#but therapists nonetheless

[cologona]

Saying that Jason stole the Robin mantle first so he can't be mad at Tim isn't the gotcha people think it is when

Bruce was the one to offer Robin to Jason, when Jason was a homeless boy asking Batman not to turn him over to the authorities. Even if being Robin wasn't a child's fantasy, Jason probably would've done the job.

Jason didn't know what the Robin mantle meant to Dick. Bruce didn't even tell him that the previous Robin had gone on to become Nightwing. As far as Jason was aware Robin was fully Batman's title to dispense. The person who stole Robin was BRUCE.

Jason isn't mad at Tim. Tim did basically replace him but Jason isn't mad at him or any of the batboys or girls. There is ONE person who Jason is mad at and that is BRUCE. Sure he fought the others, but that's because he's got a ridiculous conception of what constitutes communication Frankly, in terms of insanity I think he's on equal footing with Mr "excuse me grieving father you need an emotional support child to prevent you from committing war crimes and I am willing to fill in."

[boilingteakettle]

Become your own therapist? :D

Hey guys how do I get self-confidence without paying for therapy? :D

[irrealisms]

my dsmp fic recs masterpost

this one's long so i'm putting it under a cut! includes a lot of fandom favorites/ones you probably already know, but i tried to include some more niche ones as well. check the reblogs for more, i couldn't fit them all in one post without tumblr getting mad at me

Author recommendations (not my friends; go read everything they wrote):

Goldenrayofsunshine

shrugofgod

odaigahara

penink

hoorayy

Zannolin

the_g_m

chrysalizzm

Author recommendations (me and people I know):

sesquidpedalian @erstwhilesparrow

WheelCoveredInEyes @blocksgame

short_tandem_repeats

consumptive_sphinx @regicidal-optimism

monsterloot @aliveburs

cryptofhoney (korethekiller) @honeyblockm

nocturne_csharpm @qwilbur

75hearts (ME! YOU ARE HERE!)

Fangame recommendations:

Good Luck, Minutes Man! by @andhyssops : visual novel about NLM-era c!ranboo. has multiple endings, great art, soundtrack, characterization, etc.

Good Morning, Gogy by @andhyssops : visual novel about c!george. again, gorgeous art, great characterization. i almost don't want to say too much about this one because so much of it is a spoiler!

Doomsday Sim by @bwobgames : doomsday platformer, tommy is the player character, buggy but pretty.

Virtual Ghostbur by @bwobgames : ghostbur tamagotchi!

Character Pattern by @bwobgames : bullet hell with various mcyts (c and cc), tommy is the player character, stupid hard but very pretty

Tommygotchi by @bwobgames : tommy tamagotchi!

Silver Dollar by @honeyblockm : president schlatt is dead. murder mystery twine game

Fic recs (people I don't know well):

devil town by hoorayy : haven’t read this one but i’ve had it recommended too many times to not include. small town horror au. 100k

aftermath by sparxwrites : dream is recovering from the prison. tommy visits him. they have a conversation. neither torture apologist nor abuse apologist! 2k

what i love and what i've lost by Treis : dream & sapnap, dream recovery/redemption/post-prison. 20k

in memoriam by hoorayy : wilbur and sapnap have a conversation. 2k

little women by chrysalizzm : women on the dsmp character study. 1k

dissonance by shrugofgod : tubbo character study!!!!! one of the best tubbo fics imo. snowchester-era. 16k

six foot deep bottom line by shrugofgod : tubbo & q conversation, cookie outpost era. 2k

How to Sex Vol. 4-58 by Goldenrayofsunshine : epistolary fic, tommy pov, canon divergent from the disc finale (punz doesn’t arrive). probably my favorite fic in the fandom. 1k

Chicken Strategy by Goldenrayofsunshine : sam-centric, lots of q also, au where q set off the prison TNT. 20k

The Roman Archives by Goldenrayofsunshine : “Tubbo dies during the disc war finale and uses his time in purgatory to unlock all the secrets of the universe.” 4.5k

Make It Right by Goldenrayofsunshine : Captain Sparklez is tubbo’s dad, crashes the disc finale. my #1 clingyduo fluffy h/c Comfort Food. 2k

Raccooniverse (zombie crossover) series by Goldenrayofsunshine : crossover with the walking dead; doesn’t require any knowledge of the walking dead. tommy-centric, follows canon very approximately for the first two seasons and a bit beyond. 162k and still going, although you can just read the completed parts.

Neon Sunrise by Goldenrayofsunshine : wilbur & quackity, LN-era. 14k

draw up your sword (leave your days ashore) by Odaigahara : puffy joins the server by coming ashore at logstedshire, defends tommy. another comfort food fluffy h/c. 11k

snapshots by sparxwrites : schlatt/q relationship study. very good but mind the content warnings. 6k

the dead don’t dream by penink : what if dream killed tommy and then revived him again and then killed him and then revived him again— (crimeboys whump w a happy ending) 226k

Mafia AU by penink : mafia AU; based on Vibes rather than a specific time period but has Lots Content and Good Characterization. 219k and still going, although you can just read the completed parts.

