#do water proof bags exist?

[forlornmelody]

Today's List of Nice Things:

Managed to get some writing done.

Slept better than I expected.

Had a nice convo with a tourist at the park

Taking a break from Doctor Who for Pride month (I'm not gonna get to the latest Doctors in time, sadly) and started watching Dead Boy Detectives. Recognized a lot of producers from the Arrowverse, so this should be interesting.

Closing the rifts in DAI is so satisfying.

[saymio]

Little Girls Shouldn't Be Out Alone

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: running away from home might've been the worst decision of your life.. but its not because youre homeless now, its because you met him.

Warning: dead dove do not eat, brief knife play, dubcon, light bdsm, kidnapping/stalking, age gap, mentions of suicide + more.

A/N: not proof read. I tried doing the salesman justice..I promise

6.9k Words

...

the scene you were in was so cliche it was almost funny. your mother died not too long ago, and it was really hard for you because she was the one person in your life that seemed to really care about you. she was everything you wanted to be in life..growing up she was your idol, and to this day she still is... you just wished you had noticed it sooner.. maybe if you did you could've prevented it.. prevented her suicide. its been 2 months but it still haunts your brain, the scene of it. you wanted to throw up thinking about it. her bright smile ceased to exist, her intelligence couldnt impress you any more. it all ended with the gun going off in her mouth..intelligence splattered all over the walls of her shared bedroom with the gun laying next to her... and in result of your mothers suicide your father had to take you in. they had divorced when you were around 4 years old...you don't remember much. but living with him made you realize, your mother did the best choice she could've made then..even if she cried over it for years.

your father was an alcoholic, he didn't abuse you with hits and violence but he abused you with words. blaming you from the divorce and suicide of your mother. you tried to not let it get to your head..it wasn't your fault and he knew it. if anything the blood of your mother stained his hands.. but with the never lasting tournament he inflicted on you a part of you thought maybe he was right...maybe she didn't end her life over you but you could've prevented it. you were the closest person to your mother and vice versa..so..how did you never notice it? her suffering? did you miss all the signals..how stupid were you... she ended her life and you did nothing about it. you were useless...as per usual...

anyways...as you were saying. the scene you stood in the middle in was so cliche, it was like it belonged in a teenagers wattpad story. you were crouched down in an alley way, rain soaking you and everything around you as you sobbed into your hands. you couldn't live with your father anymore, you just couldn't. you knew if you stayed just one week longer..you'd follow your moms footsteps.. you hated this, you just wanted to live a happy normal life. apply for a nice university, move into a dorm, and visit your mom and dad during breaks... but the world wanted otherwise. here you were, drenched in water as you sat in the middle of nowhere...you had run away from home. you had no idea what to do next. your covered your backpack in a plastic bag but it barely helped. all your necessities were wet and your money was probably soggy by now. you're so stupid. couldve you just checked the forecast. to make sure the day you run away from home was a day the weather wouldn't freeze you alive? you couldnt do anything, nothing at all. should you just head back home? deal with your fathers screams for just a few months more before you could save up and move out? or should you just stay here..soggy and homeless... you knew what you were going to do... you'd stay here. you could take what the world would throw at you. you knew you could..but you just couldn't take another second of your dads tormenting. hes probably hoping you went off and jumped off a bridge or something..ending your fate just like your mother did.

you had fallen asleep, it was still raining and cold...but it was notably less than before. you were shivering, shaking in both fear and how frigid you were feeling. your teeth were clattering and you were being hyper aware of everything around you. if someone comes up to me all scary and intimidating I'll throw my backpack at them. it'll give me time to run away.. the sound of cars driving on the slippery wet roads filled your ears ever so often...the street was dead. if something happened to you no one would know.. squish squish squish you could hear the sound of foot steps echo around the streets...and it was getting louder..closer... until... "what are you doing here." a man holding an umbrella was standing Infront of you, he looked neat and tidy. the opposite of what you looked like at the moment. his suit was ironed to perfection, not a wrinkle in site. his hair slicked back neatly with gel.. and his features... they were striking and fierce.. he was handsome.. he tilted his head to the side and stared at you with his souless dark eyes. "well?" his tone wasnt soft but it wasn't stern either...it was like he was asking a child if they could hand him over the toy they've been playing with... you gulped down the lump that was forming inside your throat. "n-nothing..nothing important.." you spoke, barely over a whisper. you were nervous and scared. you felt like something was off about him, he just seemed too good to be true. handsome men like him always have something they hide from the rest of the world. he raises his right eyebrow at you, obviously not believing that you were doing nothing.. "do you need help? I could get you a new pair of clothes. this area is dangerous, did you know that?" he smiled at you, but it wasn't genuine at all. it was like one of annoyance...if he was so annoyed why would he offer a hand to you? it didn't make sense... you stared up at him from the floor, you felt like a stray puppy left in a box. and he was here to pick you up and become your new owner.. you knew this was probably a bad idea, you knew he was bad business. but.... you were so scared and cold in the rain..what would be worse than this? "yeah...I need help.." you spoke softly, you refused to look at him as you did so. you felt embarrassed....asking a stranger for help because of a stupid mistake you did with your own free will..you're pathetic... "great, I'd love to help you. follow me." he spoke, but it didn't seem like he was glad or happy to be at help at all.. he spoke with a deadpan voice, as if he was bored and wanted to get this over with. was this some sort of community service thing he has to do? help the homeless during the rain? whys he acting like he's being forced at gunpoint to do this... you got up from the ground, all wet and soaked in rain water. you felt so uncomfortable you wanted it to end..you grabbed your bag and followed him at a small distance... he lead you to a car. a black suv, it was clean and pretty...and it looked warm. you kept walking until you were right next to him, was he gonna let you inside the car? but you'd make it dirty and wet..and was this even a good idea??? heading inside a strange mans car in the middle of the night in the pouring rain.. but you didnt have much time to think much about it as he had opened a door to the car..the interior was a lot like him. clean, tidy and sleek... "well? get inside, don't worry about getting it wet. I don't mind." he smiled at you again, with the same fake smile that made your skin crawl because of the sheer eeriness to it. "ah- yes okay..." you crawled into the car, your wet clothes making a slight squeaky sound against the material of the car seat.. you set your bag next to you as he slammed the door shut...and it was pretty aggressive. the loud slam that echoed through the streets from it made you flinch as you stared at him walking around the car to the drivers seat.

you were sitting on the toilet, inside of this strange mans house...I mean, nothing happened yet so you should be safe right?... you turn to look at the shower that was running, waiting for the water to turn warm..and then you stared at the folded clothes. he grabbed some clothes he thought would fit you and sent you to the bathroom with it. you were confused, he was being nice..but for what? it seemed like he didn't want anything from you..maybe he was a little annoyed but he was still helping you.. he seemed normal.. you were so confused. he even put the clothes you were wearing and the clothes that got wet in your backpack into the washer. maybe humanity is just getting better and he's truly just a kind man who wants to help? you stare around in the bathroom, its almost all white with black accents. it was very modern and clean..paintings on the walls that probably cost more than your houses rent..because truthfully this man was obviously very rich. his house was huge and it seemed like he had rows and rows of guest rooms..it was impressive. maybe he was just a snobby rich guy that was trying to fix his attitude. so maybe that's why he seemed so annoyed and put off with you.. he was trying to fix his views on dirty poor people by helping them!! that had to be it..you just cracked the code!! you smirk to yourself and give yourself an imaginary pat on the back before checking the water to see if it was hot now..and when it was you stepped into the shower. the warm water fell onto your body, like it was engulfing you in a tight hug. even though you were in a strangers house, in an area you didn't even know existed...you felt like you were at home. taking a warm shower, getting ready to go out with your mom..... you and the strange man haven't spoken much, he just gave you clothes, put your old clothes in the washer, gave you food and sent you to a guest room.. he was cold, you'd expect a man that was willing to help a stranger from the streets to be nice..and warmer. but he wasn't. you were getting curious about him, what was his name? where did he work? why'd he even help you...but you decided to stay in your place. at the end of the day, you two were still strangers who would never meet again after this. the thought kind of left a pang in your heart. you wanted to know more about him..maybe..maybe he'll want to stay in touch..? but you highly doubted that considering how cold and silent he was. he probably just felt pity seeing such a young girl sleeping in the rain on the streets...he didn't do this to get close. just to make himself feel better.. that's how rich people just are.. you sighed and stared up at the ceiling of the room..you'd be out of there by tomorrow, left in the streets all alone again. you felt your eyelids getting heavy, you started to black out until you closed your eyes and fell asleep..sound asleep.

you woke up to the sound of knocking on the bedroom door, you could only assume it was the man that helped you last night because..who else could it be? you woke up, still droopy as you stretched and looked out the windows. it was bright out now...it was time to get up... you didn't want to but that didn't matter because this wasn't even your house. you got out of the bed and put the slippers the man gave you on. you pulled the shirt that was slipping off your shoulder up as you lazily shuffled your way to the door and creaked it open. you started up at the taller man, again in his neat suit and styled hair. he always manages to unintentionally..or maybe intentionally embarrass you. "still sleepy, huh? you should change and put your clothes in your bag. breakfast is being made." he flashes you another smile...a fake forced smile. its like he doesn't know how to smile or something...you just slowly nod your head at him before he turns around and leaves... you were hoping he'd get the sense of pity again and let you stay longer. you wouldn't mind being treated llke shit here if it meant you got to stay in this house. but of course..people don't like it when cockroaches sneak inside. you closed the door In front of you and did the bed. you didn't want to leave with a bad impression In case he even gets this weird savior complex again..you did the bed and packed your clothes, you headed your way downstairs to the kitchen with your bag in hand...that smell..it smelled like home. the smell of bacon filled your senses as you got closer and closer down the stairs. you haven't smelled something like that in the morning since your mother died, she would always make you eggs, bacon and toast. it was simple but you loved it. you just wished you had savored it more because with no shocker,, your dad doesn't cook. at all. you almost always order something and if you don't you're the one cooking. but even then, he always complains about how shitty your food tastes..even though you know its not true. you finally get to the end of the staircase, the stairs end right near the kitchen so you get a good look at what's going on. it seems he has a personal chef cooking up breakfast as he's sat at the table, sipping on coffee while on his phone. "ahem.." you awkwardly announce your presence to the man at the table, he stares up at you with a blank face. eyes full of nothing but darkness..the more you stare the scarier he gets. as if he were a walking body with no soul inside of him. "sit down. breakfast is almost finished." he speaks blankly, just like his face. something about the atmosphere feels a lot more awkward than before. it seems he isn't even bothering to smile at you like earlier...maybe something happened while you got changed? or maybe he's just not a morning person...you wouldn't really know but you started day dreaming. wondering about his life. maybe its because of how mysterious he is, or his face or wealth..you weren't really sure but something about him allured you. you wanted to know more even if he didn't want to know more about you. you didn't really care if the interest was one sided. you were just too curious... but again, not your place.. at least you felt like it wasn't..he was clearly not interested in having small talk with you. like at all. you didn't want to annoy him more than he seemingly already was. you wanted him to help you again because truthfully, no matter how scary he was or seemed..he was still helping you.. and you need the help. and appreciated it.. minutes passed and nothing was even muttered, a small cough or creak of the chair every now and then but that was it...and the silence was deafening. it was so awkward you could die..you were fiddling with your fingers waiting for the food, you almost just wanted to ask if you could leave now and that you didn't want to eat but.. that would be rude, and you didn't want to be rude. so you just sat still, letting the silence explode your eardrums. . .

"your food is ready" those four words felt like an angel had just saved you from hell, you were about to explode from the tension. and it wasn't the good kind. "ah, thank you!" you bowed your head at the lady that cooked the breakfast as she walked away.. you looked at your plate and then at the mans non existent one..he wasn't going to eat breakfast? he has seen your confused stares because he set his phone down and placed his chin on his hand, he was staring right at you. "I don't eat breakfast. I was just waiting for you to get your food." he stared at you before smiling at you, it wasn't as eerie or fake as the other smiles he's given you but..it was exactly genuine either. like a pity smile..something along those lines. "oh..thank you for waiting.." you bowed your head at him too before you began to eat..it was the same breakfast..the same one your mother had always made for you..what were the odds?..right? you felt yourself getting emotional, eating this simple breakfast just reminded you of your mother. but you couldnt cry Infront of this man...he'd probably just stare at you and do nothing about your sad state...you didn't feel like embarrassing yourself like that. not Infront of this stranger. . . . . "I finished..." you stare up at him, your entire plate is finished due to not eating all day yesterday. he stared at your plate and then at you, you felt kind of embarrassed..like he was judging you for eating.. "okay, should I leave you where I found you or at a house" he stared at you with a blank face, emotionless as he awaited your answer. you help in a frown at the way he worded it, sure he found you but...it felt like he was referring to you as if you were a stray animal. you bit the inside of your right cheek, you really didn't want to go. you wanted to stay safe in shelter but you didn't have a choice...you could either ask him to take you back to the place you dreaded the most, or a place you dreaded a little less... "take me back to the alley way you saw me in.." you stared at your lap as he nodded. he pushed his chair back before taking one last sip of his coffee. "follow me to the car." he pushed his chair back under the table as you got up right after him... I guess now my journey as a homeless person really starts now...I need to find a job soon...

time skip

its been a couple of days since the strange man helped you from the alley way. your delusional side tells you one day he'll be back for you so you sleep there everynight, letting a dumpster bin hide your sleeping body from those who pass by the alley way. todays its been awfully gloomy, cloudy, windy and cold.. you were hoping it wouldn't rain since you didn't want to stay there cold and wet again..and you highly doubted the man would be back for you if it did...you spent most of these days searching for a job, with no avail.. rejection after rejection ...it was wearing you down... how long would you even hold up for in these streets? you were barely 20 but you were already on the streets. not like you had a choice. it was either suicide or homelessness for you.. you decided to just take a break from searching for jobs today. you didn't have much money left from your savings but you had enough spare change to go to put your dirty clothes and buy an ice cream in the park nearby...you went looking around for a big enough plastic bag to cover your backpack in. you had a feeling it would rain hard again, you could smell it even. and you didn't want to play princess waiting for her knight in shining armor to come save her. you need to think ahead..and be smart..

as always..you were right. it was going to rain today, and it was raining hard. it brought you back to the day you were found by the man all cold and scared in the rain. you were lucky he didn't rape you, you were too trusting of him.. you were once again shuffled up in the alley way, wet and cold. you were sitting on the ground hugging yourself while your backpack sat next to you. at least you found a bag for it, at most it'd get a little wet but nothing compared to last time... your hair and clothes were soaked, you could feel water droplets form on your eyelashes as you tried to wipe away the water that was landing on your face with your equally as wet hands. you were scared..again. you were hoping to god the man would come back, you even place your backpack in view to the street and road Incase he passed by..he would know you were still there. your entire body was ice cold, your breath, fingers, clothes, you were freezing.. after a few hours of sitting in the rain you decided that it was about time you just go to sleep..no one was going to come by and save you again. you leaned your head onto the dumpster next to you and fell asleep. the sheer cold and wetness of the situation didn't leave your senses but..it was almost like you had forgotten about it while you slept. . . . "again?" you heard a voice, a very familiar voice..you jumped out of your sleep and looked up at the person standing infront of you. it was the man that had helped you last time this happened. you felt your cheeks warm up, both at how embarrassing this was, and how sweet (?) it was.. he came back to check on you. whether it was out of worry or pity, you couldn't tell. but either way it made you happy to see someone checking up on you. he just started at you, with the same dark, soulless eyes as always. he just turned around and started walking away. you didn't know whether you should follow him or not..but you trusted your guts and you did. he led you to the same suv as before, it even looked the same. clean, sleek..like you hadn't gotten it dirty that day you got in. "get in" he stared at you, waiting for your response. his sentence threw you off a little, it was as if he was commanding you...but you didn't pay much attention and got inside the car. watching him as he slammed the door again..and walked around the car into the drivers seat. he was still the same.. but in his defense its only been 4 days since he had helped you.

you two were sitting at the dining table, his cook had made the two of you steak with some veggies.. you weren't that hungry but you still ate to be respectful..the same awkward silence corrupted a seemingly 'wholesome' moment. you wanted to say something, it was itching inside your throat. you just wanted to ask his name so you didn't have to call him a stranger anymore.. but he still didn't seem interested. why the hell would he help you if he wasn't interested in even getting to know your name? this was the second time. and even if he denied it was obvious he went there for you..to help you. "you, what's your name." he had put down his fork and knife and stared at you, obviously asking you the question. but you still felt unsure if you should answer. what if he was looking at someone else..or what if he was insane and talking to himself..you were so lost in your thoughts you didn't even notice how his face was changing. he was getting irritated with you. "well? I asked you a question." his voice was more stern than before, his eyebrows were raised and he looked at you with an expression you couldn't read. it was probably annoyance though. "oh- I'm sorry..I've just been kind of out of it...my names y/n" you stared at him and give him an awkward smile. you fiddled with your fingers under the table, you didn't know if he was going to keep talking. "I can tell. well y/n, what are you doing outside all alone? don't tell me you're this young and so in debt you had to go homeless." he stared at you, his facial expression changing to disappointment. but you ignored that and processed what he said first, what does he mean he can tell? did he bring you here just to insult you?? you internally scoffed before shaking your head not to him. "I'm thanfully not in any debt... I just left my home for personal reasons.." you weren't staring at his face but you could tell his facial expression changed, he simply just hummed at you and took a sip of his wine. "what about you? what's your name..and how old are you? you felt it was fair to ask him questions back since he had asked you some. it isn't rude to just be curious right? "you can just call me sir. and I'm 42 years old.. old, huh?" he sarcastically laughed and took a sip of his wine. all that you were thinking was, why was he trying to be so mysterious?? "oh..okay..sir" it felt awkward calling him sir, what if it was a weird kink of his..he could've atleast given you a fake name if he wanted to be like that.. . . . . "thank you for helping me again sir" you bowed at him, not too 90 degree angle but just enough for your thankfulness to be clear. "I appreciate it." you smiled at him, and unlike his smiles..yours was genuine. you truly were happy to have been 'safe' from the rain. even if it soaked you for a while... you were at the alley way again, the sky still looked cloudy and sad. you were scared itd rain again but that's a worry youd have to think of for later. "youre welcome y/n." he just gave you another fakeass smile, the one that's painfully obvious like he's doing it on purpose before he got into his car and drove off. leaving you there to figure out what you should do if it does rain again. but you werent too worried..maybe he'd come back..?

history repeats its self, at least it was for you. you kept finding yourself hugging yourself for warmth in the same alley way, with the same rain pouring down on you. was this strange man gonna save you from this rain aswell or has he given up on saving you from the cruel weather. maybe its still you gulp up the courage to go back home because the weather was driving you insane. the mans help wasn't even helping , it was just giving you a false sense of hope. you sat there for hours, under the pouring rain. and even worse, this time it was thundering. your skin was cold and freezing, every inch of you was soaked in water. you wanted to melt into the ground, the scene was so pathetic. you were pathetic. . . . after what felt like an eternity you came to the conclusion he truly wasn't going to help you. you were nothing but a prop to fuel his ego.. you let your heavy eyelids close as the rains soaked you and everything around it... you would just sleep it out..and find somewhere to sleep that wouldn't leave you like this. . . . you fluttered your eyes open not long after you had fallen asleep. you weren't fully awake yet but you have a strange feeling that someone was looking over you...watching you... you turned your head and rubbed your eyes. you stared at the person watching you, it was the strange man!! he was here to save you from the rain one last time.. your eyes brightened as you stared at him, but something was off. he was holding something..your eyes were a little fuzzy so you couldnt see properly but you knew it wasn't an umbrella like always..he was also getting soaked in the rough rain. before you could ask him about it you felt something hard hit your head. like you've just been struck a pipe... you stared up at the man, eyes going droopy as you fell to the ground... did he just hit you? what...what was happening..why you..?

