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reidrum · 2 days ago

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i can do a lot with fifteen minutes

note: short n sweet deluxe dropped halfway through writing this and basically she wrote fifteen minutes for this fic specifically. user reidrum is feeling festive so we are pink today, happy valentine's day friends <3

summary: in which you and spencer don't make it out the door on date night

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, p in v sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), mirror usage, switch!spencer (shocking for me too), reader wears a dress and lingerie, fluff, hot losers in love, this is pure filth actually

wc: 3.8k

The green satin dress held against you in front of the mirror is beautiful, flattering. The modest length with light ruching accentuates your figure like an ethereal being. Fairy like, angel like as Spencer loves to liken you to.

The red silk dress is dangerous. With a slit leaving little to imagination, the deep hue reflects off your skin like a siren waiting to trick the sorry sailor into submitting. It’s a weapon almost, and you’re not sure if you’re willing to wield it tonight on a small dinner date.

The question was whether you wanted to look dangerously alluring or divinely beautiful. Your head turns at the sound of footsteps and your breath hitches as you catch a glimpse of Spencer walking past the door dressed in dark slacks and a dark maroon button up, tie undone around his neck. Mismatched socks, of course.

You go with the red one.

You remove it from the hanger and gently slip it over your body, sliding the straps over your shoulders and reaching back to pull the zipper up. Realizing the zipper is too high for you to do it on your own, you call in reinforcements.

“Spencer!” you call out, “Can you come help me zip up please?”

“Sure baby, give me one second!” he calls back from down the hall.

You cross an arm over your chest to hold the dress in place while you grab the necklace Spencer had gifted you earlier that day, twisting awkwardly to put it on but eventually successful. You bend back down to look for the matching earrings, digging through your drawers and jewelry dishes. Your fingers rummage through the mess and you finally find them, grinning at your small win before gasping in surprise at the hands that encircle your waist.

“Shit, Spence. You scared me.” you chuckle, straightening up to press against his chest with your back.

His hands roam around your lower waist while pressing and gripping in the places he knows so intimately, a chaste kiss to your shoulder, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You want me to zip it up now?”

You gently part from his arms and walk over to the mirror again, “Let me just adjust it first and then you can.” He nods and follows you, standing a few steps behind you as he watches you fix the straps and lay of the dress. Spencer can never get used to this part, he might never for as long as you allow him the grace of being in your life. You meet his eyes again in the mirror and smile softly, “Okay, can you?”

He returns your smile with pure affection and steps to be only an inch behind you, his proximity giving leeway to invasion by your perfume. The sweet smell surrounds every fiber of him and threatens to render him useless, but he perseveres and clears his throat in hopes of him tethering himself back down. He raises his fingers to your shoulders and ghosts along the curve until he reaches the nape of your neck. Your shiver doesn’t go unnoticed when Spencer tenderly brushes your hair to the side giving him clear access to the zipper.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror, one of his hands on your waist while the other is brushing your hair to one side. Your heart is beating rapidly, sensing the intense intimacy and energy radiating from the moment. With a shaky exhale you reply, “Yeah just, felt a breeze.”

He hums in acknowledgment and the corners of his lips twitch up in a knowing manner from behind you, completely aware you’re not able to see it. He moves his hand from his waist to hover at the base of the zipper near your lower back, his breath hitching as he spots your lace panties peeking out of the opening. His finger grazes the fabric unintentionally as he grips the zipper and begins to slowly pull it up. The small jump you give makes his hand return to your waist, holding you harder so you don’t move around.

The sound of the zipper winding up fills the silence in the room, the accidental brushes of his fingers against your bare skin sending electric shocks throughout your body. By the time he reaches the top his shaky breaths are hitting warm on your nape, making no move to back away.

You smile, “Thank you.”

His hands don’t leave you, they return back to their rightful place encircled around you. “Is this a new dress?” he murmurs.

You wrap your own arms on top of his and lean back into him, a small smirk gracing your face as you sense the intention of your dress choice starting to settle. “Yeah, just got it on a whim. You like it?”

Spencer swallows, “I love it, I’ll buy you one of these in every color. It can be the only thing you ever wear.”

A giggle escapes you, and Spencer smiles widely. He looks at you again through the mirror and takes in your whole appearance. You’ve always had a natural beauty to you that Spencer admired and marveled at constantly, but when you got all dressed up? For him? There aren’t enough neurons in his brain that will ever make him understand how the Aphrodite reincarnate is in love with him. He thanks any and every god watching for blessing him in this way.

“You smell so good,” he groans, “You wash your hair? It’s so soft, I could nap in it. The necklace looks pretty on you, ‘m glad you like it. God, I love you so much.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head back into his neck and pressing a kiss to his lower jaw, “I love you too.” He returns a kiss to your cheek and lets his lips travel about your body like a map.

His lips trail the open skin of your shoulders, “You look,” kiss, “so beautiful,” kiss, “This color,” kiss, kiss, “Didn’t think I’d like red this much.” Kiss. Hold. Release.

“You should see what I have underneath.” your voice holds a teasing lilt.

Spencer freezes behind you, his resolve breaking and crumbling by the second. “Sweetheart, don’t tease me. We won’t make it out the door if you do.”

A few moments pause, then you speak barely above a whisper, “And what if I want that?”

He locks eyes with you again through the mirror, the silent communication between you both confirming you’re on the same page. The mischief floods his eyes. “Then you’ll get it.”

It was an unconscious decision to place the mirror in front of the bed—the only place where it fit logistically. But Spencer likes to think it was a subconscious decision in that you hoped one day it would serve its purpose in the way you wanted.

Which secretly may have been the way he wanted, but it’s a mutualistic win either way.

He releases you from his arm and walks back to sit on the edge of the bed. Before you can mourn the loss of his warmth he speaks with a low rasp, “Come here.”

You stare at him doe eyed, stunned into paralysis somehow. His smirk only grows wider when he realizes he’s slowly rendering you defenseless. He holds a hand out for you, “Just come here, baby. Want to show you something.”

The autopilot finally kicks in and you take a few steps closer to stand in front of him. Once you’re within reach he slides his hands up the sides of your waist, gently nudging you, “Turn around.”

Satisfied when you listen, his hands pull your hips down to perch you in his lap facing the mirror. He secures your waist with an arm and rubs the other over the expanse of your bare thighs. Your eyes flutter shut with the warm contact flushing through your skin, head falling to rest atop his given your slight height advantage whilst sat on his lap. The position gives him perfect access to the crevice of your neck allowing him to lean up and attach to the sensitive skin there, delicately suckling before moving up to the crest of your ear.

“You know, studies have shown that watching yourself be pleasured through a mirror has proven to be a more intense experience than normal.”

He hooks his legs around your ankles and parts them open. You gasp at the sudden rush of cold air between your thighs, finding yourself unable to close them even if you tried. He gently grips your jaw and slowly turns your face to meet the mirror again.

“Look how pretty you are sitting on my lap, baby.” he coos, “All pliant and perfect. I could do whatever I want with you,” a soft whine leaves you, he chuckles, “Would you like that? Watch me let me have my way with you?”

“Spence,” you whisper, “I…”

His lips ghost your ear, “What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

You whimper as his fingers start to trace tantalizing circles up your legs into your upper thigh.

“Can’t do anything if you don’t tell me. Be a good girl and use your words.”

You curse softly, “Fuck, W—Want you…to touch me…please.”

Spencer wickedly grins, “Such good manners,” His hand delves between your thighs and lightly traces the outline of your panties, “Want you to watch yourself while I touch you, okay?”

You nod, he stops. You panic, “Y—Yes, okay.”

He finally applies pressure to your core and you let out a shuddered breath, his finger dragging up and down and circling at the top creating a beautifully addicting friction. You moan softly and tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder and he tuts, “Eyes up, sweetheart.”

You’re about to protest when his finger hooks onto the side of your panties and settles between your folds, dipping down to swipe at your entrance and spreading the wetness all over you. A languish moan breaks from your throat as your eyes are fixated on the mirror, watching his hand work in between your legs. Spencer hasn’t taken his eyes off you either, though does he ever, equally entranced at the way you react to his ministrations.

He prods at your hole as you attempt to buck your hips up, his arm clamping you down and closer to him, “It’s okay, shh I got you. Always got you, yeah?” His finger finally slides inside you and you let out a deep groan feeling the motion of him slipping in and out of you so easily, “So wet, baby. Doesn’t take too much to get you like this, huh?”

“Spence…” you whine, “More,,,please.”

“I know, patience, pretty girl.” slyly slipping in a second finger, “Doing so good f’me, look how beautiful you are.”

You force your eyes back to the mirror and a fresh wave of intoxication invades you as you clock the heavy rise and fall of your chest, the lewd sound of his fingers working you to your peak. He was right, you looked hot. It’s like you’ve unlocked a new level of sensuality that you didn’t even know existed and seeing yourself in this way only adds to the building tension.

He speeds up ever so slightly and feels you clench irregularly around his fingers, he lets his thumb drag up to your clit and rub lazy circles around it. The moans fall out of you with no control anymore as you feel your peak approaching fast. Spencer whispers praises, coaxing you closer to the edge, “Look at yourself when you come.”

The dam breaks and gratification floods throughout your body, you watch yourself as you see it take a hold of you so carnally. His fingers don’t stop inside you, slowly working you through your orgasm watching alongside you in the mirror with awe. Eventually he removes himself from your core not breaking eye contact with you as he raises his fingers to your mouth, you opening up without hesitation and swirling your tongue around them. His breath stutters, he’s so in love with you it hurts.

You’re still deep in the haze of coming down from your high, waiting for your senses to calibrate and remember where you even are when the sound of a zipper pulls you back down instead.

“Spence?” you ask breathlessly.

He hums, “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Said I should see what you have underneath, just taking up your offer baby. That okay?” The zipper hits the base of your dress just at the crest of your panties, the rush of air invading your back.

It’s like a click goes off in your head as soon as you’ve fully calmed down and you remember what your initial plan for the night was. A slow grin crawls onto your face.

“More than okay, in fact let me show you.” You stand up slowly making a point to jut your hips back to him as you make a show of sliding the dress down your body.

Now, Spencer is very much used to feeling breathless around you. It’s basically a default setting for him at this point. But as you turn around to face him with the smugly innocent smile on your face and slowly sink to your knees before him clad in the lace set he so bravely thought he could handle with conviction, his heart makes a mockery of him by stopping in protest of the nerve he had.

The clinking of his belt draws his focus back to the moment as he watches you undo it with the button and zipper, nudging him to lift his hips so you can pull them down. He listens blindly like he’s trapped under a spell. The siren effect, the zealous sailor who believes himself to be strong enough to brave the seas for so long only to succumb to the temptations of the siren song.

He never stood a chance.

Your hand comes up to palm him through his boxers, licking your lips with a smirk as you trace over the wet patch. The alternating pressure causes Spencer’s breath to huff deeper, impatiently. He has to suppress a whine when your fingers finally reach his waistband and painstakingly peel it back to take him out.

It’s your turn to tut at him, “You were so talkative just now, don’t stop on my account.” Your thumb and pointer form a ring around him and you slowly drag it up and down his length, tightening around him at different points.

“Baby, don’t tease me please.” he begs.

“What, like you did? I’d never be so cruel, my love.” you say innocently. You lean down and lick a stripe on him from base to tip, letting your tongue swirl around the head. Choked gasps and curses fall from his lips as you sink your mouth down on him, taking him as far back as you can. He tries to feel a little bad as his hand flies to your hair, your beautifully done hair, but he can’t bring himself to care when he hits the back of your throat and you gag a little before pulling back slightly. His hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail and watches with bated breath as you bob your head up and down on him. His eyes wander up behind you, remembering the mirror and the sight staring back at him is so pornographically obscene the loud whimper leaves him without warning.