Fairweather and Foxhole Friends by penink : manburg q & tubbo. 2k

Jubilee Line Satisfaction Survey by penink : wilbur centric, some crimeboys. wilbur in the afterlife! very very good. does fun things with the format--it's a uquiz, not an ao3 fic. another competitor for my favorite fanwork from this fandom.

call this world home by Sixteenthdays, stygiomedusa (grainjew) : another dream post-prison recovery/redemption; in this one, he’s metaphysically trapped in the arctic commune. 43k

l’esprit de l’escalier by eldritchIdeologist : revivebur oneshot. 3k

cause most of us are bitter over someone by honeyblock : niki & wilbur confrontation and reconciliation. (tommy’s there too.) 19k

orphan’s path (series) by aenor_llelo, Alderous, Anarchy-Schmanarchy (Murder_Schmurder), BattleBlaze, ConcoctionsFromHell, Falrisesi, fluxphage, izziel_galaxy, Otakuforlife19, Rocket999 : starts out as a phil&techno backstory. becomes a retelling of the entire server. massively multi-pov, very good characterization, very long. has many Takes i disagree with but also a lot of good stuff. get a text replacer “Lagos” -> “Dream”. 700K and still going, although you can just read the completed parts.

tune by small_lizard : karlnapity relationships study. 4k

applaud, my friends, the comedy is over! by small_lizard : oneshot focused on niki’s birthday party. <1k

it only gets much worse by hoorayy : another q & wilbur, LN-era. 2k

good reasons to freeze to death by hoorayy : tubbo-centric, post-s3 finale (mourning ranboo). 3k

pay it forward by comradeboyhalo : the l’sandburg fic. foolish centric; badlands post-egg healing arc in which they all move onto his house. very canon-typical tone; silly and crack-y but with genuine feeling. 5k

treatise on sin and vice by the_g_m : quackity and tommy and their relationship w religion (scriptfic). 7k

plate of primes by chrysalizzm : poem about tommy. <1k

hunger by Anonymous : probably the only E-rated fic i’m including. wilbur/quackity, LN-era, wilbur provokes quackity into hurting him by pretending to be dream, it’s . fic of all time. 11k

i'm not calling you a liar by Anonymous : jk i lied. also E-rated, wilbur/quackity, LN-era. by the same author as the previous rec, similarly dead dove. lives in my brain forever. 13k

the ckarl mpreg fic by the_g_m : karl doesn’t actually get pregnant in this one. they just want him to. karlnapity, script format, crack treated seriously. 2k

sink secluded by angeloncewas : niki and wilbur, pogtopia. <1k

best laid plans by zannolin : some gentle h/c for revivebur with ranboo and tommy. a bit of a comfort food but in a good way, at least for me. 5k

said the rabbit to the badger by zannolin : crimeboys talk about exile. inconsolable differences fixit. 3k

i can’t stand your taste in my mouth by orphan_account : a really intense but also very good pogtopia-era wilbur character/relationship study. 5k

where to find a silver lining (as the mercury keeps rising) by angelsdemonsducks : cwilbur eggpocalypse fic! 10k

the sea is rising by chrysalizzm : desolation avatar purpled. <1k but the series is longer

Blood Games by ghostdrinkssoda : q centric hurt-no-comfort that has some karlnapity but also engages with q as a bad person. 7k

where lies the strangling fruit by katsidhe : prison arc angst/whump. pretty heavy; mind the tags. sam & q & dream. 34k, unfinished

agatha by headlikeahole : wilbur's suicide note. collage/digital art. <1k

Tier X̅ by Pegasister60 : purpled's limbo is an empty bedwars map. 2k

one last lie for old times' sake by curseworm, VenetaPsi : wilbur tries to apologize to quackity before killing himself. quackity isn't having it. 18k

[yolowritter]

In Defense of Chloe Bourgeois Part 3: Why Thomas, WHY?

Hello everyone! In case it wasn't obvious by the title, this is a part 3 to this post right there! I'd sincerely recommend reading it since you'll need the context. Anyhow, moving right onto where I left off! Yes I copied the message too, it's 2am leave me alone.

[...]

Mind you, I'm not saying that there shouldn't be one at all, but that Miracle Queen was absolutely not the right time to go for it. Assuming that Chloe's fall was planned from the start, then I'll admit that it was the right call from Astruc and Co. Why? Because Seasons 2 and 3 give us an excellent analysis of Chloe as a character, and a lot of time for her to try and acclimate herself to the new circumstances of actually belonging somewhere. But...they also don't provide Chloe with the oppurtunity to figure herself out that much. She's preoccupied with Akuma fights whenever she's Queen Bee, and doesn't get much time to actually talk to her would-be friends as herself, at least outside the context of beating up this week's fashion atrocity, courtesy of the local Butterfly Man. And to be honest? The only reason I don't love Miracle Queen as an episode is because Chloe's fall didn't get proper buildup. If Astruc had devoted time to show us what was happening, then I'd be head over heels for the sheer amount of potential doors this storyline was opening!