you woke up in a barely lit, red room. you were confused and scared. you didnt remember much.. just the fact that you were hit by some sort of pole and woke up here. did karma finally get to you for not helping your mom in her time of need? were you going to get raped and killed here?? you started to hyperventilate, you wanted to scream for help but you found it hard to even make noise..your throat was closing and it felt like you were going to pass out again.. your breaths were rapid and your body was shaking. you wanted to get away but you couldnt. your wrists were bound to a chair that seemed to be super glued to the floor. you were pulling at the restraints, you were gasping for air. your eyes were slit as they darted around the room..looking for anyone that could help you... "fuck you look so hot when you're scared" a figure walked out from the shadows of the room...it was the man that had been saving you from the rain??! his dark eyes pierced holes into your head, you were trying to process what the fuck was happening.. he stepped closer to you and stopped right Infront of you. you pushed against the floor and chair, trying to find a way to magically get away. your eyes were wide and filled to the brim with fear, your breathing only got worse as you started to let out choked sobs. "p-please..don't do anything to me please..please.. let me go....I wont..tell anyone..please" you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to look at the man that you were hoping just hours ago would come save you. when you wanted to be saved you didn't mean it like this.. your salty tears dripped from your chin onto the collar of the dry shirt you were wearing. it seemed while you were out he had changed you out of your wet clothes and into the same pair you had worn last time you were here.. your head held low as you were sobbing for your dear life, he hasnt done anything to you yet but you knew he was going to. his cold hands touched your chin, yanking it up to stare at him. the action only made you sob harder, your eyes still glued shut. you didn't want to look at him, you did- "open your eyes and stare at me if you don't want to end up dead." you flinched and opened your eyes quickly, your large eyes stared up at his. they were wet and teary...you just wanted to be free..you didn't want to be here..before you could act upon anything he leaned down and licked one of your eyes, licking away the forming tears that were prickling at the corner of it. you didn't know if this was some sort of weird kink of his or if he did it just to make you uncomfortable but you hated it. it felt uncomfortable and too in your space. you hated this foul man. disgusting. your face was a mixture of uncomfortability, anger and fear. and he loved it. "I love that weird face you're making, doll, keep doing it" he smirked at you..he was staring you down. making you even more uncomfortable than before. he was a freak, was he into peoples pain or something?? can he just let you go.. he stared at you even longer..inspecting every little movement your face made...he loved it. he loved seeing you in discomfort and fear. it fit you, really well. "ever since I've seen you I've been mesmerized... don't mistaken my words as a confession though. this isn't love. this is desire." he reached his hand out to your head, patting and petting you. ruffling your hair and making it all messy..as if you were his pet. "you know, when I saw you..I thought to myself.. 'little girls shouldn't be out alone'..especially in the rain.. where gross men like me could stick their slimy dicks inside you with no consequence." his hand wandered down from your hair to your cheek, down to your neck.. his large hand gripped at your neck, causing you to squirm under the fear he might choke you to death. his eyes and list scrunched into a smile as his hand pressed on your neck, watching you squirm under his grip. "I wouldn't kill you before putting my dick inside you. so calm down, will you?" he grips tighter around your neck as his other hand crawls its way down up body....

he stripped the clothes you had on from your body, you were sitting on the chair, naked. your wrists are still bounded to the chair so you couldn't move or go anywhere. you felt so gross. a random middle aged man was manhandling your tits, grabbing them so hard it left red marks on them. you were holding in moans, you were scared but fuck did his hands feel good on your sensitive nipples. but you didn't want him to know you didn't want him to know you were feeling go- "AH!~" you let out a mixture of a scream and a moan, his right hand had snuck its way down from your chest to your now wet pussy. he shoved two fingers inside, no warning, no prep, just shoved them in. only using the wetness of your pussy to help his movements. your back arched against the chair, you were moaning in both pain and pleasure now. he was handling you like a piece of meat, roughly 'massaging' your boobs and ruining your insides. he made rough scissor motions with his fingers, occasionally curling them inside of you. it hurt so bad, it hurt. so. bad. "you cried and sobbed like you didn't want this but look at you now. moaning under me. you were even wet when I put my fingers in. slut." his voice was deep and full of need,, he took his hand away from your tits before he slapped you. really hard. the skin on your cheek stung and was probably starting to turn red.. but it felt good..even thought you didn't want this, and all you wanted to do was go home...his fingers..they felt too good to go back. "fuck I wanna make you go through so much pain, I want to ruin you. fuck." his fingers continued to ravish your insides as he shamelessly started to rub his hard on. he was getting so turned on by this. a scared young girl, pleasuring the older scary guy Infront of her so he can make it out alive.. he wanted more. he took his hand out of your pussy, your clit was twitching. needy for more. you whined at him, you wanted to cum, you wanted to release.. you wanted it all... he scoffed at you before spitting onto your face and giving you another harsh slap. "stop complaining bitch, be grateful anyone would even want to fuck a dirty mutt like you." he tsk'd at you before turning around and grabbing something from a small box nearby. your heart was pounding, your mind was racing and your hole was pulsing. the way he disrespected you, the way he spoke to you.. it turned you on. were you just needy for approval and wanted to do what it takes to impress the guy? or maybe it was so you could keep your life..or maybe you were just insanely horny. you didn't even know at this point. you didn't know what was taking over you. the man turned around...holding a knife. you started to feel your heart race in fear again, your breath hitched as you tried to push away from the chair...and of course you couldn't. he stepped closer, and closer, an closer. until he was barely inches away from you. he raised the knife and pointed it at your stomach, pushing it into your skin.. not enough to stab you or make your bleed, but enough for it to hurt. it was like getting a shot at the doctors office that lasted too long for your comfort. you shifted under the knife, you were uncomfortable. not that scared but you were anxious..you didn't like the thought of a sharp knife being pushed onto the skin of your stomach that much.. "you look cute like this. I would cut you but I don't think it's time for that right now." he smiled at you, like you had just won a grand prize..and frankly you think you did. you didn't want to deal with more pain than what you were already feeling. he put the knife down, dropping it onto the floor. your pupils were blown. he looked so hot like this. it was scary but, hot as fuck. "opinions on getting your insides ruined?" he spoke, flashing his signature fake smile.

you were finally free from the chair, your wrists felt so much better. they felt less imprisoned.. but you didn't have much time to think about that as your insides were getting rearranged by the man you had once found safety in. you were in mating press, your thighs were rubbing against the skin of your stomach. loud gross sounds of skin slapping and wet pussy filled the room, he was filling you up. you let out loud unstable moans as he ruined you. his face was stuffed into the crook of your neck as he bit and nipped at it harshly. leaving dark bruises and hickeys on it as he kept slamming into you. your felt sweat dribble from your forehead as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. it felt. so good. you could hear him panting, louder and louder as his dick was hitting places you couldn't dream of reaching on your own. it hurt a lot, it felt like you were going to get split open any second now but..the pleasure..the pleasure of your pain and of his thick cock was flooding your brain. you'd worry about the pain later.. "fuck you look so hot when your insides are getting blown out" he grips at your neck, hard as he fucks you like a ragdoll. your hands fly to his, gripping and clawing at his hand. an attempt to unblock your airway, to no avail. his movements started to get rabid and sloppy, he was close. you knew he was. he let go of your neck, leaving a faint bruise due to his grip before he slapped your cheek again. the stinging, it only got worse. you felt like every inch of your body was getting ruined and beat. and truthfully, you loved it. "fuuu- fuuck.. sir- i- fuck..m' gonna cum! m' close! please let me cum! please please please!" your words were fast and sloppy, you were close, you needed to cum you needed it. he spat on your face again, making you feel like a disgusting piece of meat..but you loved it. you wanted to make him proud. he took his left hand and started to rub your clit as he slammed into you. each time it got faster and faster. "cum for me baby, show me how much you love my cock..fuuck.." you arched your back against the bed as it started to make a loud annoying squeaking sound from the rapid movements on it. "fu- ah~! fuckfuckfuckfuck yes yes please ah more more please ah ouh..~" your loud moans filled the room as you came all over his cock, leaving a white ring of sticky substance at the base of his dick. shortly after he came inside of you, filling you up with cum with a loud(ish) grunt. he didn't stop though, he kept moving, not only to help you out your high but to bring you to another. this man doesn't intend to stop until youre full of bruises and unable to walk..

Another note: I REALLY HOPE THIS IS GOOD, I fr spent all day on this (started at 8am, its already 8pm rn omfg) I hope I portrayed his character well, idk if I made him too mean or tame or wtv idk hshshhs, reqs are open!! pls check blog rules before u send them though:)

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[awordsmith]

omitted thoughts 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which the tension between you and Spencer at work is almost too much to bare; lingering eyes and longing needs that are ignorant to the people around you, but all too easily perceived by the other.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s8  genre: smut  content warnings: (maeve plotline does not exist, emily is still with the bau) munch spencer, tension here–tension there–tension everywhere, thorough foreplay (as in practically the entire fic), sexual acts, not too explicit, no dom/sub really mentioned–though spencer is a little more confident, proofed! reid with pleasure...  word count: 11.4k a/n: munch spencer as per requested by an anon!! this one has been in my filing cabinet for a while, so i'm glad i've finally gotten to write it out... also, new format–hey! okay i'll stop rambling... enjoy!!

There is a moment in every person’s life when they just know something sinister is about to unfold. That feeling found its way to you the exact moment the mixup with the rooms happened. It was bound to occur, it wasn’t like it was inevitable–you of all people were accustomed. Though, to be particularly truthful, it wasn’t the mixup that strangled your thoughts, no, it wasn’t as trivial as that.

What had your heart racing–your mind running–was that you were paired with Spencer. You should have said something. You were sure Emily would switch with you in a heartbeat–she and Spencer got along well enough, that it wouldn’t be a favor at all. However, even with this knowledge, you kept your mouth shut.

It was something in your gut, something in the darkest parts of your mind that swayed the moral, logical side.

It was late and the dimly lit hall only had so much life. You noted the old, peeling, pee-colored wallpaper; red flowers straying to and fro–if you tried hard enough, you could almost picture how it must have looked like in its prime.

Spencer made no effort to talk and for this you were grateful. You hadn’t had the chance to get too close to him in the few months you’ve been with the team. You were new, but not unaccustomed–you had been transferred almost six months ago with the help of thorough recommendations and pure skill–though you never pulled rank.

Hotch seemed a nice enough dad-boss, Rossi gave the impression of a comedic uncle most of the time, Morgan took his role as the older brother, Emily and JJ were great mentors and you were thrilled to be working alongside them, and you found Penelope to be a strong aunt-like figure. Spencer, though, you weren’t too sure where he fell in the categories you had enlisted just yet. 

He was a great mystery, one you were keen to unravel little by little.

“Do you have a preferred side?” Spencer asked after completing a skim with his bedbug flashlight.

“No,” you glanced around the room, two queen beds sat adjacent to each other only separated by a mediocre bedside table. A home phone sat close to the bed nearest the door and a lamp sat closest to the bed nearest the AC and window. The old, red velvet curtains were pulled back in what you thought was meant to be a kind gesture. Nevertheless, for an unknown reason, it left a bad taste in your mouth. “But, I do think we should close those,” you sighed, setting your duffle bag in the only chair in the room.

Spencer set his things on the bed near the window. You began untying the curtain closest to the bathroom. A shiver crawled up your spine as the air around you grew dry, you were seriously hoping for hot water. You meant to throw Spencer a hopeful glance, praying he’d let you take a shower first–but your eyes caught his hands instead. He was working his sleeves back, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.

His sweater vest had been discarded and now lay in a bunched-up pile near his suitcase. You found yourself tracking his every move. He didn’t take notice of your stare until after he’d untied the curtain and met it with the one you had undid. You swiftly averted your eyes and swallowed, finding your throat had gone dry.

You cleared your throat and pushed your hair away, giving Spencer nothing but back, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to shower first.”

Seconds ticked by and he said nothing, only when you heard a bed squeak did you turn back around. Spencer took up a space at the head of his bed, watching you with a look you were sure you’d never seen cross his face, it was almost smug, but not in the normal sense of the word–as indescribable as it was, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You weren’t too sure what it made you feel.

“Is–is that a yes?” Your face felt hot, and you wanted to slap your hands to it, knowing it’d cool down somewhat, but you forced your hands to remain at your side.

“Yeah, sure,” he quipped, his voice the complete opposite of what his eyes conveyed.

You nodded and hurried over to your bag, leaving it at the foot of your bed when heading into the bathroom, which is where you found it upon exiting. 

Spencer had pulled pajamas out, they were neatly folded beside him. “I’d wait a little before showering,” you frowned, “sorry, I must have been in there for ages,” your mouth lilted in a slight smile as you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and took up residence near the bedside table, “next time, just to tell me I’m taking too long, I won’t mind.”

He chuckled and you grinned, elated you finally were able to ease the unnecessary tension that had come over the two of you during your staring contest in the moments right before your shower.

“Seriously?” He sounded mirthful and when you looked up his eyes caught yours, your heart studded and you found your cheeks heating up again. He had an eyebrow raised slightly and the small smile that accompanied his expression gave off the impression he was teasing, “You’d be fine with me just walking into the bathroom while you’re in the shower?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion and you couldn’t help the awkward smile that wouldn’t leave your mouth, “I was just joking, Spencer, but–if I am taking too long you can bang on or yell through the door.

He nodded, looking away, “I–I know, I was just messing with you.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes, trying to crush the way your thoughts raced at the way you absolutely would not give a half a damn if he did. You pressed your hand to your cheeks for a few seconds before continuing to move things out of your bag, you were thinking about how to arrange them in the large chifforobe directly across from your bed. Did Spencer hav–you gasped and dropped an article of clothing as if it had burned you.

“That was not–” you scorned yourself, that was completely inappropriate. You blinked over a few times, thinking it would make the image disappear well from your mind, but it only served to intensify the phantasmagoria.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer was at your side after three blinks. Your eyes widened as he reached for your hands that were opening and closing, trying to grasp any control over yourself. 

You stood abruptly, unable to be in any sort of vicinity he was near. “I’m fine–I just, I remembered, I forgot something in the lobby. It must have fallen.” You shrugged, forcing a horrid excuse for a smile onto your lips. You left the room, heading straight for the elevator. You needed the cold-biting air of December to slap some sense into you, it was almost January, thus winter should have been approaching its peak right about now.

You have never–okay, yes, you’ve had small torrent thoughts of coworkers in somewhat unprofessional manners, but none had ever been so vivid–not like the one you had just then. As the elevator opened, you tried assembling the course of thoughts that had led up to the–the Spencer one.

It only took a few minutes for you to understand thinking about it was useless. There was no coherent explanation for the thought you had, no indication of any type of build-up that might have prepared you for the fabrication. 

“His eyes,” you heard yourself murmur as the elevator let you off onto the first floor. You ignored the receptionist whom you recognized from only a few hours ago. The glass door was as easily pushed open as it was to pull; the biting air hit your face and you sighed, relief allowing you to breathe once more.

His sleeves were rolled up, your arms laced around his neck as you pulled him against your flushed, exposed skin. You were nearly naked and all but begging him. You had it. His attention. Every single piece of it.

And you were relishing it as he fucked you against that damned chifforobe.

You were startled by the discovery of Spencer’s presence as he pushed open one of the glass doors of the hotel. The carpark was desolate save for the two of you and you felt more vulnerable than you had felt in the daydream.

“Hey,” Spencer lifted his hand slightly, sticking it back in his pocket right after as if he’d cringed at himself.

“Oh, hi,” you pressed your lips into a thin smile, squeezing your eyes so as not to give away the fact that you did not want him to be there.

“You–kind of ran off, I just wanted to make sure you were alright…” his eyes traced up and down your body as if in search of something. A slight smirk grazed his lips, but it was quickly replaced with a frown that felt a little too compelled, “did you find what you were looking for?”

“Nope,” you squeaked, rocking back and forth on your heels. You squeezed your hands together behind your back like you were in prayer or giving thanks, “sorry for bringing you out here, I thought I lost something important and overreacted.”

He didn’t acknowledge your answer immediately, though he did step forward and when he took another step forward, you were inclined to take a step back because you thought the proximity might prompt you to do or say something you definitely shouldn’t be doing or saying with a coworker. He raised his hand to your face, the back of his hand rested on one of your cheeks, your eyes shut on impact, your hands separated and were not fisted.

Your eyes opened when a few low chuckles escaped Spencer’s mouth, he huffed out a few more before pulling his hand back and using it to cover his mouth…watching you. His eyes held that same smug amusement that you’re sure you’ve never seen before this night.

You met his stare, noting that with the coverage of his hand, his expression was just a bit easier to read. Your lips settled into a thin line as you concluded he was messing with you. You cast an unbothered expression over your face, though you felt anything but. “I think the water should be hot enough now.”

Disregarding the moral obligation of waiting for a response, you headed for the hotel’s entrance.

The elevator ride-up wasn’t as tense as you would have thought it to be. You could feel a calm rest over each other’s company. It was almost like a mutual understanding that did not need voicing. Back in the hotel room, Spencer headed into the bathroom without a word, again, you found yourself grateful he decided to spare you.

Even so, you did find it just a bit peculiar because Spencer had never before taken on any particular interest in you, sure you shared conversations–that was to be expected though, as you worked with him. You shared meals and nights out, though only when it was a group thing.

To be sure he drew your curiosity, but you never once thought about indulging in your secret desire because it just never seemed right. This mixup had felt like a gift from God when it was first introduced, because now–you had thought–we’ll be forced to be around each other, no doubt we’ll grow somewhat accustomed to each other’s habits. 

Perhaps the thought was a bit excessive, but it was simply the truth to you. How else were you to casually approach Dr. Spencer Reid? The youngest to be scouted in his field?

Well, you now thought grimly, scratch all that, he’s just a genius with an ego.

You approached the chifforobe hesitantly, then hastily sorted your clothing in a few drawers and on a few hangers that were already there. As you set your duffle bag at the bottom of the large space, you heard the shower squeak off and Spencer called your name.

You rolled your eyes but walked toward the bathroom, calling from your side of the closed door, “what?” 

“I,” his voice cut off and just when you thought you had waited long enough, the bathroom door swung open halfway and Spencer leaned out. 

The first thing you noticed–though unintentionally–was the steam that hit you in the face. You squinted and waved a hand before you, “Jeez, Spencer.”

His face–his hair was wet and water dripped down his head–looked a bit painted, “I left my towel in my bag, get it for me?” 

He sounded genuinely displeased at the situation, which is why you huffed and replied, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he yelled, shutting the door again. You ignored the flip your stomach did and shivered. 

He had left his suitcase open, his things in a bit of disarray across the bed. You wavered only a moment before letting your hands fly up and down his things. His towel was quite easily discovered, though your eyes lingered on the rest of his things.

You stood and headed back toward the bathroom, knocking. Spencer appeared instantly, a smile spreading to his face. The steam had cooled somewhat, but the bathroom–you could tell–was still very much sauna-like. “Thank you.”

“You said that already.”

He raised a brow, his smile quirking, “thank you, again.”

He stole the towel and shut the door, leaving you standing there. You felt impulsive and thought there would be no way you could get through this entire trip by sharing a room with him. And yet, it was your job, and it would no doubt be questioned, you’d probably–by accident–allude to something that did not occur, and you’d both be in trouble for something so ridiculous: it shouldn’t even be a thought that crossed your mind when you looked at your coworker and yet–the bathroom door opened and Spencer walked out in only a towel–it did.

“What do you think you're doing?” You called from your bed, standing.

“It’s too moist in there, I won’t dry.” He replied as if it were a fact and not an atrocity.

“Yeah–but–” you bit your lip, eyes tracking up and down his torso, something you should most unquestionably not be doing.

He was bent over his things on the bed near the window, you turned your gaze on the floor when his eyes flickered to yours. “But what?” He paused, probably noting your expression, your pursed lips, and your unstill gaze. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable I can go back in. I don’t want to–I’m sorry.” You swore you could hear a lilt in his voice when he began, but it quickly turned into something more…appropriate–like he just realized the embarrassment of what he was doing. He gathered his clothes again and headed for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in damp garments.

And though his frown said ‘I’m sorry,’ his eyes said, ‘I’m going to give you hell’. And hell it was. For the rest of the trip, you could swear Spencer did…things purposefully. Such as lifting his shirt slightly to wipe his face when he got out of the shower, turning his neck just barely so that your gaze would catch on the exposed collarbone. You swore up and down that these were being done on purpose just to make you squirm because–because–well you didn’t really know why Spencer was doing all that. 

But you knew it was for you, that was about the only thing you knew to be fact. Your nose scrunched as you recalled the looks he’d given you after every purposeful act–in such a way that it seemed like he wanted to see your reaction–as if he gets off on it.