Much to his soft protests you remove your mouth from and continue to lazily stroke him. He pouts down at you, “Wh–Why’d you stop?”

With another kiss to his tip you rise to your full height and push him back to lie flat on the bed, his legs bent at the edge with the backs of his calves flush with the bed. “Because I want you to come inside me, is that okay?” you say with such blunt honesty it goes straight to his groin.

He swallows hard, “God, yeah sweet girl that’s okay. Come here.”

You move your hands to your back to remove your bra before Spencer protests again, “Wait, keep it on.”

You raise your eyebrows before grinning widely, “Any other requests?”

“Kiss?”

Your eyes soften, climbing atop him to straddle him on each side of his hips. You cup his jaw gently and lean down pressing your lips gingerly to his, whispering a low “Love you” before pulling back all the way. Spencer gazes up at you like you hold the answers to everything in the universe, like you are the answer to everything in the universe. He would gladly spend the rest of his life searching for the unknown if it meant reaching you at the end of it all.

“Love you too.”

You hook a finger over your panties and drag it to the side and position yourself over him, teasing yourself with his tip before slowly starting to sink down on him. The joint whine from you both rings about the room as you bottom out above him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place. He breathes out heavily, trying to think about literally anything else besides how tight you feel wrapped around him, how hard he’s refraining from bucking his hips up into you, how the blissed out look on your face is enough to make him come on sight and he hasn’t even moved at all.

“Feel so full, Spence,” you raise your hips tentatively, “Need to move, please,”

Like he’d ever say no to you. “Okay baby, I got you,”

You start to move with fervor, Spencer’s hand glued to your waist guiding you as you set the pace. You place your hands on his chest to give yourself leverage as you bounce on his cock, lewd moans and curses mixing with the sounds of your bodies meeting and him moving in and out of you.

Spencer feels delirious, meeting your hips as they clamp down on him with his own thrusts. You attempt to quicken your pace, but your wobbly legs cause your hips to stutter irregularly. He senses your struggle and plants his feet on the bed and tugs you to lay on his chest.

“Hold on, okay?”

You hazily nod and let Spencer take over as he ruts up into you at a pace you can barely comprehend. His hands are pressed into your hips so hard you know it’s going to leave beautiful imprints. He groans when you clench around him tightly again, and it’s then you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching fast, “Spence… ‘m close.”

“It’s okay baby, I got you. You can let go.” he whispers.

The second wave of your climax hits you hard, effectively sending your mind in reeling circles before you land back down in his arms. He continues to chase his own high and spills into you a few seconds later, lazily thrusting you both as you ascend back down to this realm.

You lay limp over his body making no intention to move and Spencer going soft inside you. He smooths your hair back while pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“You look like an angel,” he murmurs with a soft kiss to your nose, “You are an angel.”

A soft smile spreads on your face pressing into his neck with a laugh, “You always say that after.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You lift your head up a little to look into his hazel brown eyes and pepper kisses all over his face before landing soundly on his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, angel.”

“I don’t think we’re going to make our reservation anymore.” you sigh out and wrap your arms around his body, making yourself comfortable atop Spencer. He breathes out, “I already canceled it, don’t worry.”

“What? When did you do that?”

“When I realized you were wearing this dress I called them before I came in to help you.” he admits sheepishly.

You chuckle, “Lost before we even started, think that’s a new record for me.”

He flips you over with a yelp, “Think I need to redeem myself, don’t you think?”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“I have a couple ideas.”

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minswriting · 3 days ago

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ONLY NEED ME - Spencer Reid x Reader

About: You were scrolling on your phone, swiping left and right on tinder to find a date. Spencer finds you scrolling on your phone and asks what you’re doing. So you tell him you are looking for someone to hookup with. He decides to show you that you don’t need anyone but him.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, oral (f), pussy drunk Spencer, jealous spencer

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: happy valentine‘s day my little sluts. although this isn’t valentine’s day themed, let’s pretend that it is lol. i hope you guys enjoy!

It was a rare day when there were no cases and yet, you were still required to come into work, just in case something happened. Usually, these days consisted of paperwork, going over recently solved cases to ensure nothing was missed and that everything had followed protocol. But for a team that is so action-based, having to do paperwork was entirely boring for everyone except Spencer, who was engrossed at his desk, the one across from yours, reading every file intently.

Meanwhile, you were sitting at your desk, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. It had been a long time since you had sex. With your line of work, it’s hard to find time to do anything outside the realm of your job. So you were doing what any normal person would do nowadays: resort to dating apps. You were scrolling on Tinder, mindlessly swiping left and right on people you thought were and weren’t attractive. You stopped at a certain profile, trying to decide if someone was cute or not and if you’d actually be willing to have them in your pants.

JJ walked past your desk and glanced at your phone. “Oh? Who’s this?” She asked, standing next to your chair.

You glanced at JJ before looking back at your phone. “Some random guy,” You said, showing her your phone. “Do you think he’s cute?”

JJ shook her head no, a small grimace on your face. “You can do much better, sweetheart,” She said, her grimace becoming a smile. “Are you finally looking to meet someone?”

You laughed, shaking your head no. “I’m just looking to get dick,” you replied bluntly, giving JJ a cheeky grin.

JJ laughed, nodding her head. “I get it,” she said, sighing. “Will and I haven’t had our alone time in weeks,” She rolled her eyes.

You pout in sympathy before swiping away the guy on your phone. “Do you want to help me look for the perfect person?” You asked.

JJ nodded her head, grabbed a random chair, and pulled it up to your desk. “Hell yeah, give it to me,” She grinned as she looked over your shoulder at your phone.

Unbeknownst to you and JJ, Spencer, though his attention looked as though it were on the files, had a frown on his face. To anyone, it would look as though he were deep in thought. But actually, it was due to listening in on your conversation with JJ. Why did you have to resort to some stupid dating app? Shouldn’t you know better than to trust random strangers on the internet? That’s like kind of what your job is about. Spencer felt a gross feeling in his chest, something he hadn’t felt before. Perhaps he’s been attracted to you since you joined the team some time ago and the idea of you seeking someone else for pleasure made him jealous. Not that he’d actively admit that.

As you and JJ sat there, talking and giggling with one another about random people you see on your phone, Spener bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his attention on the files in front of him. His jaw was clenched, and his hair tousled all over the place. It wasn’t until it was finally time for everyone to go home that he could get some peace and quiet. As everyone, including you, exited the bullpen to go home, Spencer remained alone with his thoughts for a little while longer.

He thought about you going on a date with some random person. How you’d get yourself all dolled up and beautiful for some random loser who likely wouldn’t even know where the clitoris is. Spencer may not have the most experience in the world but he definitely knows where the clitoris is located. He groaned to himself, realizing that his jealousy was consuming him. He rubbed his eyes before sitting back in his chair. And then, Spencer came to a sudden realization, causing him to quickly stand up and grab his satchel before leaving the Bureau.

You were in your apartment, sitting on your couch as you looked through the television channels. You were dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, your hair mostly dry but still a bit damp from the shower you took when you had gotten home from work. You were originally going to see about possibly going on a date tonight but instead, you opted to stay home, too exhausted to really want to go out and meet anyone.

You didn’t particularly care to actually date anyone. Your desires are always laid elsewhere, with a very specific coworker you had. And unfortunately, you could not have this specific coworker as it would break so many Bureau rules. But you were allowed to have your thoughts, thank you very much. And if those thoughts included thinking of Spencer pounding into you and whispering praises into your ear then that was your own volition.

It was currently eight o’clock in the evening when there was a knock on your apartment door. You glanced at the clock before standing up from the couch and walking to the door. You looked out of the peephole, seeing Spencer standing there looking a bit disheveled. You opened the door, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion as you looked at the brown-haired man in front of you. “Spencer…?” You asked. “What are you-”

“You know, some people use dating apps to target potential victims for violence or sexual assault,” Spencer interrupted you. “Which is why you shouldn’t use dating apps.”

Your look of confusion remained on your face. “You know, that could’ve been a text,” you replied sarcastically.

Spencer bit his lip, looking at you. “Maybe,” he replied. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. You were always so beautiful at work, dressed in mostly professional, sometimes casual clothing with light makeup on your face. But right now, you were ethereal. Dressed in lounging clothes with your hair perfectly natural and no makeup on your face. At that moment, Spencer didn’t understand why you even bothered to get yourself dressed up each day when you were perfect just the way you were.

“Why are you here?” You asked softly, noticing the way Spencer was looking at you. You didn’t question it, however.

Spencer remained silent for a few seconds, trying to think of a proper response to give you. He hadn’t completely thought this through when he made the sudden decision to visit you. Finally, he spoke, “Do you want me to leave?”

You shook your head. “No!” You responded immediately. “I just- I’m surprised you’re here is all.” You bit your lip nervously. You hadn’t invited Spencer in yet and that had suddenly dawned on you. You moved to the side, allowing Spencer to step inside before closing the door behind him. You leaned against the door, looking at Spencer as he turned to look at you.

“You shouldn’t resort to dating apps,” He spoke. You furrowed your eyebrows at Spencer, confused as to why he would come here just to tell you that. Just as you were about to respond, Spencer cut you off by speaking once more. “Not when I could help you.”

“What?” Your voice came out more hoarse than you intended.

Spencer cleared his throat, the only sign that his confidence had slightly diminished. “If you need someone to pleasure you, you don’t need to use dating apps when I’m right here,” he said again, rewording his earlier statement.

“Are you saying you want to have sex with me, Spencer?” You whispered, biting your bottom lip.

Spencer moved closer to you until he was right in front of you. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered.

Spencer nodded his head. A silence overcame the two of you before he spoke again, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay,” you responded.

Spencer leaned in and gently kissed your lips. It was nervous and hesitant, as if unsure if you’d actually want to kiss him or not. But when you kissed him back, Spencer became more sure of himself as he kissed you deeply. He brought his hands to your cheeks, cupping them. The two of you moved in sync, kissing one another slowly. Eventually, Spencer pulled away slightly to look into your eyes as you stared back at him. The gaze the two of you had held a hunger that neither of you had admitted to yourselves in the entire time you’d been working together.

Spencer kissed you again, this time more roughly and hungrily. A soft noise escaped your lips from the roughness but it wasn’t unwelcome whatsoever. As the two of you kissed, you gently pushed him around the apartment to try and get to the bedroom. Spencer accidentally bumped into a side table, causing a vase to fall to the ground but luckily it didn’t break. “Whoops,” he said, pulling away from the kiss to look at it.

You put a hand on his chin. “Don’t worry about it,” you said as you pulled his face back to yours. The two of you continued moving throughout the apartment until you reached your bedroom. Spencer’s lips left yours and began kissing your jawline, making his way down to your neck. His touch was like feathers as he lightly kissed along your skin. His lips brushed against your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine and causing you to clench your thighs. An action that wasn’t missed by Spencer.

“Needy?” He asked against your skin.

You nodded your head. “Very,” you whispered.

Spencer let out a hum as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt. He slowly pulled the material up, moving his head away from your neck so he could pull it off of you and tossing it to the side. You weren’t wearing a bra and Spencer couldn’t help but just look at you. “Can I touch you?” He breathed out, eyes locked on your tits.

“Yes, please,” You replied breathily.

He didn’t hesitate to use both of his hands to massage your tits, feeling the flesh in his hands. He thumbed your nipples, causing you to moan softly at the feeling. “You know, some women can orgasm just from having their nipples stimulated,” he murmured, eyes fixated on your breasts.

You let out a small laugh. “I don’t think I’m one of those people,” you exclaimed.

Spencer let out a hum as he leaned down and captured one of your nipples into his mouth. The action caused you to let out a whine as he tongued the nub, his hands still massaging your boobs. He moved to the other nipple, doing the exact same thing. Your cheeks were warm as felt the sparks of pleasure being sent down your spine. Eventually, Spencer pulled away, pressing gentle kisses along your chest before returning up your neck and to your lips.

