely since.

[demonsfate]

mun talks about muse // accepting // anonymous asked . . . ⌨ What’s a situation you’ve always wanted to RP with the muse? (Luna) 🐰

Not sure if I've ever had a specific kinda plot I wanted to do. But I have had vague ideas for stuff I'd like. Such as the idea of writing both Jin & Abaddon interacting with somebody at once... as separate individuals rather than one body. Dunno how this would work! Considering they're forever confined to themselves... maybe somehow somebody got into Jin's head? Dunno! But it's something I wouldn't mind doing!

Another thing I wouldn't mind doing is more threads set in the past. Just 'cos... Jin & Abaddon are kinda chill now LMAO. Jin's no longer suicidal and Abaddon's no longer a cunt. They're just kinda Living now. Which is fine... there is stuff to explore with that; such as them adjusting to a Normal Life, Abaddon dealing with guilt and what he used to be, them learning to actually coexist, Jin dealing with his trauma. But like... shit just doesn't cut as deep as Suicidal Self-Hating Jin and Remorseless Monster Abaddon, y'know? When I'd have threads before TK8, it felt like I had a lot more threads that were "deeper" y'know? Now it seems like I have a lot more slice of life / fluff threads. Which makes sense given they're current position. But like I said... I'd like some deep, angst-ridden stuff too!!! These two need to stop being happy, dammit!! lol!

TK6 Abaddon is a verse I often write in! Which is really cool 'cos that timeline really fleshes Abaddon out. Most of the threads I do with that timeline is set whilst Jin is still "completely gone." I would like to do a thread set a little later during Abaddon's reign, when Jin was starting to "return". Because that just puts a LOT of stress on Abaddon, and it would be interesting to see if some muses are successful in "reaching" Jin.

This one is really self-indulgent and I'll probs just write a drabble for it. But like... I wouldn't mind the idea of Jun meeting Abaddon when he was a kid. Just because it was Old Lore (that's safe to say has been retconned I'm sure) that Jun would fight off Devil during her pregnancy, so that he doesn't possess Fetus Jin LMAO. But since that is noncanon to my blog, and likely no longer canon in the actual lore - I'd like to come up with an alternative. Perhaps a scene where Jin tells Jun about a "dream buddy" he's been seeing, and Jun knowing about Kazuya's situation, she assumes this must be the devil Jin was born with. So one night whilst Jin is sleeping, she places her hand on Jin's head, and is able to spiritually meet the little devil. To her surprise, the devil also takes form of a child... and well, how are you gonna fight a little kid? The conflict it brings Jun would be interesting... would she try to fight off this spirit, or try to show it compassion?

There are probs other more things... but my brain is drawing a complete blank on what else I would've want! Other than the obvs of getting to write with other Tek characters that haven't had blogs yet... (at least not in my time of writing Jin!)

Altho NSFT things underneath cut . . .

Even though Spring is long over, I still wouldn't mind doing more threads involving Jin & Abaddon being in heat LOL

The idea of TK6 Abaddon bending someone over his desk and fucking them, too....

[anemonay]

2023 wrap up ( thanks @spaceoperetta for the idea, hasn't even considered doing one!)

-very long, been a big year for me-

tw: d/ru/g usage discussed positively

- also worst depression since college, but at least it's not the manic-depressive mixed state I was in for most of those 4 years

- BUT I also found the first ever antidepressant that works for me a couple months ago! I've been on a mood stabilizer that's "worked" for me for years in terms of controlling the hypomania, but I would still sink into low, low depressions. Now I just feel capable of happiness, but I need to rebuild those neural pathways since they haven't been used in so long

- my husband and I's relationship is much, much better. Once we moved things got really not great, and he is a lovely and great person but I think he'd never had to /actually/ deal with anything or question himself before and being in a new place, with someone holding him accountable, who wouldn't just ignore any of the ineffective things he was doing or any of the negative things occurring freaked him out a bunch, especially because he had no distress tolerance skills. I have my own stuff to work on too, but his refusal to accept what he doesn't understand really exacerbated my emotional reactivity and now I have to unlearn all of those habits.

- I found a therapist who works with my brain!

- my best friend moved to my city, and it was only supposed to be for like 10 months but she met her boyfriend and is blossoming and getting opportunities in her field like crazy so she's staying longer which means we can hang out more!

- knees got worse, but I finally went to physical therapy (because I maxed out my insurance OOP with the name other medical things I had to do this year) and it helped a bunch!

- a ton of drama with my husband's family. His youngest sister randomly decided that I am abusive (not even during like any interaction or anything, she just randomly started having an attitude with me 2 weeks before their annual (white, well-off people) family vacation), and then was cold to me during the vacation, and went on a walk with my husband where she essentially tried to convince him that I AM abusive. (Husband also handled it poorly - he's the "everyone is right in some way" type and didn't tell her she was completely out of line, but that has also gotten better thanks to couple's therapy). Then over Thanksgiving she decided to create drama with the older sister over her own poor behavior when older sister was doing absolutely nothing mean or wrong. It's been really stressful, we didn't even do a zoom call for Christmas this year which they normally try to make happen no matter what.

- I lost my job at a startup (blessing in disguise) and got a new job. The company is great, but I hate the work. It's not what I applied to do, it's way more technical and I would like that if ANYONE had the time to train me. But they lost a ton of people going from fully remote to hybrid, so everyone I work with has less experience than I do actually. I'm also struggling to do it because of how lost and flustered I feel.

- I picked up journaling and that's been so great and helpful.

- I went to Portland! I adored it very much. Though towards the end something about it felt vaguely threatening/heavy/scary. But I definitely want to visit again.

- I reconnected with my childhood best friend! We definitely grew in different ways but the foundation is still very much clicking. I'm going to stay with her and her husband in Seattle and visit again in May. She's so, so wonderful and I missed her so so much I'm tearing up writing this. We've continued to message frequently since, and once Baldur's Gate's cross play feature is out (fingers crossed) we're going to play together.

- I learned that stimulants don't work for my brain. ADHD stims caused anhedonia, coffee just triggers migraines, and Modafinil semi kinda maybe works but not well. I've managed to quit coffee for a week or so now. It's definitely an addiction. But chai tea lattes are filling the void. And the void also means that I'm getting back into tea! A childhood Internet friend is the one who got me into tea, and it feels very heartwarming to remember them through it.

- I lost my first cat together with my husband. You will be missed dearly forever, little man.

- I found my favorite d/ru/g! Technically I think it's 2-fdck that's my favorite favorite if my testing was correct, but basically ke/tam/ine and its analogues in general. It's so amazing and it checks all my boxes. I haven't personally experienced any negatives from it, though if you ever try it please read up on appropriate doseage, periods between use, and all that. It's helped me a ton with figuring stuff out, feeling motivated, and rewiring my brain. I'm weird and drugs have never worked the same for me as other people now have I ever had it impact my life negatively so please don't take my experience as advice or normal.

- I tripped for real for the first time in forever over Christmas break! My meds make it really, really difficult. Most people can't trip at all no matter how much they take on these meds. But I just kept raising my dose and bam, finally! I also had my first ever LSD epiphany and I feel like I can really move forward with my life. Tripping has also always helped my brain reset - like turning a computer off and on instead of just locking it or hibernating. I always feel so refreshed.

- I generally just feel more compassion for myself and more capable of being the person I want to be. Sometimes it hurts because it feels like I was on such a good trajectory, and then a ton of negative things happened to me with no support system and everything in my life just stopped. And then I was getting better and then COVID really broke me - at least when the bad stuff was happening I had stimulation, but COVID liked my brain. I think I still have it in me to be happy in the ways I want.

I hope we live in unprecedented times where history is made! Precedented times and the continuation of the normal just means the rich get richer and people die at the hands of oppressors. I hope things change for the better, greatly and permanently.

[colection-of-chaos]

Whumptober 2024 Day 4: hallucinations; sensory deprivation

TW: different kinds of torture

Dark Capture

Isa had lost her sens of where up and down was a while ago. Time had long since become unquantifiable to her. She had stopped trying to a lot later than that. It just made her feel more helpless than she already was. 

There was no good reason to try something she knew she wouldn’t accomplish. Especially now, when she needed every bit of energy she could fathom, just to stay remotely sane. 

In the beginning, it had just been her thoughts that made her trouble. 

The unknowing was eating away on her. She had no idea where she was or how long she had been here. In the beginning, she had thought to count the seconds, but that had shown to be rather unsustainable rather fast. She either slept in or got distracted. It was nearly impossible to think about anything else than the numbers, which she did, if she wanted or not. 

It was hard having no clue who imprisoned her, where and why exactly. She had some Ideas, of course. All of them were vague. None of them precise enough for her to hold onto. To make a plane around. And she needed a plan if she wanted to get out of here. 

There was no one coming to save her. All of Isa’s colleagues had their own missions to work on. She knew she wasn’t remotely important enough to become a mission herself. The woman had no illusions in that regard. 

So she was stuck, which was a fact that did nothing for her levelheadedness. Trying to figure out at least something that she could start using for a plan became a frantic need. One that wasn’t satisfied, even after one of her captors had dragged her out of her cell. Even if it was a cell was something she couldn’t be certain of. More of a barely educated guess. 

Where she was dragged too, was a mystery, just a new problem to be solved. She had tried to count the turns as well as the direction they went in, but that information hadn’t helped her in any way. They had ended in an interrogation room with a table and uncomfortably bright LED-Lighting

Isa didn’t come to that conclusion immediately. 

Her captor didn‘t Take the hood off her head the first time they brought her there. It took them 30:28 minutes to even talk to her. Isa knew because she counted. Counting was better than listening to the steps of the person with her in the room. It was disconcerting not to know what was happening. It felt like she could sense them when she concentrated on it. At the same time, she didn’t know anything more than her captors position. 

Counting was better than concentrating on this distortion. It kept her already stressed out mind from driving her into a full on panic. 

When the person finally started interacting with Isa, she had reached the point, on which she nearly wished for the place she had been in beforehand, at least there, the only worrying thing was all the scenarios and isolation she felt. Here she was scared of what the person she was with would do to her. 

Isa had been trained to withstand torture. It had been part of getting the job. They hadn’t covered all the methods someone could torture her in training, but they had made an effort of, if not, actively putting her in a situation to learned, to tell her about the concerning amount that someone could make her suffer, enough for her to give information to them. 