The jet ride home was no exception to Spencer’s antics, but by this time you had decided for yourself you’d had enough of falling victim to him. You concluded that there could only be one reason Spencer was acting the way he was: because he was attracted to you. You didn’t know why–hell you couldn’t even explain why you were attracted to him in that way–but it piqued your curiosity. If he had the ability to get you to react in such distinct and significant ways, what power did you have over him? That was the dispute you set out to ascertain.

At first, it was harmless, quiet jokes told only loud enough for the two of you to hear. When the jet landed again, you ran a hand through your hair and threw your head back, as if trying to stretch. Your eyes popped open just a few minutes later to find Spencer’s eyes eating up everything from your neck to your collarbone. When he met your eyes, they weren’t amused but rather accusing. He had fallen into your trap and he had just now realised. Some genius, you found yourself regarding him with an internal snort.

“We get the day off tomorrow, right?” Emily’s tone was mirthful, full of sarcasm.

“Yeah, right.” Morgan groaned.

Hotch grimaced, “See you all tomorrow.”

“At nine?” Rossi sounded hopeful.

Your boss sighed, eyes: rolling, but a smile etching itself onto his face, “At nine.”

Small victories, a sigh escaped you under your breath, small victories.

You headed for your car, rummaging through your purse for your keys. A presence loomed over you and you froze, Spencer’s hand lightly pressed against your back as he leaned over you and tilted his head downward, “See you tomorrow —…”

Your breath caught and you tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry. Was this real? Was this not the nerdy little geek you were told you’d be working with? The guy who kept getting kidnapped? The one who could barely hold a gun four years into working in the BAU?

He walked away, down the row of cars, looking for the one he owned.

Despite yourself, your lips curled into a sinful grin. You already loved this game. 

The next morning, you caught Spencer stepping into the elevator, “hold the door!” You threw your hand out, as you rushed your footsteps.

The elevator wasn’t crowded, but there were five others you did not know, and they were all men, so naturally you moved closer to Spencer. It wasn’t on purpose, but nor was it an accident, more of an instinct. His presence gave you peace of mind as you calmed yourself down.

“Rough morning?” He asked, appearing nonchalant.

You looked up at him as he took a sip of his coffee. The elevator came to a halt and two people shuffled into the elevator after three others left. Your floor was approaching and you felt easier–especially with the extra space–but when you stepped away, a hand caught your waist.

You followed the arm all the way to Spencer’s gaze, the expression there looked to be a mix of contemplation and confusion. His hand dropped when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He was the first to step out of the elevator, you were the fourth.

Penelope found you on her way to the roundtable, stating the others were already there. You followed her and took the only available seat in between Morgan and JJ. Spencer sat right across from you, between Emily and Rossi. When you caught his eyes, his head tilted slightly and a small smirk danced across his lips in the bright light. 

Your eyes rolled and you shifted one leg over the other under the table. 

Penelope read off the new case and while many questions were thrown out, you and Spencer kept playing the game of ‘who could make who more embarrassed’; though you both were incredibly refined at your job and were able to keep it from the insight of the others.

Hotch stood and said, “jet’s up in 15,” before rushing out of the room.

You stood as well, needing to collect all the things you might have left on your desk and turn in your report to Hotch you forgot. Rossi had followed your boss–it was probably something about Strauss, it always was whenever they acted like that. Emily, Morgan, and Penelope were having a conversation while JJ said something to Spencer and began a small exchanges. Your eyes were laser focused on her, you felt a sort of conviction fall over you. You didn’t think you were jealous, no–it was anything like that because you knew Spencer was only trying to get under your skin. Instead, you felt a sense of thrill and couldn’t help the smirk that edged its way onto your face as you floated right past them without batting an eye.

You heard his chair squeak as he leaned back, eyes trailing your figure as you exited the roundtable room. Upon approaching your desk you smacked your hands to your cheeks, helping them cool off while ignoring the chatter of the office. You searched your bag a bit until you found the documents you had been looking for.

You froze, you could feel his stare, but when you glanced around, you couldn’t find him anywhere. Your eyes narrowed as you sifted through each and every face, there–in the breakroom behind the glass… Spencer had one hand in his pocket and one holding a mug of coffee, his eyes anything but innocent. He mouthed something, but only when you noted the absense of your other team members were you able to put together his words. We’re leaving.

You met each other in the stairwell of the rooftop, you ignored the simmering in your chest as he veered over you and pushed open the door. He smelled good– god he smelled good. You forced yourself not the make it obvious you were trying to drink in and savor his scent when he let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes popped open–which is when you realized you had shut them. What is wrong with me? You allowed your eyes to track up his face, starting from his shoulders.

He was so close you could see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared you donw, mouth slightly ajar. His eyes were hazy and he wasn’t staring at you, but your throat. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When he found your gaze again his jaw yet and he pulled himself together. His eyes were no longer dangerous, but they still set some kind of fear in you.

“We should go,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond until you began moving. He called your name only once, but when you looked back, a grin–small, but fucking there–destroyed his firm calmness from only moments ago, and replaced it with egotistical destruction.

There were so much said in that single expression and yet nothing at all that would have been picked up by a team of profilers, let alone a stranger–it was as if this look was designed specifically for you–designed just to become your undoing. You fucking hated Spencer Reid and his big ass ego, but you wanted him–by all hell you wanted him.

Though you’d soon find that wanting him was nothing compared to needing him.

The rest of the case came and went in a similar manner you had dreamt about the night before. You and Spencer shared lingering looks, murmured things in front of the team that, though made sense in the moment, his the underlying meaning only the two of you could pick up. You honestly found it surprising no one had caught on to what was transpiring between you and Spencer, although to be perfectly honest, you, yourself, had no idea what was transpiring between you and Spencer.

You didn’t seek each other out, but whenever you were together–alone or with others–there was this spark of craving you couldn’t quite explain out loud, and even when you thought about it, you didn’t know the right term for it other than a game. What else could it be? You couldn’t relly put togehter the events that had started it, but you knew it began sometimes on the 3-day case–maybe even that first night in the hotel. A shiver crawled up your spine, you watched Spencer out of the corner of your eye, reading. He could normally be found in the front of the jet, lying down and napping or reading.

When you were alone, all your thoughts revolved if not around the case at hand, Spencer. You didn’t want to compare it to an obsession, because what it really was was a little less of that and a little more of a desire to learn him. His body, his mind, his cravings and and fantasies. It was everything you had never felt and it scared you. There was no logical explanation to Spencer being the onset to these emotions, and yet if you’d never met Spencer, who was to say these feelings would have ever been unleashed?

It was late, but you were glad you were going to get to sleep in your bed two nights in a row. It felt like a blessing from the heavens, but then your realzied you’d have to see Spencer again tomorrow and go through the fervency all over again. Now, it felt more like irony.

Weeks of the same longing, the same wandering eyes, the same muttered whispers, the same damn game. Though you’d gotten used to your little gambit of brash actions, you weren’t tired in the least. It was–as sad as you had to admit–the most fun you’d ever had with a person.

It was fun until it became real. The team hadn’t caught on, but that was particularly due to the fact your efforts always occurred out of pure chance. You never made it obvious and he was especially good at hiding his feats, it seemed to you he was consistently able to accomplish his devious acts right under the nose of his superiors. 

You reasoned that it was perhaps because none of them would ever suspect him of any of the things he was taking up in his pastime. Not even yourself would have guessed he was like this if he hadn’t shown you, or if you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes always seemed to look the opposite of whatever his face was saying in the moment.

Despite all of this, however, you hadn’t touched–at all, no brush of the hands, no accidental shoulder bumping, nor anything on purpose; not since he’d grabbed your waist in the elevator that first day back at Quantico. The contemplation in his eyes then occurred to you at night. You tried to make out what it meant–to him at least, but never could. It was one of those thoughts that kept you up, staring at the ceiling, hoping exhaustion would so its job and prevent the misery that inveitable came without it.

Tonight, though, you didn’t know how you were going to fare against pretending to be with him. It was for the case–you kept reminding yourself as you changed into a little black dress. Everyone looked good in black, it was a color that also hid a person well enough in a club–perfect for an undercover agent.

The decision to have you go in with Spencer instead of JJ was his idea. Of course it was his. He’d proposed the switchup at the roundtable meeting that morning–and as soon as he had, you’d jolted in your seat. He’d continued talking, glancing at you now and then as if he’d actually believed the difference between you and JJ would matter.

Regardless, because you were closer in age–by only a few years, you’d wanted to remind everyone–it’d be more believable that you were together, he’d also dropped an “it’d be more comfortable that way”, which swayed Morgan and Emily, JJ kept silent during the entire tirade–though not angry, was incredibly, almost blatantly long. 

You couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but at the time you weren’t too much focussed on her, the looming fact that you’d have to touch him in ways you’d only thought about touching him to do your job? It terrified you. Not because you were afraid of acting out your fantasy–but because you weren’t sure if you could control yourself enoug to where it was just acting.

You slipped the dainty dress on and hid your gun and badge in your boots. You let your natural hair fall loose, but kept a hair tie on your wrist. Stepping out of the only bathroom in the police station you were currently residing in, holding your work clothes against your chest , you noted the imminent stares. Instinctively using your clothing to cover your thighs as you met the others in the front. Spencer kept his eyes in check–smart boy, you bit back a smirk–but the rest of the team complimented you, Hotch and Rossi having almost completely different ways of doing so, you snorted at the contrast. 

Spencer took the driver seat of a vehicle you were borrowing, the dark of a December night threatening to conceal the thing entirely. You gazed out the window, “they’re following us right?”

“Everyone will be outside and prepared.”

“I can’t believe this,” you sighed, throwing your head back.

“The fact that we’re going undercover or the fact that you have to wear that piece of cloth?” Spencer asked, though his manner was light, there was a rough undertone that heated your insides.

“I was wondering when you were going to bring it up,” you sighed carelessly, waving a hand, “I just thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“Everyone noticed.” The mask of his facade was slowly slipping away, revealing a much colder side to Spencer–one you had the pleasure of seeing more and more of the past three weeks than in all of the six months you’d been in the BAU.

“Yeah,” you smooth down the dress, “I wouldn’t normally wear this type of thing out unless I was looking to bring someone home.”

“Oh really?” You could practically hear his eyebrows raise. “You never wear things like that when we go out for drinks.”

“Precisely my point,” you quipped.

Spencer pulled into the club’s parkinglot. It took you less than five minutes to get inside. At first, you were sitting at the bar, but then, Spencer, with the earpiece attached to him, relayed the message from Hotch. Penelope had given everyone access to the inside of the club, they were watching you two through the cameras. You forced yourself not to glance at them–even the tiniest slipup could reveal you to the unsub, and you wanted them to target, not avoid you.

“They want us to dance.” Spencer sighed loud enough to where you could hear it over the noise.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, because that’s exactly how the unsubs target their victims–didn’t we go over this in the profile? Your smile tightened as you spun and headed for the floor, crowded by so many–oh that’s not hygienic.

“Yeah, okay, maybe we skip this part,” Spencer grimaced from his palace beside you.

“You think?” You raised an unimpressed brow at the blurred figures in front of you.

He murmured something Hotch and they went back and forth a little, though you couldn’t hear exactly what was said, Spencer’s face of triumph was all you needed to breathe a sigh of relief.

You found yourselves hiding in the corner at the back, there weren’t many people crowding around you which made you perfect for the unsubs, though the appearance of them at this club tonight was purely based on instinct, gut feelings, and careful, calculated guessing, there was still a chance they wouldn’t show themselves.

You didn’t mean for it to happen like this, you were doing everything in your power to stay composed and in control, but some part of you–the defiant, terrible side of you–wanted so badly to see his reaction when you touched him.

His frame leaned over you, holding you against the probably dirty wall, the sensual music that played a heavy beat around you felt like an instigator. Sweat slipped down his neck and it drew your attention, all of a sudden Spencer tensed, then he relaxed slightly but it felt forced, “They have eyes on the unsubs.”

“How many,” You compelled your eyes to stay on his though they wanted to scour the area around you and find just exactly who he was talking about–which would be idiotic, of course.

“That’s right,” he swallowed–ignoring your question, your eyes caught his throat bobbing–he noticed. “Keep your eyes on me,” you nodded at his words, feeling your throat drying as you neglected the need to trace his collarbone with both your fingers and gaze.

His hair was a mess of damp curls and his face was barely visible in the bright, flashing lights, but you had a job to do–and yet here you were, gripping the collar of his shirt, brushing back the hair that fell in his face as he looked at you with those eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, “but if you aren’t up for this just tell me now.” His voice lilted at a challenge, but you heard the mumble ordered in the earpiece–by hell he could yank you hair almost completely out and you wouldn’t give a damn.

You held his regard with one of your own, eyes narrowed, “Just do it.”

And he did. But he also didn’t. His smirk narrowed ere leaning in. He gripped your face with an elephants strength and a swan’s gracefulness. You closed your eyes, waiting for his lips, but he swerved at the last moment and kissed the skin below your ear. He trailed a few kisses down your neck but stayed close to your hearing range, evidently, he was teasing–you wanted to scoff but couldn’t find it in you to make him stop.

“How’s this?” He murmured.

“You’re an ass,” you replied huffed, trying to mask a groan.

He grinned against your neck, “I know.”

The club case was the reason you and Spencer now ensured you were always together. From then on, you seemed to not want to be anywhere else the other wasn’t–or rather, you felt more comfortable with each other and couldn’t bring yourselves to leave the other alone.

Not that either of you minded and you still did your jobs perfectly fine–though there was more intensity when the other was in any sort of danger, it only propelled the one that wasn’t to learn how to do their job quicker. It was both a fast track to understanding how to adapt to constant situations that warped your idea of what was really going on. When he got something wrong–which was rare but not absolute. After about a month of this, you were starting to question what you were to him–what he was to you.

Though you still weren’t sure how to properly ask that question. You hadn’t slept together, though you thought about it all the time you weren’t at work…and perhaps sometimes when you were… Those thoughts slipped through on occasion–but it wasn't anything that hadn’t been transpiring before the club case.

It was as if the ‘who can make the other person more embarrassed’ game had been turned into the ‘what can I do to make you squirm this time’ game. Like the rules of the game had somehow intensified and touching was now allowed and despite all of the things that ensued upon the new rule instatement, you still had not taken it further than work.

It kept you up most nights, and you wondered when this cycle of what are we would end–if it would take one of you getting into a relationship–though you were sure Spencer didn’t have to worry about you in that department–and although you hated it, the fact was that Spencer was the only one you could think about. It was as if the man had ruined sex for you altogether. 

You fucking hated Spencer Reid–and that fucking chifforobe. 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You refused to give Spencer the satisfaction of looking over at him–though he seemed just as surprised as you. At this point anything could happen–and by anything you mean anything. Because anything would be better than having to share a room with him again. You were so tired you could barely recall what that even meant.

But then again, a small part of you whispered, this could be your chance. My chance? You scoffed, my chance at what? Making a fool of myself? Because confronting him means admitting I can’t stop–thinking about him. And that, to you, would feel like admitting defeat. It’d feel like losing the game–oh and you really felt like you were winning! Winning at what again? God, you needed sleep.

“Are you planning on getting in the shower first?,” he asked as soon as you were behind the door, away from prying ears and nosy coworkers.

You let out a heavy sigh and held your arms up to stretch, yawning–“honestly, I might just head to bed, it’s late and I could really use the sleep.”

“Have you not been able to sleep at night?” He set his things on the bed near the window as you claimed the one near the door.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, although a bit more to yourself than to him.

“Do you know why?” He seemed genuinely curious–but as you faced him, all you could think was, if only you knew.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ and grimaced as you laid your back against the bed, arms spread like a starfish, your duffle bag discarded near your feet at the end of the bed.

You felt Spencer watching you, but for the first time in a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You quite literally had been running on nothing but coffee for the past day and a half–and you were in desperate need of some sleep–especially if you wanted to be at your best tomorrow.

“Here,” you hadn't heard Spencer approach you–you blamed his Hotch training. You cracked open an eye as he pushed you on your side. Your back burned at where he’d touched you, but it was quickly overshadowed when you heard him yank the bedspread down as hard as he could. “Come, on,” he huffed, pulling your shoes off and setting them beside your bag.

You forced yourself under the cover and snuggled, “the light?” you grumbled.

“First, your blazer,” he held out a hand. You whined but made quick work of ridding yourself of the fabric. “You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable–”

“Spencer.” You warned.

“Yeah, I hear you,” he reached for the lamp atop the bedside table–smaller than the one from the last hotel room you’d shared–the chifforobe near the window was smaller as well. He hummed as the thoughts faded in and passed through his mind.

Spencer found himself forgetting everything else as he sat in the bed opposite yours and leaned his arms on his thighs, watching you. A few minutes passed, but only when a knock sounded on the door did he realize he maybe shouldn’t be watching his coworker like a creep. Though, you weren’t really a coworker, were you?

Well–he meant you were–but you were also more than that, though he didn’t exactly know if your relationship had a name, he knew that it entailed things normal coworkers did not have. He knew what he wanted–but to outright say it felt like disrupting the sort of balance you’d gotten accustomed to–as if going out and actually attempting to take what he wanted would break the trance that had set over the two of you–it’d be throwing all the rule’s to the game away, and then what did either of you have left? Rules were important, if not necessary. He couldn’t chance it–not yet at least.

“Hey, oh,” Morgan tried looking around the room.

Spencer felt his eyes roll as he stepped into the hall and shut the door slightly behind him, careful not to shut it completely as he didn’t have the key card and he didn’t want to wake you up. “Yes?”

Morgan nodded behind him, “she’s asleep?”

“She’s really tired,” Spencer affirmed.

“Right,” his eyes fell back on Spencer, and for a second, he thought Morgan might be analyzing his form.

“Was there something you needed?” Spencer pressed, eager to head back into the room, unpack his suitcase, and head to bed himself.

“Ah, no, we were just going to order food–but I guess you don’t want anything either?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for asking.”

“Uh-huh,” Morgan once again glanced behind Spencer, whose irritation at the suspicion was steadily increasing.

“She’d not dead,” Spencer stated, though he meant it as a joke it came out rather harsh.

“Alright, pretty boy, I didn’t say she was.” Morgan chuckled, patting Spencer on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

Spencer made quick work of unloading his things, he thought about getting in the shower but feared it’d wake you. Instead, he debated on whether or not he should leave your things in you bag or do you a favor and put them away. He didn’t want you to consider him a snoop, especially with how you’d been looking at each other the past few weeks–and that undercover case.

His heartbeat picked up, and he couldn't stop thinking about it–it was the thing he fell asleep to at night; it was gradually eating away at him, and he couldn’t deny the way his body tensed whenever he recalled the image of you under the flashing array of lights–how you’d looked so…submissive.

He hastily shoved that thought to the furthest corner he could find in his mind and headed for your bag. He didn’t want to be brash with the way he put your clothing away, but he also didn’t you to wake up while he was holding your underwear–then he’d truly feel like a creep. 

He was halfway done when you mumbled something; he froze and he could feel the thump of his heart in his chest. Though it was still winter, he’d begun to sweat and had set his glasses aside because they kept sliding off the bridge of his nose. He’d been wearing them more often than not for the past few months as he’d found them to be a particular fascination of yours. It was now that he squinted and moved his hand around for them.

His footsteps carried him quietly across the room, near your bedside. “—?” He whispered and when you failed to respond, lifted a tentative hand to your cheek–though just before the pads of his fingertips met your skin, you mumbled something again–and this time, he could hear it. He fisted his hand and used the bedside table to hold himself up, and although he couldn’t see them, he knew his hands were turning white with how hard he was squeezing them.

Again. He wanted to hear it again–his prayers were answered as you shifted slightly, tugging the cover up to your neck. Skimming down your person, he bit his fist and tried to calm himself down. Again. He needed to sit down, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt it twitch–he needed to walk away right now. And he did, but instead of picking up where he’d left off with your clothing, he headed for the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on as he shut himself in complete darkness.

Images of you, your stolen glances, and desperate touches filled his mind. He was particularly focused on the tired way you slurred his name in your sleep. He wondered what kind of dreams you were having, what you were picturing as you said his name like that. He muffled his groans as he stroked himself, using his fist to bite back anything that might escape the small confines of the washroom. His thoughts of you were possibly the only thing he allowed himself to go to extensive lengths with. His mouth watered at the mere concept of you and your twisting legs. He’d done this a considerable amount of times before–but this was the first time you were so close– a hairsbreadth away.

It felt both right and wrong, and yet the lines began fading into oblivion as he came closer to climax.