He guided you to your mattress, sitting you down at the edge of the bed as he pulled away from you. You looked up at Spencer, watching Spencer as he got on his knees in front of you. “Do you want me to continue?” He asked softly.

You licked your lips, nodding your head. “Yes, please,” you murmured.

And that’s all Spencer needed to put his hands on the waistband of your sweatpants and pull them down, tossing the material to the side. You weren’t wearing underwear underneath, causing Spencer to let out a soft hum of approval. “I want to taste you,” he said, looking at you with his puppy brown eyes.

“Please do.” You whispered, biting your lip as you spread your legs for Spencer, revealing your cunt to him.

He let out a groan, his eyes immediately moving to look at your glistening pussy. Without hesitation, Spencer dived in, licking a strip down your slit and then back up, causing you to moan. Spencer hummed against your cunt, his eyes fluttering closed as he tasted you. His tongue began lapping around in figure-eights, teasing your clit with each flick. If you had told yourself that your night would end up with Spencer on his knees, eating you out, you would’ve laughed. And yet, here you were.

Spencer made out with your cunt, his lips moving against your pussy like you were the sustenance he needed to live. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on the nub. You let out a loud moan, bringing your hand to Spencer’s hair and tugging on his curls. The action alone caused Spencer to whimper against your cunt as it encouraged him more.

You were whining and moaning, relishing in the pleasure Spencer was giving you. No one had gone down on you in so long and you had almost forgotten what it had felt like. But Spencer? He was built for this. His face was sculpted to eat pussy. If you could live with Spencer’s head between your thighs for the rest of your life, you think you’d die a happy woman.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, throwing your head back. Spencer hummed against your pussy, his tongue dipping into your hole while his nose rubbed against your clit. He was breathing in your cunt, drunk on your juices. You could feel yourself getting closer, causing you to buck your hips. “I’m gonna cum,” you whined. With a slurp to your clit, you gasped and let out a choked moan, thighs clamping against Spencer’s face as you arched your back. “Spencer!” you moaned his name as you came.

And when you finished, Spencer pulled away from your pussy. His face was glistening with your juices as he looked at you with a smirk. “You’re so beautiful,” he said huskily as he gently rubbed your thighs. “Did I do good?”

“So good,” you breathed out, smiling at Spencer.

“Then you don’t need anyone else, right?” He asked, standing up.

“I only need you, baby.” You replied, looking up at Spencer with a dazed look. “Now fuck me.”

Spencer grinned, undressing himself before crawling onto you. “Gladly.”

And after that, you begin a new journey with Spencer where you explore each other’s bodies. Why do you need to use dating apps when all you need is Spencer?

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader

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miniaturesuitgladiator · 3 days ago

Text

Yandere platonic Batfam x

Child Girl scout reader!

Notes: reader is a child in this.

Warnings ⚠️: mentions of kidnap and reader is low class. Not proofread. Please do not judge my girl scout logic I am not a girl scout and have never been one!

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

The manor was as dull as ever lately. The big fancy walls of the place only felt colder as time went on.

Dick had broken up with Kori for the umpteenth time that month and was living at the manor ,or more like mopping at the manor..

On rare occasions Cass would stop by. And if they were very lucky jason would stop by and say hi every now and then.

Bruce was as cold as ever not being able to catch the joker and being behind in alot of meetings.

Duke was frustrated with his over all high-school experiences.

And Cass was pretty sure she was going through a mid life crisis despite her still being young.

Pretty soon Tim would graduate high-school and Bruce new he'd be off to living his own life.

Now damian was still pretty young but he didn't really count for a kid. Atleast not in Bruce's eyes. Damian lacked that child imagination. That childish spark. And bruce will admit he is partially to blame....

But on a particular lucky day they had met you!

Or more like Alfred had met you first. And that began the overly possessive vigilanty family to fall absolutely in love with your cute self!

You were about seven never having been blessed with a high class life but your mama sure did try and give you her best!

You oh! so desperately wanted to be a girl scout!

And who was mother to break your heart and tell you she didn't have the money?

So she worked extra shifts at the hospital. Her being a nurse meant that most of her time she was at the hospital working.

But that never stopped her from dropping you off in some of the richest and hopefully safest neighborhoods in gotham so you could sell your cookies for the girl scouts.

She hated leaving you alone but she just couldn't resist your cute puppy dog eyes as you promised you'd be safe....and she really didn't have time to argue or should she'd be late to work, agian!

So with a kiss on the cheek from you and a smile she left. Leaving you on the richest street in gotham.

Sure being low class in gotham was hard but you never saw it that way. You always tried to be kind.

Because in your mother's words, 'in a world where you can be anything, be kind.'

So kind you were. Even to the stuck up little girl scouts who didn't like you because you were poor.

But you didn't pay them any mind! You loved being a girl scout! The other girls were probably just jealous you sold more cookies then them!

Atleast that's what your mama told you.

You smile and skip your way down the street pulling your wagon full of boxes of cookies behind you.

Walking up to each house with a smile on your face most bought some because how could they deny such a cute thing with chubby cheeks?

Sure they'd probably never eat the cookies from a low class kid but they couldn't find it in their cold, spoiled, hearts to say no to you! (They saw it as charity.)

Finally with your last boxes of cookies you pull your wagon with you as you walk up the long drive way and surprisingly the gate was open!

Stepping up to the big door you knock exactly three times.

Alfred being as confused as ever stops cleaning and checks the cameras only to not spot anyone on the footage.

Hesitatently he begins cleaning playing it off as his ears playing tricks on him. But he hears the knock agian. So he doesn't even bother with the camera.

Opening the front door his harsh gaze immediately softens at the sight of you!

Ofc the cameras wouldn't see you! You were to small to be seen on the ring camera!

Your just so cute with your little sash and badges! And your smiles so bright something that the old butler hasn't seen in a while...a genuine smile.

You have that child like wonder that's still in your eyes and by your little dirty shoes the butler knows you traveled a long way to get here.

"Hello sir. I'm here to offer you some of the best cookies in gotham. Girl scout cookies!" You say with one of the biggest smiles and happiest eyes!

"It's five dollars for a box or two boxes for nine! I only have chocolate chip and blueberry left." You say giving your speech like you've done a million other of times.

But this time it would change your life completely.....

To your complete surprise he hands you a hundred dollar bill and you hesitatently take it giving him your last two boxes.

"I don't have change sir....." You say trying to give him back the money to which he just shakes his head.

"Keep it...as a tip." He says his voice holding no pity like the others.

"Really?" You say your eyes shinning with excitement.

And by seeing your happiness Alfred knows you deserve it. So he nods and you take the old spy by surprise by hugging him.

"Thank you so much!" You say as you pull away jumping on the balls of your feet.

"I'll be back every Saturday to give you a box of cookies until I repay you!" You say skipping off with your wagon in tow.

Alfred looks at you with puzzled look did you not know what recieving a tip meant?

Well he wasn't going to stop you from coming back. Especially as you shoot him your absolutely adorable smile as you walk down the driveway and wave goodbye shouting a cute and kind.

"Have a blessed day!" As you leave.

Have a blessed day....Alfred definitely hasn't heard that in a long time..especially in gotham.

You were definitely diffrent...

But you had kept your word coming back every Saturday at 1pm sharp never missing a Saturday!

And each time Alfred would give you a hundred dollar bill saying it was your tip. And you'd give him a hug and tell him you'll be back every Saturday until you repay him!

Alfred doesn't exactly know what about you made him become so attached to you. Maybe it was your hugs? Or your sweet smile?

Either way he didn't mind because he'd wait by the door at 1pm sharp every Saturday waiting to see you walk down the driveway with your little red wagon and big toothy smile.

Eventually he did learn your name and how old you were and you learned quite a bit about him too.

Until one day the he had gotten so caught up in cleaning the manor he didn't even realize that he was about to miss his favorite part of the week!

There was a knock on the door exactly three times just like there always was on Saturday at 1pm for the past few months.

But this time it wasn't the sweet butler you had come accustomed too. No, now it was a big fancy looking man with blue eyes.

"Hello?" He says his voice much softer then it would look like he'd sound like.

Your puzzled eyes search his looking for your dear friend.

"Hi?" You say as tilt your head still searching for your favorite costumer.

Bruce's eyes take you in... your far to young to be out here alone. Where are your parents? He wants to ask but more importantly who are you looking for?

"I usually come by here at this time....do you know where Mr. pennyworth is?" You say your eyes still searching around for the older man.

Bruce looks at you confused how did you know Alfred? Bruce eyes scan you seeing if your a threat but by the way you nervous fiddle around with it your sash as he continues to look at you he deems that your just a harmless child.

"He's inside...do you want to come see him?" He says his voice now much softer and his eyes aren't as cold as they once were. But you take a step back.

You might have been a kid but you aren't that stupid.

"My mama says I can't go in strangers houses.." You say as you look at him clearly looking for a place to hide.

Bruce nods as he sees your nervous deamor.

"Well I suppose I could bring him out to you." Bruce says and your eyes light up with excitement at the thought of seeing your dear friend agian.

And oh.... how bruce envies the old butler by how just the mention of him makes you smile.

Why was Alfred so important to you?

Bruce goes back in but Alfred is already on his way to the door finally remembering his favorite part of the week.

Bruce watches the interaction closely as you smile when Alfred gives you the money. And how sweetly you hug Alfred.

Bruce had initially thought you only came for the good money Alfred was giving you but the way you smiled was kind...and very adorable.

The whole interaction was definitely wholesome and bruce couldn't help but want to be apart of it...he so desperately wished someone would hug him as happily you hug Alfred...

Bruce being the jealous man he is started to be the one opening the door every Saturday at 1pm enjoying your happy smiles and childish jokes you would tell him as you waited for Alfred to come to the door.

And just like Alfred Bruce always made sure he'd never be busy on Saturday at 1pm because rain or sunshine you'd be at their door.

Eventually it was raining very hard and your mother not checking the weather app before you left had left you alone in the rain with no way to contact your mother.

You do your usual houses ending up at the manor at 1pm and despite the hash rain you still had that cute toothy smile on your face that they loved seeing.

"Hi Mr, Wayne!" You happily say...always so happy.

Bruce smiles you always call him Mr. Wayne even when he tells you not to. You must have very good manners or are just very forget he thinks to himself.

"Hello sweetheart." He says. He's called you sweetheart since the second time he had met you.

Now bruce wasn't that into nicknames but for you the nickname really matched. You were just too sweet.

After you do your usual talking with Alfred and bruce you turn to walk back in the rain.

"You can't possibly walk back in that rain, sweetheart." Bruce says his voice edged with worry and concern.

But you dismiss his concern with a shrug and a smile.

"I've walked in worse.. plus my mama is gonna pick me up soon!" You say happily giving them their two boxes of cookies and walking a way.

But they don't smile back this time when you yell. "Have a blessed day!" Like you always do.

No, their eyes circle around everything about you. About the rain. How harshly it's hitting your skin. How wet your hair is getting. How heavy your little red wagon must be for you as it continues filling up with water.

They watch as you slowly disappear down the long driveway their hearts still longing to help.

But altimately they decide that they can't do anything. Your not their kid. They can't offer you a ride because they know you'd never accept.

They don't even know the name of your mother let alone her number. How were they supposed to verify if your mother was really going to pick you up?

Or were you just going to walk home in the rain?

You'd surely get sick... and after after about five more minutes the two men come to the conclusion that.....fuck the rules you were definitely not going to be walking alone in the rain.

So with Alfred handing bruce the keys bruce quickly took off in his black Mercedes.

You continue walking down the street trying not to feel scared as the lightning strikes agian. And when a black and very nice car pulls up beside you you walk faster.

You knew how much your mother worried...the last thing she needed was for you to get kidnapped!

But the car kept up with your pace and the window rolled down and as much as you tried not to you couldn't help but turn your head to see who was driving the car.