Not being able to know what would happen, had always been one of the ones she had struggled with the most. Isa could stand a lot of pain and the prospect of death, even if not necessary, one of the things she desired, had been less of a problem. Then at least she would know what to expect, prepare her self for it. The unknowing made it worse in the best case scenario she just got worried, maybe a little panic, in the worst cases her brain started to come up worth all the things that could happen. She was surprisingly good at coming up with things. Which was helpful, when trying to get out of things, or make planes to achieve a goal. Not so much she had only so little reality to hold onto, though, her mind had the tendency to substitute the lacking with a diverse array of worse case scenarios. Which often did the torture for the torturer before they even started. 

It was not like the resident pain doctor did not do their job, though. It began with a needle under Isa’s left ring fingernail. It ended Needles in under the every last Nail they could find and the painful removal of them. Isa had no idea how long it took her captor to accomplished that, but it had been long enough for her to scream her self horse. Not that she needed her voice for anything. There had been no real questions from her tormentor, only mockery, through the whole ordeal, at least in that first session. 

Isa was dragged back to the place she had been in when the torture finally ended. Or that was what she thought, there had not been all that much will to do anything left in her, when it ended, only pain, so she didn’t even try to figure out the directions this time. 

Considering how exhausted Isa was at that point, it was a miracle that it took, two torture sessions for her to start hallucinations. 

Isa only got to see things when it was meal time or when the torturer wanted to have access to her face for example to force-feed her, the rest of time she was still wearing the hood, seeing absolutely nothing. Knowing nothing about her surroundings. 

Isa flinched when she felt like something, other than the coles stone, touching her. First, she thought, she was going to be dragged to be tortured again. But that couldn’t be it, she would have heard the steps coming, on top of that the touch was far too gentle to belong to one of her captors. A soft touched on her her bruised skin, before it felt like someone was hugging her. 

“Hay, Pumpkin, everything is going to be alright, I’m here.” Isa knew that voice. That was the voice of one of her best friends. But that couldn’t be true. Her friend had nothing to do with any of this. She worked in a hospital thousands of miles away, the chances for that to happeb were impossibly slim. And even if, nothing would be good, when they were actually real. Then Isa would only be stuck with someone else, with no training whatsoever, for this kind of situation. But this wasn’t real, the voice of her friend lackt just a little too substance to be, and even if the touch achieved the feeling of realness it didn’t hurt as it should, considering all of Isa’s injuries. 

The touch felt good though and Isa really wanted to let go of the panic, the insecurity, the disorientation and pain just for a little, so she gave in. Allowed her self to believe that everything would be fine, that someone she loved was holding and protecting her. 

She would allow herself just a little comfort.

There would be others. Other hallucinations, some maybe worse, than this try of her mind to comfort her. The panic would ooze into that piece of her brain too. But for now she had someone holding her, offering her comfort she hadn’t had for an interminable span of painful eternity. 

She was too battered to cling to sanity, if it prevented her from feeling safe, just for a little. She would worry about that later, not as if she could do something against it anyway.

[roman-cates]

"Tell me more."

"There was a screw-up in the initial surveillance placement, and the outdoor cameras were switched with the indoor ones, so of course the ones placed outside didn't hold up to the weather. We don't know anything about Jordan's mode of transportation, but they were definitely in the shop. The barista seemed to recognize them."

Bryce raises his brows in question. Normally he would never condone questioning a service worker, and in fact has mostly convinced Boss it's a bad idea, but to get his hands on Jordan…Well, questioning doesn't have to cause real damage. Getting his hands on the barista might be tricky if he doesn't want Boss to know, but there are options.

"Barista didn't really know anything about them, gave us a whole 'nother name. Said they hadn't been in for a while, but used to be a regular." Mallory shrugs elegantly. "We've fixed the cams, of course, and I'm keeping a personal eye on the situation."

That's not really what Bryce wanted to hear, but he gives a nod anyway. "How'd you get the information from the barista?" Not that he cares, really, not in this instance, but he put so much work into changing the culture and he thought it had stuck.

Mallory rolls her eyes. "We were subtle, Bryce, just like you're always on about. No one hurt, no one bribed, hell, the barista probably forgot the interaction an hour later."

The corners of his mouth tick up. "Good to know my lessons aren't all going to waste."

Mallory gives an exaggerated shrug, but he can tell she's pleased. "It does seem to work better. And it's cheaper."

"So, to sum up, out of all Jordan's haunts I was able to dig up, they've been seen at one coffee place, one time?"

She scowls a little. "Weeeeeeeell…I mean, yeah." She looks down for a moment. "Au--Boss is pretty annoyed they're still out there. She says someone outright accused her of not protecting her own people from 'random sadists.'"

"Oooooh." He sits back a little, impressed at that person's daring. His shoulder aches as it comes in contact with the chair, and he must make a face, because Mallory picks up on it like a scent hound.

"What'd you do to yourself? I'd say you must have been using the whip wrong, but you told me you only used knives."

Well, might as well go for broke. The truth is always the easiest thing to remember, and she'll take it the wrong way.

"Spent the night in the guest bed last night. The mattress sucks."

Understanding dawns on her features, followed by glee. "You dog! Bryce, straight as whistle for decades. Get your own boy and within the week you're -- "

"Mallory," he cuts her off, voice heavy as lead, "We are not discussing my pet. Period."

She pouts a little, but goes back to eating, and soon enough they're back at work, going through the files.

Previous

"There was a screw-up in the initial surveillance placement, and the outdoor cameras were switched with the indoor ones, so of course the ones placed outside didn't hold up to the weather. We don't know anything about Jordan's mode of transportation, but they were definitely in the shop. The barista seemed to recognize them."

So J is still out there. But whoever Bryce is working for is also still looking for them. Roman had begun to wonder if he would know what fate J would meet. They're still out there, but they've made a mistake...

Roman knows the fatality of mistakes...

Roman continues to listen. He hears Mallory say something else remarkably interesting. "Au--Boss is pretty annoyed they're still out there. She says someone outright accused her of not protecting her own people from 'random sadists.'"

That is a lot of valuable information. The start of a name. A name he's positive he is not supposed to know. And a vague idea of what J might have done to get themself tracked down like this. A random sadist, huh? So then he must have hurt someone, right? Maybe killed them.

"What'd you do to yourself? I'd say you must have been using the whip wrong, but you told me you only used knives."

Roman grimaces a little again— very glad that he is locked up in a room and not Mallory's pet. But... what is she referring to? Roman can't see and it's a little frustrating.

"Spent the night in the guest bed last night. The mattress sucks." He hears Bryce say and feels another small stab of guilt. He knows Bryce doesn't have to stay with him, but he also knows that Bryce wouldn't if Roman didn't ask him to. He barely has time to wonder how a poor mattress has affected Bryce in a visible way before Mallory speaks again.

"You dog! Bryce, straight as whistle for decades. Get your own boy and within the week you're -- "

Bryce interrupts almost immediately and shuts down the conversation, but Roman still feels incredibly ill at the implications. He realizes he's stopped drawing. He makes himself start again, trying to push his thoughts aside so he can keep listening— and not throw up.

[lunarscaled]

"Don't be fooled. There are countless guilds and perhaps only two-thirds of them here."

-> One arm crosses their chest and holds their elbow as the hand on their collarbone thoughtfully and politely covers their mouth as they assess what few parties they knew: The Wild Hunt and it's members stood out all their own, donning their black and silver masks in many shapes, but they would not be seeing their guild leader tonight---the ancient Archfey rarely showed himself in public when he did not have to. His guild, hand selected to be the best of best, were his representatives. They see the six-foot tall, furred shape of a white and grey wolf whose every step is the grace of a skilled hunter as her yellow eyes flit between spats of movement indiscriminately, dressed in blacks and blue skirts, and know vaguely that she is the aged leader of Silver Fang, a guild of werewolves so sprawling they had packs in ten different countries and a handful of states.

"Guilds are not guaranteed work or success. All are invited, in attempts to be equal, but imagine the cost of coming here alone. Flights, hotel rooms, your wardrobe, the time off you take to attend this event..."

-> They see a coven of witches in one corner taking up all the sofas, their lace stockings and traditional hats overlapping each other's knees as if they sat in a sorority house and not a ballroom; keeping a mindful eye on their privacy and manners is Dahlia Forewind, her hair braided into rows and then braided again together behind her, gussied with little pink and purple flowers the same rich color as her dress. She wears a gold eyeliner that stands out against her dark skin and gives her a stare like a hawk, a bit of filigree to let others know they are observed by the chemist. Not too far from her is the gentle green scaled skin of the siren who heads Sailor's Song sitting on the edge of a fountain wall with her fingers in the water, her lashes a seafoam color that rests against her flushed cheeks with every blink. Their reputation as a guild specializing in subterfuge and naval command precedes them, as well as their unspoken benefactor position for safe housing for escorts who are also guild members; they called them Mermaid Lounges, if Lyric recalled. ( Hasr'thal sat in the hotel room with one of his three laptops open, reciting pages of information to them, never one to be caught off guard in a social interaction. they're getting a headache trying to think of all the names and faces they should know and show reverence for that he said---why should they be handing out their respects to anyone other than someone who has earned it directly? chatting in groups for hours about international guild efforts didn't feel legitimate at all. ) They turn their body towards him, hand still a thoughtful curl in front of their mouth, because they don't like the idea of someone standing behind them where they can't see even if it's only to get a drink. Lyric could get one, too, but they won't. They didn't care to drink and talk.

"My guild is only here because Mel would rather die than miss a party, so he covers the fees, but my friend is not a bottomless coffer. Even the guilds this event so supposedly supports and employees are not to all reap it's benefits."

-> A flawed system, which they knew. But they could do nothing about it here on the floor, nor even from a conference table where they held not even enough sway to be seated. They were still small fry as far as guilds went, struggling to prove themselves and sink their claws into whatever awful, back breaking jobs they could get to build their reputation. It would be that way for who knows how long, and that was why everyone worked second jobs while Lyric managed all the paperwork and guild meetings and petty, little things. A curved, claw-like nail scratches along the edge of their cheek as they give him a raised eyebrow, palm obscuring the amused twitch of their lips that exposed their teeth. ( they're actually almost angry how imposing and gem encrusted he is---prince indeed, wearing royalty that came from his very bones. they weren't even in the same class of people here, how could they be expected to keep his focus the whole night? )

"Of course I would. I told you I hate being shown up, didn't I? With those horns, who the Hell is the dragon here? You're a honey trap for debutants and there's no way I'm gonna let myself get side-eyed all night cause they want me to leave."

❛❛ misunderstand me , not , dear guild leader. it's serves a purpose , someone lives. ❜❜ Saint drew a tall figure outside of his armor , in this silk and lace these kingdoms knew as finery , and he felt naked in them. his hair is pinned up into an even higher tail than usual , perfect strands of thick hair that neither touched him nor the floor in its straightness. acceptable where his waves and braides , hair matted and dreaded in some places , were less so. by the heavens and the earth , this was their standard. The standard. and he's sure , it makes them feel quite powerful on their age old monoliths. and all he saw . . .