He whimpered into his hand just as he came. It was odd, he didn’t too much feel like a creep after he cleaned himself up, but upon washing his hands profusely and returning to put your garments away, he was once more–afraid of what you’d think if you caught him messing with your things.

Although a part of him felt it might have been because he wanted you to find him in that state, he tried rationalizing–but the more he thought about it–even as he now rested his head against a pillow–the more he found that ‘might’ to be absolute truth. 

You woke up to the smell of coffee. You stretched, yawned, and pried your eyes open. Rolling onto your side, you found Spencer devouring a book, his glasses at the tip of his nose. You smiled, thinking you were dreaming–but then his eyes shifted over to yours and your smile fell, you quickly understood this Spencer was real–oh no–your cheeks burned from last night's delusions. “Good morning,” he smiled. You groaned and sat up, your hands finding your cheeks, “what time is it?”

“It’s around six, you have,” he checked his watch, “an hour and thirty minutes, Hotch wants us ready before eight.”

You huffed and threw yourself back against the pillows. New Years had come and gone and you hadn't even celebrated...though, your mind with all the ways you could make up for it–you shook the thoughts away, now was not the time.

Five minutes later you were searching for your clothing, but your bag was practically empty, “did you move my things?”

Spencer choked on his coffee, “ah–yeah,” he motioned toward the chifforobe. You glared at it as he said, “It’s small, so some of our things are mixed, but you should be able to find whatever you’re looking for easily.”

“Thank you” You appreciated his simple act of affection, it made your chest ache.

“Yeah, sure.” Despite going back to reading his book, Spencer snuck small glimpses of you from the corners of his eyes.

As the hot water ran down your back, you found yourself thinking of Spencer, just a few feet away, you were practically naked and he could walk in at any moment, you felt an ache between your thighs, but you shrugged it off–or at least you tried to.

You hadn’t had sex since that incident with Spencer a few weeks ago. You tried–by all God did you try–but you just couldn’t It led to a few arguments with the guys you’d taken home–and your credit, you did feel just a little bad. All the same, you simply couldn’t seem to get him out of your mind. It was like he was mocking or watching you every time you attempted it–he was that tiny, little voice in the back of your head feigning disappointment, saying you wouldn’t purge the sexual frustration unless it were him. Though you were a saint at keeping it hidden, your agitation only built.

The day was more or less: “Spencer, what do you see?” from Hotch and “—, if you were the unsub…” from Morgan. Penelope was on call a few times and you were so close, but it had grown late and you needed sufficient unwinding. After a group dinner in the hotel lobby that primarily consisted of takeout and the small meal provided by the hotel staff, you headed up to your room. Spencer stayed to grab one last cup of coffee before the staff closed the mailroom for good. Thus, with your alone time, you decided to wash off all the griminess of the day.

You were drying yourself with a towel when you heard him enter, “I’m almost done,” you shouted, “I think there’s still some hot water left.”

His lack of response piqued your curiosity. You threw your clothing on once you were mostly just damp and yanked the door open. You were pulling your hair back into a ponytail when he looked up. He’d just set his cup of coffee on the table near the lamp, which now that you noticed, was the only light that lit up the room, he had turned the big llight off.

“You okay?” You rubbed your face, dropping your hands to your side right after, “did you hear me?”

“No, sorry,” he frowned, “I wasn’t paying attention.” He stood.

“Oh, I just said–if you wanted to get in, there’s still hot water left.” You thrust a your thumb behind you.

“Ah, thanks.” You nodded and pursed your lips. “So, what book were you reading this morning?” You took up the spot Spencer had just abandoned.

He turned and watched you–filling the area. He caught the way your legs pressed together as you crossed them to sit more comfortably against the pillows, attention to the book he’d been reading that morning.

“I’m going to get in the shower,” he cursed himself as he felt desire pool in his throat. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss you, to touch you–to taste you. His mouth watered at the prospect and he felt himself harden just like the night before. His shower was quick as the water had gotten cold and had quickly ruined his mood.

“You lied to be,” he glared at you from the threshold of the bathroom door.

You bit your lip, but still, a smile graced your mouth, “sorry, I thought it would last.” He shook his wet hair around around, mimicking the actions a puppy would.

“What?” His eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows raised, “what did you call me?”

A hand flew to your mouth, your own surprise showing, “I–” of bloody course, you said it out loud.

He stepped forward, dropping his towel on the bed, “say it again.” It was odd, the way he said it–like it was both a question and a demand–or rather, a demand he questioned your willingness to obey.

“…puppy?” you tried laughing it off, “Sorry, it just came out–I didn’t mean t–”

“Didn’t you, though?” Came a mirthful reply. Spencer stepped forward, towering over you as he leaned down, bringing his face near yours, one hand on the bed near your hips, the other on the bedside table. “Is that what you’ve thought of me this entire time?”

And what the hell were you supposed to say to that? Game on is what Spencer saw in your eyes as you set the book on the table, your hand purposely roaming over his as you pulled it back. “No,” you stated, a nonchalant expression crossing your features as your eyes turned away from his, the move calculated, “only sometimes.”

Spencer didn’t think the table would be able to withstand him much longer, but it did as he thought of ways he might proceed. Eventually, he let go and instead wrapped his firm fingers around your nape, forcing your attention to his. “And do you think that now?”

He watched a Chesire grin take its place upon your mouth. “If I said yes, would that anger you, Dr. Reid?” The mocking was unnecessary, but it sure as hell was a lot more fun than if you simply addressed him as ‘Spencer’ or ���Reid’.

The parental-like tone you took up furthered his new-growing erection. His hair still dripped with water and as a water droplet streaked down his face, you lifted your hand to wipe it with your thumb. His hand let your your neck go to snatch your wrist–God you wanted him so badly. This witty banter–you were already starting to find–just wasn’t enough anymore.

Your eyes reapproached his, they seemed to meet with the same level of desire, completely forgetting that there was a serial killer on the loose, your eyes dipped to his lips only once before you leaned forward–but while you did he pushed you back, your back hitting the bedframe and just as you caught your breath, you found yourself being deprived of air once more.

Spencer was hungry, he tasted like coffee and something minty. Your hands tangled through his hair and while he suffocated you in the only way you’d ever want to be suffocated, you tugged. It barely stopped him the first time, but the second and third had his eyes rolling.

When they found you again, noting the playful glint in your eyes, he vowed he would go as far as you’d let him tonight–and perhaps the night after that, he hadn’t quite thought it through, and at this time, he neither had the strength nor the want to do so. 

He began tugging at your t-shirt, but you grabbed his hand, “ah-ah,” you clicked your tongue, “you have to earn that.” 

He paused and took a step back, watching you now, your knees digging into the softness of the mattress; your mouth darkened with the visceral kisses he’d forced on you. Your eyes sparked with something he knew he’d never be able to find in any other woman. His lips quirked, his eyes were hooded, and his voice thick when he asked, “What do I have to do?”

The need in his voice was enough to shed you of your clothing right then and there, but it seemed you had a lot more self-control than he did in the moment. You tugged your hair out of the loosened, droopy ponytail it had fallen into and brushed it back, smoothing it out to appear just how you wanted it to. You felt his eyes on you, patient, but every second he was, was a second his lust grew, and the moment you gave him the okay–well, he honestly couldn’t say just what he’d be capable of.

“You seem agitated, Spencer,” you pouted, shifting so that your legs fell in front of you over the edge of the bed. His eyes tracked your movements as he used your bed’s bedpost to steady himself, “just how many times have you pictured me like this?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” came his frivolity response. To be frank, he knew the exact answer to your question, but the first thing that flew into his head and out of his mouth was–to be sure–an edging reply. He watched how you interpreted it.

In a moment of unconsciousness, you glanced at the chifforobe across from you. Spencer caught that shit.

“Oh?” He raised a brow, finding the confidence to step forward.

“Don’t get any ideas, Reid.” You warned, but he could see the arguments going on between your eyes.

“No, see: I think it’s your idea.” He corrected, a deep, rumble of a laugh fell from his throat, “So, what exactly did you picture me doing with this thing.” He snorted and walked over to it, running a hand along the cupboard. You bit your lit, your dreams coming into clear view as if they were a film playing in front of you.

“Spencer,” you stood both embarrassed and a little annoyed. 

You marched over to it at placed a hand on his shoulder–but then you were against the doors of the small chifforobe and Spencer was whispering just above your ear, “Was this it? Your sick fantasies of me? Did they include me having you against a wardrobe?”

Your breath caught and you wanted to hide your face because there was no doubt he’d be able to see the truth without you having to voice any sort of answer–but the jerk had his hand cupped around your jaw, and his grip was unimaginably strong for–well, him.

He smiled and tilted his head–and God only knew what that did to your resolve. Your knees weakened and you found yourself whimpering. “So, I guess that’s a yes.” You found just enough strength to narrow your eyes and look somewhat pissed. He nodded, “the shirt,” he tugged at the bottom.

You bit back a repost as he dropped his hands and stepped away, though he kept his distance close enough to where you felt his presence even after you’d lifted your shirt and he was out of sight. His eyes didn’t leave yours, you admired his stoicism; you’d already proved you weren’t any match when your eyes traced every line anytime you saw a sliver of his stomach, hips, neck, or forearms–okay maybe you had a bit of an obsession, but could it honestly be considered that when the look he was giving you screamed ‘wolf in sheep's clothing’? 

“What other things have you thought up in that horny brain of yours, I wonder,” he spoke almost to himself, but his ever-focused gaze told you he was quite literally asking.

“That’s not how the game works,” a cheeky grin reformed your scowl.

“Right,” he paused, turning his eyes to the ceiling for effect, “remind me?”

Your eyes roved from one eye to the other, and back again, searching for any hint of hesitation, “this foreplay is kind of starting to get old.”

“Yes, I can agree–” you cut him off midsentence with a ravenous kiss. You could swear you bit him more than once, but he wasn’t complaining. Your head lulled to the side as he trailed kisses up and down your neck, finding a spot he particularly liked just below your ear.

Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking, tugging, and pulling–whatever got the most responses from him, you were doing. You threw his shirt to the side and pushed him toward the bed. He braced himself using his arms, though they were swiftly in motion again, wrapping around your waist as you stepped between his legs. “What do you want?” You asked, attempting to catch your breath.

He laughed, but when he realized you were serious he almost snorted, “What do I–what do I want?”

“It’s a simple question,” you shrugged, “what do you want from me?”

Now–now his eyes dipped, “I want a lot of things.”

You bit back another grin. Somehow in the few minutes, you’d been running around the room talking about how horny you both were, you’d ended up on the bed, your head behind a pillow. Spencer was between your legs, mouth-watering. He’s waited so long, he honestly didn’t think this foretold moment would ever actually occur, but God, was he glad he’d been wrong. Heavy, sinful eyes skimmed your lower body as he fumbled with the top of your shorts. His hands were warm despite the dreary weather outside, likely due to his recent shower. They pressed into your thighs as he brought his face just above your lower stomach, his name fell from your mouth in a whine, leading him to push aside the cover of your shorts. He drug a few fingers over your center.

Your moans sliced through the rough tension that had fallen over the hotel room. “What?” His snort was low and sloppy, “Oh, is–,” one of his fingers gently slid over you and your eyes shut, “–is this what you want?” His eyes traced the arch of your neck that was most exposed, the one lined with the red marks he’d left. The twitching beneath his sweatpants pulled a groan from his lips.

He swirled his finger around, feeling your wetness was more than inviting. “Spencer,” you cried, eyes flying open at the loss of contact. 

“Be still,” he said, his voice wavering as he tugged everything off and discarded them on the floor. You watched him watch you–it wasn’t until you noted the way his eyes narrowed that you understood he was outlining your form–so that he could vividly paint it in his mind for a later purpose.

“I asked first,” you frowned up at him.

“You’re right,” he sighed, “here: let me show you what I want.”

Your breath caught as he lowered himself, his face coming right up to you, and with the way he was drooling at the sight, you could tell he’d been thinking about this for a while–it made you wonder if his desire had begun a lot sooner than yours had.

His mouth was warm, his tongue stroked up and down as far as they could go, and even when you thought he’d reached that point, he proved you wrong. Your hands knotted in his hair as you guided his head. His mouth was warm as he lapped up everything. You tried keeping your moan to a minimum, but when he stopped, your eyes popped open–had you done something wrong? But no, he was looking up at you with those desperate, puppy-like eyes, “please,” his whisper was grating, “I want to hear you.”

You swallowed, the ache building in you, “if that’s what you want,” you nodded.

And a few moments later, you were calling out his name in a way you’d never called anyone name. This was so new, you’d never had a guy worship you like this and you couldn’t fathom the fact that Spencer wanted to do it for your pleasure as well as his own.

You tried to hold it in, but your body had been desolate of attention for so long that you just couldn’t anymore. You could hear him slurp, and God did it do something to your brain chemistry– He considered you with clouded eyes. “Are you okay?” He frowned, pushing his body over yours.

Without giving him time to settle, you yanked his jaw toward your face with firm hands, he tasted like you and smelled of his shampoo–and yet, there was still the unknown Spencer scent that seemed only his skin could produce. You lined his jaw with kisses, your heart pounding in your chest with every new groan that escaped him.

My turn,” you huffed, definitely the cause of the lopsided grin that spread across his mouth. Though his hair was a mousy brown, in the dim yellow lamplight, it was as dark as the wood that made up the vintage furniture. It looked windswept or like he had just woken up–and perhaps he had. It was no longer a deniable fact that he’d never feel this good with anyone else, and he didn’t know how long this relationship with you would last, so he would milk everything he could out of it–and in exchange, surrender everything he had of himself.

It was only a few seconds later that you had him on his back, hands roving up and down his chest. You rubbed yourself against him, eliciting sweet sounds from his throat and friction from where you were just barely connected. You made sure to hold his gaze as you slid onto him. His jaw tightened and you could feel relief leave him as his chest fell. You tightened around him, trying to get used to him, you had to pause for a second–you couldn’t believe you were doing this–and in a moment of incompetence, you laughed.

“Sorry,” you lowered your chest onto his and began chuckling into his neck, “it’s just–what would the other think if they knew?”

Spencer pushed your shoulder away and held you above him, “I guess it’s a good thing they don’t, right?”

You nodded, but a small part of you wondered about what that meant for the after. Spencer groaned as you sat back up, you started slowly, hissing as you let him fill you. Spencer gave out his fair share of whimpers, but you wanted more, you wanted to make him cry.

You gripped his hair with one hand and the pillow beside him with another, you rolled your hips and wiggled every time you sat back down. Squeezing your thighs seemed to make him shudder the most, and when you added sucking to the mix, you knew you had him. 

“There it is,” your grin was devilish as you swiped at his cheek. He opened his eyes just in time to see you licking his tears off your thumb.

“I might ask what we are now,” you huffed a laugh as Spencer shut the bathroom door. He had been a complete gentleman about everything, cleaning you, massaging your shoulders. You’d never had such an experience, you’d never thought there could be more to having sex if you only had the right partner; now that you did, there was…but you were unsure about yourself.

You found your mind questioning all you knew about Spencer and what this all meant to you. You had asked him what he wanted from you, but did you even know what you wanted from him? Before, the question might have thrown you off–though Spencer had asked it, you weren’t taking him all too seriously. Now that you had more time to contemplate your roving thoughts, you knew the answer as if it had been written in your DNA.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as he sat beside you, you were facing the window and the chifforobe.

“Well, what else would we be?” He paused, almost hesitatingly. You jerked your head toward his, eyes searching, and as the seconds of silence ticked by, he seemed to fade more and more into himself. When he turned his head and averted his eyes, saying, “I mean–if that’s not what you want–” you cut him off.

“No, I just–” you stopped yourself, unsure of how to explain the complications running through your mind, “I’m just not exactly sure what that means…”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. You opened your mouth to clarify–probably more than necessary–but your words caught in your throat as Spencer stood and lowered to his knees in front of you. He was between your thighs, but there was nothing sexual about it–if anything it felt like the complete opposite kind of intimacy you had grown accustomed to with him.

His hands reached for yours, pulling them into your lap. He looked up at you with possibly the one look Spencer Reid had never given anyone. His eyes couldn’t decide which one of yours to focus on for the longest time, but when he did, his tone was guttural and almost choking, trusting. 

“The more time I spend with you, the more I feel I’ve always known you. These past few weeks–they weren’t the beginning for me.” Your mouth suddenly went dry, though you still tried to swallow. “I–I honestly don’t know when it started, but the more I felt drawn to you, the more I forced myself away. It–I don’t–I didn’t think I deserved to feel that way–I guess…”

You waited a few moments to ensure he was finished, your mind ran to look for the best possible response–but given the one-in-a-million situation you were in, your mind went blank. Instead, you rambled the first words that rolled into your mind just as you whispered the last, “I want you in every way, Spencer. It’s like–like you’ve bewitched me–”

“...body and soul,” he finished, “it’s…Jane Austen–sorry.” He cringed.

You threw your head back and laughed, then huffed, wiping a few tears from your eyes, “No, oh, no don’t worry. See this is why I love you,” Your heart came to an abrupt halt, and you felt as if you were dead, “no–I mean, I don’t–I mean, I–well, I do, but I mean–”

“It’s okay,” you followed his face as he stood and leaned down, his palm brushing across your face as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and leaned forward, “It’s okay, know what you meant,” the end of his sentence was muffled by another kiss.

“So, do you think they’ve caught on yet?” JJ asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Uhh, I’d say probably not.” Emily nodded.

“Would you like the share with the class?” Morgan raised a brow.

“Oh, I know this one,” Penelope hand shot up, her jewelry clinking against one another, “because — and Reid still think we don’t know.”

“I mean how could we not, though?” JJ huffed a laugh, setting her mug on the table in front of her.

“Know what?” Rossi smacked his lips, startling the group of four.

“Know…the complexities of…nail polish?” Penelope tried and failed to save the group.

All four members winced as Hotch appeared seemingly out of thin air and stated, “they think we don’t know about Spencer and —.” “What?” Rossi shook his head, following Hotch, “how could we not know? They’re so obvious.”

a/n: sorry for the wait, but i do proofread my fics because i just can't stand things not being as good as they could be–i'm a bit of a perfectionist lol irregardless, happy late new year !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Together

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> The team knows something is up between yourself and Hotch, except Rossi seems to be the only one to put the pieces together.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of sick. Fluff. Jack and Haley don't exist in this fic. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The whole team knew something was up. They just didn’t know what. 

Usually, you were normal with everyone. Chatty. Smiley. Professional. Maybe a little blunt every now and again. 

But not this time. 

For the last week you had been…cold. Well, not with them, at least. 

But with Hotch? You had been as cold as ice. 

But no-one could pin why. 

Even if it had just been small things, like the feeling in the meeting room in the morning when it just seemed to be the two of you, or the small looks you both gave each other – which had started out as awkward, but then quickly turned to shame and clear annoyance, the latter being much more clear on your end. It was definitely clear now. 

From the beginning of the case, you had been quick to change subjects. Always staying on the case, which was normal. But not your abruptness to do so. And when Hotch tried to pull you aside as the others made their way to the main doors, you brushed him off. 

Hotch was someone you never brushed off. Not until recently. 

And when you all landed in Seattle, Hotch was assigning teams for who was driving. But before he could place you with himself, JJ and Morgan, you pushed past him. 

“I’m going with Rossi.”

And Hotch didn’t say a word. 

Instead, he watched you walk away with your go bag, throwing it into the trunk with Dave. He gave his orders to Prentiss on what would happen and she updated you in the car. 

However, forty five minutes into a ninety minute drive, Emily’s voice started to make you feel dizzy. Then the heat in the car felt like it was blasting. So you rolled down the window. But that didn’t help. 

“Garcia said she’s already sent over some case files- Hey, you okay?”

From the backseat, Emily leaned forward to get a better look at you. 

“I’m fine.”

But five minutes later, you changed your mind. 

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Okay, okay. Just hold on.”

The car had barely been put into park by the time you threw the door open, tore your seatbelt away and ran out. 

Less than ten feet from the open car door, the last three drinks and meal you ate came straight back up and soaked into the dry grass. 

You heard a second car pull up behind and then heard Morgan and Hotch’s voice. Dave had already reached you, placing a hand on your back before pulling your hair back. 

“Okay, take it easy. Are you okay?”

You could only hum before throwing up once more. He rubbed circles on your back for a moment before you finally finished throwing up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Is she okay? Y/n, are you-”

“I’m fine!” You called out, a little harsher than you had intended. 