Unfortunately...Thomas decided to double down on a terrible writing mistake...with Queen Banana. Dear Nooroo, the sheer amount of hate I have for this episode is almost as bad as my seething rage for Ephemeral! I'll talk about that disasterous stew of rotten eggs and horrendous writing some other time, but Queen Banana nearly takes the cake for my least favorite episode in Season 4! Would you like to know why? Because I was inhaling one thousand cubic meters of copium when I predicted that Astruc would actually bother doing something worthwhile with Chloe! And I'll admit, I do see what they were going for here. Make Chloe as bad as possible to replace her with Zoe. But that just ended up undermining both of them so badly that it actually hurts me to watch Queen Banana and Sole Crusher! I honestly don't think it was 100% intentional to make it look like Zoe was her half-sister's replacement, but the fact that it even looks that way from what I believe to be a decently unbiased point of view...is a problem. Don't get me wrong, I love Zoe! She's amazing, and Season 5 made her even better! But her introduction was so poorly written that it feels that way.

And Thomas certainly didn't help matters with the way Chloe was portrayed in those episodes. People have said that "she was being nice to Zoe at the start" and that "Chloe was trying to help with the movie, she had a really cool idea!" and both of those are true, yes, but look at the way that she goes about it. Chloe cranks up her "Audrey-ness" from the 8.5 we see on a good day, to the 10 of Style Queen...to a good ol' 27. Mind you, this could have been very well done! It could have been made obvious that Chloe is intentionally falling back into old habits as a defense machanism or a way to cope by deluding herself into thinking she doesn't need anyone because she's a Bourgeois! Would have made for a wonderful plotline, especially since she broke off her and Adrien's friendship. If I recall correctly, he told her she's being unreasonable, which Chloe absolutely was the entire episode, at least in the way she went about interacting with people. Naturally, Chloe insists otherwise, and decides that she doesn't need him either! This would be a wonderful moment to have her cry in the limousine, or maybe we could have gotten a scene where she's regretting cutting him off in Sole Crusher! Even at some later point in the Season! It would have been great! It would have given Chloe proper depth and made the approach of her fall in Miracle Queen have actual consequence in regards to her character! It would have severely complicated Chloe's relationship with the now only positive influence in her life, Zoe!

Speaking of Zoe, there's a huge theme hanging between her and Andre about breaking cycles of abuse. I won't talk about it here since it fits into a future post, but there's already a lot of analysis posts out there, especially about their relationship, which I personally find fundementally flawed. Andre is in general a really shitty person who I don't think ever should gotten a redemption arc, especially one that amounts to "Oh well, the problem child (that I am responsible for failing to raise) is gone now, time to receive zero consequences and enjoy my life after being a corrupt politician for almost a decade!" Can you tell I do not like that by the way? Can you tell? I swear I am giving this man a downfall arc to end all downfalls in a fic one of these days...

Anyway, point is that Chloe and Zoe are both screwed over by their incredibly horrible parents! And to anyone who says "but Zoe isn't a bad person, she's just different", kindly think about why that is. Chloe spent her entire childhood begging for her mother's attention and then being taught how to bribe, extort, blackmail and bully people into submission by Andre. Which is canon by the way! Meanwhile Zoe spent a significant amount of time with Audrey, and therefore doesn't idolize the mom she never knew.

Now, I'm not going to speculate on Zoe's childhood, but it seems pretty logical that Zoe was at the very least witness to a frankly ludicrous amount of Audrey's "you're ridiculous, utterly ridiculous" moments, to the point where she's sick of it. Like c'mon, if you had anybody in your house firing their unpaid intern 27 consecutive times in the span of maybe an hour, you'd quickly get used to it, get annoyed by it, and then promptly decide the behavior isn't worth emulating. Especially if you're sick of their shit by that point, which we can logically Zoe is. Therefore, she doesn't act like Audrey. Considering Andre didn't know she existed, he never poisoned her with his slimy politician ways, Zoe's behavior is different from Chloe's. As an aside, she still does try to emulate her actions when she first arrives at Dupont, if only for a couple minutes. Zoe wants to fit in, and even if she doesn't like what Chloe does, she's willing to play the part at least for a moment to get close to her sister. Fits really well with her wanting to be an actress, so I wanted to highlight it!

Anyway, the point is that there is some great foundational material here! Regardless of whether or not Chloe "fell" in Miracle Queen, there's amazing potential for a proper conflict between these two! Because as a reminder, we deduced earlier that Chloe was jealous of Marinette because of the latter having what she didn't! Zoe presumably had Audrey's love (in Chloe's mind at least), hence she would treat her differently. Be it either with seething hatred or jealousy is up to whomever writes the story. Alternatively, Chloe could (in the scenario where Miracle Queen didn't happen) believe that Zoe is a similarly abusive situation as she, and we go from there for a plotline between the two. Irrespectively of which route they wanted or could have taken this, any potential for character development between these two is utterly ruined from the very moment they first interact on screen.

This because Chloe is now reduced to a one-dimensional "school bully" character, which would have made logical sense if the writers explained it as a self-defense mechanism, but without any context or exploration of her mental state post Season 3, it can only be seen as character regression, which is never a good idea! Not to mention that Lila Rossi exists specifically to fulfil the role of antagonist for Marinette's personal life now! I know as well as everyne else how much Lila gets ignored and underused in this show, but the fact that Thomas and Co. took time to forcefully shove Chloe back in a role that no longer fits her instead of using the villain they spent three Season Finales hanging in front of us like a carrot on a stick is ridiculous to me! Therefore, Chloe's entire character development, which I would have been completely fine with if anybody bothered to treat her downfall with even the minimum amount of respect it deserves, if solely from the perspective of not leaving a gaping plothole bigger than the cavern in Gabriel's basement in the middle of their storyline! I know I already brought up me having an aneurysm once because of these crappy writing decisions, but we are well past the point of a mental breakdown and headed directly to a freakin' heart attack!