Saint crossed behind Lyric , and grabbed a presented glass of crystal on the table of their backs with a single movement that looked as ridiculously elegant as all this waste indeed was. ❛❛ someone makes their livelihoods doing this. that , that is where this becomes bearable. what isn't ⸻ ❜❜ he pauses to welcome the few guilds of which he holds a specific relationship , who know of him as their prince or as an ally to their wonderlust kingdoms he much preferred. they tried to bow in the customs of these kingdoms that thought his sprawling , wonder of a kingdom to be too rich for the people in it , and he wouldn't argue against it ( though his lips burned to breathe fire and sand ). they had never walked into his kingdom erroneously thinking it small , thinking it good food for adventurers because it was a kingdom of magic users. they would never know the sheer size of corner of the world , and he would never clue them in. there were few , and even fewer still that would be caught speaking about the sheer finery of their own kingdoms. they gathered and had so much fun the browner kingdoms of yore , such unabashed joy to be had. then , there were they.

he turned crimson gaze onto the back of a small , bird-like prince wearing such heavy gold that he looked as though he would tip like cattle , who would be an emperor one day. his hands were smooth , unblemished , and he sneered down over his little bird at everyone he deemed too unsightly for his delicate tastes. this man couldn't even meet his eyes proudly. ❛❛ but I must wonder , who has a livelihood , who eats. they would throw these parties off the backs of their poor and their citizenry , the peasantry. that is where these things lose me. ❜❜

because in Ziira , everyone eats. everyone has a place to earn a living. everyone has a living to earn. while the classes could be considered much more clear and defined in ways that even they couldn't quite establish , it was just a matter of fact rather than something to brag about at parties with enemies and friends. as a prince , he went into the streets and he built for those of whom he considered apart of his ménage , a part of his outer family model. some that were closer to him fell within his kay la , his household, specifically.

he found this wasteful , distasteful , because it went nowhere it needed to but back into the pockets of those who had plenty. he turns from those that likely procured an invitation for existing rather than by works , by recognition , and looks more at those they spot with his own discerning eye. Saint gives a nod to their countenance before he takes a drink from his glass.

❛❛ I have respect for the guilds , it's the kingdoms of which they sometimes operate that I find my ire moved toward. ❜❜ he smoothed his hand over his countenance and sighed. his crown , golden pits dug into his skull formed into rubies , into broad leviathan horns atop his head and brought arching curled and jagged like his chitan. his skin split apart to show how precious even his bones were , blessed with gold and silver and rubies. the lines were softer , drawn into laurel leaves cascading down his body like victory , like beauty , like sunlight crawling from the pure ruby at the center of his forehead. gold that moved and shifted like molton streams through his skin and shined like sunlight. his suit fell open at the chest to show the thick , blocky lines of gold that framed his body like reverent hands. he cuts an impossible , exposing figure even without armor.

❛❛ why , bleu , you would allow them to ravage me so ? how scandalous for you not to keep me whole and hail as my friend. tis my first time around. ❜❜

[yanderes-galore]

Okay hear me out. Fazbear Entertainment decides to have a human member or two on the band as a way for kids to get more into the show. Darling takes a singing and guitar position, mainly as a harmonizer for the originals. This makes Freddy and Monty want daring because of how well they work together, and it soon turns into a rivalry where they compete all the time for your harmony choice in the next song. Roxy and Chica could “get in the way” because of their excitement to a new member maybe?

Y'know, I happen to enjoy my girls too... what if they all like you? First harem concept? Maybe ;) Not poly, though, as they all want you to themselves. Take Roxy and Chica as bonuses on the house only because I love them. It is vague because I had trouble doing so many characters, I was just exploring the concept with this one. Thanks for idea ^^

Animatronic or Android, does not matter.

Harmony

Yandere! Security Breach Harem Concept (Freddy, Monty, Chica, Roxy)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Vague/Implied Yandere themes, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Clingy behavior, Obsessive behavior, Violence, Manipulation, Harem dynamic (sorta), Overprotective behavior.

- This will be more of a general kind of discussion due to it having so many characters.

- I wanted to add Chica and Roxy to this because I have so many people wanting Freddy vs Monty concepts.

- Why not try something new?

- The background I'm given for this is Darling being the new human band member employed by Fazbear Entertainment.

- You're someone who takes the role of harmony and even just plain singing.

- A song list is given to you to practice and perform with the bots in front of an audience.

- Things go smoothly your first two weeks.

- You practice your lines and songs with the bots before performing.

- Often acting out certain scenes like a musical to entertain the kids.

- It's a fun job, really.

- Freddy is rather caring and protective to you.

- Monty is playfully teasing you and easily angered during his skits.

- Chica is also caring towards you like her other band mates, singing rather well with you in duets.

- Roxy shares similar playful teasing to Monty but also manages to capture you and the audience's attention on stage.

- Everyone who watches the show loves how you interact with the bots.

- Singing covers of classics with them all, or just singing the usual cheesy songs of friendship and lessons learned through the small skit you acted out.

- You even sign photographs for the character you play and take pictures with customers in costumes.

- It's an exciting gig until you hit your mark of being here almost a month.

- The bots start seeming strange to you.

- Freddy is overly clingy and concerned for your safety.

- Monty is getting into arguments more and more with other STAFF members and bots around you.

- Chica won't stop staring, following you closely wherever you go and screaming at Freddy for doing the same thing.

- Roxy is constantly trying to manipulate others and steal attention from you.

- You would rule it out as a malfunction if it wasn't for every bot in the band acting weird.

- It happens during practice, when you're roaming the halls, anywhere involving you it seems to intensify.

- Luckily shows still go fine.

- It's just, you're scared to be alone with them.

- The repairman did tests, they said they were fine.

- Yet you couldn't blindly believe that.

- They weren't telling you something... they had to be, right?

- This program was a wonderful idea to get the kids involved.

- But if the bots were acting odd, everyone's safety must be in jeopardy!

- It's only ever around you, too....

- Would swapping roles help?

- Maybe you should find a new job....

- It's almost impossible to read the bots, their more caring and nice persona around you decaying overtime.

- How long would it be before serious damage is caused?

- "Superstar, you look nervous...."

- "Is everything okay? We're friends, aren't we?"

- "Our show is coming up, Rockstar! Ready to go? You'll do fine~"

- "Do your best, I'm sure with you we'll captivate the audience...together."

[p-antomime]

just so fine.

— minors don’t interact

— wc: 4,7K

content + warnings: 18+, including: dilf!toji, manhandle, spitting, daddy kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of school girl!reader maybe, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, age gap, a bit of size kink, thigh riding

pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

— note: this is a bit inspired by: Love Without Tragedy by Rihanna. — jjk masterlist.

Red lipstick and a broken heart trying to be concerted by the petals of your conscience and your friends who said that "he didn't deserve you anyway". And honestly, you didn't know where exactly you were getting the strength from to get out of bed that Monday and go take a shower before heading painfully to your first class in the morning.

He used to be the boy you loved with every cell of your body and soul, he stole the best years of your freshman life at the university, and now you were a senior who had neither the animation nor the patience to welcome the incoming freshmen that year. Despite having Kugisaki and Megumi fervently cheering you on while Itadori was too busy still dealing with the problem of sending documents to the college, your heart was still fatally wounded and your dignity no longer existed as your tears had wiped it off the face of the earth during that morning shower and you couldn't help but be tempted to put on makeup good enough to mask your dark circles under your eyes and downcast face.

"Are you coming today?", Nobara asked excitedly on the other end of the line as you were already leaving the house and taking the long way to college.

— Do I have the option of not going?

"No, of course not.", Nobara replied with a slight laugh that was well intended to cheer you up a bit, "We can have a movie night tonight, to cheer you up."

— At whose house? At mine that won't be, it's a mess. — You grumbled.

"At Megumi's or Itadori's, of course. During lunch I'll buy soda and food with Yuuji and you convince Megumi to let us break into his house today.”

— Why do I have to convince Megumi? You came up with the idea.

"Because I'll be busy, simple. And Fushiguro doesn't take me seriously.", and then you sighed heavily, already noticing that you were less than a block away from entering the college grounds.

— Okay, I see what I can do.

Kugisaki told you that she was waiting for you in the classroom, and you replied that you were already there. And then something distinctive caught your attention. It was strangely easy to spot something different in the landscape of the university entrance because usually it was always the same: university students rushing to settle personal matters or to classes they are late for, or also students who came to see what the college was like before the university application period.

But today was different. There was a tall man fully dressed in black and gray leaning against a motorcycle that looked as if it had been taken from an action movie because it was so well equipped and large. He looked relaxed, and yet he still possessed an aura that could kill you with a single punch. Attractive and devilishly dangerous with that leather jacket highlighting his strong arms and broad shoulders. Forcing your eyes a little, you could notice a scar close to one of the corners of his lips.

— What's the matter, little girl? — His deep voice reaches your ears, but your mind whispers to you that he probably wasn't talking to you at the same time that your heart starts to beat out of control and your head turns from side to side trying to check if there is someone behind you. — Yeah, I'm talking to you. — He smiled sideways.

— Uh... hmm... none, sorry. — Your cheeks started to heat up and you wanted to punch yourself in the stomach because usually a simple man couldn't disconcert you like that, and then your eyes fell on his collarbones, well marked by the black shirt he wore under his jacket, and your mouth suddenly felt too dry.

— What exactly are you apologizing for? — The man asked as he placed one of the helmets on the motorcycle seat, if there were two helmets maybe he brought some college girl? — For eating me with your eyes or staring at me? — And then you choked on your saliva and coughed desperately for air trying not to drop the folders in your hands and he seemed amused by your reaction.

— I-I... — Your fingers squeezed the folders and you had to look away to think straight. — I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn't mean to.

— I am not, it's great to be lusted after by younger girls. — He replied, but before he had a chance to continue his onslaught someone approached from the diagonal.

— Dad! — And then you choked again seeing that the one who was referring to the man in front of you as "dad" was Megumi. — Oh, Y/N? — He looked confused looking from you to his own father. — Anyway, they didn't have what you wanted at the pharmacy, next time you'll buy it yourself. — The young Fushiguro spoke to the older man, but seconds later, noticing the mortifying silence that settled over the place as you stared at his father, he spoke up: — And we are almost late already, let’s go, Y/N. — Megumi took one of your arms and started to guide you away from the motorcycle and closer to the interior of the college.

— You never told me you were interested in girls. — His father shouted more to embarrass his son than you, but the effect was the opposite, since you were the one with the burning cheeks.