Holding out a hand, Rossi signalled for Hotch to stop and stay where he was with the others. 

“She’s okay, she just needs a minute. Emily, do we have water in the car?”

“Yep, here.”

Making her way over, Emily poured some water onto a tissue before handing it to you. You wiped down your mouth and your hand before being handed the bottle by Dave. 

“Small sips, okay? Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, your back still to the rest of the team. “I just need a minute.”

“Aaron, we’ll meet you there.”

It took him a minute before he moved back to the car, but Hotch eventually nodded, calling out they’d see them at the precinct. 

“Do you know what it could be?” Emily asked. 

“Probably just some bad sushi.”

Emily nodded before getting back into the car. 

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Rossi asked once she was out of earshot. 

And for a moment, you paused. 

“Let’s just get going.”

Things only seemed to get worse from there. 

You managed to hide it as best as you could from the rest of the team, but every hour you had spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom throwing your guts up. 

A couple of officers did question where you had been when they couldn’t find you but hadn’t seen you leave the building. One mention of Aunt Flow and they didn’t ask again. 

Your coldness with Hotch didn’t ease, either. It just seemed to become more frigid. And everyone saw it. 

By the third day in Seattle, Prentiss and Morgan had questioned you on it in the break room. 

“Yeah, what do you have against Hotch all of a sudden? What, one week away from us and you’ve suddenly made an agenda against him?”

“Because I love you, I’m going to ask this only once. Please don’t ask about Hotch.”

Morgan and Prentiss looked between each other, slightly worriedly, but both silently agreed to drop it. 

“But you will sort it out?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know.”

A few hours later, you were coming back out of the bathroom when Rossi seemed to jump out at you. 

“Jeez. Rossi. Give a girl some warning next time.”

Dave smiled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Have we caught a break?”

“No, but I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“About the fact you’re running to the bathroom every hour to throw up.”

“Like I said, it was probably just some bad food. I’ll be okay.”

Only, as you started walking away, Rossi asked you a question. 

“What happened between you and Hotch?”

“Nothing.” You answered, your back still to him. 

“Really? Because I wouldn’t call it nothing. I’d call it strange.”

“Rossi, I’ve asked Morgan and Prentiss-”

“I know, and I heard. But, to be frank, I think you’re lying and you’re too scared to tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone what?”

But rather than voice it, Rossi just gave you a look. It took you a moment before you cracked a little. 

“Rossi…”

“You don’t have to tell me how or what happened, but I’m asking, just find out the truth. You don’t have to tell anyone. But I think the sooner you do it, the better it will be.”

“We’re in the middle of a case.”

Rossi shrugged, “Morgan and JJ are on their way back. Reid’s got it handled here. We’ll pick up some coffee on the way back as a cover. Let’s just go now.”

You seemed to hesitate, and Rossi could see it. 

“Please, for my sanity's sake?”

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, you found a pharmacy and picked up a box. 

“Can you wait outside the door for me?”

“Of course.”

And he did. 

Once you paid for the box, the cashier directed you to a bathroom in the back. Except, long after the two minutes were up, you still hadn’t come out. So, Rossi knocked on the door. 

You swung it open and he jumped back a little. 

“I can’t look at it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to at some point.”

“I’ve wiped it down and it’s got a cap but…can you look? I’m too scared.”

Rossi could see the fear in your eyes. Oh, how two little lines could instil so much fear into people who dealt with crime every day. 

Handing the package to Rossi, he turned it around and pulled it out of the packet. 

“I believe congratulations are in order.”

Turning it around so you could see, you took it back into your grasp as you pushed one hand through your hair. 

“Oh, my god.”

“I think you and Hotch need to have a conversation.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

Rossi smiled, holding your hand which he could feel shaking. “You have my word.”

Somehow, back in the precinct, you managed to keep your cool. You’d brought back coffee for the team and, despite the fact you caught Hotch watching you from his seat, noticing your shaking hand, you pulled it back and found a spare pen from JJ’s notepad and spun it over and over in your fingers. 

Thankfully, due to the “food poisoning”, you had been kept out of the field when it came to finding the unsub. However, this just gave you a very large sense of dread. You watched them all run out of the door, Rossi placing a hand on your arm talking directly to you. 

“I’ll look out for him.” He told you before the others could hear him. 

“Thank you.”

Possibly carrying Hotch’s child made watching him and the team run out of the door, without you, made that sense of dread practically triple. Especially considering no-one other than Rossi knew the truth, or at least a part of it, about yourself and Aaron. 

Thankfully, no-one got hurt and the unsub was apprehended in time before he could hurt anyone else. They all came back with looks of relief and tiredness when you saw them, but there was a barely visible look of confusion and perhaps, hopefulness, on Hotch’s face when your scowl at him didn’t seem so cold. 

On the plane ride back, you were quiet. Everyone was, but there was just an air about you that told those paying attention to you that you were in your own world. 

Of course, Rossi knew why. 

But it was tearing at Hotch why he didn’t. 

Pulling back into the office, Penelope greeted you all by the elevator, hugging you all. And handing you some dry crackers and a bottle of water. 

“Thanks, Garcia.”

As everyone said their goodnights, you watched as Hotch walked directly through the bullpen and towards his office. 

“I think there are a couple of things you and he need to talk about.”

You nodded, with a light smile. “You’re right.”

Rossi kissed you cheek before saying goodnight and saluting you before the elevator doors closed. You did a small one back before turning your gaze back to the dim lights coming from Hotch’s office. 

However, first, you ran to the bathroom. 

Sitting at his desk, Hotch was halfway finished with the last of his reports when a knock came to his door. 

Looking up from his desk, there was a slight look on his face that told you he wasn’t expecting you. And you couldn’t be surprised. You’d barely been able to look him in the eye for the last month and a half, and you’d been nothing but cold and if a little harsh with him for the last couple of weeks. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Can we talk?”

Hotch nodded. “Come on in.”

You nodded back, entering, but closing the door behind you. Which made Hotch stand. 

“Is everything-”

“I’m pregnant.”

A silence settled over the room that you were expecting, but still shocked you. And every possible emotion, some you couldn’t even name, passed over his face before he was forced to sit down. 

“Oh.”

“Can I sit?”

He nodded, quickly signalling for you to do so. And so you did. 

“What did…How- When did you find out?”

“Sometime in the last twenty four hours.” You answered which confused Hotch, which you could understand. It was a vague explanation. “It’s all been kind of a blur.”

He nodded, understanding what you meant. 

“Does anyone…know?”

You nodded. “Rossi.”

“Dave knows?”

“He seemed to know before I did…kinda.”

“What does that mean?”

“I guess I had a feeling when I got carsick, but denial carried me through.”

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head. “No. Oh, and, um, I-I took another test to be sure. H-here.”

With a lot of nerves and a lot of awkward courage, you passed the second test across the desk to Hotch who took it in his hands and looked at it. 

Two bright pink lines. 

Positive test. 

“Just so I’m…clear. You are telling me because I’m…”

“The father?” you questioned. “Yes. There wasn’t anyone before or after you for it to be someone else.”

Hotch nodded. “Okay.”

You both sat in silence for a while, taking in what had just happened. 

“I, well, I haven’t been to see a doctor yet so I can’t know for certain but these tests are usually pretty accurate.”

Hotch could only nod. 

“You’re free to make any decision you wish,” Hotch assured you. “I’ll support you either way.”

You nodded in a small thank you. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. With our line of work, it gives you the handbook over why you shouldn’t have children. But, if I do decide to do this…I’m prepared to do this on my own. If I am going to do it, I’d prefer to have you in their life.” 

Your hand absentmindedly touched your stomach and you looked down to it for a moment. 

“But, I’m prepared to do it on my own.”

Hotch took in everything you said and nodded. “Like I said, I’ll support any decision you make but if you do decide to have our child…” 

Those two words settled over the both of you. 

Our Child. 

Our Child. 

Our Child.

“One thing you don’t have to worry about is doing it alone. I want to be a part of their life. And whatever support you need, I’ll try and help with.”

You nodded before looking back down to your stomach. 

Once again, a silence settled over the both of you and it was like he could hear your brain going into overload with information and feelings. But just as he was about to call your name, you looked up. 

Tears were being held tight behind your eyes, but a few words and they were ready to fall free. 

“I’m…I’m scared, Aaron.”

It didn’t take him a second thought before he stood up and met you where you were sitting. As he got around his desk, you stood and he embraced you tightly. 

He swallowed thickly, nodding and placing a quick kiss to your hair. “It’ll be okay.”

A week later, the team had taken notice of the change between yourself and Hotch. It was no longer cold, but it wasn’t what it was. It was something…uneasy. You had both clearly had a tough talk and were on rocky shores, but you were both finding a way to make it work. 

It was also a week later that you had made your decision. 

You were going to have a baby. 

A lot of different scenarios passed through your mind when you thought about what you were going to do. It would be hard, of course. It would be difficult to work the cases you do and not feel a little more emotionally involved. But you also couldn’t help but think that maybe this was a blessing in disguise. 

A part of you had wanted children for a long time, but the thought of actually having them was slipping further and further away the more you worked. 

And, despite you feeling selfish, you wanted a baby. You wanted to see a child, your child,  grow up and have a life of their own. You wanted to make the memories you had as a kid, but with them. 

You knew it would be difficult to do so when you joined the Academy, but part of you always wanted a home filled with the sound of laughter and joy. 

And maybe this was your only chance. 

And in all honesty, Aaron had similar feelings. 

It would be hard, sure. But he also wanted this in his life. He wanted a child. He wanted you in his life, however that would be. 

Of course, neither of you had seen this coming when you had run into each other at the Inn you had found. A halfway stop to your actual destination. Only, rather than continuing on your separate journeys for your week’s vacation time, you both found yourselves unable to leave the small town and the safe walls of the local Inn. 

It was that part of the story the team would forever speculate on once they found out you were pregnant and it was, in fact, Hotch’s baby. 

That was a piece of information they clued together themselves when Hotch called them in for an early meeting, but had confirmation on just a few moments later.

“So, what’s happening here?”

“Are you together?”

“We’re…still figuring that out.” Hotch answered, looking at you.

Neither of you had exactly had the conversation over what you were. Were you a couple? Were you friends? Were you co-workers? Were you just co-workers having a baby together?

HR weren’t exactly happy about the get-together but so long as the relationship wasn’t going to break any codes of conduct within the field, you were both still free to keep working. And more importantly, working together. 

However, over the next nine months, certain things seemed to blur. 

Aaron came with you to every doctor’s appointment, never missing one. When you had both first heard your baby’s heartbeat, you had clutched onto his hand and not let go. And when the sound got clearer, he pulled you a little closer, rubbing your arm and kissing your hand. 

It was a little odd, feeling the baby kick for the first time whilst being stood outside of a crime scene. 

Morgan had been with you at the time, quickly calling for Hotch when your posture and face changed from quizzical to concerned. Only, by the time Aaron had reached you both, you laughed and told them what was happening. 

Morgan then called JJ over as you guided Aaron’s hand to your stomach. And you both shared an intimate moment, just looking at one another, feeling your unborn baby kick at your stomach for the first time. 

JJ was able to confirm what was going on and both herself and Morgan congratulated you before you all remembered where you were and got back to work.

The cold glares you had given Hotch in the weeks leading up to you finding out had disappeared completely after the hug you shared in his office when you told him. And by the time you were entering your second trimester, they had turned into something similar to what they were before everything had changed. 

You had both become friends. 

He had also relaxed a little more around you, which allowed him space to take in what was actually happening. So, when your cravings started kicking in, he would hand you snacks throughout the days. You wouldn’t even know what you wanted at the time and he just…seemed to know. 

And at some point between him attending doctors appointments, helping you with your pregnancy cravings and reading to your belly, you had both begun to live together. 

It made sense, at least for the first couple of weeks after the birth and partly during the pregnancy. If you went into labour, it would be safer if someone was with you. And, it meant he was there when, in the middle of the night, you woke up with braxton hicks and panicked a little before getting checked out at the hospital, just in case. 

Also, small touches began. 

From you holding his hand against your stomach when your baby kicked, to his fingers tracing yours whilst they held that position. Then, in break rooms. They were quick, but light kisses would be pressed to your head or cheek whenever he handed you something. He was always close to you, barely leaving your side when in the field. His hand, always at the small of your back when leading you somewhere. And in the early hours of the morning, his arms would be across you as you both lay in bed, holding you close against his chest. 

Until, finally, one night whilst lay in bed, you asked a question. 

Both facing each other, despite your eyes being closed, Aaron traced repeated patterns from pushing your hair back to trailing his fingers down your arm to find your hand, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. 

Both of you should be fast asleep, yet you weren’t. 

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?”

“Sleeping.”

You laughed a little. “No we’re not.”

“I’m sleep talking.”

“Aaron, I’m being serious.”

With a small laugh, Aaron sighed. “Okay, what is it?”

He finally opened his eyes and so did you.

“What are we doing? About us, I mean. We’re having a baby together, but we’re not together together. We work together, but we also live together. What happens after the first couple of months? Do we…what do we do?”

“I suppose we just have to take each day as it comes and see what happens.”

“I can live with that.”

“Or…”

“Oh, no.” 

Aaron laughed a little and shook his head, bringing his hand back to your face and brushing the hair from it. 

“Or,” he repeated, “we treat this for what it really is.”

“I don’t…” you shook your head. 

“I know I don’t regret what happened that week away. Even more so now, but before…before we both found out. I still didn’t regret it. I don’t. We say we live together out of convenience, but I know, at least for me, it’s something more. Now, if for you it’s still out of convenience and bonding for our child, then we can have this conversation when the time comes. But, you should know my feelings for you run deeper than just you being my co-worker and the mother of our child. Do you…could you see yourself…feeling the same?”

The silence that came over both of you for a moment made Aaron worry. Maybe he had gotten it wrong in his head. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you were just caught up in the emotions of carrying his child and, since you were in it together, some form of feelings, similar to that of his, were getting blurry. 

But then you blinked. 

And a light smile graced across your face. 

“I do.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. But still, your words echoed louder and louder around his head. 

“You…you do?”

You nodded. “I do.”

Aaron took a moment, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. It was like your first, all over again. Except, this time, rather than a little fear being behind it, considering at the time you were both still co-workers just on vacation, there was nothing but…

Relief. 

More specifically, relief for love. 

For months you’d both been avoiding the biggest barrier between both of you. Too scared and too fearful that the answer to each question would be some variant of “No.” 

And now…

Finally the answer was yes. 

Yes to love. 

Together.

Yes to a life.

Together. 

Yes to a family. 

Together.

[djljpanda]

Hey can you do a Asmodeus x fizzarolli x pregnant reader, where ozzy is being a wholesome father and fizzarolli being a fun and chaotic father

Asmodeus X Fizzarolli X Pregnant Fem!Reader

Both were surprised, shocked, scared, happy, and all more when you said you were with child

Not a minute after your announcement the whole place was baby proof and they would not let you out their sights

Someone was always with you and have fun having a day to yourself because that did not exist but yet this all happened way before you belly started to show

You did have a talk with them that you can take care of yourself but they just want the best for you and the baby

When the belly started to show Fizz would always talk to it even making little inside jokes with the baby

Ozzie would always want to feel the kicks

The nursery was already built as the color choices were just pink and blue with a hint of red and purple

You can remember they say you went into labor just before Ozzie was going over things in your bag making sure you have everything you and the baby need for the hospital but as he did that he heard you and Fizz yelling as he saw that your water broke

You were taking it like a champ cause you're a bad bitch but it's not like you have to scream cause those two were doing enough of that for you

They were by your side throughout the whole thing saying words of encouragement

When the baby was born man were those two crying messes but only when the doctors and nurses left

The baby was big news cause the last time when one of the 7 princes had a baby that was when Charlie was born but here now Asmodeus has his own little baby, this baby is like a mix of all three of you don't how it worked but it's hell

Asmodeus would be such a chill dad, wanna not to go? to school great he's taking naps with you the whole day, Want ice cream? Which flavor, Want a new toy? Pick whatever you want baby

Fizzarolli is like that one dad who picks you up and spins you around every time he gets off of work, he also likes bringing toys to the baby, you can't tell he doesn't use his circus skills to good use for your baby, those two could be playing a game of tag forever

Asmodeus and Fizzarolli like spoiling your baby and yes there have been times you have to put your foot down, you, Fizz, Asmo had all done it once when the other one or two are going a bit too far with the gifts

It's a happy family and you love your babies all three of them

And bonus fact Fizz did try to learn how to cook for you and the baby with yours and Ozzies help of course but you baby doesn't mind when he gives them snacks

[tribalchief2112]

Make up

Warnings: 18+ Smut

Word count: 2.2k

Not proof read, sorry for any mistakes

First time writing smut 🌚🌚🌚

Zilla Fatu x Nyla Blake (Black OC)

____________________________________________

I rolled out the dough for my cinnamon buns as Jhené Aiko sang gently, echoing out of the speaker. For the first time in a while i felt peaceful: there was no one to bother me, no one to disrupt my happiness and no one in my space. My boyfriend Isayah, or better know as Zilla Fatu had gotten into an argument just over a week ago and I had been ignoring him ever since, after his questionable actions.

I felt like he had been putting more time and effort into wrestling rather than our relationship and I know it sounds selfish but it was truth. We both had pretty hectic schedules, with him training almost every day and me working at the hospital until the early hours of the morning, sometimes we were never able to see each other but I tried to make it work, I tried to put in the effort.

When I got in from work at 6am, he’d be leaving out to head to the pc. He’d rush past me hurriedly, placing a kiss on my cheek then practically running out the door, hardly acknowledging my presence. This cycle had been going on for weeks and became even worse when he went away for 3 weeks. I’d check in on him everyday, asking how training went, making sure that he was all okay in general. All I got back from him was dry two word answers. This break really made me question our relationship and when he finally got back I snapped. We got into a heated argument and ever since then i’d been giving him the silent treatment.

He’s been trying everything to get me to speak to him but I refuse to break until I receive a true heartfelt apology, which I knew wasn’t coming anytime soon.

Not even 2 minutes later, my peace and quiet evaporated into thin air as the front door slammed shut, letting me know that Zilla was home. With my back to him, I made sure not to acknowledge his arrival as he threw his bag in the closet and made his way to the kitchen, taking a water bottle out the fridge. I turned up the music and went back to my baking, spreading the cinnamon sugar all over the squared dough.

I felt him standing behind me, his eyes burning a hole through my skull. Nevertheless, I continued rolling the buns into a cylinder getting ready to cut them up. Before I could grab the knife, I felt his warm body come up behind me, forcefully pressing me into the counter as him arms snaked around my waist while he placed kissed against my neck. I felt my restraint slow slipping away as he grip tightened and he pressed into me further, causing my breathing to shallow and head to fall back.

Before he went to far and I lost all sense of composure and self respect, I shook him off my and went back to what I was doing, making sure to move to another part of the kitchen. Zilla sucked his teeth, following me over. ‘‘Why you still mad at me ma, can’t we fix this shit?’’ he questioned as his eyes pierced the side of my face. ‘‘We can’t fix shit until you apologize Isayah,’’ I mumbled, turning away from him.

‘‘What I gotta apologize for, I ain’t did nun wrong,’’ he spoke as the anger in his tone grew. I stared at him quizzically, wondering if what he said was a joke before a laugh fell from my mouth. ‘‘Are you fucking kidding me Isayah? You haven’t done anything wrong,’’ I questioned in disbelief. ‘‘For the past three fucking months you’ve neglected our relationship, neglecting me. You don’t make time for us any more especially when you’re away, you don’t even look at me.’’

‘‘Nyla cmon that ain’t true. How you gon’ stand there tryna tell me ion make time for you?’’ Zilla responded back, a sharpness in his tone. ‘‘Because it’s the truth Zay, all you do train then when you get back here it’s like… it’s like i don’t exist no more.’’ I shouted back as I felt the tears pooling in my eyes. ‘‘I don’t have the energy for this Zilla, just leave me alone.’’ I huffed with a deflated tone.

He stared at me for what felt like hours before he scoffed and went upstairs. Once I heard the shower turn on, I finally continued my task, cutting the cinnamon buns and setting them in a dish so they could rise. I tried not to let my talk with Zilla longer on my mind but it was so hard, all I wanted was to fix things so we could go back to normal.