You immediately stop walking as you see the driver.

"Hi Mr. Wayne!" You say smiling and bruce can't even register a real smile as he takes in how your soaking wet from head to toe. And he just knows that those old shoes are probably hurting your feet.

"Hey sweetheart......how about I give you a ride?" He says his voice pleading as he pulls the car to a complete stop.

You look at him and tilt your head and bruce has to stop himself from just getting out the car and picking you up and putting you in himself.

Your adorable confused motions give away your response. So bruce speaks up agian.

"Just one ride to your house." He says still pleading but in his mind you don't really have a choice you are going to let him give you a ride.

"You won't kidnap me right?" You question and instead of bruce feeling offend or angry at that he smiles and shakes his head. You were trying to be safe. But that wasn't exactly a good question to ask.

Atleast not to the richest man in gotham who didn't have to necessarily kidnap you to keep you.

Reaching over and open the passengers seat for you Bruce shows you a award winning smile; a smile that not even the paparazzi has caught him with in years.

"Of course not sweetheart....come on get in."

And plus it's not considered kidnapping when you legally adopt someone right?

Thanks for reading!

Likes Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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bumpyfrog · 3 days ago

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I mean like, “enemies to lovers” does tell you about the plot in a concrete way and is not generally a spoiler. It’s also just a romance novel trope. Quite honestly a lot of “fanfic tropes” originate in romance novels (although romance books certainly mirror fic trends). Or just from fiction in general because tropes have existed since apes began telling each other stories.

I also find the trope marketing extremely annoying because I find all advertising annoying. But it does make sense.

The trope list is just a way to get eyes on books. It’s a quick and easy way to say Book Contains Scenarios that you may or may not find compelling. Only One Bed. “Who did this to you???” Found family. If you tend to like these things in a story you can click on the ad to find out more. It’s like the inverse of fanfic. It’s not “I like these characters and want to see them in various situations”, it’s “I like these situations and want to see them with various characters”.

Why should I care if it’s in a coffee shop? The setting is some of the most basic information points about the plot of a book. The back of the book and the advertising are just marketing, they aren’t the place for in depth character analysis.

Writers have built their works around marketable tropes since commercial fiction has existed. Any used bookstore you can go to is saturated with mass market paperbacks: romances, westerns, mysteries. Sci fi, fantasy. Etc. Most of these are probably not very good. Cheap, disposable fiction is nothing new. Again, especially when it comes to genre fiction. For every Genre Defining Masterpiece you have 25 moderately talented but unremarkable writers churning out pulp. This years A Court of This and That spicy enemies to lovers fae romance is the bodice ripper of yore.

It’s nothing new, it’s not ruining literature and as always you’re gonna have to read a bunch of kinda mid books to find the ones that truly appeal to you.

Sorry it’s early but you really can’t use fanfiction terms in a non fanfiction context like if someone is trying to sell me a book to read and they tell me there’s an enemy to lovers I would be annoyed because why are you spoiling the story lol

#this is not knocking genre fiction I love and primarily read genre fiction #a True to Form genre novel can be so eloquent #chefs kiss

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luvergirl-866 · 2 days ago

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i don’t see what anyone could see in anyone else (but you)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 6.0k

c/w - fluff, they’re both annoying and sassy, p has adhd highkey (twin)

a/n - inspired by the let’s be honest p annoying a video. i just love the girlfriends but best friends first dynamic iykwim 😣. also took a lot of inspo from some tiktok lives 🩷 anyway yeah this is stupid and late for v day but better than nothing!!

It has been a good week.

On Sunday, Azzi made it a point to spend the day getting ahead on schoolwork as much as she could. Coach had been hinting at a grueling upcoming practice week and Azzi knows herself well enough to know she’d end up putting school on the back burner anyway. And that’s exactly what happened, because come Monday, every time she left a class with homework it would end up in her desk, left there to rot until basketball wasn’t her main priority anymore.

Coach hadn’t been lying—he never is about those things. Practice was torture, often running hours into the night as the girls were made to play again and again until they were good enough in Geno’s eyes. But Azzi had been one of the few on the team who loved it, feeling just as renewed as she was drained after each practice. The more exhausted she got, the longer practice went on, the better she performed. It was unusual for her and it struck up a certain confidence, creating a subtle pep in her step everywhere she went.

The only downside to the week was the lack of Paige Time. It’s been like that for quite some time now—really, ever since basketball season started. After the long summer spent basically attached at the hip, the school year was a rude awakening for them and November was even ruder. They were juggling basketball, school, marketing, and their own personal endeavors—especially Paige’s as she prepares to declare. On top of all that, finding time to love on each other has been difficult, if not impossible. Besides for a few kisses in passing and minor flirting in practice, they really only see each other at bedtime and briefly in the mornings.

Which is why, when Azzi wakes up in her girlfriend’s room, she can’t help but smile a little to herself before she’s even really awake. Because it’s Saturday, and the sun is shining through the curtains, and most importantly, they have nowhere to be today.

She can feel Paige’s presence behind her, and can hear the TikToks playing on her phone, signaling she’s already awake. Actually, TikTok might’ve been what woke Azzi in the first place. Now that she’s really waking up, she realizes that Paige has her phone speakers turned up way too high, and a pang of sleepy irritability goes through her. “Babe,” she mumbles into her pillow, “turn that down.”

Thankfully, the tinny noises stop, but they’re quickly replaced by the familiar teasing tone in her girlfriend’s voice. “Look who’s finally awake.”

“What time is it?” Azzi yawns, eyes still closed.

“9:30,” Paige replies.

At that, Azzi snuggles further into the blankets, the scent of Paige enveloping her. “Not even that early,” she says. “Might go back to sleep.”

“Can I wake you up at ten?” Paige asks. “I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Azzi concedes, used to Paige’s neediness, “you can wake me up at ten.”

“Aight,” Paige says, sounding pleased with herself.

Azzi shifts, feeling a little lonely what with Paige all the way on her side of the bed. They’ve had a whole conversation at this point, yet she’s still yet to receive a good morning kiss. It’s off-putting, to be honest. She expects Paige, ever the affectionate one in their relationship, to sidle up beside her now that she’s semi-awake.

Instead, to her shock, the TikTok sounds start back up again. And they’re just as loud as before.

“Paige,” Azzi exclaims, finally cracking her eyes open, turning over her shoulder to find Paige propped up against the headboard, staring calmly at her.

“Hm?” she asks.

Azzi sighs. She hates having to ask for the things she wants. Usually, Paige just magically knows and provides it for her. She must be too busy on stupid TikTok to remember she has a girlfriend who needs attending to.

In lieu of asking straight-up, Azzi reaches back, grasping for Paige’s thigh and looking up at her with big brown eyes.

Immediately, Paige tosses her phone to the side, chuckling. “Mm. Sorry, princess.” Sliding down under the covers, she situates herself closer until she’s hovering above her, close enough to drop a chaste kiss on her lips. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Obviously,” Azzi mutters, reaching up for one more kiss before turning back over, sighing when Paige snuggles up behind her.

“You gotta little attitude this morning,” Paige helpfully observes, nuzzling into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi closes her eyes, trying to let sleep call to her as it was just a minute ago. “Just miss you,” she says, a little vulnerable in the way she says it—and maybe that’s also due to the minimal clothes they’re wearing, the skin-on-skin contact always making her feel safe and comforted and exposed all at once.

Paige tuts sympathetically, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I know, baby.” There’s a beat of silence as they shift, Paige’s hand running over her stomach, trailing up to one of her breasts. “Missed you, too.”

As much as the touch turns Azzi on, it’s less the sexuality of it and more the sheer domesticity; the way they know each other’s bodies well enough to be comfortable with wandering hands that aren’t meant to lead anywhere. She breathes deep as Paige holds her gently, then clasps a hand over her’s, keeping her in place.

It’s only another minute before she’s drifting off again, Paige’s even breaths in her ear lulling her to sleep.

It’s peaceful—maybe the most relaxed she’s been all week. But as she lays there, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, Paige’s breathing changes just a split second before she’s speaking too loudly in Azzi’s ear, “I’m hungry.”

Azzi startles a little at the sudden interruption. Her eyes fly open, though only to shoot a glare at her girlfriend. “Paige!”

“What? I am.” Paige frowns, pulling away to sit up and rub her stomach forlornly. “You took too long to wake up.”

Azzi sighs, rolling over onto her back. “I thought you were gonna let me sleep until ten.”

Paige shrugs at that, making big puppy eyes at her, and Azzi resigns to the fact that she will not be getting any more sleep this morning.

“Fine,” she grumbles, sitting up with some effort. “But I’m gonna shower first.”

She stands up, Paige’s eyes tracking her from where she sits on the bed. She whistles lowly as Azzi makes her way to the closet, likely due to the fact that she’s only wearing a pair of sheer panties. Azzi rolls her eyes, pulling on a pair of clothes for the walk down the hall.

Paige, of course, trails her to the bathroom, situating herself on the floor while Azzi starts the water. She watches intently as Azzi undresses, and Azzi catches her pout just as she’s stepping inside.

“What?” Azzi asks when she sees her expression.

“Can I come in with you?” Paige asks.

The offer is tempting, but Azzi is still sore from last night and in all honestly, she’s not in the mood after Paige rudely woke her this morning. “No. I’m only gonna be like five minutes.”

“I can help you.”

“I think I got it,” Azzi laughs, pouring soap onto her washcloth—something she is perfectly capable of doing by herself.

Paige stands up, walking over to Azzi’s phone on the counter. “Okay, then lemme play your music.”

Azzi doesn’t really have time to protest before Bossman Dlow is blasting far too loud over the speakers, and Paige picks up a hairbrush, admiring herself in the mirror as she sings. Azzi rolls her eyes, refocusing her efforts on cleaning up.

Paige looks over and catches the unamused look on her face. “Oh, sorry,” she says sincerely, picking up another hairbrush and holding it out. “You wanted a mic too?”

Azzi sighs. She gets the feeling she’ll be doing a lot of that today.

————————————

It’s not until awhile later that they finally get to the kitchen—mostly due to the fact that Paige kept showing her videos and making commentary while she tried to do her hair, causing the whole endeavor to take a lot longer than it should’ve. Ironically, Paige is the one whining about this by the time they’re finally ready.

“Bro, now I’m really hungry,” she says, continuing to rub her belly a bit like a pregnant lady—which makes Azzi giggle—as she heads to the fridge.

“What should we have, mama?” she asks. Then, as Azzi’s thinking about it, she says, “You’re right, pancakes sound good.”

Azzi hefts herself onto the counter. “Never said that.”

“You took too long to answer,” Paige replies simply. She roots through the fridge for another minute before sighing, turning around to face her. “Do we need milk to make pancakes?”

“Do you have pancake mix?”

“Um…” Paige walks to the pantry at this, taking another minute to search that before once again sighing dramatically. “No.”

“Then, yes. We need milk.”

“Why, though?” Paige asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t water work the same?”

Azzi scrunches her nose up at the thought of water pancakes. “Ew. No.”

Paige shakes her head at her. “Okay, Miss Picky.”

“I know you’re not talking.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Azzi hops off the counter, patting Paige’s chest as she walks past her to the entryway, searching for Paige’s keys. “C’mon, we can go grab some real quick.”

Azzi finds the keys and holds them out expectantly, unsurprised when Paige takes them without hesitation. “I guess. But no fucking around.”

They leave the apartment, and Azzi raises a brow as she watches Paige lock up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Paige says, taking her hand and beginning to walk, “we get in, get the milk, and go.”

Azzi swings their hands mindlessly between them. “If I’m remembering right, you’re the one who’s currently unmedicated.”

“Yeah, and I’m chill,” Paige says, pressing the button for the elevator. “My doctors just want my money or sum’, I’m fine without that dumb shit.”