— Shut up, Toji. — Megumi shouted back as he continued walking. — Did he say shit to you? — He asked you when the two of you were already walking down the halls to your classroom for the first class of the morning.

— Not really, no. He seems... fine. — You tried to talk as if you didn't have dirty thoughts running through your mind especially after remembering the older man's collarbones and scar, and still Megumi gave you an accusing look.

— Don't try to fuck my father, that's disgusting. - Your eyes widened.

— I wasn't thinking that, you idiot. — And then Megumi let out a loud laugh.

— I know, I was just trying to amuse you. — He shrugged and left you standing in front of the door. — See you at lunch?

— Yes, of course. — You answered, and then suddenly remembered Nobara's request on the phone earlier. Your hand held one of his arms so that he wouldn't walk away without listening to you. — Megumi, can we have a movie night at your place tonight? Nobara came up with the idea of doing this to cheer me up a bit. — He seemed to become suddenly tense.

— I'll have to at least let Toji know that there will be people coming home today. — Megumi answered vaguely and shrugged. — I'll send a message to Kugisaki and let her know if it's on or off.

Nodding your head positively, you gave your friend a slight smile, and then for the rest of the day your mind concentrated on paying attention to your classes, your scheduled seminars and the pile of work you still had to do. There was no time for your heart to pound with grief over the loss of your now ex-boyfriend, but there were several minutes when you had to chase away persistent thoughts of Megumi's dad. But looking at him wasn't enough, your hands wanted to explore his body and leave marks everywhere, that's what you thought until you felt ashamed, pushed the thoughts away for a few brief minutes and then thought about it again. In a vicious loop.

When you were having lunch with Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki, your head tried to focus on their conversation as much as possible, but looking at the man with black hair and beautiful eyelashes reminded you of Toji and your hands started to break into a cold sweat. It had been a frustrating, tiring day, but secretly you were a little excited to see your friend's father again.

— Don't take too long, okay? — Nobara spoke after dropping you off and leaning against the hallway wall, and you nodded positively before going to your room to pack a backpack with some pajamas and an outfit in case you and the other two friends ended up falling asleep while you were at Megumi's house.

It didn't take long before you two were ringing the doorbell of the Fushiguro’s house and from the loud sound from inside the house you both could tell Yuuji had already arrived. Suddenly, Y/N felt nervous not knowing who would answer the door. Would it be Toji? "Damn", you thought as you saw exactly him calmly opening the door. This time he wasn't wearing very dark clothes, it was just gray sweatpants and a white v-neck shirt that still highlighted his beautiful collarbones.

— Is that them? — Itadori shouted from another room in the house.

— Yes. — Megumi, who was looking at the two girls standing in the doorway over Toji's shoulder, answered. — You may come in.

Toji moved to the side letting you two into the house and, using the personal excuse of being embarrassed, Y/N walked in with her head down. And partly, in fact, it was true that you were embarrassed, but your mind knew that your eyes wanted to take a good look at the older Fushiguro's thighs and cock. It was impossible not to look at those parts of his body, especially with that kind of pants.

But then Toji gave himself the right to go up the stairs to the upper floor of the house and out of your field of vision when Megumi asked you and Nobara which movie you wanted to watch and she answered that a drama movie. And then the four of you started to watch the movie comfortably, until you started to feel the straps of your own bra start to press painfully against the skin of your shoulders.

— Can I go to the bathroom? — Y/N asked Megumi, who pointed to the steps of the staircase diagonally across from the sofa.

— First door on the left. — You nodded and walked up the stairs carrying your backpack, intending to get rid of your bra and also put on the comfortable pajama top that had been brought.

From the hallway you could hear the low sound of another TV escaping through the gap in a tall door. It was probably Toji's room, such a thought raced through your mind, and you shrugged as you entered the bathroom, leaned against the door, and began to remove your bra and change into your shirt. It was inevitable to sigh in relief as you felt your shoulders less tense and sore and your hands groped your breasts just for the personal pleasure of feeling them free now.

— Hmm, may I come in? — A muffled voice was heard behind the door and instinctively you quickly removed your hands from your breasts.

— Just a minute. — Y/N answered, shoving the previously worn blouse into her backpack and almost running toward the door, slowly opening it.

You looked forward and found yourself facing a bare hard chest as you waited to see a long hallway with four different doors. Toji was now shirtless in front of you and your cheeks burned a little, which got a little worse when your brain short-circuited, your hand rested two fingers against the warm, somewhat soft skin of his chest, and you pulled away slightly so that you could look him in the eye.

— I'm sorry. — Your hand finished opening the door and there was again a sideways smile on Toji's lips

— Are you going to sleep here? — He asked, sliding his gaze over her shoulders, breasts and abdomen freely, without any embarrassment.

— No, actually. I just changed my shirt to be more comfortable.

— Got it. — Toji looked you straight in the eyes again, but yours were already gliding across his face until you found the scar close to his lips.

— How did you get this scar? — You felt the need to prolong the conversation just to get a better record of his face.

— You're pretty curious for someone apparently shy. — He remarked, his eyes sparkling with a gleam that you couldn't quite identify what it was. — When I was younger, we could say I wasn't the friendliest person in the whole world, so I got into a few fights. — Toji shrugged, as if this was not relevant information

How old are you? — A mischievous smile slowly drew on his lips.

— Old enough to be your dad.

"Then maybe I can call you Daddy", was the first thing you thought, but there wasn't enough courage in you to flirt shamelessly, especially with Megumi or the other two able to eavesdrop from downstairs.

— I think I've been here with you long enough. — Y/N answered, putting the backpack on her back and walking past Toji, but just as her feet were about to start down the steps, the older Fushiguro called her out.

— I think you forgot something, little girl. — You turned back in confusion, and in his hands was your bra. Toji threw the piece of clothing toward you through the air without much force to fall gently onto your palms that had opened toward him. — The next time you forget something like that inside my house, I'll keep it for myself. — You frowned, assuming that he was implying that there was possibly something between you and his son.

— Me and Megumi, we don't... — Your shoulders shook without your mouth finishing the sentence.

— I wasn't talking about him exactly, you're very naive, not that that's a problem for me. — He went into the bathroom and eventually you were alone again.

Feeling more embarrassed than the first time you had seen Toji earlier at the university entrance, you joined your friends again in the middle of the movie and were grateful that none of them had bothered to ask if anything had happened in the bathroom because of your delay. Eventually Nobara fell asleep on your shoulder after eating two pieces of the pizza Megumi had asked his father to buy, and Yuuji began to yawn almost pushing the son of the owner of the house off the couch.

— I knew they would both end up sleeping. — Megumi grumbled, pushing Itadori aside and getting up from the sofa. — There are two guest bedrooms upstairs, you and Nobara can use both of them and Yuuji sleeps with me, or one of you can sleep with me and the other and Itadori in the other bedrooms.

— I think it's better that Yuuji better sleep with you. — Y/N replied looking at Kugisaki, who was starting to fall off her shoulder.

And then Fushiguro woke the almost sleeping Itadori to go upstairs while he carried Nobara up the stairs and you accompanied him carrying both your and your friend's backpack. After tidying Kugisaki up in bed and getting Yuuji changed, Megumi spoke to you before leaving you alone in the guest room:

— If you feel hungry, you can go in the kitchen and get something to eat during the night. And, well, you already know where the bathroom is, and so does my room. If anything happens during the night, you can call me or him. — Megumi pointed to the door of Toji's bedroom, and you nodded positively.

And then you laid lazily on the slightly uncomfortable bed in the room and tried to relax. Almost, almost, sleep caught up with you, but your evil brain began to make you think about the fact that Toji was only a few miserable doors away, and the anxiety began to corrupt you rapidly, like a corrosive acid. But even though you wanted to go knock on his door, you forced yourself to sleep, especially since the day had been exhausting.

The next day, just like the rest of the week, Y/N didn't get to see Megumi's dad, and he didn't make much of a point of talking about his father either, after all, why would his friends be interested in him, right? All the other days of the week, her mind focused more on trying not to think about her ex-boyfriend and also not to think about Toji, just college business.... And then came the next Thursday of the successive week.

And there was Toji Fushiguro, leaning against his big motorcycle, but this time with only one helmet and different clothes. Honestly? You didn't know if you should go talk to him or not, if you should just walk right by or not. But, in the end, your mind tricked you into choosing the second option, and your feet awkwardly made their way to the college with your eyes struggling not to check the man's reactions.

— Can I have your number, little girl? — Toji asked in a tone loud enough for you to hear.

— What? — You looked away, wringing your hands nervously.

— I asked if I could have your number. — One of his hands swung his cell phone toward you.

The first thought that crossed your mind was, "What if someone sees us together and tells Megumi?", but honestly, Megumi probably wouldn't be interested in your sex or love life, even if it was with his father.

— Maybe, if you take me for a motorcycle ride today.

— You're wearing a skirt, are you sure you'd want to do that? — Toji suppressed a playful laugh. — You could have a ride somewhere more comfortable than my motorcycle today.

You narrowed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, realizing that you were entering dangerous territory in a game of seduction that Toji knew and played better than you.

— Will Megumi be at home?

— He has an internship today. — Toji replied, drumming his fingers on his helmet.

— Wait for me after four o'clock then. — You replied and walked back toward the college as you felt his eyes fixed on your ass.

Throughout the day you felt uncomfortably nervous and Nobara even asked you if everything was okay several times at different times. The only answer your mind formulated was a simple positive head movement, because honestly you felt embarrassed to be interested in a friend's dod, even though this father was extremely attractive and did not reject your shy and restrained advances. He was just so nice, fine.

Fine enough to make you press your thighs together to try to relieve the sexual tension as your legs walked towards the Fushiguro house. And when you got there, it didn't take long to see Toji opening the door wearing only black sweatpants. You went inside and closed the door, nervously watching the older man, who sat comfortably on the sofa in the living room and called out to you with his index finger. As you stopped in front of him, one hand patted his lap and the other was placed on your thigh covered by your skirt. Slowly, Y/N took her seat sitting on his covered cock.

— Why do you look so tense, hm? — Toji asked, squeezing your thigh without too much force and you moved slightly against his hip. — Are you a virgin by any chance? — Your cheeks heated up.

— N-No, you just make me nervous. — Y/N replied, shrugging slightly.

— Do I? — He pretended to be surprised as he slid his hand up her skirt and pushed his fingertips against her covered pussy. — Do I make you get your panties wet too? — Toji pressed his hips against hers and her hands rested on his shoulders for a few brief seconds.

— Fuck, yes. — You groaned, taking your fingers to the buttons of your shirt to undo them. — I've been thinking about you more than I should, I've been thinking about everything about you.