After cleaning the kitchen, I went upstairs to our room to sort out my hair. It’d been sat in two braids for the past week and definitely needed some tlc. So I sat at my vanity, sectioning my hair into 4, soaking it with my spray bottle and added the moisturizer all throughout my hair making sure to finger coil some strands around my face. Before I had the chance to finish, the door to the en suite fell open as Zilla walked out with a towel round his waist.

I kept my focus on my hair as he padded around our room searching for his clothes. I frantically finished my hair then went back down stairs to the living room, not wanting to be in his presence.

As the night stretch on, me and Zilla kept our distance, him residing in our bedroom while I sat in the living watching whatever show I could find. My phone vibrated next to me, letting me know it was time to take the cinnamon buns out the oven. I jumped up from the couch and took them out, letting the beautiful smell flood the house. As I went over to the fridge to get the cream cheese frosting, yet again I felt a cold hand snake around my waist. Zilla held me tight against his body as he placed kissed up and down my collar bone.

‘‘Ma you know i’m sorry, just let me make it up to you,’’ he spoke inbetween kisses. ‘‘Just because you claim you’re sorry doesn’t change anything Isayah, you need to show me.’’ I said gasping for air.

‘‘What you want me to show you Ny?’’ he asked as his hand moved down to my shorts, moving them out the way to rub my clothed pussy. ‘‘Damn she already wet fa me. She missed me that much babe? Did she miss this dick?’’ Zilla teased as his hand slid my panties out the way, rubbing his two fingers along my slit before teasing my clit. The restraint I’d worked so hard to build slipped away before my eyes as I writhed against him, feeling his dick against my back side.

‘‘Zilla’s gonna make it up to you ma, I promise,’’ he spoke eagerly as he spun my around and threw his lips onto mine, engulfing me into a bruising kiss as my arms wrapped around his neck pressing against him. His hands traveled to my ass as he picked me up, carrying me to our room.

When we got to the room, he tossed me onto the bed as a ravenous look fell upon his face. Our heavy breathing filled the room as he dropped to his knees, pulling me to the edge of the bed removing my shorts and panties. He moved his head closer, his hot breath fanning against my pussy before his tongue darted out licking up my slit, taking my clit into his mouth.

My back arched off the bed as my hands made their way to his hair, tangling my fingers within it as I moaned in pleasure. Strained moans fell from my parted lips as my hips grinded against him chasing my nut. ‘‘Mhmm, you so wet for my baby, yo shit leakin down yo thighs. I missed my pussy so much, did she miss me?’’ He asked, lust laced in his voice as he added a third finger making me squeal.

‘‘Uuhuh Zay. Fuck. She missed you so much baby. Don’t stop baby please.’’ I continued to moan as tears fell from my eyes. My body felt like it was on fire as Zilla continued to demolish my pussy, fingers moving rapidly as he suckled my clit non stop.

‘‘Say my name baby, say my name before I let you nut. Let everyone hear who’s makin you feel good right now.’’ He mewled before adding a third finger causing a scream to rip from my lungs. ‘‘Isayah I… I can’t. Please baby I need to come.’’ I shrieked as my legs began to shake around his neck. ‘‘Ny say my name before I stop, you wanna come don’t you baby?’’ He teased. ‘‘What’s my name.’’

‘‘D-Daddy,’’ I screeched as I felt my orgasm rip through my body, causing my legs to shake rapidly as Zilla lapped up all my cum in his mouth, not missing a drop. ‘‘You’re such a good girl baby, cumming all in daddy’s mouth like that. Look at my pussy leakin n shit,’’ he laughed loudly.

‘‘Whatchu want now baby. Tell daddy want you want and make it happen,’’ as he hand gripped my neck, carefully squeezing it as his hand went back to rubbing my clit. I reached my hand out to pull his shorts down but he slapped my hand away immediately. ‘‘Use your words girl, let me hear you say it,’’ humor laced in his voice. ‘‘Fuck. I want your dick Zay please, I need it,’’ I moaned as he kissed me again moving around to take off the last remnants of my clothes as well as his.

My hazy eyes watched him intently as he lined his dick up against my pussy, rubbing it along my slit collecting my juices. I couldn’t wait any longer, I wrapped my legs around his waist trying to pull him closer but he just laughed at me as his free hand reached out for my ankles. ‘‘Look how needy you are baby, you missed daddy’s dick a whole lot huh? Imma show you what you been missing out on, imma do you just right Nya,’’ he exclaimed as he slammed into to me harshly, placing my legs on his shoulders so he could slam against my g-spot. My eyes rolled into the back of my skull as the relentless pleasure engulfed me completely.

Loud uncontrollable moans fell from my mouth as he pounded my pussy, let his hand travel to my neck again adding slight pressure. ‘‘Look at the mess you’re making on my dick baby look at it. This what I do to you ma, this how I make you feel? Good fucking pussy right here,’’ he spoke as moans slipped from his mouth. As I clenched around him, he moaned deeply into my neck as his hips slammed against me erratically. ‘‘Fuck Ny, you gripping me so good, I love this pussy, I love you,’’ he hummed into my neck as his hips snapped up yet again.

The pleasure over took me once again as my legs shook, falling back down around his waist, nails clawed up his back and teeth but down into his shoulder, trying to quiet my moans as gushy sounds echoed throughout the room. ‘‘Don’t hide from my ma, let me here you when you cream on my cock baby, let everyone hear how good I make you feel,’’ Zilla smirked as his hand darted down to my clit, rubbing it gently.

The familiar knot in my stomach began to grown again as I reached out to his torso, trying to push him away as it all got to much. My efforts failed drastically as he pinned my hands above my head, pounding into me desperately chasing his orgasm. ‘‘Don’t run from my now Ny, you wanna act like a big before so you gon take this dick like a big girl now. Tryna scratch up my shit and push me away. Uhuh. I wanna feel you baby,’’ He spoke as his hooded eyes stared me down intently.

Before I knew it, he exploded inside of me, his hips moving uncontrollably as my orgasm rippled through me, causing my eyes to roll back and tears to fall once again. Zilla collapsed ontop of me as we both road out our highs together. I went to wrap my arms around his back but he flinched slightly, remembering the marks that I left on him. ‘‘Shit baby, you tore up my back bad,’’ he laughed as he pulled out of me, both of his flinching at the emptiness we both felt.

Later on, we got into the shower, changed the sheets and got under the covers. ‘‘I am sorry for how i’ve been acting Nya, we gon talk it out properly in the morning. That cool?’’ He asked, hesitation laced within his voice. ‘‘That’s fine Zay, just promise you’ll work on your actions.’’ I pleaded with him as tiredness over took me. ‘‘ I promise you Nyla.’’ He said. And with that, we both drifted off to sleep.

————————————————————————

Hope guys liked it, pls lmk 🙈

[lt-taylor7]

Javi x reader angsty blurb

(Happy ending, GN reader, cussing, major spoilers, not proof read, kinda sucks, bad grammar,)

Imagine meeting Javi before he takes off the the military, he’s still hooked on Kate and even if he won’t admit to ir, it’s clear, very clear. So when you inevitably do end up together it doesn’t change, even if he treats you like an angel, the only purity in the sick world, You know he’s still thinking of her.

then he takes off to the military.

he changes, no doubt. But he seems more, aggressive with his love, as if he has to show you it or you’ll disappear, That is until storm par takes over his life, then it’s like you’re nothing. He shows barely any attention, barely speaking to you. He’d come home excited and proud after a good chase, buzzing with energy, and yet it’s like he spoke to you like some stranger.

then Kate comes along to help Storm Pat’s research, and it’s like you don’t even exist. Even after she stole his truck, running off with it, he was a wreck and you knew exactly why. “How much longer is she in Oklahoma?” You asked bluntly one night after cooking him dinner, he hesitated, “couple days, why?” He answered defensively, you just shrug. “No, why?” He asked impatiently. “Because I’d like to know when I’m getting my boyfriend back.” You say sarcastically, you heard the sound of his utensils hitting his plate before he got up, “Javi wait.” You immediately said, eyes following his frame as disappearing in the kitchen. You put your plate down on a table. “Javier please.” That caught his attention. You heard him stop moving before he came out to face you, “What’s your problem with Kate?” He finally asks, he was angry, shoulders rising and falling with each laboured breathe. You scoff, “are you serious?” You say in disbelief , “you never got over her, I’m not stupid I hear how you talk about her.” He looks down and scoffs, “So you’re insecure?” He asks, “about my boyfriend being obsessed with some girl his whole life, And then inviting her to our state and suddenly ghosting me in my own home, yeah Javier, I am.” You snap back, Careful not to raise your voice. “Oh for fuck sakes Y/n! I needed her here for business, you know that.” He argued, “Then why have you been ignoring me?” You argue back, tears threatening to spill from your lash line as you tried to blink them back. “I haven’t been.” The tears spilt, you let out a choked sob, “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, my things will be packed by morning.” You say emotionless, Unsure of where else to go, but it certainly catches his attention as he looked up to you wide eyed. “What?” He asked, anger and confusion laced in his tongue. “Javier I’m not staying here if I’m not happy, I’m sorry.” You say, trying to blink back the tears that still fell, “no no, please baby I’ll make it up to you-“ you cut him off before he could beg anymore, “No Javi.” You say.

—-

the next morning you woke up to an empty house, and a small pile of paper in front of you, you wipe away your groggy eyes before looking down, a letter in Javi’s hand writing, a multi page one at that, you look down at it and begin reading, It went over all his feelings, why he’d been so cold lately, why he acted the way he did and about a million ‘I’m so sorries’ and although, it didn’t make up for the way he treated you, it did remind you how much you loved him, through thick and thin…

—

it was later that day when you heard the familiar sound of gravel under thick tires, Javi was home. It was clear with his own truck this time instead of Scott’s SUV, you sat on the love seat that faced the front door, taking a sip of water before you heard the handle twist and push open, Javi walked in, nervous expression and scared eyes scanning the room before meeting your gaze, he looked petrified. You got up from your spot, slowly walking over and taking one of his bags off his back and placing it on the ground, he didn’t speak nor touch you, he just stared. You placed your hands on his chest and snaked them up into his shoulders and around his neck. “We definitely need to talk about yesterday, but I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You said, carefully looking over his face. You felt his shoulders relax as he dropped his other bags and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tightly against his chest in a warm embrace, as if you’d disappear if he let go. You could feel his chest quiver as he held back tears, you brought your arms around him more comfortably, “your aloud to cry honey, go ahead.” And with that he let out a choked sob, “I’m so sorry, I was so scared to loose you.” He cried into your shoulder as you brought. Shane to his hair, gently running your nails through his scalp, “It’s okay, I’m right here.” You assure him holding him until he pulls away first, Teary eyes looking into yours before flicking down to your lips, then back to your eyes. You smile before bringing your hands to his hair and pulling him in for a soft kiss.

This is actually so bad, but I haven’t slept so enjoy what I give you pookies

[oceantornadoo]

mad max: the 141 (price x f!reader)

ch 1: the trade

canon-typical violence, sexual violence is referenced (but will not happen), general misogyny. the 141 are the good guys, just a bit rough around the edges

series masterlist (also has more world building info)

set in the mad max world, the 141 are a notorious group of outlaws. they've been stopping shipments between fortresses until an agreement has been reached for a trade.

—

“pack your things, you’re leaving.”

your stepfather burst into your room, eyes gleaming with excitement. “what for?” he started shoving things into a bag, flowery lingerie and your lightest dresses. “sellin’ you off to those outlaws. they’re helping me take down the citadel.” your mouth gaped. “i thought i was going to the citadel. to be a wife.” he shook his head and threw your shoes at you, forcing you up from your chair. the citadel was an oasis, a farm where everyone got their food. your father ruled gastown, a gas pumping area necessary for any mode of transportation. “got a better deal, more bullets and food for me. come on, don’t leave them waiting.”

ten minutes later you were standing in front of the most famous outlaw group in the wasteland, the 141. except… “isn’t there supposed to be four of you?” you interrupted their negotiations, your stepfather getting angrier by the second. “shut up, girl.” he growled.

“soap died. jus’ tha three of us now.” one of them spoke, gaz. he wore a typical outfit of tactical pants and a leather jacket, but his face seemed devoid of any emotion. there were smile lines on his skin, proof of past happiness, but whatever kindness had existed there, the wasteland had destroyed it, like it destroys everything. you nodded to his response.

you were standing near your stepfather’s throne, the “king” of gastown. the outlaws stared back with stoic gazes. “she’s th’ insurance?” the large one, hidden behind a mask of human bone, spoke up. ghost. “my most valued investment. you get her and gas, you help me take down the citadel.” this was all becoming too real. you were leaving your only home to go with three men, alone, no guards to protect you. you’d become their possession.

“father, please.” you bent at your knees, turning on the tears. “please i don’t want to go, ill be yours here, it’s a waste of resources i-“

he responded with a backhand to your face, choosing to use his mechanical arm. “stop crying, you’re wasting water.” you almost fell down the stairs to his throne, caught so off guard by his violence. he was an angry man, but never did anything to hurt your physical beauty. until you weren’t his anymore. gaz dragged you back, robotically helping you stand, more out of practicality than kindness. you were used to gruff ways, but it still bruised a small part of your heart.

“she’s not yours to hit anymore. deal’s set, we’ll be leaving.” finally, their leader had spoken. all muscle under his clothes, lengths of bullets across each shoulder. he was so notorious he didn’t have a name, just the captain. his size spoke to being well fed, to having food, and you hoped you’d be included in that care, no matter what you had to do in return.

suddenly there you were, on the back of gaz’s bike, head turned to watch the only home you knew fade into the sand of the wasteland. their motorcycles cruised along the desert efficiently until gastown was no more behind you. and then, they stopped.

“off.” gaz patted your leg and set you scrambling off his bike in fear. was this the part where they got what they bought you for? you, well nourished and clean like no other woman, the sheltered princess of gastown. was this where they broke you?

the three men were staring at you, eyes trained on your lower half. you looked down in confusion. were you bleeding? all you saw was the end of your white dress, your leather chastity belt peaking out and your feet encased in sandals. nothing out of the ordinary.

“they got you wearing that?” gaz spoke up. he was the first person to actually address your existence, you realized. “my dress?” he rolled his eyes, suddenly a bit playful, so far out of reach of the man you saw back in the throne room. “leather panties.” the captain clarified. your face burned. panties. such a dull word, but when it came out of his mouth, you had to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together. ghost tossed the captain a tool and he approached you with it. you backed away, suddenly afraid. were they going to hurt you?

“calm down, love, s’ me. want to get you out of your torture chamber.” he pointed with his bolt cutters to your chastity belt. “oh.” this was it. this was what you were sold for. you turned your face away, hands covering your eyes. if he was going to take you right here, in front of his men, you didn’t want to witness it. instead, he clicked his tongue, rough hands caressing your hip as he found the metal piece that connected the two pieces of leather and cut it with a loud scraping sound. his hand ghosted over your stomach as he turned you the other way, cutting the belt off on the other side. his thumb brushed your hip bone for a torturous second before he stepped back, handing the boltcutters to ghost.

you felt so light all of a sudden. you only went without your belt when you were bathed, which had been happening less and less as water supplies dwindled. “glad to be free?” ghost piped up, his voice like motorcycle tires over gravel. you gave him a smile despite yourself, not noticing the captain’s face grow cloudy. “yeah.” you nodded vigorously. “i’ve worn that belt since i got my first monthly course.” oops, that must have been too much information. the outlaws stared back at you in confusion. “you get your period?” the captain asked, hand rubbing over his beard. you nodded shyly. it wasn’t common for women of the wasteland to get their period since everyone was so malnourished. yours was like clockwork, courtesy of the extra food your stepfather would give you in order to be a more fertile wife one day. the captain swore under his breath and gaz and ghost made eye contact, something hidden passing between them.

“you can’t ride in a dress.” ghost spoke up again. “oh, it turns into a jumpsuit. if you’ll let me go change…” you trailed off as the men stared back at you. there was no shelter in sight. you had forgotten you were in the desert again, too used to the shelter of your walls. “can’t have you runnin’ off on us, love. go’on.” the captain gestured at you, intrigued. his men both stared respectfully in the distance, keeping you in the corner of their eyes but giving you privacy. the captain, however, was intently focused on you, a spark of fire gleaming in his eyes. you nervously untied the fabric of your dress, hands working fast. you wove the fabric like thread, magically knowing where to tuck and pleat. two minutes later, you had transformed into a jumpsuit. you had tried to do it as quickly as possible, turning this way and that so the captain couldn’t see your bare parts, but he’d definitely gotten an eyeful. “done.” you announced loudly, trying to disperse the tension. gaz hummed thoughtfully at the utilitarian design, and that was that.

“hands on me at all times, yeah?” you were now on the captain’s bike, your wider range of movement making it easier to ride with the larger man. he placed your hands on his waist, but you still struggled to connect them all the way. he wasn’t as big as ghost but he was still thick, like the trees you’d heard of eons past. you could feel his muscles working under a slight layer of fat, proof once again of his plentiful resources. the bikes were moving again, and with your cheek resting against his back, eyes facing strings of bullets, you contemplated letting go. letting your body fly off his machine, to die on impact on the desert floor. the captain moved his left hand on top of yours, as if he could read your thoughts. he gave it a slight squeeze, the most comforting gesture you’d received from a man in years. and for some reason, you decided to stay.

--

for the reader's outfit, i was thinking of a traditional sari where its one long piece of fabric. reader doesn't have to be indian (obvi) but those were my thoughts and a way to add a bit of my culture in :)

[legendofmorons]

Smudged pages (Wild)

This is the 1st place prize from my 300 follower event. @daeyumi requested this one, and it took longer than I'd like, but I'm pleased with how it's turned out.

Pairing: Wild x reader

Rating: G

Summary: Wild loves when you draw- so he decides to leave you a little gift in your sketch book.

Warnings: None

Other: Wild is so sappy, y'all- if I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You are an artist - you carry a sketchbook around everywhere. It may be in your bag sometimes, but still.

You find it helps to be able to create art while struggling to stay above the water that is this hylia damned quest.

Between creating art and the lover you've found- you're handling things better than you thought you would be.

Wild has seen you draw before - you like to draw by the fire at night. You've even shown him things on occasion. The odd bird sketch or colored plant life. Or even just half finished lines that didn't quite work out.

He likes to sit beside you while you create - it always calms him a little.

The way your hands are often covered in smudged art supplies is more than endearing. He likes that there's proof of a hobby you enjoy so much. Wild likes to take your hands and trace them while he counts the smudges of charcoal or pencil or paint or whatever you've used this time.

If he has a few pictures of you with art supplies smudged on your forehead - well, that's really not really anyone's buissness. (He will, of course, delete them and stop taking pictures if you ask, he dosen’t want to make you uncomfortable.)

He definitely smiles when he sees that sight, though. Wild has always loved when you allow yourself to just exist.

He's continually amazed by your skill. He looks forward to when you share your art with him. It always takes his breath away.

(You take his breath away.)

So far, his favorite piece you've done was of Epona, with flowers in her mane and a water colore-esque background. It's beautiful, and when you'd shown it to him and Twilight, they had both loved it.

Wild has a picture of that one on his slate, saved to a special folder for your creations.

Other works of yours he has saved in that folder include a sketch of him cooking with fireflies around him, a river landscape, and a sketch of all of the boys and you. There are more, of course, but those are the ones he treasures the most.

Tonight finding you is pretty easy. You're all staying at an inn.

The others split into groups. Though they are all settled across the backyard of said inn, chatting happily amongst themselves.

He spots you talking to Time and Legend by the stairs.

Before he can walk over, he hears his name and stops.

"Hey, Wild?" Twilight asks as he walks over.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any more mushroom skewers? A kid was asking about them."

Wild snorts, resigning himself to helping Twilight entertain the kids.

He'll catch up with you later. You have all night.

This gives him more time to figure out what he can give you as a gift. He doesn't have a particular reason, but he wants to anyway.

He can always ask Sky and Time for advice - as long as he doesn't ask Wind.

The sailor is smart and kind - but the last time Wind gave relationship advice, it was clear that he was still a little young. (It wasn't bad advice perse but none of the others thought that 'shmoopie' was what they wanted to call a partner.)

Wild sets himself to the task of finding the mushroom skewers within his slate, careful to pick the ones that won't give a side effect if eaten.

-------

It's not until after the inn has provided dinner that Wild realizes he hasn't seen you in a while.