Why? Why??? How do you even manage to disrespect your own character to the point where you ruin two villains simultaniously, and the new heroine you're introducing??? Thomas Astruc! Have you ever taken a Writing 101 class before? Do I need to borrow Nathalie's crossbow and force you into one? Yeah okay, we get you don't like Chloe, but I honestly cannot accept that her botched downfall would spiral into the utter butchering of two more characters with unlimited potential, one of whom is supposed to be the villainess for your protagonist's personal life and the new Hawkmoth! I am well aware that Thomas doesn't even know I exist, but the sheer amount of beef I have with this man solely for being incompetent it honestly starting to become too much! I'm sitting over here desperately trying to retcon and re-write his characters in my head to at least make logical sense! And he just adds even more steaming-hot garbage to the pile of inconsistency, insanity and bad writing decisions! Meanwhile, we're missing 100% of logical sense, character respect, or at the very least some kind of way for the audience to understand what you're trying to communicate! Just tell us in a twitter post at this point! Please, be clear with your writing!

Okay...I'm sorry, this post has gotten way too long. Ridiculously long. Including this paragraph, it's actually almost 7.5k words in total. Hence why I've split it into so many parts. I sincerely hope you got the point. To summarize, regardless of if Chloe was redeemed or not, there were incredible oppurtunities for storytelling, and Thomas missed the wide side of a barn with this one. If you ask me I can go into way more detail, and yes that's despite the 7.4 thousand words in this series of posts. Anyway, I am now going to cool off, and quite possibly (maybe) sleep. I'll see you all next time (when I wake up from my coma), but until then, Stay Miraculous everyone!

< previous post >

[rackartyg]

in therapy today i just talked about the dark urge and astarion and my therapist was elated about it. it was fantastic. “wow you’ve really been using this story and those characters to process things. that’s amazing!”

the era of being ashamed of my interests is over. it’s apparently Cool and Healthy to use fiction to cope. i wish i could tell fifteen year old me about this it would blow her mind

[gxlden-angels]

Alright y'all new year, new me and the 'me' I've chosen is Jesus Christ. That's right, I'm stealing his identity watch out gayboy

[celticwoman]

finally going back to therapy soon!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

[pinkseas]

listening to elita's sick girl EP ignoring any questions about my personal wellbeing or mental health like the plague pretending my physical health Does Not Exist And Is Not Bothering Me burying myself in countless tiny little meaningless things instead of doing anything remotely necessary or responsible or good for myself amen 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[onefey]

waittt since i offhand mentioned i liked scream 5 a while ago should i say i also liked scream 6 . wow these people can survive getting stabbed so much though

[rosylix]

Hey you aren't dumb ❤️ you are carrying a lot on your plate right now and I can't imagine what it's like now having the weight of people waiting for your story I would freeze and not be able to do it ngl. Your best is going to look different from day to day some days you'll get everything you wanted done and some you will get nothing done, regardless you still did your best. The fact you've even been able to kinda balance everything is impressive

🥀

uuauaghh o(T□T)o rose anon..... why are u so kind.... yyeah um. the weight of expectations is killing me just a little. just a tiiiny bit lol. it was definitely easier to write and post before when i was brand new and no one was expecting anything (and there were especially no expectations on like the Quality of my writing)... idk. even like the longer i take it gets worse bc im like.. it has to be Really good now to be worth the wait. imagine i take months to put this out and ppl dont like it. ahhh. and then i get extra nitpicky and change things so it takes LONGER.. a vicious cycle. lolllll but yeahh! ty for reminding me that like it's okay. i super super superr appreciate u ❤️🫶

[dotty-contrarian]

i continue to be disappointed with cognitive behavioral therapy. he just kept saying "so do it", "just do it", "nothing's stopping you", "everyone else in the world could do it". if i could just do it, it would've been done!!! i cannot stand him! >X(

[chosok-amo]

“ THERAPIST 'S WET DREAM！”

you need a therapist, with all the sick things in your head and luckily for you, NANAMI KENTO comes to the rescue, except he wants nothing but to corrupt you.

warning. non sorcerer! nanami kento, fingering, hand job, corruption, suggestive.

wc. 3,4k

you sit at his home office, on the couch staring at the clock on the wall. you’ve been here for months now working with him trying to get over your erotophobia— your fear of sex, nanami has been patient with you, helping you, molding poor little naive you, into the perfect sex toy for him.

the first three months of your sessions with him you talked about your fears, he listen and offered advice. you swore it would only last a month just long enough for you to take his advice to heart and find a guy to get with so that your friends would stop teasing you, oh but nanami was so sweet, so nice, so trusting, so when he told you, ‘you’re not ready yet’ you believed him.

soon those advice and just talking sessions ended up with him showing you how to masturbate, how to actually get off to just your hands, how to actually get off to HIS voice. those sessions in his home office started becoming phone calls, where he told you to call him when ever you had the urge to touch yourself.

he would instruct you through it, ordering you to leave your camera on and show him your wet pretty pussy as you desperately tried to reach the edge. of course his camera was off, he couldn’t let you know or see that he was stoking his own cock on the other line, listening to you moan and watching his little plaything naively touch herself for him.

all of his training led up to this moment, you on the couch in a outfit he manipulated you into wearing. a cute little skimpy skirt, with a fitted black, backless shirt. your hair was done neatly, your makeup was perfect, and you smelt good. he couldn’t wait to ruin you today.