— So, why don't you show me how much you've been thinking about me, huh? — Fushiguro pulled her panties aside and stroked her pussy in slow circular motions while he brought his other hand to her face and pulled her closer to his. — Show me how much you want me and cum on my fingers like the dirty slut I know you can be. — His thumb slowly brushed over your lips and you opened them, your mouth filled by long fingers.

You grabbed his wrist close to your intimacy and guided two of his digits into your interior. And, fuck, they filled you so well. Toji's fingers were thicker and longer than yours, so the times he repeatedly curved them inside your cunt, their tips easily brushed and pressed that spot that made you roll your eyes having your body spasm with pleasure. "What a beautiful vision", the man would be thinking as he watched his beautiful college girl choking on his fingers while being fucked by the others.

However, he didn't move his hand against you much, meaning that he let you choose the pace and intensity, until you whimpered against his neck in a silent request for his fingers to move against you:

— Please, Toji, move your fingers. — Y/N said as she pulled away from Toji's digits that were preventing her from speaking and forced her hips against his hand.

— Can't you cum on your own? — He asked squeezing your chin to make you keep your mouth open. — Pathetic. — Toji spat on your tongue and closed your mouth to force you to swallow. — Pathetic slut. — And then he began to finger you in a relentless rhythm.

If Fushiguro wanted to make you cum in his hand, that's exactly what he got, and he even got a great view of your trembling body, your breasts rising and falling rapidly because of your rapid breathing and your head falling back in an intense pleasure you didn't know your body could achieve. While you were still clouded by ecstasy, his fingers snuck up to finish removing your panties and getting rid of your clothes covering your upper body. He wanted you only in your skirt.

— Look at my pet slut with her beautiful cunt leaking. — His fingers spread the folds of your pussy to see you twitching around just at his obscene words. — Just so nice. — Toji pressed the thumb against your sensitive clit and gave you a smirk before he sat you down on one of his thighs, began to move you there and also slowly stimulated your clit.

His body leaned down and his lips latched onto your breasts, sucking and licking them more intensely as your hips moved faster against his thigh. And occasionally Fushiguro would pull up her skirt and slap her ass hard enough to leave several finger marks across her skin; and it was on one of his slaps that a short, gasping, "Daddy" sneaked out from between your lips and hit Toji's mind as a twinge of intense pleasure coursed through his entire body.

— Say that again. — He ordered, grabbing her neck with the hand that had been slapping her ass before.

— Daddy... — Y/N groaned breathlessly as she continued to move her hips against Toji's thigh in a desperate attempt to cum again.

— Keep calling me that, be a good little whore for me. — His other hand continued to stimulate your clit, now at a more intense pace that managed to push you straight into the abyss of a orgasmic pleasure that you so desperately needed.

After that, Fushiguro held you still in place as he continued to press his fingers against your clit. He definitely wanted to bring you close to the level of almost passing out from so much lust running freely through your body, and so your legs instinctively closed around his hand. At the same time that you desperately needed to breathe because you felt like your lungs were burning from your intense panting, every fiber of your body was still clamoring for the stimulation that only Toji could give you at the moment, so it wasn't hard for him to force your legs open again with a sly smile on his lips:

— Come on, my pretty girl, give me everything you've got. — He made scissor-like movements against her walls and her hips automatically forced themselves against Toji's palm, even though her intimacy was already quite sensitive.

— Daddy, please... please, more, daddy... — Y/N sank her face into the curve of Toji's neck trying to stifle her own moans.

— What a great fuck toy you are. — His fingers curved and you gasped, feeling again that same pressure as before against your bottom that indicated that your third orgasm was approaching. — No matter how much I make you cum you keep asking for more.

And the more he moved his fingers frantically against your pussy, the more you felt your thoughts disappear completely and all that was left was only Toji Fushiguro, and his fingers, and the cocky smile he had no matter what the situation was. Those same fingers that made you squirt for the first time against his abdomen in a third, overwhelming orgasm and your cheeks heat up violently, especially after seeing Toji bring them to his lips looking more than just satisfied with his work with you. Fuck, you could fuck him several times, you could pass out from pleasure, and you still wouldn't ask him to stop or slow down with you.

— Think you can handle one more, pretty girl? — He asked, his hands reaching for his pants and underwear.

— Yes, Daddy. — Y/N tried to speak as firmly as possible with her heavy breathing.

Toji put one hand on your waist and the other on your chin and took the opportunity to pull you in for a kiss as he entered you slowly, which made you lose some focus on the kiss and moan against his mouth as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. He didn't let you get too used to the recent intrusion and started thrusting himself against you hard.

After leaving yours, his mouth slid down your neck and shoulders to leave sucking and biting the area before placing the hand that was on your chin on your neck. Eventually yours moans went from simple gasps and sighs to little "Daddy" that made Fushiguro's dick twitch against yours insides several times and grunts escape his lips.

— I will breed you like the desperate little whore that you are. — Toji stroked hard against you while squeezing your neck a little harder. — I bet you're going to love this, aren't you?

— Y-Yes, daddy, breed me, please. — Y/N moved her hips against his while maintaining eye contact with the older man's predatory eyes. — Fill me up completely, until I'm leaking.

Toji squeezed your waist tightly, tilted your body slightly until your hips arched a bit, and started a rhythm of thrusts against you that as a result made your mind go blank and your nails leave scratches on his shoulders. And your fourth orgasm didn't even take long to hit you almost as hard as the third because your whole body had been extremely sensitive for a long time; after fucking that man incessantly you would definitely be addicted to him, to his touch, to his dick, to his lips. Everything about him was addictive.

After making you cum for the fourth time, Fushiguro kept thrusting inside you until his cock forcefully contracted against you and filled you full of cum. By that point you had definitely become just a bunch of holes for him to fuck, and if your body wasn't already so sensitive you might want him to actually fill every possible place in your body with cum. When he withdrew his dick from inside your pussy, Toji pulled your hips up to watch the white liquid escape your entrance and used his fingers to push it into you again.

— Come here. — He patted his chest lightly, and you leaned your sweaty body against his as you lifted your head to look at him. His hands caressed your body and soon you found yourself being carried up the stairs. — I'm going to give you a long shower, and then I'll take you home. — Toji left a gentle kiss against your forehead, and you felt more comfortable than you really should have in his arms.

— Thank you, daddy. — You replied, and he couldn't suppress a satisfied smile.

And maybe from then on you continued to take advantage of the times when Megumi wasn't home or you weren't so busy with college to spend hours together.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Seventeen. The Bugity Stream

warnings: swearing, dream is jealous, kinda angsty word count: 4k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist wattpad

a/n: heheheeee bugity stream!! barely any dreamsy interaction and we don’t read the actual bugity fanfics, but lots of pouty dream :/ and we’re seeing stuff from a new person’s POV (also, elmo and i 389757% have come up with lore for the foxtrot fic that they mention in this chapter..... side fic??)  everyone say THANK YOU HARVEY FOR BEING AN AMAZING BETA (@hungoverhellhound) ur the best :)  also also, 🦀 anon suggested using discord people’s names for twitch chat so i did!! (i asked beforehand and everyone who wanted to be included was) it was fun adding that little bit so hehe hope mushroom field likes their comments

ANYWAY, ENJOY THIS PART!!!!!!!!! and as always, thanks for all the positive comments and stuff yall really make me cry /pos 

**********

George’s POV

.

George left the messaging app when he received a spam of notifications from Dream on Discord telling him to call him as soon as possible. He knew it wasn’t an actual emergency, which is the only reason he took his sweet time rising from his bed and meandering over to his desk. George fell on his chair with a huff, taking a deep breath before pulling himself closer to his desk and opening Discord. He picked up his headphones and slid them on, preparing himself for the loud voice his best friend was about to use. After pressing a few familiar buttons, he could hear his best friend's frantic cry for help through his headphones.

“GEORGE.”

He tried his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Dream.”

“I'm-I’m going to literally—GEORGE. What am I supposed to do?”

“About what?”

“You know what!” Dream huffed, exasperated. “The stream!”

“You don’t even know what it is, why are you being so weird about it?”

“I’m not being weird,” he defended.

“Yes, you are,” George countered. “You’re, like, panicking, I dunno.”

“Because it’s Quackity! He’s probably gonna make, like, a proposal video or some shit to show her and then everyone is going to ship them and she’s going to forget about me and—”

“This wouldn’t be a problem if you tell her you like her.”

Dream scoffed. “Oh, so they can make fun of me for it? No, thanks.”

“She wouldn’t make fun of you for liking her,” George reasoned. Definitely not. “Why would Bugsy make fun of you for that? Or for anything in general?”  

“Okay, maybe not, but she’d definitely be weirded out or not believe me. I can’t tell her yet. It… it has to be the right time.”

George thought it was rather cute that Dream cared so much about his confession being perfect, whereas Quackity was doing everything he could to make Dream just say it. Dream had been stressing over how to tell her he liked her for a few weeks, constantly running ideas by George before telling him to forget it and coming up with new plans. He could see how important it was to Dream that he did it right. They just needed to figure out what “right” was.

“Fine, but I’m just saying if you told her already, you wouldn’t have to be so worried about this.”

“Should I be? You make it sound like me panicking is justified! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?”

“Stop being so dramatic!” George laughed. “She isn’t going to forget about you and if he proposes to her, we can just ask to join the call and we’ll all yell at Quackity for you, okay?”

“No, I wanna yell at Quackity.”

“Well, he said he’s not going to let you in the call so…”

“He did? When did he say that? Wait, why won’t he let me in?? What are they doing??”

George laughed at the franticness in Dream’s voice. “I’m not allowed to say.”

“George!”

“I can’t!” he said as he threw his hands into the air. “I literally can’t!”

“Oh come on, you’ve never kept a secret in your life but now you decide to?”

George shook his head. If only Dream knew how many secrets he was actually keeping, it would be obvious just how good George was at not spilling things.

“George, just tell me what they’re doing,” Dream begged, his voice now somber and genuinely worried instead of frantic. “Please.”

“I can’t, Dream. I’m sorry. But really, it’s going to be okay.” Hating the seriousness of the conversation and the oddly soft tone of his voice, George changed the subject. “Oh, look at that, Karl wants to join the call. I’ll add him,” he said quickly, knowing Dream wasn’t going to say anything about how much he liked Bugsy around her best friend. In Dream’s eyes, Karl was unaware of his feelings for Bugsy, and George assumed he wanted to keep it that way.

“Wait, George before you—” Dream started softly but was cut off by the sound of someone joining the call.

“Hey, Karl!” George greeted obliviously.

“Hi! Neither of you are streaming or recording or anything, right?” Karl asked.