In fact, Wild hasn't seen you since you arrived at the inn, and neither have Hyrule or Sky when he asks them.

It's not exactly worrying, but he does find himself a little anxious. He knows this isn't your hyrule, and he's always worried you'll get left behind - which he knows is silly.

And he definitely trusts you- but anxiety has never cared about logic.

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that not only are you more than capable of taking care of yourself - this seems to be a fairly peaceful time.

He relaxes a little, the reminder doing him a little good.

After looking around a little more, Wild finds you sitting on your own with your sketch pad.

You look fairly at peace, sitting on a large rock by the inn. The lowering sun shines across you in a flattering way.

Wild smiles softly when he sees you. He's very happy to see that you look so content. He has to resist the urge to snap a picture. (A habit he's picked up after losing his memories. He wants to have pictures of everything he cares about, so if he forgets, he dosen’t lose it all.)

Wild walks over to you and sits down beside you. He's just glad to be around his beloved partner.

"Hey Wild." You greet, looking up from your work with a smile.

"Hey, (Y/n)."

"It's a nice evening. It makes me jealous of your all's times." You say with a wry laugh.

"It's still odd to think you can't see the stars back home."

"Mh- I guess. It's always been that way, though." The shrug you give is nonchalant.

Wild gives you a surprised look, brows raising as he tries to imagine such a thing.

He can't. Your world sounds foreign and impossible to him. And yet- you exist as the pinnacle of your home.

He supposes he's glad that ypur home existed - as odd as ot seems to him because you would've exist without it.

Wild looks back to the sky - back to the stars.

"That sounds absurd." He says with a snort.

"It feels like that these days."

"Huh."

You look back to whatever you were working on and put a few more artistic strokes down.

"Do you think I'll ever learn all the strange constellations you have?"

Wild looks to you after you ask that, something warm swelling in his chest. "I can teach you."

"I'd like that."

The delighted look that crosses his face is definitely something to remember. It's amazing how easily he goes all smitten and fond around you.

-------

It's not until later that evening that Wild sees your unattended sketch book. And he has - an idea. One that he hopes will make you smile.

What if he puts something in your sketch book for you?

A doodle?

A note?

A portrait of how he sees you?

All three?

Maybe just the portrait and the note. Maybe if you see yourself through his eyes, you'll see why he's so fond of you.

Wild knows that you get self-conscious sometimes. He'd like to help.

His decision is made.

He thinks this is exactly the kind of give to leave you. Non pressuring and personal.

Wild picks up your art book and begins his work.

He takes a moment to try to picture what he wants to draw.

What angles? Should he include a background? Should it be flat or shoukd he add depths and shadows?

Once he knows what he wants to draw, he sets to work.

First, he starts with a light pencil sketch of you. First your head, then your neck and shoulders, then your features. He pays special attention to the skine in your eyes.

It takes him a while, but eventually, he finishes his work, erasing the guidelines and putting in shadows and highlights.

He writes his note, and then he closes the sketchbook.

He will wait until you find it.

He silently hopes he can see your face when you do, though. He also hopes that it makes you smile. He does love your smile.

-------

You are taking a break by a creek, a little ways from the others when you find the two pages Wild left something for you.

The first is a picture of you - all done in pencil, and yet there's no lack of detail.

You can tell that every line, smudge, and stray erased part is full of love and until fondness.

You are posed in a three-quarters view, laughing as your eyes look straight to the viewer of the art.

The background is filled with your favorite flowers, all carefully done.

It's like looking at yourself through a softened lense. Your eyes seem brighter, and your laugh is more genuine.

It's unbearably soft.

The shadows are carefully done, and

You know, without asking or even looking at the note that this is Wild's work.

You wish you weren't so touched by how he's chosen to portray you. Not because it dosen’t matter but so you could better find words to express the feeling.

Then you look to the note.

'(Y/n),

I don't think I've told you how much I love your art. Not enough, at least.

I'm not sure that I can ever tell you how much both you and your art mean to me. I don't know how you feel about it, but I've always seen your art as an extension of you.

You made it after all.

Your art is so amazing. I'm always excited when you let me see what you've made.

I hope you can see yourself through my eyes now. And I hope this isn't rude to do- but I wanted to do this.

I wanted you to know how much you matter to me. I'm so thankful to have you in my life.

I wish we could have met a more natural way- but I'd fight the shadow the rest of my life if it meant I get to have you in said life.

I will treasure every single picture of you I have. You're so stunning - it takes my breath away every time I see you smile.

I appreciate that you go out of your way to make things easier for all of us.

I appreciate it when you stay up on watch with me even though you don't have to.

I hope you know how much it means to me that you treat me like a person outside of being a hero. Thank you.

I am going to keep trying every day to make sure you know how wonderful you are.

And I hope you know that I love you for you, not for what you do.

I love your sense of humor, your smile, and the way you interact with others.

You're my safe place - if that makes sense? I hope it does.

Anyway, I know this is probably silly, but I thought it might make you smile.

Love, Wild.'

Oh- that's really sweet! You need to find him and thank him and maybe kiss him just a little. (Maybe more.)

You can't ignore the way your chest warms, and your adoration flutters like a butterfly.

This is truly lovely - you've never had someone do this for you before. But it's super sweet, and you are head over heels all over again.

(Maybe ass over tea kettle is a better descriptor if we're going to be honest. But that's just between you and Hylia.)

You close the sketchbook carefully before moving to find Wild.

Finding the man is easy enough - he's cooking lunch.

You walk over to Wild, and the sketchbook is still in hand.

"Hey, firefly." Wild smiles at you, stirring the stew before him. He seems to be at ease for the most part.

"I saw the note and picture you left me."

You watch his reaction - his ears flush a little, and he looks a little like a deer in headlights.

But he relaxes enough to say, "Oh! I hope you liked it! I hope it wasn't too weird..."

"I loved it - it's one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me!"

You pull him into a hug, beaming at him.

You can't find the words you want, but you really hope Wild can tell just how much you love his little gift.

You'll hold onto it forever - you should get it framed when this is all over. That's a good idea.

"I'm glad you liked it. I'm not that great at art -"

"You're amazing at art. What are you talking about?"

"Purah and Zelda are better than me. I'm not the best. But I get by. I don't think I'm awful." Wild explains with a shrug.

"You're amazing at it."

Wild laughs, shaking his head a little. But he dosen’t defelct, instead he just says, "Thank you, (Y/n). I appreciate that."

"I mean it."

"I know."

Wild, let's the spoot rest on the pot, turning to fully face you. He's so thankful you're in his life. And he's so glad you liked his surprise.

"After dinner, we can work on those constellations." You say as you smile at him.

"That sounds nice." He smiles.

"So... could I ask you to draw me again later? I ... have never seen myself the way you made me look."

Wild softens more, which seems impossible until it happens.

And everything is - well maybe it isn't perfect but it's very nice.

[thespoonisvictory]

back again to say there's something very interesting about the way the way particularly Antivalists talk about the citadel as if they're dirtying or disrespecting the seeming inherent purity of magic. Not the way they are exploiting great spirits, because yeah, that's abhorrent. But specifically the disdain for the magic going from "divine" to "mundane", specifically because they have harnessed the lingua arcana for themselves and their mortal goals.

But like, where is the divinity in Ame's cock ring in episode 1? Where is the divinity in using a Bag of Holding to carry your presentation materials, like Tefmet does? Why is it ok for those of the Spirit world to use magic to harm others and further their goals, but its not alright for mortals to do the same? To reiterate, I'm not talking about trapping great spirits, their relationship to the Empire, or any of the other things the Citadel is responsible for. There's a way that Tefmet talked about the Citadel using magic that sounded a lot less like "stop abusing spirits" and a lot more like "only those Worthy and Divine should be able to use magic". Which is the specific thing a lot of people take up issue with the Citadel for saying to some extent, so what gives?

They keep talking about the Citadel bringing about the end of the world, but my mind keeps going VAGUE, UNSPECIFIC, VAGUE AGAIN. If they trap a great spirit, what's their plan? They were using Naram to create rings of Water Breathing, so we can maybe guess military weapons. But for who? Galthmai/Ruve? Ok, that's not the end of the world. I don't agree with the principal of that, but it feels a little suspicious now that the Man in Black, who is working close with Ruve, would be railing specifically against the Citadel, their enemy.

TL;DR: I'm with the argument that the Citadel has overextended their ambition and done horrific things in the name of the Empire's war. But when witches and Antivalists, who are imperfect magic users that act of their own accord, argue that the way the Citadel has used the lingua arcana for domestic, ordinary use is wrong, I just can't agree. I need more proof that they are actually disrupting the sanctity of magic, or that that is something that actually exists. I also need more proof and specifics on what the Citadel's giant evil plan actually is, lol.

[igglemouse]

Amanita Succubari is a fungi that is pretty toxic, in certain doses, of course. If you're down for a really bad and trippy trip, take a nibble of it, that's all it takes, just a nibble and...you know, I could go for one right now. I wonder if one of the many protection spells that guard my being would prevent it from melting my mind too much...

The plan was to gather a few, stuff em in my bag, and wander around Windenburg with the intention of picking up whatever else there is to pick up. Herbs, rocks, fungi, just whatever?

This is all part of my morning routine which was part of my dream of being the world's best gatherer. Okay, yeah, that's not my dream. I really don't have one outside of making it to the next day I suppose and hoping tomorrow is better than today.

Thing's are not that bad but...

Let's not get into my situation right now, it's too personal, it's too much of a sob story for you all to even care about? Maybe it's too cliche? Is that how you use that word? Maybe it's just a little boring and yes, even more boring than watching me chip away at rocks hoping to find gold.

Spoiler alert. I don't. I'm the exact opposite of lucky.

I guess I'm not too unlucky because after all, I'm alive. That does count for something, especially with the kind of life I've had to live. Yeah, again, let's not get into that. The important thing is I make it back home and thankfully I avoid all the nosy neighbors who enjoy watching me go about my morning routine for whatever reason.

Collecting gems and making jewelry is the only way I know how to make simoleons, for now, or rather it is the most comfy way to do it. I'm sure I could find a regular nine to five but honestly I don't think I can handle a mundane job so for now, until I need more simoleons or something, this will be the source of my income.

I'm a complete noob at it and most of what I create is actually very bad but I do have faith that in time I'll improve.

You know what? I'm just now realizing that you all don't even know who I am? After all this time I've yet to introduce myself so ummm, here I go.

Welcome to the life of Gracelyn Matlock, yes, Matlock. That surname might sound familiar to you, it might not, I hope not, because I tell you the amount of trouble I've found from simply telling people that I'm a Matlock, the last known surviving one at that, astonishes me.

Some people really do hold grudges and I'm speaking of the generational variety. Hate that runs so deep that my children, should I have any, will have a basket full of insults before they can even speak.

Why? Well, we Matlock's are a very magical family.

Watcher, what are they even putting on networks nowadays? Anyways...

You might not believe in magic but I do have proof. See? Do you see! Sparkles! What's the spell called? I don't know, sparkles? Yeah, I just short of wriggle my fingers and ta-da, SPARKLIES!

Any ways or rather, long story short. My family, my parents to be exact, did their best to use their power to subjugate and control any and everyone they ran into pretty much and their bad actions has basically banned me from the magical realm. Despite me having nothing to do with it I've been told I'm far too much of a risk and so here I am, sparkling up my fingers with just a pinch of success.

If magic runs through my bloodlines it has likely skipped right over me.

So what you see here is just a normal girl. Mainly, at least.

Sure, I can do a few tricks but they never amount to much. Obviously so since here I am in a humble little house eating mac and cheese that came right out of a box for dinner.

If I were some powerful spellcaster I would at least feast on steak every night. I'd poof it into existence or something.

Despite it all I believe it is for the best. The no magic thing I mean. It allows me to be free and it gives me a chance to be normal.

Like for instance, I get to head over to the bluffs on a perfect lukewarm day and just sift through the pool and enjoy the world around me. Appreciate the water on my skin, the clouds drifting by, even the mosquitos buzzing about in frustration as they realize I might appear a perfect feast to them but they can't partake.

I've been told that when you have magical ability it is harder to appreciate the natural world. I don't really understand why that is but...again, maybe that is for the better?

So I have no issue just floating and letting the day pass me by.

And pass me by it does...

Before I knew it the sun had fully retired and the once orange sky had given way to a deep and calming blue.

Despite the soothing vibe that came with night it also dragged in a chill. Well, more than a chill as snow, speckles of it really but snow all the same, started falling from the sky.

That's Windenburg for you, I guess.

I should have fled home. After all, it was chilly enough to nag at me and late enough to remind me that I should be in bed and yet...

And yet this castle, a reminder of times past, nabbed my attention. It was a little while off from the bluffs, a long ways off, actually, but it stood so stern in the distance that it touched my curiosity and pulled my feet, step by step, nearer.

It was Chevalier Castle. The place my friend, my dear friend Valerie, told me about. Warned me about even.

But standing before it didn't scare me. It was just a castle, after all. Whatever happened here happened long ago, but now? Now it was just an empty place. Maybe I'd adventure through it sometime?

Not tonight though...

Episode List - Next

[louisisalarrie]

okieeeeee dokie. I have gotten several messages about the F jerseys and whether or not louis is giving up larry and whether or not we should just step back because he’s still pushing the narrative and just people being sad in general about all this thinking he doesn’t care about us.

SO instead of replying to you all individually, this is the last im gonna comment on this bullshit unless something massive happens. I hope I can comfort y’all and just overall make this feeling of doubt and grossness and turn it into the fight that we’ve been fighting for 14 years and remind you all to stay strong.

Multiple anons, and anyone else interested, welcome to the show.

So, to start this off, im gonna provide you all with some links, to remind you of just how orchestrated bbg and all of this is. This will preface this conversation with a much stronger tone because well… you have to remember how fucked up this stunt is and how poorly it was conceived (pardon the pun).

Links here, here, here, and here

Okay. So. BBG is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard (reference fully intended). This shit was so poorly done, with so many mistakes, and so many things that didn’t add up. All on top of a young dude who’s meant to be marketable to the masses as attainable, to provide more sales etc., and not a bad boy that fucks multiple women and gets one of them pregnant. That’s just… not good PR, first of all, and also negatively affects not only him, but the band as well, regardless of them going on break. Why not just have Louis single and attainable? Market him as a bit more charming and sexy and maybe doing the Harry thing, to ensure more promo?

Well, because Louis was the punching bag for SC and friends and they didn’t want him to take the limelight off Harry for a solo career, and needed to be as far away as possible from each other to ensure Harry’s coming out. ANYWAY you’ve heard me talk about this shit before yada yada yada. So, im gonna chat about what’s happening now instead.

For the last little while, Larries have been given small sips of water while being stranded in the desert, is kinda the best way I can describe it. We’re only getting content from Louis, also, which is something to remember. We’re not getting double the content from Harry so it’s been fairly quiet. Anyway. We’ve gotten green and blue lights, coded clothing, 7, gazing and pointing at the ceiling/boxes, all that stuff, but really, it’s no proof. It’s little tidbits in the grand scheme of things, and unfortunately in this grand scheme of things, exists bbg.

Louis has been single for a long while now, and his dating life doesn’t get traction in the press. Neither will these jerseys or really much else he does. Unless he were to be tied to a major artist/actress who’s super famous, he’s not gonna get any further press outside of the realm he is currently in, unfortunately. And I think perhaps that is something he tends to reference when he’s on stage. The whole “we did this together, we need each other, we didn’t need anyone else’s help, im so lucky that you accept me as I am” etc, because he’s not been stunting to up his market value. He’s just… doing well with the fans. It’s lucky he has such a dedicated fanbase. Artists don’t have this all the time.

Now, idk why tf LATAM has brought on so much F content with these jerseys, and I don’t know who in their right mind is actually spending money on this shit to gift to Louis (particularly in an economic cost of living crisis), but it’s truly bizarre. If I believed in bbg, I wouldn’t be giving him gifts for his kid, and I could’ve done it quite easily backstage by getting someone to leave it in his dressing room or whatever. But it’s weirddddd and a waste of moneyyyyy and doesn’t make him love you any more than other fans. Is it like a weird anti power play or something? Idk. But what I do know, is that these jerseys have had a very clear narrative.

Idk if something is coming or Harry is gonna come out or whatever, but Louis is doing his pretty little barely smile and wave and glancing at these jerseys before popping them on the stage. He doesn’t seem to look particularly over the moon with them, does he? He’s just like “oh okay thanks” and slaps the hell out of his chest and goes back to doing whatever he was doing. If he loved getting gifts from fans for F all over the world (and didn’t think it was weird nor was it a setup), I imagine maaaaaybe he’d show it off to the crowd a bit more? Maybe a “this is great, thank you! Everyone look at this sick jersey for my little lad! He’s gonna love that” because Louis is SO proud of that kid and loves that kid SO much and I just feel like he’d be more excited about it.

If bbg was real and he found it weird, he’d still probably smile a little more and be a little more into it than what he seems to be. This second time round was a bit more of a grimace and I just don’t see him being stoked about it. But let’s talk about that… why has there been two fucking jerseys for “his” kid given to him in very close succession? wtf is going on?

well, one of those times, apparently the Louis jersey was gifted to him backstage, but they saved the F jersey to give it to him on stage. Personally, idk, if I was a fan and brought these jerseys and got to go backstage (?????) to gift him them, I would probably give them at the same time. Because that makes sense. Because otherwise you need to carry it around and also try and get his attention from the crowd and it just seems surely like more of a fuck around. It’s weird, weird, and weird, and feels like way more of a set up than usual.

Because, it’s just a little reminder for everyone about bbg, and that it exists. It’s a good little thing to just upkeep that narrative without having to DO anything. It’s easy. But also interesting timing, and why now?

Harry’s coming back on the radar slowly, after a BUA, and so perhaps there could be a coming out in the near future that would encourage Louis to continue to look hettie af. Perhaps it’s to distract from any larry stuff that may happen or has happened around this time. Maybe it’s a good little way to upkeep the narrative if Louis and Harry start forming a friendship or liking each other’s photo online or SOMETHING. it can be for so many reasons. But, the main one isn’t to get rid of us. I promise you that.

Louis’ fandom, while it slowly continues to develop and grow, is majority larries. It’s just a matter of fact that more Larries flocked to Louis when Harry started getting a fucking crazy fanbase and started doing a million stunts. Louis felt safer, and continues to feel safer. Don’t get me wrong, still a huge amount of harries are larries, but as it stands, Louis has a very strong amount of us on his side. And he’s not an idiot, he knows that. He knows his demographic, he would be updated about that by PR, and they would analyse it too and see what needs to be damage control, what the age ranges are, what the social media content is between the fans, and how they view louis. All very basic stuff, and so he’d know. Hence the “so be it” comment. He knows that without us, there was a larger potential he could’ve flipped and would be playing theatres as opposed to arenas. He could’ve pushed us waaaaay further away than what he has with his weird little denials and F comments, he could have that kid at more shows and be flaunting him on Instagram, and could be actively trying to really squash it. But he doesn’t (some people say it’s because being linked to Harry gives him promo but that’s another conversation for another time so don’t bring that up please haha).

He states, very loudly and clearly, that he appreciates and loves every single one of us. He doesn’t make snide comments, he doesn’t say this kind of dismissively, he makes a point to say he loves all of us no matter what. He pointedly said that he thanks us for accepting him. And quite frankly, if I was in his position, I’d probably find a better way of saying that if I wanted to dispel the rumours.

These little jersey setups (which I believe one person has started and others have followed giving a great little way to remind us of bbg from louis’ team and UAs), are awfully staged and just cause fights within the fandom. It’s not ideal, but hell, it beats seeing him with that kid everywhere. And these days are very interesting with how fans get their information. Years ago, while we had groupies and insiders, update accounts weren’t manipulated the way they are now. We had blind items, sure, but anyone could write into that. We had receipts, and while many were real, many also weren’t. But now… with how big fanbases are online, the best way to communicate narratives are fan to fan, as opposed to media to fan. It seems more genuine. It seems less fake like media items are. It looks real.

So with these jersey incidences and UAs blabbering on and posting pictures of jerseys before the show and saying how much Louis loved them and all that, it’s manipulated as more real than what it is. You can’t write an article about everything, but you can tip off UAs or Deuxmoi with a fake name to get them to post shit for the fandom exclusively to see. It’s simple, but very effective. And it’s just… pure marketing, and encourages artist to fan interaction (which should be supported online but the boys can lack that these days which is shit on their behalf), and helps dispel the rumours within the fandom.