“is it okay if we start the next process, hmm?” he sits down next to you, this larger hands in his thighs before he slid one over onto yours. “i think you’re ready.” he moved his free hand onto his zipper and unzipped his pants

he takes his hand off your thigh and frees his thick cock. “wanna touch it?” he grabs your wrist and guides it to his cock.

oh, good lord!

your cheeks flush red as you feel his warm hand guiding yours towards his throbbing member. your fingers tremble slightly as they brush against his shaft, feeling the heat emanating from his skin. the sight of his erect cock— his thick, veiny, tip red in anger and precum leaking— makes your heart race, and you can't help but wonder what it will feel like inside your pussy, your mouth. despite your nerves, you nod slowly, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

suddenly, you're overcome with curiosity, and despite your fear, you decide to go through with it. you wrap— barely, your small hand around his girth, feeling every vein and ridge under your fingertips. it’s much bigger than anything you've ever touched before, and you marvel at its size and warmth. you start to stroke him gently, your grip tightening as you become more comfortable with the sensation. you can hear his deep breathing, and it sends a thrill through your body.

blushing, you nod slowly, still unsure what’s happening, but curious nonetheless. your hand hesitates briefly before tentatively wrapping around his girthy length fully. it feels different than your own, warmer, firmer, more real. “i... i'm not sure,” you admit quietly, your fingers tracing the veins along his shaft.

he lets out a low groan as your hand wraps around his cock, his amber eyes flickering with lustful desire. “that's alright, take your time,” his voice is deep and commanding, filling the room with authority. he watches you intently, taking pleasure in the sight of your delicate hand wrapped around his throbbing manhood.

as you trace the veins along his shaft, he can't help but lean closer, his scent enveloping you. his large hand rests on top of yours, guiding your movements. he begins to thrust into your grasp, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. “just relax, and let me guide you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

your blush deepens as you continue to stroke his cock, your hand trembling slightly from both excitement and nervousness. you can feel his large hand on top of yours, guiding your movements with a firm yet gentle pressure. the way he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine.

“i-i don't want to do it wrong...” you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes filled with uncertainty and desire. you're torn between wanting to please him and your innate fear of being rejected. but there's also a part of you that craves this attention, that thrives on the power dynamics between you two.

despite your fears, you try to mimic his rhythm, stroking him faster and harder. the sound of his groans and the way his cock twitches in your grasp encourage you to keep going. he chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through his chest and seems to resonate within you. “there's no such thing as doing it wrong,” he assures you, his voice dripping with seduction. he leans even closer, pressing his muscular body against yours, making it clear who's in charge.

he guides your hand to stroke him faster, his hips instinctively bucking into your palm. each twitch and throb of his cock is a sign of your growing proficiency, and he revels in the sensation. “keep going,” he orders, his tone laced with raw desire.

his free hand trails down to your thigh, squeezing firmly as he watches you, his gaze intense and possessive. he wants nothing more than to claim you completely, to mold you into the perfect submissive lover.

the sound of his deep chuckle sends another wave of heat coursing through your body, causing your heart to pound wildly in your chest. you can't deny the thrill you get from pleasing him, from seeing the effect you have on his powerful frame.

“okay...” you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. as he continues to guide your hand, you pick up the pace, your strokes becoming more confident and eager. the thought of making him moan and writhe beneath your touch fills you with an intoxicating mix of fear and arousal.

feeling his hand on your thigh sends a jolt straight to your core, and you can't help but squirm slightly under his touch. the intensity of his gaze sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, fueling your desire to satisfy him fully.

his body tenses as your strokes grow more confident, his cock twitching eagerly in your hand. a low groan escapes him, his head falling back as he savors the sensation. “that's it,” he murmurs, his voice husky and filled with need.

he tightens his grip on your thigh, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat radiating off his body. his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your flushed cheekbone. “such a good girl,” he whispers, leaning in to press a heated kiss to your forehead.

his words and actions fill you with a sense of satisfaction and pride, reinforcing the idea that you're doing well, that you're pleasing him. and it's this validation, this assurance that you're meeting his expectations, that pushes you further into exploring these new sensations.

your cheeks flame brighter at his praise, your heart pounding so loudly you’re certain he can hear it. the compliment combined with the kiss to your forehead sends a surge of warmth through your entire body.

encouraged by his words, you increase the speed and pressure of your strokes, determined to bring him even more pleasure. you can see the way his muscles tense and flex under his tailored suit, the way his cock pulses in your hand, signaling your success.

as he cups your cheek tenderly, you lean into his touch, craving more of his affectionate gestures. the contrast between his rough, dominating demeanor and his gentle caress is incredibly arousing, adding layers of complexity to your already heightened state of arousal.