“Paige, you woke me up five times last night because you had things to tell me and didn’t wanna forget.”

“Valid reason to wake you up.” Paige shoves Azzi inside the elevator, and once she follows, Azzi pushes her right back.

“I’m just saying. You’re easily distracted.”

“Nah.”

“We were making out for like an hour yesterday and you interrupted it to tell me a story.”

“It was a funny story,” Paige explains, taking her hand once again when the elevator doors open and dragging her out.

“Debatable,” Azzi quips, even though it was kinda a good story.

“And it’s not like we didn’t continue kissing after that. I just gave us a lil intermission.”

“You never needed intermissions while you were on your meds.”

They’re in the parking lot now, and Paige unlocks her car, nudging Azzi towards it. “Just get in the car.”

“Bossy,” Azzi mumbles.

Believe it or not, the two of them do have days where they don’t fight, argue, or even sass each other. Those days, however, come far and few between—making fun of each other is their love language and thus little spats happen more often than not. And with today being the first day in awhile that they’ve spent together—not to mention Paige’s apparent decision to be more irritating than usual—it’s no surprise that they spend the car ride fighting over music.

By the time they get to the grocery store, Paige is hyperfocused on making sure Azzi stays on track. When Azzi falls behind to smell a candle, she sighs and tugs her away by the wrist: “Bro, why are we going at grandma pace.”

Ironically, Paige, like the hypocrite she is, also finds an abandoned cart in the refrigerated section. Azzi is grabbing milk when Paige bumps her with the cart, getting her attention. When Azzi looks at her, Paige simply says, “Babe, watch,” and proceeds to hop on the cart and ride it down the aisle with the vigor of a small child.

Once the milk is secured, Azzi decides she deserves some remuneration for the taxing work of going out in public with her girlfriend. Stopping Paige on their way to checkout, Azzi looks up at her with big, brown eyes and says, “Can we stop in the books? Just really quick.”

Paige avoids her gaze. “Nah, I wanna leave.”

“Aw,” Azzi coos, running a hand down Paige’s arm somewhat seductively, “please, Paigey? I need new books.”

Still, Paige refuses to make eye contact as she says, “Aren’t you working on, like, two right now?”

Azzi doesn’t usually get this much pushback from her. She wonders exactly why Paige woke up and decided to annoy her today. Still, she knows Paige can’t say no to her. Placing her hand on Paige’s cheek, she turns her face, forcing her to look at her: the slight pout of her lips, the way her eyes widen enough to be convincing. “C’mon, baby,” she says. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

That’s the breaking point. With a sigh, Paige nods, allowing herself to be excitedly led to the book section.

Azzi decides that she’s no longer annoyed with Paige as she searches through the books, reading over the synopses of every one that looks interesting. She’s desperate for something new, even though Paige is right—she already has plenty.

Paige stays miraculously quiet for a solid five minutes, allowing Azzi to take her time and even browsing through a few books of her own.

Those five minutes, however, are as long as she gets before she happens to pick up a romance novel. Paige glances at her in that moment and she barely has time to hide the cover before Paige is gagging, most likely at the straight couple pictured embracing on the front of it. “That’s so gross.”

Azzi puts the book back on the shelf. “It’s no different than when we kiss.”

“Lowkey super offensive thing to say,” Paige replies. Azzi rolls her eyes, watching as Paige reaches down to grab a large book with colorful dragons on the cover. “This looks way cooler.”

Azzi takes a few steps closer to read the bold lettering on the cover, and then snorts. “Paige, that is a coloring book.”

By the time they get back home, Azzi has officially rescinded her earlier decision—she is definitely still annoyed with Paige.

—————————————

When they return to the dorms, despite Azzi’s oddly low patience for Paige’s annoying nature today, she still wants nothing more than to cozy up in bed with her and read her new book. They make the pancakes first, Paige doing nothing to help her case by arguing about how exactly to make pancakes. Once the two of them—plus half the team, who heard from Jana in the group chat that there would be pancakes—are fed, Azzi is ready to retreat back into Paige’s room.

However, most of the team is still there, and Paige’s oblivious ass is refusing to take Azzi’s hints, too busy chatting with their friends.

She’s tried everything: muttering to Paige that she’s tired (“I see a lil’ napski in our future,” is what Paige responds with), sitting herself on Paige’s lap in an unusual display of affection (“We run out of chairs or sum’?” Paige asks), and even aggressively cleaning everybody’s dishes (“I can do that, mama, you go hang,” Paige says, taking over).

At this point, it’s all she can do not to just yell at her girlfriend. She sits on the couch, listening a little sleepily as KK tells her some crazy story. The team is far too raucous for noon on a Saturday, probably in part to the ridiculous amounts of whipped cream and syrup they all used on their pancakes. In the kitchen, Aubrey and Paige start wrestling, and KK stops yapping to go join them. She jumps on Paige’s back, knocking her over and losing her balance in the process until they’re a heap on the floor. Aubrey steps on their backs, flexing, and the girls cheer rowdily.

Azzi is overstimulated.

Refraining from covering her ears, Azzi stands, giving up on the Paige aspect of her afternoon plans. She’s not sure she even wants Paige—who is hysterically laughing as she gets up from the floor—to be with her anymore. It’d be like forcing a hyper dog to cuddle. She’d probably end up getting bitten.

She’s hoping nobody will notice her slipping away, but Kayla does, tugging on a curl as she heads to the hallway. “Where ya going, babe?”

“Paige’s room,” Azzi says simply.

“She’s gonna notice you’re gone.”

Azzi glances at the scene behind them. Someone’s turned on ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ and Ice has now joined the kitchen boxing match. Paige just barely ducks a fist to the face before barreling into Ice’s stomach, once again ending up on the floor, giggling deliriously. The other girls have mostly lost interest at this point, which is fair—this isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Azzi turns back to Kayla. “I doubt it.”

“Give her five minutes,” Kayla insists.

“She’s too busy being a little boy.” Azzi rolls her eyes, patting Kayla affectionately as she walks past.

In Paige’s room, she breathes a sigh of relief, the closed door offering some solace from the noise outside. Even better, Paige’s airpods sit on her bedside table; Azzi takes them and connects them to her phone, turning on the noise-cancelling setting. Pleased with the results, she settles into her side of the bed, picking up her book and beginning to read.

She gets maybe two pages in before a tap on the shoulder scares the shit out of her.

Jumping, she whirls around, to find Paige standing beside the bed with a sheepish smile on her face.

Azzi takes out an airpod. “Paige, what?”

Her tone comes out more exasperated than she means to and feels a little guilty about the confused look she gets in return. “I noticed you left. Kay told me you were in here.”

“Yeah, just reading.”

“I see,” Paige replies. She hovers awkwardly, then says, “why didn’t you bring me with you?”

Despite her irritability, affection blossoms in Azzi’s chest at her girlfriend’s clinginess, her need to be around her 24/7 if they’re together. And Azzi reminds herself that this is the first day they’ve really had with each other in a while, and Paige is missing her too. Gently, she says, “I tried, but it seemed like you were having too much fun.”

“I mean, I was having fun,” Paige says. “But I’d rather hang out with you than fuck around with those dumbasses.”

“You’re as much of a dumbass as they are,” Azzi quips. “Actually, they probably learned it from you.”

“Like father, like sons,” Paige nods solemnly. Then, unceremoniously, she throws herself on top of Azzi, nearly knocking the wind out of her and crushing her book between them.

“Ow, Paige!” she says, freeing her hands and book as Paige wriggles like a happy little worm on top of her.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbles into her neck.

“We’ve been together all day.”

“You left me alone out there.”

“I’ve been in here for like five minutes.”

Paige lifts her head to pout at her. “Five minutes too long.”

Unable to help herself, she leans forward, kissing the pout off Paige’s lips. When she pulls back, Paige chases after her, trying to deepen the kiss, but Azzi pushes at her chest. “I still wanna read my book.”

“Okay,” Paige says.

“I wanna snuggle with you,” Azzi continues. “But only if you let me read.“

“Okay,” she repeats. She’s staring at Azzi’s lips, though, which doesn’t spark a lot of confidence that she’s actually listening.

“Which means,” Azzi emphasizes, getting Paige’s eyes to snap back up to her’s, “no talking, no showing me TikToks. And no distracting me with sex.”

Paige pouts again at that, batting her eyelashes stupidly. “What, you mean I can’t eat you out while you’re reading?” Azzi flicks her forehead, and she snickers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Joking. I’ll be good, don’t worry.”

Azzi actually believes her, crazy enough. It’s mostly due to the fact that she and Paige have been together for nearly seven years, so she has her pretty house-trained at this point.

Satisfied, she flashes a smile, picking her book back up. Paige scoots down the length of her body until she’s settled between Azzi’s legs, head resting comfortably on the soft expanse of her tummy. Once they’re situated, Azzi frees up a hand to scratch Paige’s scalp, which’ll keep her happy for a while.

They sit like that for around thirty minutes. The noise of their teammates has died down enough to know that some of them have left, though it’s obvious by the extra chatter that a handful is still hanging around. Paige actually falls asleep within the first ten minutes, which Azzi guesses is probably why she gets so much quiet time.

It still doesn’t feel like enough, though, when a knock sounds at the door. “Y’all decent?”

Azzi glances down at Paige—still fast asleep—and quietly calls out, “We’re good.”

The door swings open and Jana steps inside, followed closely by Ayanna. “We’re going to Chick-Fil-A,” Yanna says, “you wanna come?”

“No, that’s okay.” Azzi pats Paige’s head in a silent explanation. “I’m nap-trapped.”

“Aww, parents.” Jana pulls her phone out, taking a hilariously unflattering close-up of Paige practically drooling on Azzi’s stomach. Azzi giggles as Jana shows her the picture, and she’s distracted enough that there’s nothing she can do when Yanna approaches and jostles Paige awake.

“No, wait—!” Azzi exclaims, reaching out to try and stop her, but it’s too late: the damage is already done. Paige cracks her eyes open with a little groan.

Ayanna scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. Azzi glares at her, then strokes Paige’s hair, trying to coax her back to sleep. “It’s ok, P.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, lifting her head to blink sleepily at them. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“My bad,” Yanna says guiltily. “We just thought you might wanna get Chick-Fil-A with us.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Paige nuzzles back into Azzi’s tummy, surprisingly chill considering she hates being woken from her naps. “Thanks though.”

“Uh-huh,” Jana replies, already heading out the room while she smiles at her phone—Azzi assumes she’s uploading that picture to her close friends.

“Sorry,” Yanna says once again, more to Azzi than anything, before following.

Paige yawns, her warm breath fanning over Azzi’s stomach. As she cuddles back in, Azzi thinks maybe she’ll go back to sleep. She holds onto that hope and resumes her book, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair gently.

This time, it doesn’t work. Which is evident based on the way she lifts herself up on her elbows, giving herself just enough room to press a few kisses around Azzi’s stomach. At first, Azzi tries to ignore it, hoping maybe it’s a casual gesture.

But it’s not long before the kisses slow down as she takes more time on each one, mouth opening so that it leaves the skin of her tummy just a little wet. Of course, it’s out of Azzi’s control the way her thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to her core as her body reacts to her girlfriend’s touch.

Paige curls her fingers around the hem of her top, lips following her hands as they bunch the fabric up to give herself more space, stopping underneath her breasts. She looks up at Azzi, whose gaze is now focused intently on the top of her girlfriend’s head, and flashes a devious little smile before licking a stripe between her ribcage.

Azzi tosses the book to the side, not even bothering to mark her page, freeing her hands so she can use them to pull her girlfriend up by the shoulders, meeting her in the middle for a kiss that’s nowhere near chaste.

Paige is still lying heavily atop her, their chests pressed close together, but it’s still second nature the way Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s waist in an attempt to get her closer. Paige grins against her mouth at the feeling, their hips coming flush together which makes Azzi gasp despite herself.