Wow okay. This turned into an essay and im not actually gonna reread it because I don’t have time but if you’ve gotten this far in my rambling, kudos to you. My main points are:

- no matter how many jerseys louis gets for F, he’s still not a dad

- those jerseys will not magically make him a dad

- these stunt narratives are sooooo see through and boring these days I just roll my eyes at it but thank god it’s a lot more lowkey to what it could be

- Louis loves us and wants us here bc we pay his bills and also accept him and support him and we’re on whatever journey he wants to take together

- these little ongoing narrative pushes can be the preface to a coming out on Harry’s side/reconciliation between the boys

- keep an eye on body language throughout these interactions

- giving gifts to ur fave relating to their kid no matter what you believe is creepy and weird and a lot of us seem to be in agreement on that

- this shit isn’t louis’ fault

- don’t believe everything you read on Twitter

- they missed the boat on ending this stunt years ago and ending it now is gonna be very fucking hard

- it’s easily arguable that even if Larry wasn’t real, Louis’ still not a dad

thanks team!

[freak-attorney]

Random Ace Attorney headcanons!!! :D

Feel free to leave ur own in the notes or if u agree/disagree!!

(Also please keep in mind that I'm basing these off of the first trilogy since that it all I've played so far!)

Feel free to ask/request any other specific headcanons from me :D

Phoenix Wright

Barely passed the LSAT

Used to have panic attacks in court (is now in therapy)

Always has a hair tie for Maya

Has learned how to do Pearl's hair for her

Filipino/American

Chronically online

Finds millennial humor funny

ADHD undiagnosed

Bisexual

His hair ALWAYS has traces of gel in it

He's a dog person but loves cats

His suit is always a bit wrinkled

Survives on red bull and microwave dinners

*finger guns*

Love language is physical touch and acts of service

Falls asleep at his desk every night during a case

Needs 5+ alarms to wake up in the morning

Uses concealer to hide his eye bags

Doesn't floss

Sleeps like a starfish

Has sweat stains on several shirts

Naturally wavy hair but he straightens it

Miles Edgeworth

Always hours early to a case because he's very anxious about being late

Sometimes wishes he had a different career (outside of law) but never even considered it an option until recently

Very argumentative over silly things, eventually apologizes with a small gift or note

Love language is gift giving

Enjoys parallel play.. like he enjoys just having someone in his office while he's working even though he doesn't acknowledge them

Has good stamina from always using stairs over elevators

Can cook very well, enjoys cooking for others

Autistic (late diagnosed)

Has a collection of fidget toys that only a few people know about

Chronically OFFline

Enjoys animal crossing and other peaceful games

Has excellent hygiene

Started dying his hair grey as soon as he found one strand of grey hair

Makes a photo album for Franziska for her birthday each year

Has a blanket that he's slept with for 10+ years

Keeps every trinket that Pearl or Maya might give him

Has fresh clothes and toiletries at the office in case he sleeps there

Prefers gold over silver

Is a cat person but is okay with dogs (he thinks dogs are messy)

Has an ironing board in the wall of his office

Probably gay or somewhere on the aroace spectrum

Wears a full face of makeup to court (gatekeeps his sweat proof foundation)

Sleeps curled up in one corner of his bed

Maya Fey

Loves to do cartwheels (can't actually do a proper cartwheel)

Tries learning Japanese on DuoLingo (can't keep more than a 5 day streak)

Taught Pearl basically everything she knows

Love language is quality time

Is very good at rhythm games

Has "childish" interests like Sailor Moon, Hello Kitty, My Little Pony, etc.

Enjoys older arcade games like Galaga, Frogger, and Mappy

Wanted to be a veterinarian at some point but is a bit too squeamish for that

Is ALWAYS late even if she plans to be early

Sleeps with a night light

Has a collection of rocks that Pearl gave her growing up

Loves abstract art

Hugs very tightly

Since Mia's death her last words to anyone close to her when they separate for any amount of time is "I love you" just in case

Is naturally unorganized but started keeping a planner when she started working with Phoenix... she sometimes forgets the planner exists but she TRIES okay??

Dick Gumshoe

Love language is gift giving and acts of service for SURE

Would gladly give someone his umbrella in the rain knowing he'd get soaked

Doesn't know how to cook because he doesn't have the resources but he'd like to learn

Forgot to put water in his ramen once and almost burned his apartment down

Doesn't always shower because his water gets cut off

Smells pretty rank but Edgeworth gifts him nice body sprays sometimes

Always makes sure Edgeworth is up at a reasonable time for a case/trial even though he really doesn't need to

Always chewing gum

Dream car is a Jeep Wrangler

Demiromantic

Memorizes little details about people to give them good birthday/holiday gifts

Gets very excited about fortune cookies

Loves buffets

Gives the BEST hugs

Is scared of thunderstorms and terrified of hurricanes

Really appreciates small gifts like keychains or trinkets

Lets Maya and Pearl paint his nails

Has really large and calloused hands

Sleeps all snuggled up hugging a pillow

Used to collect magnifying glasses

Bites on his pencils/pens

Franziska Von Karma

Sapphic.

She wears press ons

Stalks the social media accounts of her clients

Sleeps in a grandma nightgown

Has two planners: one physical and one on her phone

Really wants a pet rabbit

Has so many decorative pillows on her bed and arranges them every morning

Hits people next to her when she laughs

Quietly gives gifts for holidays/birthdays without making it a big deal

Casually gives super expensive gifts

Plays Genshin

Forces Edgeworth to watch reality TV with her (Say Yes to the Dress, My Strange Addiction, ANTM, Jersey Shore)

Really likes horror movies but can't handle too much gore

Classically trained in ballet

Enjoys photography

Watches the Kentucky Derby every year

Basically raised Miles when Manfred didn't

Knows how to sew but doesn't have the time

Collects Monster High dolls

Likes dogs but LOVES cats

Finds dumb people really attractive

Needs complete silence when doing paperwork or she can't concentrate

Autistic (undiagnosed)

Doesn't plan on ever getting married

Probably one of the only characters that gets proper sleep

Prefers pleated skirts over pencil but wears them in court to look professional

Hates the texture of chiffon fabric

Always wearing a different pair of earrings

Has a couple small tattoos but covers them well

Has the sharpest eyeliner known to man

Fluent in a few languages including Mandarin Chinese, French, and Italian

That's all for now!!

[sentientgolfball]

Ghoulette Appreciation: Week 1

I kicked the writer's block and was able to write the first prompt for @jesusbutbetterrr ghoulette months :3 I did a mix of start of something new and girl's night in

All the prompts I do are gonna be nothing but Mistshine! I'm taking this as an excuse to write for my favorite ghoulette pairing, but of course all of them will be making appearances :3

Word Count: 1937

Tags: ghoulette pile, drunk/high sex, Mist is intersex with a tentacle, transfem Sunshine

Summary: The band would be heading out on tour soon and the girls have their last Ghoulette Night before they're separated for months

Mist was one to usually keep to herself. They were quiet, reserved, preferring the calm silence over chaotic company. Some thought it was because she was cold, emotionless, and a bit of a prude. Others thought it was because she was too dangerous for even the other ghouls to be around them. The venomous barbs sheathed in their wrists were proof enough. 

That was the problem with humans, Mist thought, they never see the full picture. While some of their whispers had merit, they would never understand why. Mist was a deep sea water ghoul. Unlike your average ghoul of any variety really, the deep sea beasts were solitary in nature. The only time they’d see another of their kind that wasn’t immediate kin would be during the mating seasons. The only packs that existed were made up entirely of family, and even then those packs were minuscule. It was rare for deep-sea ghouls to have more than two kits. 

So yes, Mist could be described as cold and reserved, but it didn’t reflect all of her. Living on the surface taught her how nice it is to have packmates. To know that any of them would drop everything for her if she needed, and she’d do the same. Of course, as much as she cherishes each and every ghoul, that doesn’t change her basic nature. She still enjoys her alone time, needs it. They spend so much of their free time alone that they’re always a little surprised when ghouls come looking. 

It’s not often that they find themselves sitting on a lumpy bean bag in Cirrus and Cumulus’ room surrounded by the other ghoulettes and copious amounts of wine, weed, and self-care products. Mist would be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy these rare nights of pure indulgence. They’d let Cumulus and the newly summoned Aurora use her for makeup practice, they’d let them put whatever cream or lotion on her because it made them happy. Mist would let Cirrus keep her glass full of the wine she had Swiss steal from Terzo’s personal collection. They’d let Sunshine feed her a joint until she got bold enough to sit in their lap and shotgun. 

Mist would do the same for all of them. She’d bring the best food to complement the wine. She’d brush their hair and work knots out of their muscles with her rough hands. She’d give exactly as much as she’d take. 

Tonight’s Ghoulette Night was bigger than any they’d had recently. It was the last before Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora would be off on tour. The wine was the sweetest Swiss could get his claws on. The weed was harvested directly from Mountain’s personal store. Mist had even broken into the Ministry cellars to get their hands on the best meats and cheeses for the ghoulettes to snack on. It was a necessity, she had decided. 

Now they all sit in Cirrus’ nest, more than a little buzzed and lazily touching each other. 

“Fuck I’m gonna miss this” Sunshine sighs, resting her head on Mist’s shoulder. 

“Me too” Aurora giggles when Cumulus kisses behind her ear. 

“We can always make a shitty nest and drink shitty wine in the hotels” Cirrus chirps.

“No way! You guys aren’t allowed to do it without us!” Sunny sticks her tongue out and clings closer to Mist. 

Mist just hums and squeezes her waist. 

“Oh we’re still definitely drinking” Lus purrs “but it won’t be the same without everyone.” 

“I don’t wanna think about that. Don’t wanna think.” 

Sunny suddenly jolts from where she had been lounging against Mist. She crawls into her lap and Mist knows she’s grown impatient. It’s an unholy miracle it took this long for her to start this. Usually, when they’ve snatched Mountain’s weed they’re all wrapped around each other before a coherent conversation can be held. 

“Wow, Sunny I think that’s a new record for you” Cirrus laughs but starts to shift Aurora onto her lap. 

“Took you long enough” Cumulus slots herself behind Aurora, caging her in. 

Mist had to agree. They had been painfully waiting for Sunshine to make her move. It always started like this. They’d all relax and let the alcohol and smoke turn time to honey until one of them couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. It was usually Sunny, save for Aurora’s first Ghoulette Night. 

Mist loved the way Sunny would always cling to her first. No matter what they did to her, Sunny would always come back for more. Mist would be lying if she said it wasn’t addictive. With Sunny finally in their lap, they made their move. 

“This is for making me wait” she whispers low before sinking their fangs into the side of her neck. 

Sunny whines high-pitched, twitching her hips forward, dragging her cock against them. Mist squeezes her hips harder, feeling their tentacle start to poke out of its sheath. 

“‘M sorry” she squirms.

“No, you’re not” Mist tears Sunny’s crop top off. 

She just giggles and shrugs. 

On the other side of the nest, Cirrus is lying flat on her back as Aurora scoots closer and closer to her face. Cumulus has one hand under her skirt and another in Cirrus’ underwear. 

“Don’t look at them” Mist grabs her jaws and forces her attention “You only know me.”

They crash their lips together in an almost possessive manner. It's filthy instantly with tongue and fang licking and clacking together. Mist yanks at the short hairs around the nape of her neck pulling breathy little gasps from her. She slides her hands under the hem of Mist’s shorts, slowly starting to pull them down. 

“Lords below it has a mind of its own” Sunny giggles feeling their tentacle writhe against her fingertips. 

“You say that every time” Mist deadpans. 

“Whaaaat I think it’s hot how excited—“ 

She’s cut off by Mist tweaking both of her nipples. They drag the flat of their tongue over the scars under Sunny’s breasts before replacing a finger with her mouth. She sucks and nips at her tits until they’re decorated with purple and blue marks as deep as Mist’s eyes. Until she can feel Sunny’s cock kicking in her pants. 

Her eyes briefly flick when Aurora moans. Cirrus’ face is covered by the fabric of her skirt and her thighs. Aurora shakes, grinding down on her face. Cumulus is laying on her stomach, face buried in Cirrus. 

Mist's attention is drawn back when she feels warm fingers teasing her cunt. Sunny is grinning down where she has her hand shoved into her shorts, tentacle wrapping around her wrist to pull her closer. 

“I think it’s unfair you get to look at them but I don’t” she pouts, but slowly slides a finger inside of them. 

Mist grabs her wrist, yanking her hand away. They shove their shorts down enough to let their tentacle fully free before popping the button on Sunny’s pants and wiggling her out of them. She seats Sunny back on her lap, letting the tentacle probe curiously at her ass. 

“You’re right. It is unfair” she wraps a hand around Sunny’s cock right as the tip wiggles in “but I want all of you.” 

Sunshine squirms and whines as the tentacle slowly slides into her, wet and sticky with Mist’s slick. They squeeze the base of her cock and Sunny yelps. Mist does it again and again and again, pulling those pretty little sounds from her. 

They latch onto her neck, trailing bruising kisses up her throat. She licks into Sunny’s mouth tasting her sweet orange and vanilla flavor. Sunshine pants into her mouth as the tentacle writhes within her. Mist starts to jack her off, pressing a cruel finger to the underside of her head every time their fist passes over. 

Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the noises of Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora. Maybe it’s just Mist, but Sunshine can already feel her balls drawing up as her cock spits pre.

Mist bites her bottom lip and trails wet opened mouth kisses up to her ear. They drag their tongue over the shell before biting the lobe. 

“Cum for me”  they whisper low. 

Sunny does. Hard. Everything is intense and floaty as she spills over Mist’s hand. Tears prick the corners of her eyes from the tentacle still moving inside her ass. Mist snickers, kissing across her collarbones. 

“Mist can we play? Pretty please?” 

They slowly unlatch from Sunshine and look down. Aurora, now completely naked, has crawled over to them. Her eyes are big, pleading, and a little red. Something inside Mist burns. She doesn’t understand why, it’s not like she dislikes Aurora. Quite the opposite actually, she thinks her bold nature is quite charming. But when Sunshine wiggles off of them at the call of Cirrus and Cumulus, the burn only intensifies. They make a mental note of this, something to examine later, before they push Aurora onto her back and climb between her legs. 

The tentacle immediately starts slipping into her cunt and Aurora giggles at the sensation.

“You didn’t let me have this last time.” 

Mist tears her gaze away from where Sunny is choking on Cumulus’ strap. 

“You were new. I didn’t want to frighten you.” 

“Please” she snorts, “it takes a lot to get me to crack.” 

Mist tilts their head with an eyebrow raised. 

“C’mon Mist I’ve heard the others talk. Give it to me.” 

“Hm. Not here. Not now.” 

“Why not?” She huffs. 

Mist leans forward, wrapping a hand around Aurora’s throat, and squeezes hard enough to make her gasp. 

“Because” they whisper “if I'm going to, I want you tied to my bed so I can break you.” 

Aurora’s eyes roll to the back of her head and she clenches hard around the tentacle. 

Mist tries to put all their focus on fucking Aurora, giving her a little something to think about as the tour starts up, but everything is clouded by the noises Sunny is making only a few feet away. Every gasp, whine, keen has a flash of heat coursing through her body. She doesn’t understand why though. They’ve been having these nights since the two air ghoulettes were summoned and not once has this happened before. 

She decides it’s the effects of Mountain’s weed, she was always a lightweight when it came to anything drugs. They shake it off and drop a hand to Aurora’s clit, circling it as they squeeze her neck. 

Aurora cums with Mist’s name on her tongue. They coax the tentacle out of her and help her sit up. She props her up, letting her lean against her as she snatches a nearby bottle of wine and offers her some. The two cuddle and pass the bottle back and forth as they watch Cirrus and Cumulus milk every last drop out of Sunshine’s cock. 

“You’re growling,” Aurora says sleepily. 

Mist hadn’t even realized. She stops herself immediately with a cough and swig. Sunshine cries out both of the air ghoulettes names and they nearly choke on the wine. That fire ignites in her belly again and now that she’s not buried to the hilt in Aurora she can place a name to that feeling. 

Jealousy. Possession. 

She wanted to be the one to get Sunny to cry like that. 

She didn’t want to hear another name roll out of her mouth. 

She was confused. Ghouls share everything, even the solitary deep-sea ghouls were strangers to monogamy. So why was Mist feeling this way watching Sunny be taken apart by someone who wasn’t her? 

This is new.

[yesyourstalker]

I really fucking love knowing that my tax dollars are aren't aren't going to the people of my country but is given to another country to fund a genocide

I fucking love how we have all this access to endless information and yet people want to play ignorant and stupid about what's going on

I love how this country is trapped in this hyper consumption capitalist hellscape that is the most simplest tasks like not drinking a specific brand of coffee is impossible to do

I love how one of my state rep has no problem with condoning genocide and openly and is unashamed to admits freely

I love how a marginalized group weaponizes their marginalized identity to justify a genocide

I love the sense of helplessness knowing that my country that has access to water, power, food and other daily necessities are taking it away from other countries

I love being shown literal proof of children in plastic bags but everyone is still crying about the non existent 40 babies

I love how celebrities and people with a large platform either stay uneducated or silent about the matter

I love the feeling of watching protests Something that should give me a sense of hope and perseverance only give me a sense of hopelessness and numbness as a demand for a ceasefire falls onto deaf ears

I love watching TV and being forcefed propaganda by mainstream media

And I'm going to love that during the holiday season surrounded by my family. People who care about me, people who love me but the only thing I can think about is the children, the mothers, the fathers. People who are mourning the death of their family members. Because our country refuses to do anything and would rather watch communities, families, and generations be obliterated

I love knowing that I'm going to have to choose the next person in power to run this country knowing that They're going to make matters worse, not just for the people in the country but for the people outside of this country

I love this I fucking love this country

[eah-mh-aus]

Monster High fankid ideas: Patina Steam-McFlytrap

Patina is the daughter of Robecca Steam and Venus McFlytrap. She was created by her grandfather, Hexiciah Steam, but is raised by her two moms.

Her favorite animals are blue butterflies (any species). She likes to study butterflies as a special interest of hers.

Patina's preferred color choices are oxidized green and blue to go with her copper mold. She even puts these colors in her hair and her paint/"makeup."

Much like Robecca, Patina has a torso that opens up. However, instead of having a vampire heart like her metallic mother, she has a place to hold plants inside. She still has a robot heart, but it's waterproof. The torso she has is also made to be leak-proof in case any water tries to escape her body.

Unlike Robecca, Patina uses solar power to gain energy. While charging, her eyes are covered by a solar panel that resembles sunglasses. She normally likes to spend long, sunny days outside to get power, while her mom, Venus, photosynthesizes.

When Patina is low on power, she'll experience slurred speech, blurry vision, and dizziness. She shuts down completely if she isn't recharged again, though. It's easier to charge her in the daytime or at a place with excessive solar power than it is to charge her at night.

Patina loves music, especially sounds that are more gentle or even jazzy, to play for the plants she cares for. Her instrument of choice is mostly the violin because of this.

Patina is highly creative, always trying to find ways to recycle things for her projects. She even enjoys upcycling her own outfits and bags as well.

Patina enjoys crocheting, even having her own place to hold yarn of all sorts for any project. She mostly uses her crocheting skills to make her own clothes.

Patina knows a lot about chemical compounds and enjoys learning about them in her Mad Science class.

Aside from knowing a lot about how to make chemical compounds, she's also capable of making really good drinks. She mostly specializes in teas or smoothies, many of these recipes shes learned from her moms.

Although she doesn't mind being a robot, she secretly wishes to know what it's like to be a living monster like her plant mom and her grandpa.

Since Hexiciah is half human/half fairy, Patina absolutely loves to spend time with him. He teaches her everything he knows about his inventions and how to build stuff for herself as well. He also helps in fixing her whenever she's malfunctioning or physically broken in some way.

Patina enjoys roller skating like her mother does, but not to the same extremes as her. She normally skates as a fun hobby more than as an extreme sport. Besides, she doesn't want to damage the plants she houses in her body while doing so.

Her existence has once caused a controversy in the plant monster community involving her family. Although she's a robot made out of copper, she also has the nature-loving mannerisms of a plant monster, which she adopted from Venus.

Patina has met Elissabat due to Robecca carrying the vampire heart in her body. Robecca is good enough friends with Elissabat to have Patina hang out with her like a good friend.