his breath hitches in his throat as you continue to stroke him, your movements growing more confident and skilled. he can't help but let out a low groan of pleasure, his hips jerking involuntarily into your hand.

his grip on your thigh tightens, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh as he pulls you even closer. the heat from his body seeps into yours, creating a deliciously intimate atmosphere.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes darkening with desire. he releases your cheek only to trail his hand down your neck, tracing over the rapid beat of your pulse before moving lower to rest on your heaving breast.

hearing his muttered curse sends a thrilling rush through your veins, your strokes faltering for just a moment before you regain your focus. the feeling of his hand on your skin, tracing over your neck and then settling on your breast, makes you gasp.

your nipples harden instantly beneath the fabric of your shirt, and you bite your lip to suppress a whimper. the sensation is overwhelming, the dual stimulation of his cock in your hand and his touch on your breasts driving you wild.

you lean into his touch, seeking more contact, more affirmation of your worthiness. your heart races, and you can't help but wonder how much longer you can hold out before succumbing to the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins.

he smirks at your gasp, finding immense pleasure in your reaction to his touch. his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple, applying just enough pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

his cock throbs in your hand, practically begging for release. with each stroke, you draw out sounds of pure delight from his lips, each moan and groan echoing in the small space between you. “keep going,” he commands, his voice heavy with lust.

he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his amber eyes burning with a fierce intensity. it's clear he intends to take full advantage of every second, every touch, every moan that you offer him.

your blush deepens, if possible, at the smirk on his face and the command in his voice. despite the heat pooling between your legs, despite the growing ache that threatens to consume you whole, you obey, continuing to stroke his cock with renewed vigor.

the sensation of his thumb circling your nipple sends waves of pleasure cascading through your body. you arch into his touch, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give.

with each stroke, each groan that slips past his lips, you find yourself sinking deeper into the role you've been cast in— the role of his personal pleasure slave. the thought is terrifying, yet undeniably exciting. it's a dangerous game you're playing, but right now, you wouldn’t trade places with anyone else in the world.

your strokes become more purposeful, more deliberate, as if every movement now carries the weight of his approval. you can't help but marvel at the power he holds over you, the ability to make you tremble with just a touch.

looking into his eyes, you see the raw hunger reflected back at you. it's intoxicating, exhilarating, and it fuels your desire to please him even more. you find yourself lost in the moment, focused solely on bringing him as much pleasure as possible.

nanami's eyes darken further as he watches you work, your strokes becoming more confident and skilled with each passing moment. he can tell you're fully invested in pleasing him, and the knowledge only serves to heighten his arousal.

a low, primal growl rumbles in his chest as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. his tongue delves deep, claiming you thoroughly as his hands roam your body, squeezing and kneading your curves.

breaking the kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. he reaches the hollow of your throat and bites down, marking you as his. “mine,” he declares, his voice thick with possession.

he guides your hand faster, his hips bucking into your touch as he chases his impending climax. the sudden kiss leaves you breathless, your mind reeling from the intense passion behind it. his hands on your body feel like brands, marking you as his in a way that goes far beyond the physical act of biting down on your skin.

when he breaks away, the word “mine” echoes in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. there's no doubt in your mind that he means it, that he views you as his personal property, his toy to use and abuse as he sees fit.

the realization both terrifies and excites you, pushing you further into the depths of submission. you want to be his, completely and utterly. you crave the feeling of belonging to someone so powerful, so commanding.

your hand moves faster in response to his guidance, your strokes becoming almost frantic as you try to push him over the edge. nanami lets out a guttural moan, his head thrown back as he gives himself over to the pleasure coursing through his veins. his cock twitches in your grasp, a sign that he's close to reaching his peak.

he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to pump him even harder, his pace relentless. he needs this, craves this intense satisfaction only you can provide.

his free hand finds its way to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. he pushes you against the desk, using his body weight to pin you in place. the position allows him better access to your body, his hands roaming freely over your curves.

he leans down, whispering hotly into your ear, “'m going to cum soon, and i want you to be there when i do.” your heart pounds wildly in your chest as he pins you against the desk, his large frame caging you in. the feeling of being trapped, of being completely at his mercy, sends a thrill of fear mixed with excitement through your veins.

his words, spoken with such authority and desire, make your stomach flutter. the idea of witnessing his climax, of being present for that moment of ultimate release, fills you with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

you redouble your efforts, pumping his cock with all the strength and skill you possess. each stroke brings him closer to the brink, and you can tell by the way his body tenses, by the raggedness of his breathing, that he's teetering on the edge.

desperate to be the one to push him over, you quicken your pace, your hand flying over his length with a newfound urgency. nanami's control snaps as your hand works him relentlessly. with a hoarse cry, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure.

his cock pulses violently in your grip, the first spurt of hot cum shooting forth as he starts to cum. wave after wave of release crashes over him, his body shaking with the force of it.

as he rides out his orgasm, he continues to grind against you, milking every last drop of seed from his spent member. finally, he stills, his chest heaving with exertion as he slowly comes back to himself. pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, more possessive. “that was incredible,“ he murmurs, his voice husky from his cries of pleasure.