“No,” Dream answered bluntly.

“We’re just waiting for Quackity to start his stream and we’re gonna watch together.”

“Oh, yeah!” Karl cackled. “You really wanna see it, Dream? Even though Quackity will probably hit on Bugsy?”

“Yeah, why should I care?” he faked disinterest, even though everyone in the call knew he would definitely care if that happened. “It probably will be funny, to be fair. And since Bug will be too busy to talk to me, I guess I can still, you know, hear her voice…” he trailed off to an almost inaudible volume and George smiled, deciding not to tease the younger boy for the sweet sentiment.

“I'll watch it with you,” Karl said. “We can all make fun of them together.”

George noted the long pause of silence before Dream softly asked, “Do you know what they’re doing, Karl?”

“Yup!”

“W-what is it?”

“Mmm, can’t say! Sorry!” Karl chirped in fake obliviousness. “Why do you want to know?”

George rolled his eyes; he knew what Karl was doing, pretending like he didn’t already know Dream would be jealous in hopes that Dream would spill to him. It’s like he and Quackity enjoyed causing Dream pain, pushing him to the edge in situations where he couldn’t vent his feelings, forcing him to keep it inside and build it up in an overwhelming pile of emotions.

“Just… curious,” Dream lied.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Karl said nonchalantly. “I’m gonna be honest though, George, can I just say, I’m a little annoyed with them.”

George laughed. “Really, why?”

Karl hummed, choosing his words carefully. “It might mess things up,” he said softly.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean by that,” George admitted vaguely. In the few minutes he had been talking to Dream, he could already tell it wasn’t going to go over well with the blond boy.

“Can you guys just… tell me what they’re doing?” Dream tried again, the desperation spilling out of him. “Why is it a big deal? What would it mess up?”

Karl giggled again. “Bugsy and Quackity like keeping their fans on their toes, you know? As Bugsy’s number one fan it would be the worst to tell you.”

“Well, I’m also Quackity’s number one anti right now so it cancels out,” Dream reasoned. “So you can tell me.”

“Aw, he admitted he’s her number one fan!” Karl teased.

Dream groaned when he realized he wouldn’t get anywhere by repeatedly asking the same question. In other words, he gave up. “When are they supposed to start?”

“Um, soon I think?” George answered vaguely as he opened Twitch on his other monitor. “He’s not live yet but he Tweeted earlier that it would be around now.”

There were a few moments of silence before Karl spoke up. “So, how have you guys been today?”

“Mm, pretty good,” George admitted, scrolling through Twitter on his phone and pretending to not hear Dream’s pitiful sighs. “Kinda slow, but not bad. What about you?”

“Good, actually. Bugsy, Naomi, and I went out for lunch earlier which was fun. Speaking of…” Karl giggled. “Naomi? And you? What’s up?”

George felt himself turn red at the mention of their relationship, whatever it was. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I have,” he admitted happily. “I just want to make sure your stories line up.”

“Karl! No, that’s-that’s… I’m not telling you anything now.”

“George doesn’t talk about feelings, Karl. He’s not going to tell you. I know his side of the story though,” Dream said. “He’s told me.”

“What did he say?”

“I could tell you,” Dream bargained, attempting to get the information he wanted in any way possible, “if you tell me what Quackity and Bug are streaming.”

Karl cackled. “Woah, woah, woah, Dream. I don’t need to know that bad. Dang, you’re really impatient!”

“Yes, okay!” Dream snapped, annoyance in his voice. “Sue me for wanting to know what super top-secret thing that the girl I really like and the boy who constantly publicly flirts with her are doing! Because it’s obviously not just a cooking stream or roblox or else you guys wouldn’t act like the FBI put you in charge of keeping it from me. And don’t give me that garbage and ask why I assume it’s something flirty just because it’s being kept from me. I know that all of you are aware of how much I like her so Quackity is definitely doing it on purpose. Literally everyone except maybe Y/n knows I like her, I know that. So yes I want to know and yes I’m worried about what the fucking stream is.”

George and Karl were silent for a few moments, processing his rant. Maybe Karl was right, maybe it was stupid of Y/n to try to make him jealous this way. Sure, jealous Dream was entertaining, but when was it too far? Would Dream think them reading fanfiction together was funny at all or just purely exasperating? George started to think the latter was more likely.

“Shit,” Karl mumbled. “Dream—”

“Dream, I promise there’s nothing to actually be worried about,” George tried reassuring.

“Yeah, you’ll probably get jealous and it’s very understandable if you do but… Quackity’s just messing around,” Karl added.

Dream took a deep breath and almost on cue, George got a notification from Twitter that Quackity had tweeted.

“He’s live,” Karl announced softly and they waited to hear Dream’s reaction once he saw the title.

It came softly, a voice of disbelief ringing through George’s headphones. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hey, you’re already trending for your joke, that should make you happy,” Karl offered and Dream knocked something over on his desk.

“Shit,” he mumbled through the mic. “Shit, shit, shit. I spilled my—shit.” A few seconds passed and George took the silence to share his screen with the others so they could watch the video together. “No, Karl, that doesn’t make me feel better. It’s not really a joke. I mean, I’ll play it off as one but… wait, don’t share your screen,” he told George. “I don’t want to watch this shit.”

“You said you did.”

“That was when I didn’t know what it was,” he replied as if it was obvious. “I don’t want to watch them read fanfiction together.”

“He doesn’t actually like her,” Karl reminded gently.

“I don’t care, it’s still embarrassing for me! It’s just a fat reminder that she doesn’t like me back and that she’s not my girlfriend.”

George wanted to slam his head against a wall. He opted for his desk instead, his forehead coming in contact with the wood with a loud THUD. It was so hard to keep his mouth shut and not just tell him about Y/n’s feelings.

“It’s, like, Quackity is rubbing it in my face that she doesn’t like me. What an asshole.”

“That’s not what he’s trying to do,” Karl said. His voice sounded as in pain as George felt. Which one of them was going to break first and tell Dream?

He didn’t know how to use words that weren’t ‘Bugsy likes you, dipshit’, so he tried something else. “It might still be funny—”

Dream wasn't laughing. Nothing about this was funny to him. “George.” Frustration was evident in his sharp tone.

“I don't get what the big deal is—”

“They're-they’re reading fanfiction! It's just gonna be a bunch of, like, romantic stories about them and, what, I'm supposed to just watch?”

“You don't have to watch it if you don't want to. I'm sure Quackity won't mind losing one viewer—”

“George, I'm being serious.”

“Calm down,” he said gently. “It's just Quackity. We told you already, he doesn't like Bugsy like that.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m okay with this,” Dream mumbled.

George took a deep breath. He did understand how Dream was in an uncomfortable situation, and even if it wasn't a big deal to him, it was to Dream.

“Hey, Dream?” Karl started gently.

“What?” he spat. He sounded like he was seconds away from disconnecting and hiding in his bed or punching a wall or doing whatever it is Dream does when he’s upset.

Karl hesitated for way too long before saying, “We can do something else if you still want to hang out with us. I don’t want to force you to watch it if it really will upset you.”

Dream breathed deeply. “I’m being dramatic,” he admitted softly, reminding George of a little kid getting reprimanded by an adult. “We can… watch it, I guess.”

“You’re not being dramatic if that’s how you feel,” Karl reassured. When did he become a therapist? George sat back as he listened to them, biting his lips in order to not spill Y/n’s secret. “If it really does make you upset, then that’s that. You’re allowed to be jealous, I mean, I understand why you are. That was literally Quackity’s plan, we expected you to be.”

“I’m not allowed to be jealous, though,” Dream countered lightly. “She’s-she’s not my girlfriend. She’s allowed to do what she wants. I have no right feeling like… like…” he trailed off and sighed.

George raised his head to look at Dream’s Discord icon empathetically.

“I didn’t know you liked her this much,” Karl admitted. “I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought.”

George agreed. They knew Dream was whipped for Bugsy and that watching a stream of Quackity and her read fanfiction together would piss him off a little, but this was different. He sounded utterly heartbroken.

“I really do,” Dream mumbled, his voice muffled by what George assumed was his hands on his face.

Internally screaming at himself to tell his best friend something that was guaranteed to make him feel better, George wrung his hands together. He looked at his second monitor, which still showed Quackity’s starting soon screen. “Dream?”

“What?”

“Tell her.”

“I can’t, it has to b—”

“It has to be perfect, I know,” George interrupted impatiently but gently. “Tell her soon.”

Dream’s next words came in a soft, embarrassed tone, no longer defensive and combative but rather nervous and contemplative. “What if she doesn’t believe me? Or she thinks I like her for the wrong reasons?”

“Do you mean because you haven’t seen her?” Karl asked sincerely. “Because of that idea her ex got stuck in her head?”

As if suddenly realizing he was in the presence of the person who knew Bugsy better than anyone, Dream’s voice perked up. “Karl,” he paused. “Can you promise me that you won’t tell her anything I tell you?”

“Yes,” Karl replied quickly. “I promise. I want to help you and if that means not telling her, I will.”

“You heard on Quackity’s stream that she and I were FaceTiming? Like, that I’ve seen her?”

“Yeah,” George and Karl replied together.

“I’m still bitter that I found that out from watching a stream instead of from my best friend,” Karl muttered, “but continue.”

George laughed through his nose at Karl’s comment before Dream explained his concern. “Since I didn’t tell Bug that I like her before I saw her, I’m worried she’ll think I only like her now because I know what she looks like. See my problem? If I told her before, she wouldn’t believe me but if I tell her now she might think it’s because of her looks.”

“Oh,” Karl said, his voice muffled behind his hand. “I see what you’re saying. Hm, that’s… I think... I could be wrong, but I’ve talked to Naomi and we both think she’s, like, realizing you don’t need to see someone to like them.”

“How do you figure?”

Karl hesitated. “Not important. But, I think it would be fine if you told her. I think you’ve proven that you like her for more than her looks and she’s blind if she couldn’t tell you liked her before.”

George nodded to himself. “Yeah, Naomi has mentioned that to me too. I think you guys are right. And yeah, Dream, you’ve clearly liked her before so she would understand.”

“What if it makes things weird between us?” Dream asked. “You know, telling her.”

“Trust us, it won’t make things weird.”

“How should I—”

Dream was interrupted abruptly by Quackity unmuting his stream and yelling, “CHAT! HOW ARE WE TODAY?” and laughing loudly.

George flinched at the sudden change in mood. Just as he and Karl were calming Dream down, Quackity went and made the air tense again. George could feel Dream’s anxiety slowly growing.

“Again, we don’t have to watch,” Karl offered but Dream made a noise in protest.