“Mm,” Paige hums, beginning a slow, wet trail of kisses down her jawline. “Missed you, baby.”

Azzi can’t help but laugh at that. “We just had sex last night.”

“‘S been way too long since then,” Paige mutters into the crook of her neck. Her teeth graze gently over the sensitive skin and Azzi grips her tighter, thinking she might actually agree with Paige for the first time today.

Paige is obviously building her up, apparently horny after her power nap, and Azzi doesn’t plan on stopping her. This is usually how it goes, anyway, Paige being the initiator nine out of ten times. As Paige pushes her top up above her tits, she knows she has no problem with that.

Her hands are a little cold against Azzi’s warm flesh, nipples pebbled from the temperature change mixed with her arousal. Paige just begins to tweak one of them, making Azzi moan softly—her nipples have always been sensitive—when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

The two of them groan, Paige’s forehead falling against her shoulder.

“Y’all decent?” It is, once again, Jana.

Paige lifts her head, pausing to glance down at her hands where they palm Azzi’s bare tits, and keeping her gaze there as she says, “Not really.”

“Already?” Jana calls, sounding somewhere between amused and disgusted. “You’ve been alone for like five minutes!”

“What do you want, Jana?” Azzi asks before Paige can let out the cocky response she definitely wants to say. Her voice is a little breathy, thanks to Paige absentmindedly rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and she hopes Jana doesn’t notice.

“We’re not going out anymore. Too much work. I was gonna ask if you wanna watch a movie with us, but…”

“No,” Paige and Azzi yell at the same time.

“Okay, damn,” Jana sighs. “Just being polite. Don’t get pregnant in there.”

Her footsteps trail off, and they make eye contact and laugh, Paige leaning forward to press an amused kiss to her lips. “We have trifling teammates.”

“Don’t talk about our kids like that,” Azzi says.

“They’re some bad ass kids.” Paige gives her another kiss. This time, it’s Azzi who gives chase when she pulls away, but Paige sighs, and to Azzi’s disappointment, pulls her shirt back down.

Azzi pouts, arms traveling up to loop around the back of her neck. “Why’d you stop?”

“They’re still here,” Paige replies. “I’on want them to hear us.”

“They won’t,” Azzi insists. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, you won’t,” Paige snorts. She kisses Azzi tenderly on the cheek. “Sorry, mama.”

As Paige scoots back down to her original spot, Azzi crosses her arms, feeling a little like a defiant child as she says, “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I know, baby.” Paige nuzzles against Azzi’s navel, doing nothing to help the heat between her legs. “When Jana and Allie are asleep tonight, I’ll get you right, I promise.”

Azzi huffs.

Paige chuckles softly at her, only making her more annoyed. “Thought you wanted to read your book, hm?”

“That was before you touched my tits,” Azzi replies.

Paige lays her head down. “Poor Azzi-Wazzi,” she tuts with faux sympathy.

“You’re a dick,” Azzi mumbles, picking up her book more out of spite than anything, sure she won’t be able to focus on it. She tries valiantly, though.

Her efforts are interrupted at the feeling of fingers dancing across her stomach.

Peering over her book, Azzi sees Paige walking her pointer and middle finger across the length of her tummy, an amused smile on her face as she watches herself. “‘I’m Azzi Fudd’,” she says, voice quiet and high-pitched, “‘and I have a big ol’ head’.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath to calm herself, Azzi returns to her book, pointedly ignoring her.

“‘Babe, do these pants make me look big?’” Paige continues, jumping her hand-Azzi around dramatically as she badly impersonates her.

“No, you look good,” she replies in her normal voice.

“‘You’re supposed to say that,’” Hand-Azzi whines. “‘Tell me for real’.”

“I’m not lying, I love those pants.”

“‘Babe, stop lying to me!’”

Paige sighs dramatically, as if she were actually arguing with somebody else. “I’m not.”

“‘Yes you are. And you’re probably cheating too.’”

“Baby, you know I’d never—“

Slamming her book down, Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, stilling her excessive finger movements. “Paige!”

Paige laughs, probably at herself, sitting up and stretching out. “What?”

“You are stupid,” Azzi replies a little vehemently. With Paige no longer on top of her, she gathers her things and gets out of bed, officially done.

“Where you goin’, mami?” Paige asks, getting up to follow.

Azzi holds a hand up. “I’m going to sit on the couch, so I can read.”

“You’ve been reading for so long,” Paige groans.

Azzi rolls her eyes, turning away and leaving the room.

Paige trails behind her. “They’re watching a movie in there.”

“Okay, then I’ll watch with them.”

“Cool. Wanna sit with me?”

“No,” Azzi says.

Paige grabs her by the waist, holding her against her front, leaning around to kiss her cheek. “C’mon, baby, you know I was just playin’.”

“Okay, and I don’t wanna be played with.” Azzi pulls out of her grasp, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “Aight, sassy.”

Azzi doesn’t dignify that with a response. She just heads to the living room, flopping down beside Ice to join the movie. She’s relieved (and maybe a little disappointed) when Paige doesn’t follow her.

—————————————

Paige has left her alone for a good amount of time, maybe an hour. Azzi has KK to thank for that: the two of them have been fucking around, playing Fort, and making TiKToks while Azzi enjoys her peace and quiet. She stays in Paige’s apartment, knowing she’s still going to bed with her tonight. Just as long as Paige continues to keep her distance for awhile.

She’s lying on the couch, book held above her, glasses perched over her nose as she reads. The movie ended a while ago, and Morgan and Sarah still linger around, hanging with Jana, and Allie’s in her room. She sort of hopes they don’t hang around too long. As much as she loves her kids, they’re a lot.

Still, it’s manageable. That is, until Paige and KK come barreling into the room, laughing their asses off. Azzi squeezes her eyes shut, hoping they’re going to pass her, but to her dismay, they stop right in front of the couch.

“Babe,” Paige says.

“Yes,” Azzi monotones.

“We need your opinion.” KK cackles as Paige promptly turns around before starting to twerk—or at least, something that looks like it could be twerking—right in front of Azzi’s poor face. “It’s moving, right? There’s motion?”

On any other day, Azzi might sugarcoat it to be nice, but today she just says, “There is absolutely not motion.”

KK clutches her stomach, laughing so hard she almost wheezes.

Paige whips around, hands on her chest. If there were pearls there, she’d be clutching them. “Babe!”

“I told you!” KK yells, pushing Paige out of the way. Azzi groans as she, too, turns around and begins shaking ass. It is admittedly better than Paige’s attempt. “What about me?”

“Mm, it’s a little better.”

“You gotta teach us,” KK says, tugging at Azzi’s hand.

“Ooh, yeah, teach us,” Paige agrees, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m a visual learner, by the way.”

Azzi scoffs. As if. She pulls herself free from KK’s grasp, then stands. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” they both frown.

“Because I’m trying to relax and y’all are being weird,” she quips.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” Paige offers, a little more gently, obviously realizing Azzi is actually a little annoyed.

“No, thanks,” Azzi says. “I’m already overstimulated enough just from listening to you guys.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “Where you going, then?”

Azzi sighs, glancing at the door, then to her girlfriend, then back again. “I think I’m gonna head to my room, Paige.”

KK gasps. “Oh, mom and dad fighting?”

“We are not,” Paige insists. Then she turns to Azzi with an exaggerated sad face. “Are we?”

“No,” Azzi says, which is true. They’re not fighting; she just needs a break. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Why’re you leaving?” Paige asks, stepping toward her.

“I just…I’m a little grumpy today. Not as patient as usual. I need a few minutes.”

Paige frowns, but KK, never one to read a social situation, laughs. “She really said she has a low Paige threshold,” she giggles, pushing Paige’s shoulder.

“We barely saw each other this week,” Paige says, ignoring KK as she reaches out to hold Azzi’s hands. “We’ve already been apart today.”

“I know, honey,” Azzi says. She decides against pointing out that all in all, they’ve only been apart for around an hour total this entire day. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Like, soon, right?” Paige says, giving her big puppy eyes that she’s never been able to resist.

“Yes, soon,” she promises. She leans forward for a kiss, KK averting her gaze with an eye roll. “Play Fort with KK or something. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t,” Paige insists, sounding genuinely worried.

“You will. We have tomorrow, too, remember?” With one last kiss, Azzi releases her hands, grabbing her things to go downstairs. She just barely catches KK making fun of Paige for being a simp before she gets out the door.

————————————

“Open the doooor.”

“Az, c’mon, bro, lemme in!”

“Bitch, you’ve had plenty alone time, pleaseeee.”

Azzi stands by the door, laughing silently at her girlfriend’s pleading—which has been going on, unanswered on her part, for about five minutes now—until her face drops at the last sentence. “What did you just call me?”

There’s a distinctly panicked silence before Paige starts backtracking. “I mean, my beautiful wife who I love and respect. For real, let me in. We can be alone together!”

“Very poetic,” Azzi remarks.

Paige groans, and there’s a thunk that sounds a lot like a forehead hitting a door. “Dawg.”

Once again, Azzi goes quiet, and she can tell the exact moment Paige realizes this because there’s another thunk.

“Azzi, please, babe.”

Still, she doesn’t respond, and that’s when the singing starts.

“Pleaseeee, open the dooorrr,” she sings quite horribly. Azzi quiets her giggle behind a hand.

“Pleaseeee,” she continues, completely off-key. Sza level, my ass.

“No, Paige.”

“Baby, please! It’s almost dinner time.”

“For who? It’s barely four.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then, “Azzi, I’m gonna cry. Please.”

Obviously, Paige is bullshitting her. She’s not going to cry. But still, Azzi’s never been able to be stern with Paige. (And Paige calling her her wife earlier certainly helped matters.)

As soon as she cracks the door open, Paige is trying to barge through, but Azzi stops her with a foot in the door. “Hold on.”

Paige, obediently, stops.

“I’m still a little grumpy,” Azzi admits.

Paige nods. “Okay.”

“So…be gentle, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.”

“I don’t like you being at me,” Paige agrees.

“We’re in agreement, then.”

“A hundred percent.” Paige pushes at the door. “Now, can I come in, please?”

Azzi opens the door all the way, allowing herself to be tackled onto the bed in a very non-gentle way, but still, she laughs. Even when she needs space from Paige, even when she chooses it—she still just ends up missing her the whole time.

“Hey,” Paige says once she’s effectively pinned her to the bed. “Noticed your dorm’s empty.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I can finish what I started earlier,” Paige offers, suggestive smile on her face before she says, “unless you don’t want that, obviously.”

Azzi’s pulling her down before she can finish her sentence.

(“We’re getting a sweet treat later,” she says a little while later.

“Okay, princess,” Paige says, situating herself between her legs. “Whatever you want.” And then, she drops a kiss on the inside of her thigh before spreading her open, dipping her head down, and going beautifully quiet for the first time all day. They stay in bed for quite some time.)

When Azzi starts her period the next day, she proudly says to herself, “I knew I wasn’t going crazy.”

#lilah’s works #pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #crack fic #uconn wbb #wcbb #late v day fic #pazzi are everyone’s parents #what even is this

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kaivenom · 2 days ago

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OP Dilfs Valentine's day HCS

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

Warnings: a little bit allusions of sex, but almost invisible.

A/N: happy Valentine's day to all my fic loves.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

The perfect and traditional gentlemen. Asked Perona to help him make breakfast, and he went to the bedroom to serve it to you.

Just to find out you did the same with him.

You know how "traditional" he is, so your plans for the day somehow converged in one big plan.

Starting now with the massive breakfast you both prepared separately.

A trip to a nearby carnival island, all the noise and colours it's not his element but he tried to have fun, which of course he did.

He won you all the plushies you want, at first try, the fairgrounds knew it wasn't fair but were too scared about Mihawk to tell him to stop playing.