breathless and trembling, you remain pinned beneath him, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his climax. the sensation of his hot cum spurting onto your hand, mixing with the sweat and precum, is both shocking and strangely arousing.

as he pulls back, you catch a glimpse of the dark, almost feral look in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. this man, this powerful, dominant figure, has reduced you to a mere plaything, a vessel for his pleasure.

despite the terror that grips your heart, you can't deny the thrill of being so thoroughly used, so completely owned. in this moment, you belong to him, and nothing could ever change that.

swallowing hard, you manage to stammer out a reply, “y-yes, it was amazing. . . ” nanami smirks at your words, a satisfied glint in his eyes. he knows exactly what effect he has on you, how much you enjoy submitting to him, and it only fuels his desire to dominate you further.

slowly, he pulls away from you, standing up straight and allowing you some room to breathe. but he doesn't move too far, keeping you within his reach, ensuring you stay put.

he wipes his cum off your hand with a tissue, then discards it before turning his attention back to you. his gaze roams over your body, taking in the flushed cheeks, the heaving breasts, the glistening sex that's still throbbing with need.

without a word, he steps closer again, his fingers trailing down your stomach towards the soaked folds between your thighs. your breath hitches as his fingers graze your sensitive skin, the anticipation building inside you to a fever pitch. you know what's coming, what he intends to do to you, and the thought alone is enough to make your knees weak.

but even as your body trembles with need, a small part of you hesitates. you've already given him so much, allowed him to take complete control. is it wise to surrender yourself to him once again?

yet as his fingers inch closer to your aching core, you find yourself arching into his touch, silently begging for more. your resolve crumbles under his expert ministrations, and you know there's no turning back now. biting your lip, you meet his gaze, your eyes pleading and desperate, “please...”

nanami's smirk widens at your plea, a clear sign of his triumph. he knows just how to manipulate you, how to make you beg for his touch. his fingers slide easily through your wet folds, teasing at your entrance before delving deeper. he groans softly, appreciating the tight clench around his digits.

with a firm grip, he begins to fuck you with his fingers, setting a rhythm designed to drive you wild. he watches your face intently, taking note of each twitch and gasp, each expression of pure ecstasy.

his thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. it's relentless, unyielding, everything you've come to expect from him.

a strangled moan escapes your lips as he thrusts his fingers into you, stretching and filling you in ways that make stars burst behind your closed eyelids. the dual sensations of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers plunging into your dripping cunt are overwhelming, driving you to the edge of madness.

each movement of his hand sends jolts of pleasure rippling through your core, making your hips buck against his touch. you're lost in the haze of lust, your mind clouded by the need for release. “mr. n-nanami. . . ” you moan softly.

but even amidst the waves of pleasure crashing over you, you can't help but marvel at the intensity of his grip, the unrelenting pace of his movements. It's a dance of dominance and submission, and you're the willing participant, the puppet on his string.

nanami's eyes darken with lust as he watches you unravel beneath his touch. he can see the desperation etched on your features, the way your body writhes in search of relief.

increasing the tempo, he pistons his fingers in and out of your clenching heat, his thumb pressing harder against your swollen clit. he wants to break you, to reduce you to a quivering mess, and he's determined to achieve that goal.

leaning down, he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his tongue dominates yours. the taste of your arousal mingles with the sweetness of your lips, fueling his own hunger. breaking the kiss, he growls low in his throat, “come for me. now.” the command is explicit, leaving no room for disobedience.

the raw demand in his voice shatters whatever remaining restraint you have left. with a keening wail, you surrender to the onslaught of pleasure, your body convulsing as the orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave.

your inner walls clamp down around his fingers, pulsating wildly as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you. the intensity is blinding, making it impossible to focus on anything but the searing bliss consuming you.

as the final tremors subside, you collapse back onto the desk, utterly spent and gasping for air. your limbs feel heavy, your mind foggy, as if you've been drained of all energy and willpower. through hooded eyes, you gaze up at nanami, a mixture of awe, gratitude, and fear swirling in their depths.

nanami watches with satisfaction as you come undone, your body shaking with the force of your climax. he continues to stroke your sensitive flesh, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you're a boneless heap beneath him.

slowly, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to lick them clean. the salty-sweet taste of your essence explodes on his tongue, and he savors it like a fine wine.

tucking himself back into his pants, he straightens his tie and adjusts his jacket, looking every bit the composed professional once more. only the slight flush on his cheeks betrays the passion that had consumed him moments ago.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you did well today. i'm pleased with your progress.” you lay there, panting heavily as you try to process his words. a part of you feels a twisted sense of pride at his praise, knowing that you've managed to please him once again.

but another part of you recoils at the casual dismissal, the way he can so easily switch back to his role as your therapist. it's as if the intimate moments they shared were nothing more than a fleeting fantasy, a figment of your imagination.