“Let’s watch.”

The atmosphere was tense to say the least, occasional comments trying to lighten the mood about Quackity or Bugsy being funny or stupid, but overall the voice call was quiet. George had no idea what to say to Dream and he could tell Karl didn’t either. Having the chat open wasn’t helping either.

user43: GEORGE IS HERE HE’S GONNA SNITCH TO DREAM libbbyyyyyyyyy: george george george he’s watching venus: bugsy simps getting FED today user13: wattpad writers watch out ItsRainingPastels: this is so funny!! Bugity interactions are amazing Chrimsss: foxtrot???? user71: READ. FOXTROT. cantaloupe: ajsdkfhj please the look on his face when bugsy said “that could be us” user92: FOXTROT NEXT FOXTROT NEXT user48: i'm surprised dream hasn't barged into chat or their call to yell at quackity yet noraimp: i’ve been saying bugity supremacy all along and no one believed me until now hungoverhellhound: stop saying foxtrot i WILL CRY user11: SUCK IT DREAM, BUGSY AND QUACKITY ARE BETTER FOR EACH OTHER bexwastaken: i miss dream :(

George took the liberty of closing the chat so Dream didn’t have to see it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled softly. Apparently that was a good choice on George’s part.

“Chat just gets in the way,” he excused, trying to place the decision on his own reasons rather than embarrass Dream by acknowledging that he knew seeing all the comments was bothering the younger

“This story is actually kinda funny,” Dream admitted. “Well, it’s super cringey but… it’s funny that Bug thinks it’s funny.”

Karl made a small whine in adoration. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” Dream mumbled. “Or I won’t tell you anything ever again.”

“Were you going to?”

“Yeah, maybe, I guess,” Dream said. “If that’s okay with you. You know her better than anyone and… I obviously need advice or nothing is going to happen.”

“Dream,” Karl started formally, “I’d be honored to give you the best Bugsy advice I can offer. And to hear you say cute things like that about her because it’s adorable. I’m sure ranting about how cute she is to George is like talking to a brick wall.”

Dream hummed, a small laugh escaping him. “Yeah, that’s pretty accurate, actually. He’s not very responsive. He doesn’t get it.”

“I’m sure she’s pretty and all, I’m just not good at talking about people’s feelings,” George defended.

George tuned back into the stream as Quackity and Bugsy laughed loudly. “Oh my gosh, holy shit that was wild,” Quackity exclaimed.

“Yeah, what the heck? That was so funny,” Bugsy admitted, still laughing lightly.  

“Okay, okay, one down. Guys, stop spamming Foxtrot in my chat, what is that? Is that a fic? I said I already picked everything out, don’t suggest things.” Quackity looked at his phone and laughed. “Wait, I did pick that one out, actually.”

George assumed the chat was going wild and his curiosity got the best of him so he opened it.

user66: READ CHAPTER 10 hungoverhellhound: NOOO NO DON’T READ IT PLEASE I CAN’T HANDLE THIS TODAY venus: this isn’t going to go well libbbyyyyyyyyy: laksjdhjkh try not to fall in love with each other after this one ItsRainingPastels: ive heard things about this fic… everyone cries cantaloupe: YES YES noraimp: are they reading foxtr…. oh no user52: SKIP TO CHAP 10 bexwastaken: dream come get your girl smh Chrimsss: we’re about to watch bugity become real because of this fic user10: it starts slow, do chap 10 or 16!!!! user88: quack isnt in it until later lol

“They said it starts really slow though? I’m not in it until chapter 3?” Quackity scoffed. “Fine, we’ll skip ahead.”

“People are saying ‘Chapter 10’ so that one must be good?” Bugsy suggested and Quackity complied.

George closed the chat again when he registered Dream’s silence and apologized under his breath.

“Try not to fall in love because of this fic?” Quackity read. “Can’t happen because we already are in love, chat.”

Dream scoffed, mirroring Bugsy’s reaction. “In your dreams, duck boy.”

“You are, actually,” Quackity teased.

“Shut the fuck up, Quackity,” Dream grumbled to no one, and George couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.

Foxtrot — the fanfiction the chat was raving about — was really good. At least the chapter they read on the stream was. It was so well written and soft and George hadn’t heard Dream speak in a good 15 minutes. George didn’t dare look at chat after they finished reading that one, opening his phone to text Quackity instead.

“Hold on, one second, chat,” Quackity said, faking a British accent as he looked at his phone. “One second, chat.”

George looked up and saw Quackity smiling at his phone as he set it on his desk and returned to the stream. “Okay!”

George set his phone on his own desk before hearing Bugsy laugh. “Dream just texted me.”

“What did he say?” Quackity asked nervously.

“He’s…” she trailed off and laughed. “He wants to know if I’m leaving him for you. He said, ‘I understand if you have feelings for him after that’. Oh my gosh.” She giggled and George heard Dream laugh through his nose.

“Dream,” Karl laughed. “Why?”

“Do you realize how suspicious it would be if I didn’t make some sort of appearance during the stream after all the things I’ve said on Twitter and stuff? I had to joke around for the chat.”

“Fair…” George said.

“Is he watching?” Quackity asked Bugsy as if George hadn’t just told him they were. “Dream, go away. We aren’t letting you in VC. Just accept the truth,” he laughed loudly.

George shook his head to himself as he realized how much this wasn’t a joke just to mess with the fans. If it was, Quackity would have let Dream into their call so everyone could witness Dream be jealous but instead, he was almost banishing Dream to be jealous in private. The fans not seeing how Dream was actually feeling made it more real somehow. Quackity really wanted Dream and Bugsy to own up to their feelings.

“I want to strangle him,” Dream confessed jokingly. “At this point, I don’t even want to be in their call because I don’t have the energy to play up being sad. I’m just really sad.”

“I told him to stop reading actual cute ones, so it should be fine now,” George announced. “That last one was too much.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Quackity, I’m not falling in love with you,” Bugsy stood her ground with a laugh. “Not happening, bud.”

“We’ll just have to read more until you do,” Quackity cackled and George heard Dream huff.

The stream didn’t last too much longer, Quackity apparently not wanting to take the joke too far even though he already had.

“Thank god that’s over,” Dream mumbled as George unshared his screen and closed Twitch.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” Karl asked slowly.

Dream hummed. “It was pretty bad, Karl.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed.

“But now it’s over and you can go back to talking to Bugsy and have her full attention,” George said positively.

“How am I supposed to talk to her after that?”

“Like normal?”

“What if she brings it up?”

“Then you say, ‘Bugsy, I don’t want to talk about this because I like you’,” Karl suggested. “Simple.”

“Okay, you are no help. No longer coming to you for advice.”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding. Just… tell her it was funny but don’t elaborate. She’s good at picking up on when people are uncomfortable, she’ll drop it.”

“Or tell her you like her,” George agreed and Karl laughed as Dream groaned.

“No. Not yet.”

“Not yet,” George mimed. “But soon.”

Dream took another deep breath. “Soon.”

__________

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[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter two

kirigan wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t care for appearance and reputation. he supposed he would have to tiptoe around you until you showed your cards. until then, he’d have you play new recruit.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] general kirigan (the darkling/aleksander) x reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: slight suggestive theme (mentioned in passing)

note: wow. i’m absolutely astonished with the enthusiasm the first chapter had. thank you guys so much! i have two exams next week so i’m not entirely sure if i’ll be able to update. i will try my best :)

here’s the masterlist

“here’s your room.” aleksander gestured to a room that was vaguely familiar.

brows furrowed, you turned to him. “your room is next to this one.”

his eyes rounded in mock innocence. “really? i hadn’t noticed.”

your nose crinkled in distaste as you glimpsed down the hall. “what of my old bedroom?”

“someone else is staying in there,” his arms folded across his chest. “alina starkov, the sun summoner.”

“oh? it’s to be expected, i suppose,” you bobbed your head, stepping to explore the room. “why create another staged cage when you already have one ready?”

“what?”

you observed the flowers by the bedside and plucked one out to tuck it behind your ear. “you like to give your prized cattle the very best so they may feel important, no? it makes it so much easier to subdue them.”

“what? prized cattle? alina’s not— you were never—”

while he wrestled for a response, you continued to inspect the room before happening upon a locked door. “where does this door lead to?”

“my room,” aleksander cleared his throat, recovering from your accusations.

you froze, your hands twitching, before you tore away from the door. “your room?”

“my bedroom, specifically,” he clarified. in that moment, he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

“why would anyone want to have a room connected to yours?”

looking into a mirror, aleksander fixed his appearance. “well, i assume these rooms were designed with my future lover in mind,” he replied.

bitterness rang throughout your body as you barked out a laugh. “your lover? to think you wouldn’t jump at the chance to house your precious sun summoner here. what? was there a snag in your plan to seduce her? a boyfriend back home?”

at his silent admission, your jaw dropped. then, genuine laughter erupted from you, causing you to lean on the bedpost. your knees nearly gave in until you saw his glare. you took deep breaths and tried to stifle your amusement behind your hand.

“i’m sorry. it’s rude to laugh,” you surrendered. while your giggles subdued, he remained silent. aleksander’s reflection was eerily still, his eyes far away from reality. when you stepped towards him, he broke from his stupor and made for the door.

“rest up. you have a full day ahead of you tomorrow.” he began closing the door when he paused just before it shut. “goodnight, [y/n].”

well, that was odd.

✵✵✵

with the sun high in the sky, aleksander walked with you to the training grounds.

“do all new recruits get escorted by you or is this arrangement special?” you walked beside him with your hands linked in front of you. you sported your new deep blue kefta with white detailing.

“i can’t risk you disrupting alina’s training with your spitefulness. whatever i may or may not be planning for her, she’s still ravka’s only hope of banishing the fold,” he said. “my accompanying you is a precaution as well as your formal introduction to the second army.”

as you approached your destination, you spotted multiple grisha huddled in a ring. two of them were fighting in the middle.

“you teach them physical combat now?”

“you’d be surprised how often we lose grisha to drüskelle because they’ve tied their hands. they cannot always rely on their powers,” he droned.

off to the side, you spotted a burly man. “you have a shu training them?”

aleksander looked down at you, “he used to be a mercenary. i think you’ll find him adequate.”

“i think you’ll find i’m already above your training,” you whispered as everyone turned their attention to you or, rather, aleksander.

the shu made his way over and bowed, “general kirigan, i had no idea you would be joining us today.”

you see a girl peek her head out from the corner of your eye, her face lighting up at the darkling’s entrance.

alina starkov. i see she already holds some sort of affection for him.

the general raised his hand, “please, botkin. i am only here to introduce everyone to our newest member, [y/n]. they’re a gravity summoner.”

at the sound of your name, you reverted your attention to the crowd and gave a small smile. placing a hand on the small of your back, aleksander guided you to the center. 