He enjoyed some competitiveness with you, even though you knew you would loose. (he let you win one time, saying that something got on his eye)

Donquixote Doflamingo

For him is a big party.

It's the only day of the year, aside from your birthday where you can take control of him.

In fact, his gift is to be at your disposal all day, for anything and everything.

Many people are saved from the gallows and the gillotine this day, thanks to you.

You give him a new pink coat, nobody knows it from aside you but he owns multiples variations of it.

This control thing is also on bed, finally you can get him to be slow and sensual and even go on top.

Sr. Crocodile

Sees the day as a way to increase capitalism but either way, his day surrounds on buying you things or taking you to fancy places.

Then, what you consider the real valentine's day starts when the night comes.

A modest dinner, candles everywhere, chocolate dessert and rose petals.

Since he uses his money as a form of affection, you are the one who has to be the romantic retailer of the relationship.

He appreciates every moment and everything you did to make the night wonderfull, even standing his luxury tastes.

As every year, he gifts you a bead for your necklace, a promise of another year together.

Smoker

Or he manages to get the day off (difficult cause every couple whats that) or he compensates with other details.

Like, leaving breakfast prepared with all your favourite things and a note saying how much he loves you.

Little trinkets and notes around the house for you to find throughout the day.

On the afternoon, when he is finally free, you both go to the cinema (maybe getting even a little frisky in the last seats.

You take out dinner to have it at home, while continue binge watching your favourite sit coms, but probably you get too much distracted to finish them.

Akagami Shanks

He is not the romantic type, but the crew helps him to get an A on the romantic Valentine's Day grades.

He even coordinates the ship calendar to land on a resort island on Valentine, and made reservation before, of course.

When you arrived and the crew left you both alone to spend time together, he told you.

You were so happy that you kissed and hugged him to almost suffocation.

All the day was spent in between spa, buffet, taking a sunbath... the perfect balance of your tastes, but the most important, it was relaxing and calm.

Shanks even let you put on him a facial mask, once you were on the room. He tried to eat it cause it was chocolate.

You coulnd't have imagined a better day that this.

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brainfuzz · 1 day ago

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Beekeeper here.

Yes, I do crush queen cells sometimes. There's no egg/larva/queen in them and crushing the cell helps prevent swarming. When I open the hive and see queen cells - assuming everything else is fine with the bees - it can indicate they're running out of room and want to split. The solution to that is to give them more space. If they're not out of space, I won't crush the cell because they may know something I don't; the queen is getting old, she's a bad layer (you can check for this) or they just don't like her.

You can also squish a queen if the bees are aggressive, she's not laying well or other reasons. I haven't done this because you have to make sure there's a way for the bees to raise a replacement, and none of my hives have had issues that would be solved by re-queening.

Spare queens are often killed by the hive itself. They'll raise a couple of queens and the first one that comes back mated wins. You can only have one queen in a hive. Professional beekeepers will sometimes raise the spares and sell them to other beekeepers to requeen a queenless hive.

Drones always die during mating. That is literally their only purpose in life, is to find a fuck a queen. Much like when a drone stings you, their penis and associated organs come out when they ejaculate, killing them.

"Bee pheromones" are used when trying to catch a swarm. You can put lemon grass oil in a swarm box, and the bees will tend to go there instead of other places. Free bees!

Commercial beekeepers who raise bees and queens for sale, will try to control the type of bee their queen mates with. I live in the northeast and have cold harsh winters. I do not want bees that were bred for Florida. The bee supplier I use is very careful to breed their bees with bees from my area so I have winter hardy bees.

And no beekeeper, commercial or otherwise, will ever cull a healthy hive. The only time to kill an entire hive is if the hive is infect with American Foulbrood, which is very contagious and has no cure. If you get AFB in your hive, you not only cull the hive, you dig a pit, put the entire hive boxes in it, and light that shit on fire. You lose a lot of equipment and as a result, beekeepers are very much on top of any outbreaks.

The "culling during the winter" thing may simply be a misunderstanding because beekeeping has an extremely high attrition rate. Something like 60% of your hive will not make it through the winter. This means you have to buy new bees in the spring, and generally a hive's first year is spent getting established, and you don't get a lot, if any, honey from that hive. I've ordered new bees for the spring assuming that not all of my hives will survive the winter. If they do, then great, I get to expand. If they don't, well I have new bees to try again. Each starter hive, or nucleus hive, costs me $235. If you intentionally kill your bees and you're trying to make money off them, you'll be operating in the red. Even if you take the honey that was supposed to feed the bees over winter, it won't be enough to cover that cost year after year.

So yeah, that's all bullshit. Go take an intro to beekeeping class if you want to know the facts. Or just read a current book maybe.

Wild that folks keep saying beekeepers abuse bees as if bees are not both venomous flying animals and fully unionized

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omgfangirlland · 1 day ago

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The Shadows That Nurture 14

ch 15 is done so y'all can have ch 14, these are getting longer and longer- If I somehow end up passing 4k words I'll have to break these into pt1 and pt2 🥲

Also- y'all can not rip Jason's finger tattoos saying "jailbird" from me, ever.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 14 >>next(TBC)

Your hands were shaking as Slade led you to one of the many bathrooms in the building, but despite everything, you were proud of yourself. You didn’t cry, that was good enough in your book. “You were fast with that throw. Not many get a hit on the man, as clumsy as he fakes being.” His voice only seemed to make you angrier.

You took a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hasn’t done anything to you, yet at least. You’re not angry at him- is what you had to repeat to yourself before answering. “I wish it was a knife.” Your face twitched at that. “That- was a very emotionally fueled answer- please don’t hold it against me.” Willson was more amused by the answer than scared or worried.

“You won’t be the first, and you won’t be the last.” The man took his handkerchief and dampened it, leaning against the marble sink as he handed it to you, and you thanked him while taking it. “I’ll hold you up to paying for the cleanup, by the way. I love this suit. Now- why did you really want to talk?”

“Straight to the point I see.” At his smile, you just shrug. “Never was one for pull and push games.” Perhaps it was your hormones, or just how much you’ve repressed your emotions for other human beings due to hurt, but his laugh made your cheeks flush. You were putting a pin on that feeling, for now just dismissing it as anger at the male species.

“I just want to talk, get to know you better.” He went to the modern toilet and took out its wall panel, pulling out a briefcase. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself. Among terrible people.” Slade opens the briefcase once it is on the marble top, revealing his gear and a clean pair of clothes. “So, you want to assassinate me?”

“Assassination is for world leaders, my dear.” The shit-eating grin definitely made you think whatever you were feeling was anger. “But you’re not far off. We have similar enemies.” You took the clean shirt he handed to you, took the wet wipes straight from the case, and went straight for the room divider, Slade turning his back to you. “So- what, you want me to help you and when push comes to shove, you’ll help me?” He could hear the doubt, the sarcasm, and the distrust. But he just smiled. “Yes.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Luthor just kept on looking at you for a few seconds as you lay face down on his emperor-sized bed. “Is that his shirt?” He got a muffled yes in response. “He hid a briefcase in your wall and gave me the spare, said he’ll come back with the clean suit… I so think he wanted to kill you or steal something you have here.” Lex just hummed at that, tapping his foot. “And?” You groaned. “Where do I even begin?”

“Well, you could start from the beginning?” Lex said while getting up and grabbing a set of pajamas and tossing them on your back. You sigh and place your head on your hand, turning your body sideways so you can look at him. “I have parental issues and a part of me finds his stupid eye-patch so hot.” You cackled maniacally as Luthor’s face soured. “Ok. How about we skip forward a bit?” He almost begged.

“Alright- wait-…” You take a closer look at the pajamas. “These are my size.” Your eyes meet his as he confirms with no shame on his mug. “Are you not going to ask why?” Sighing you just get up and move towards his bathroom. “You either want a kid or a wife and I’m not mentally sound enough right now for either one. And I’m sleeping with mom- I so do not believe you didn’t put cameras in my room, you weirdo.”

“I’m a paranoid billionaire genius. I have cameras in every room.” It was his turn to laugh like a maniac as he heard you call him a weirdo again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With everyone out of the manor, it was finally time for Alfred to clean the whole bloody place. These moments were rare, and while Master Bruce insisted on him taking a break, he wasn’t a man to stay in one place for long without work.

He began from the ground up, the cave, the yard. The ground floor and the first level came and went, on the second level he may have gotten distracted by the new books Bruce got for Jason, and by the time the man of the house got back, Alfred was halfway done with the third floor.

Opening yet another door, his eyes immediately critiqued the dust, barely processing the objects before beginning to clean, starting with a little framed photo and the nightstand. It took him two looks before he registered what the picture depicted- a little girl at her kindergarten graduation event. He doesn’t remember Miss Cassandra this young, Master Bruce must have-

No… Cassandra never went to kindergarten. Alfred drops the cloth he was wiping off the dust with, head snapping around the room- Paintings, so many paintings, drawing supplies. Medals, diplomas- the more of them he wiped with his gloved hand the more the man trembled, heart beating against his ribcage, the same way it did on the active battlefield- where were you?

A child- a whole child- no. He saw you- yes. In the garden, yelling at Bruce- that-… that was six years ago. Six years ago. Six bloody years ago. Somewhere in his panicked frenzy, a hopeful part of him just thought that maybe you changed rooms, yes, that’s why he began screaming your name like a madman, bursting through the rooms he hadn’t yet opened, screaming as he went down the staircase, rechecking rooms, scaring the kids that were in the manor.

Damian frowned at Cassandra and Tim. “Has Pennyworth lost it?” The girl didn’t even pay him any mind as she simply followed the elder. “No, he-… Where is she?” Tim tried to respond but the distraction got to him- he can’t remember the last time he saw you. Damian had no other choice but to follow as well.

Even though the old man used the stairs he was the first to enter the batcave, the kids following in the elevator. “-she’s missing-“ was what they caught, seeing the picture frame Alfred ran around with now clenched in Bruce’s hands.

“No.” Cassandra said softly, confusion clear on her face. “In London.” Alfred looked at the man as he tried to hide his fury. “You sent the young miss to London without even telling me?” Bruce immediately said a firm no, turning to Cassandra to ask how she even knew of that. “Is anyone going to inform me about who we are talking about?!”

Damian had enough, he didn’t like still being left in the dark about things that seemed this important. Tim repeated your name like it was obvious, but Alfred felt the world crash on his head. “Yes. So you all keep on saying, is that code for something?” The old man needed to sit down. They’ve never talked about her. They’ve never told him about her.

Tim was too tired to realize what Alfred did. He just called the boy rude, how could he not remember his other big sis. And it was the wrong thing to do. “I have another sister, and you didn’t tell me? Nobody did?!” The youngest boy snapped at his father before turning to look at everyone else.

Bruce- he was taking hit after hit tonight. He couldn’t come up with an argument to Slade, and he sure as hell couldn’t defend himself against Damian. The last time he remembered seeing you was when he ruined your garden. He slumped down in his chair, clutching the picture of your sad chubby face and the pitying look of the teacher, unable to take his eyes from it.

Where was he? He… He can’t defend himself. How could he? He didn’t even realize you were missing. How much has he missed? How many events and achievements has he ignored or brushed off? Did you leave that night, was that the last drop? He ignored his arguing kids, ignored how devastated Alfred looked… Jason said he was missing a bird. Bruce closes the open files on The Sorceress. “Tim, inform Dick and the others. Oracle. Call Red Hood. Now.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Lois sighed and turned to face her husband who was fully awake. “Ok, come on, confess.” Clark didn’t even flinch, not until she shook his shoulder. He side-eyed her before turning to also face her, sure that Jon was deeply asleep. “What I’m about to tell you should stay just between us.”