“t-thank you, mr. nanami,” you finally managed to speak, gathering what remains of your strength, you sit up slowly, your movements stiff and awkward. you avoid his gaze, unable to bear the weight of his scrutiny, the knowledge that he holds such power over you.

with trembling hands, you begin to straighten your clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. nanami observes your actions with a critical eye, noting the way you flinch slightly when he speaks, the hesitation in your movements as you attempt to compose yourself. it's a familiar sight, one he's witnessed countless times before with his other clients.

he reaches out, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. his touch is gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier ministrations. “remember,” he says softly, “what happens here stays here. this is our little secret, understood?”

his thumb brushes over your lower lip, a silent reminder of the forbidden pleasures you've shared. the gesture is possessive, claiming you as his own without uttering a single word. releasing you from his grasp, he takes a step back, putting some distance between your bodies.

at his touch, you swallow hard, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin, stirring a longing deep within you. his words echo in your ears, a chilling reminder of the boundaries you must not cross.

“yes, mr. nanami.” your voice barely rises above a whisper, a mere breath of sound that carries the weight of your submission.

you nod slowly, acknowledging his authority, the unspoken agreement between you both. but even as you assent, a part of you rebels, craving more of those illicit encounters, craving him.

shaking off the lingering effects of your orgasm, you stand up, still feeling weak in the knees. you glance towards the door, contemplating whether you should leave now or linger a little longer, savoring the aftermath of your encounter.

nanami's eyes follow your movements, drinking in the sight of you standing tall despite your obvious exhaustion. there's a predatory glint in his gaze, a hint of the hunger that simmers just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

he steps closer, closing the distance between you once more. his presence is imposing, commanding, and you can't help but lean into him, drawn to the heat radiating from his body.

“i think you could use a moment to collect yourself,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, “why don't you take a seat on the couch? We can discuss your... progress further.”

his tone is suggestive, implying that there's more to your 'progress' than just your therapy sessions. the implication hangs in the air, a tantalizing promise of future encounters and the pleasure they bring.

[boop-le-snoot]

Putting Till in the naughty puppy corner is simultaneously the worst and the funniest PR move. I genuinely don't know how to feel.

Till during the Deutschland Remix, Munchen, 07.06.2023 / video by Luis Bazwaski

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

BestFriend! Richard Grayson

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who's always there to talk on those lonely nights where you just need somebody with you after a long day of work. His voice is just so comforting and he almost always has something useful to say or put into the conversation.

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who's always your shoulder to cry on whenever you get dumped or stold up on a date. The way his hands move across your back as you cry into his chest honestly feels more useful than your therapist, sometimes.

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who takes you out on friend dates as often as he can because you desperately need to get out of the house. He would buy you a $300 steak, if it made you happy and like the person he grew up with in high school.

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who sees how stressed you are almost every day and just wants to make it better. To be fair, his massages are the best and far better than any masoose you could book (especially on your salary).

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who calls you a petname out of the blue as you rest your head against his shoulder. The movie in the background had honestly faded into white noise as you let yourself drift off, nuzzled into his side.

"Dont go falling asleep on me, sweetheart. I won't be able to make myself move to go out on patrol tonight."

His tone is joking, of couse but it makes your cheeks heat up, nonetheless.

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who lets his hands wander across your thighs while he massages your sore hips from walking around at work all day.

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who doesn't even noticr how his hands wander right in between your legs, rubbing softly at your sensitive nub through the layers of your shorts and panties.

"Dick-"

"Shh... Just let me take care of you. You said your muscles were all tight from work, right?"

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who absolutely goes to town as soon as you give him the go ahead to have a small taste of you. And, god, does he eat like a starved man having his first meal.

"Taste so good, pretty girl..." He mutters through the obscene sounds of him practically making out with your pussy, tongue delving into crevices you could never reach by yourself.

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who is getting off on your taste alone, rutting his hard on into the plushy cushions of the couch for an ounce of relief but won't ask for help, since you were far more stressed and pent up than him.

Bestfriend! Richard Grayson who doesn't immediately agree when you ask to return the favor, but eventually gives in to your begging. He absolutely loses it as soon as your tongue trails overntue dark vein on the underside of his flushed, leaky cock.

"Oh, fuck-" he cuts himself off with a soft groan as soon as you hollow your cheeks around him. "So good... You're so fucking good for me." He's a babbling mess as you suck him off, trying as hard as he can not to blow it early like a horny prom date.

God, does he love it when you eventually swallow down all of his pearly ropes of cum.

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

Masterlist

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

When I was 6 I tried to run away.

It was around 7:30am on a rainy weekend.

My parents had yelled and argued with me once again over something that absolutely did not justify that response, especially considering I was 6.

I had decided that, at the very young age of 6, I had had enough of this treatment so I packed my bags on the verge of tears, thoroughly thinking through everything I would bring, and left.

I snuck out the front door nearly completely undetected (despite there being bells on it and an incredibly loud lock). Someone just thought a cat was being let out.

I was nervous, but I was definitely happy to be going away. I got all the way out of the estate and into the next one before I realised I hadn’t eaten breakfast and reluctantly returned just to get an apple and then I would leave for good.

Alas though, I didn’t have keys and we never left any spares outside, so I had to knock and be let in. My older sister let me in, woke everyone up and I got reamed once again for running away.

It was brought up recently in conversation. (To be perfectly honest I’m still upset that I didn’t just push through the hunger). I was being stubborn and my sister claimed I had always been, mentioning when I ran away.

My mam was adamant I just randomly decided to do that. That there was no argument and that she would never have yelled at me like she did.

My dad didn’t even remember it happened.