“actually, i was hoping you could evaluate their combat skills.”

you whipped your head around, staring at him incredulously. he didn’t change his diplomatic smile when he met your eyes.

“that is no problem, general.” botkin faced you and gestured to the crowd. “please, choose your opponent.”

your eyes scanned the crowd before you smirked inwardly. “if it’s no trouble to the general, i would like to fight him,” you requested. “i’ve only ever heard how powerful general kirigan is and, well, if he is the standard…”

the grisha around you looked at you as if you were insane. you peeked through your lashes at aleksander whose eye was ever so slightly twitching. before botkin could voice his disapproval, aleksander shrugged his kefta off.

“why not? i can’t remember the last time someone challenged me so bravely.”

you grinned as you threw off your own kefta. out of the corner of your eye, you saw the sun summoner pushing her way into the circle with a dazzled look. botkin warily lifted his hand. “no using your powers. only your fists and wits.”

you nodded and took an offensive position. botkin threw his hand down, “fight!”

you dropped down, doing a low spinning kick, and swept aleksander off his feet. he landed on his back with shock evident on his face. you then pressed your knee onto his diaphragm and gripped his sleeve. grinning, you gave him a cheeky smile.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had you on your back,” you said in a hushed voice.

with annoyance written on his face, he grabbed the lapel of your shirt and pulled you off him. he trapped your arms by your sides as he straddled you.

“because you always liked it when i was in control,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. you thrusted your left hip up, effectively throwing him off balance and freeing you. you both scrambled to stand. aleksander crept closer to you and threw a punch. before his fist made contact, you blocked it and gripped his arm. you threw him over your shoulder and stepped on his shoulder joint. he groaned under the pressure when you leaned down.

“it’s a good thing i came to my senses then,” you said. “yield.”

he narrowed his eyes before you shifted your weight onto your foot. with the discomfort and pain rising, he quickly tapped your calf. you moved off him and offered a hand. he begrudgingly took it, allowing you to pull him up. the grisha stared with open mouths. you sheepishly smiled and hurriedly put your hands behind your back.

“i apologize, general kirigan. it seems i didn’t know my own strength,” you said in deceiving shyness.

he smiled tensely and slipped his kefta back on. “no, i am glad you are so advanced. it makes it all the more assuring that you are with us for the war effort.”

you bowed your head and brushed the dirt off your kefta, shrugging it back on. without another word, he left, alina following in his wake.

botkin clapped his hand on your shoulder. “you are an impressive fighter. where did you learn?”

“shu han. i lived there until hearing about the sun summoner.”

the man looked surprised before nodding. “your fighting style did appear familiar.” after that, he left you to be greeted by the others.

they were mostly friendly, some talking nonstop about how you defeated general kirigan. you just brushed it off as him going easy on a new recruit. you noticed another girl, a squaller judging by her kefta, glaring at you before stalking off.

“don’t worry about her,” a voice said. you turned to see none other than alina starkov herself. “apparently, she hates anyone that’s a threat to her spot as general kirigan’s favorite.”

“she must be delusional because there was nothing about that interaction that hinted at favoritism,” you snorted as you held a hand out. “[y/n].”

“i heard. i’m alina starkov.” she shook your hand with a bright smile. “it’s nice not to be the only new person.”

you returned her smile, “it all does feel rather isolating, doesn’t it?”

she laughed and nodded. “my friend, mal, and i never really liked grisha. they acted like they were the elite.”

ah, is mal the boyfriend?

“if i’m honest, i don’t like them either. i actually ran from ravka when i found out i was grisha,” you said honestly. “i guess i couldn’t run far enough.”

her eyebrows lifted, “oh? where did you run?”

“shu han. a nice place once the villagers get to know you.”

she tilted her head with confusion etching her face. “don’t they, you know, kill grisha?”

you scrunched your nose, “not as much on the outskirts. but, it gave me more reasons to hide my powers.”

“does that mean you’ll have to take lessons with baghra too?”

your shoulders tensed at the mention of the older grisha. you put on a grimacing smile, “i suppose so.”

oh, baghra’s going to kill me when she sees me.

with knowing eyes, alina grabbed your hands. “don’t worry. she’s a bit mean, but she does help you control your powers. 100% success rate, i hear.”

you nodded, patting alina’s hands, before withdrawing yours to your sides.

“alina!” two girls called. they waved their hands to usher her over.

alina looked at you apologetically. “sorry, i’ve got to go. lessons with baghra, actually.”

you sent her off with a wave. “it’s fine. it’s not like we won’t see each other again.”

she grinned, “right. i’d really like to be your friend, [y/n].”

you couldn’t help but soften at her words. “we already are, alina.”

her grin grew wider before she departed with her other friends, leaving you with your thoughts.

so full of life, that one. no wonder aleksander’s drawn to her. the brighter the light, the darker the shadows. let’s just hope he doesn’t snuff her out.

taglist: @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott​

continue to chapter three? yes

[meichenxi]

tldr; autistic parents are fantastic and fuck you if you think otherwise, signed, a disaster queer adhd daughter

So on the back of a lot of negative stuff I've been coming across recently I wanted to take a moment and talk about my dad. He is autistic and chronically ill, and has been unable to hold a job down since I was eight or nine. He only ever responds with brutal, crushing honesty when I ask him how he is (and as he's chronically ill, the answers are rarely fun); he doesn't have any close relationships with any other adults and is so afraid of crowds he sprints through them leaving the children to run after him as best they can; he very rarely told me I was doing well and never seemed to understand my point of view, much less my mother's; he would never talk about anything other than bloody knitting, rocks or conservation, he could eat approximately 0.5 foods but also had no job to buy anything better; he frequently goes around naked because 'it feels nice' causing me to SCREAM -

He's my favourite person in the entire world.

Growing up, there were so many things he taught me. His special interests were geology, nature conservation, wildlife gardening, taiji, mythology and knitting. When we were kids, we went out for long walks for miles and miles in the drizzling British countryside - when I was young, my brother and mum would lag behind and me and my dad would skip ahead, jumping over the rocks, and he'd tell with great excitement why THAT twisty line of quartz was actually less exciting that this outcrop here; he'd teach me about the Salmon of Wisdom and the folk that live over the sea and never grow old, and impress on me with utter seriousness how I must never tell a stranger my name unless they tell me theirs first; he'd sit down with me and draw patterns for a jumper he was thinking of in the mud with a stick, and then we'd have a sword fight. I never understood half of the things he told me, but listened with wonder, because he was my dad, and he knew everything.

When I was a little older, we made up stories that lasted for hours, and memorised poetry together from Lord of the Rings (because THERE our interests collided with galactic force) and he'd do all of the voices just perfectly. We went one whole summer just quoting LOTR to each other, and it was our little secret: Mum might hear 'Yes,' but only I would hear what came after: 'Yes,' said Frodo, or 'Yes!' cried Boromir. And when I told him my story about a woman who lived in a volcano he listened quietly and told me that that wasn't how volcanoes worked, but that he could help me write it better.

Everybody's autism is different. For my dad, it rendered him completely incapable to work and was paralysing in social situations, but when it was just me and him, he told the most wonderful stories. I wanted to be a geologist just listening to his voice, and then a writer, and then finally someone who understood the land like he did and the sea.

And he made me feel normal. He made me feel heard. With my mum, as much as I loved her, I would get vague noises of assent as she struggled to look after everybody in this damn house, or irritable 'Would you just be quiet for ONE second?' I was a talented kid, and everybody praised me at pretty much everything: but the only person who would consider anything I wrote like it was an adult's writing, with seriousness and criticism, was my dad. He didn't tell me I did well often. Instead he would take my picture, or my writing, and look at it with great seriousness, and ask me WHY the Queen was so intent on kidnapping beautiful princesses in the first place. I could trust him to tell me whether I did something well or not, because he never, never lied. Not to please me, and not to please anyone. It cost him his marriage and his job, but it was a rock of stability in my life : my mother was volatile, frequently furious enough to resort to violence, and she lied and laughed and told us what we wanted to hear, but he was always reliable. If he was angry, we knew.

When I spoke for hours about my languages, he listened, nodded, and then spoke about his plants. It was a perfect give and take because I didn't expect him to care about my languages, and he never expected me to care about his plants. We just cared about the other.

And when I didn't make any friends and couldn't interact with the other children without despair he was always there with a silent offer of a bike ride, or catch in the park. He was always the fittest person I knew, despite his illness. He had lots of grand ideas - once he climbed the tree outside our house and tried to rig up a platform fifteen metres above the ground. After three days he was inconsolable. He wouldn't speak, he just sat there. But a few days later he started drawing up plans and attacked it again, and this time it worked.

My dad is great for a lot of reasons, and difficult for a lot of reasons too. Some of these are just him - but some are specifically related to his autism, and I think it's important that we talk about that too, especially in the context of parenthood. Because we see a lot of positivity about young autistic adults and kids, but older adults are just as valuable and just as in need of support and recognition, particularly because they may have gone through so much. My dad was made to stand in a bucket of urine for three days as a kid to 'pull himself together'. Spoilers: it didn't work.

And I'm not autistic myself, but many of my ADHD behaviours are so much easier around him because he just. gets it. If I don't like a certain food because of the texture, he never buys it again - I don't need to explain myself. We leave all social events early, which is wonderful because he is very stressed and I am either so high on adrenaline I'm in danger of injuring myself or exhausted to the point of not being able to talk. We run through crowds together because he hates crowds and I like the chance to stretch my legs. We don't touch or keep in contact very much, because neither of us see the point or like small talk, and I'm terrible at messaging anyone, but I know (and he knows) as soon as we need each other we're there. We do handstands on the beach together and he points out plants on the way back along with their Latin names. He never bothers me about talking to my friends or stopping clowning and watching my stupid shows or spending ten hours a day on Chinese or Tolkien. He never mocks me for needing space and time after anything. We lie on the concrete together because it's so damned warm and nice and adgshhhhh. We spend hours playing taiji and doing push hands in the kitchen, and our 'love language', if you will, is him trying to throw me to the ground. We both get 100% of our emotional intelligence from books, and in any arguments can use this to great effect. I talk at him for an hour, and then he talks at me for an hour. I know so much about fucking willow trees.

So people who say that autistic parents are cold and incapable of care? My dad was the most sincere, honest and helpful parent a child could have ever asked for. Things were difficult, but it helped me understand that parents too have needs, and that adults are all just grown up kids trying their best. I didn't know why he was different as a kid, and I didn't much care - I just wanted to be a geologist like my daddy.