“The Sorceress is adopted, her dad is Bruce.” Lois raised a brow but before she could ask for more Clark continued. “I heard her brother and Lex inform the Immortal about it. The boy mentioned that, and I quote, the bastard didn’t pay attention to her for years and now has the gall to show up and act like he doesn’t know her. Lex was sure of the fact that Bruce didn’t even know that she had run away, to begin with, let alone how the kid he barely spent time with looked like anymore”

Lois took a while to soak in the information. “That’s…” She lies back on her back, staring at the ceiling like her husband once was. “If it’s true- it’s a new low for him. I'll look into it.” She looks at Clark. “Don’t let Jon hear that, he’ll-“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and that’s what my dad said.” Jon, who was still in his pajamas, huffing from how fast he flew and talked, told Damian once they were in the security of the youngest Wayne’s room. The other boy just nodded. “Thank you for informing me, Jon. Make sure you do not repeat this to anyone else.”

“You should go back before your parents realize you’re missing.” Damian opened the window for the other teen. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not okay-“ Damian shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine, I’ll take care of this and give the information to someone who will be able to confirm what Superman heard."

The young super took a while before leaving, but the fear of his parents finding him gone was bigger. Damian on the other hand was already penning a letter. If the family kept such important information from him, he could too.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your day was- tiring. You may have overdone it a bit, studying for finals, the anxiety of giving your artwork in for the diploma, helping with clean up, training, helping Titan clean spaces for more housing- by the time you were done you were exhausted.

When the explosion went off, you didn’t even flinch, the text message from Mark saying “dnt wor abt it” was good enough for you. So, you just continued buying your little snacks and energy drinks for tomorrow and went on your way, floating as you simply couldn’t be bothered with walking.

If you were, perhaps, not as tired as you were, you would have been a little bit more concerned about the swarm of reporters or paparazzi, you couldn’t even try to figure it out. “Madame Sorceress! What is your relationship to Mr. Wayne?” and “Hey! Hey, over here! How do you know Bruce Wayne?!” and a lot of similar questions you couldn’t be bothered to answer. “Sorceress! Why do you have beef with Mr. Wayne?”

Now that stopped your movement. You slowly turned towards the person who asked, squinting at the redhead. “You want that in chronological or alphabetical order?” That seemed to trigger more questions and yelling, but your attention was on your ringing phone. “Sorry folk, I have to take this.” Sluggishly, you flew higher than they could be able to pick up with any listening device and answered. “Sup’ Red-“

Your brows furrowed. “Now they found out?... How much?” Jason just snorted. “B tried to interrogate me and when that didn’t work out, Alfred tried to tug at my emotions. Right under their nose and they’re still not seeing it.” You snort. “You’re creating yourself trouble. Just tell them, not like they can do anything now.” Jason knew, but this- the phone number, the texting, and silly pics, was something the other bats didn’t have access to. It was something only he had, that he didn't have to share with the others. He wants it to stay that way. “Nah, let them stew in it.” Jason snickered. “Whatever, Jailbird. Good night.” You roll your eyes, laughing when he yells that you weren’t supposed to know that.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger

A tiny little micro sneak peak of chapter 15 because I feel kind:

Jason was having a terrible week, starting with Ms. “I wouldn’t have been as forgiving if you didn’t die and came back kinder to me” Wayne- well- Grayson? He doesn’t know anymore- he’s close enough to just forging papers that say you’re his biological little sister just to fuck with Bruce.

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader

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feeder86 · 2 days ago

Text

Bossed

Ben huffed as he slouched in his desk chair, gazing at the computer screen. The numbers hadn’t changed but there may still have been some elusive way in which he could process them in order to make the sales figures look less dire than they actually were. He just needed to find it; otherwise, his neck could be on the line. The downward trend had been a worrying phenomenon ever since he’d joined the company almost 12 months ago, and he hadn’t been in the least bit surprised when their boss, Elise, lost her job over it all last week.

Reaching for one of the doughnuts from the box he’d picked up from the store across the street, Ben mulled over the problem, sucking his fingers and thumbs before reaching in for a second.

“Okay, listen up people!” came the call of Rob, the overly perky middle manager, making his usual trip to their office space as the day was drawing to a close. “I want to introduce you to someone,” he announced, motioning towards the tall, strapping older man in his late thirties. “This is Elijah. He’s the company’s new hire and we’re super lucky to have him,” he gushed; sucking up in his trademark style. “He’s taking over from Elise and has lots of incredible ideas about how he’s going to turn things around here!” He began retreating, already starting a round of applause that he expected everyone else to join in with.

With a decent amount of conformists now standing, Elijah stepped forwards and smiled with false modesty. “Thank you,” he nodded, quietly shushing them by gently motioning his hands for them to stop clapping. “I’m very excited to be here,” he began, revealing a slight Germanic accent that made him appear ever so slightly harsher. His body was strong and athletic, not a hair out of place; carrying himself with power and composure. “From what I have seen here today, there are clearly the building blocks of a potentially very strong team.”

Ben listened in, reaching for another doughnut. Sure, Elijah looked the part, but how long could he really survive on this sinking ship?

“Excuse me?” Elijah called out, looking directly at Ben. “Are you just going to sit there eating your doughnuts whilst your new boss addresses you for the first time?” he asked patronisingly, looking around at the others as if in disbelief at Ben’s rudeness.

Ben froze in shock as everyone turned to look at him, still in his desk chair with a half eaten doughnut clutched in his hand.

“Put it down,” Elias nodded at the doughnut, as if Ben was the rudest person he had ever met. “Manners cost nothing!”

Ben did as he was told, rising to his feet like everyone else and brushing the sugar off his chest. He suddenly had the feeling that he was back in school all over again.

Elijah’s warm greeting appeared to have been abandoned and he huffed as if he had suddenly been put in the foulest of moods. “This is exactly the sort of thing I dislike. You all have to realise that how you conduct yourselves in the office has a huge impact. We’re going to have clients coming in and out of here all day long.” Still his eyes were fixed on Ben. “What age are you, boy?” he asked directly.

Ben stuttered a little, feeling a bead of sweat running down his back. “I’m twenty three, sir,” he replied.

Elijah shook his head as if he was disgusted. “Twenty three and you were just slouching there in your desk chair eating an entire box of doughnuts whilst your boss was in the room talking to you. You think that’s appropriate?”

“No, sir,” Ben shot back, feeling that he could be fired at any second.

“So you’ve put on a little weight over the holidays?” the man taunted next, not pausing for Ben to respond. “You know how I can tell? That shirt of yours is too tight around your stomach. Do you think the rest of us want to see that?” he asked.

“No, sir!” Ben stated at once, swallowing hard. He knew he was up ten pounds or so since the start of December, but he hadn’t seen the point in buying larger shirts when, in all likelihood, he’d naturally drop most of it within a few weeks.

“Is this the type of look we want our clients to associate us with?” Elijah asked the staff collectively, motioning from afar towards Ben’s chubby form squeezed into an ill-fitting shirt.

“No,” they all replied, shaking their heads as if each once was keen not to be placed in the firing line next.

Ben could feel the blood pumping to his face. He’d been as skinny as a rake when he started college at eighteen, but he’d gradually thickened up from that tall, slender drainpipe-like boy of 145lbs, to the altogether softer look he had developed now at 190lbs. He’d started to get a little paunch by his second year, spurred on by the cheap, processed foods that made up the majority of his diet. He’d always imagined himself losing it eventually, but the right time had just never seemed to materialise. He’d packed on an extra inch around his waist every year since then, with even his nipples starting to grow softer and more pointed in the last six months.

Elijah stared at him hard. Ben remembered thinking that this could go either way and, in that moment, he imagined himself carrying a cardboard box of his things out of the office for the last time should Elijah choose to make an example of him there and then. What better way to begin a new regime than firing someone within the first few minutes?

“I want you in a shirt that actually fits tomorrow,” Elijah finally told him, taking a quick glance at the rest of him. “Pants too,” he nodded.

“Yes, sir!” Ben nodded gratefully, straightening up and sucking his stomach in; sighing with relief as Elijah at last moved on to continue his speech.

Ben grumbled to himself as he saw the money debited from his account for the new work clothes he had been forced to purchase earlier that month. It had been a hard slog to pay day now that Elijah was in charge. Ben felt as though he was constantly under the microscope with Elijah installing software that allowed him to see what was on his screen at all times.

“I want it put over there,” Elijah instructed the maintenance guys as he pointed to the vending machine that had always been behind Ben’s desk. With a headset on, the man probably assumed that Ben couldn’t hear him as he chuckled and told them that he needed to get it away from ‘that chubby one.’

Inwardly, Ben shouted expletives at the top of his voice, despite knowing better than to react. Six people had already left or been fired so far; even Rob, the master at sucking up to the bosses, had been given his marching orders. In their places, new recruits, more suited to Elijah’s style of management, began to trickle in. The familiar atmosphere had changed. That warm family-like environment had been ripped away. It was unnerving and stressful. Even the vending machine's new location, despite being further away, meant that it was now directly in Ben’s eyeline, making him obsess even more than usual for a quick sugar hit when things were getting tough.

At only 190lbs, Ben was far from being the chubbiest guy who worked there. However, it was the fact that his soft physique was combined with such a youthful age that Elijah seemed to find so intolerable. “I was starting my first business at twenty three,” he’d lectured Ben one afternoon after seeing him returning from a fast food place. “I wasn’t sitting around, stuffing my face with all this rubbish!”

Ben listened, hating every single thing about his new boss. Despite the initial boost Elijah’s harsh criticisms had given him to set up a gym subscription, Ben had actually found his energy completely drained after a day at work. The gym was only across the street, yet it was also where Elijah himself often frequented. Whilst there, Ben could sense the man’s eyes upon him as he sniggered with similarly muscular friends in a way that Ben couldn’t help feeling was directed at him. After only three sessions, he stopped going entirely. His work role had changed under the new system, with Ben practically chained to his desk chair from the moment he arrived at 8.55am each morning. Just like the fifteen pounds he’d gained during his final college exams, Ben’s old stress eating habits were coming back to bite him. He knew he’d put on more weight and, even worse, his boss knew it as well. Ben had tried to confide his frustrations about Elijah’s comments to his cousin who lived close by, however she merely brushed them aside, agreeing entirely with the anecdotes of Elijah’s observations and simply stating that ‘the truth hurts sometimes’.

Often, Ben’s dislike of his boss would manifest in the most peculiar and even counter-productive ways. Only last week he had seen a giant celebration cake on sale and he had gorged upon it all that very night, taking satisfaction in imagining how disgusted Elijah would be. “Fuck him!” Ben had shouted aloud, unbuckling the top button of his pants as he sipped on some chocolate milk to fully round off the experience.

Ben had never had a double chin before. However, it was becoming more and more apparent each time he shaved that the entire shape of his face had begun altering. He’d recently taken a picture of his body for someone he had been flirting with on an app, immediately getting blocked straight afterwards. He couldn’t blame them. He looked awkward and dumpy with his fat stomach popping out. Perhaps it didn’t help that most of his friends here in the city were so large and overweight; enjoying video games and the occasional board game nights, rather than anything active. Instead of focusing on his habits, Ben decided that it was actually his job that was contributing most to his expanding waistline. As such, he began to seriously look for a role in another company. He applied, finding he was rejected time and time again due to what he suspected was a very mediocre reference from Elijah.

With the annual charity fundraiser in December, Ben’s workload increased even more dramatically than the year before. There were so many elements to it and red tape to get through. He knew he would be stuck at the office for at least a couple of hours after everyone else. If only Elijah had left at the same time, Ben felt like everything could have run a lot smoother. He’d had a plan in his head for some time, knowing that he could corrupt the software on Elijah’s computer to disrupt the man’s ability to simply pop up on his screen like he regularly enjoyed doing. If Ben was successful, he’d be a hero amongst the staff by the time morning came around again.

Just before half six, the detestable man finally headed out, dressed and prepared for his usual workout at the gym across the street. He made a snarky comment about the carb-loaded snacks Ben had bought for himself as he continued trying to catch up. Some things never changed.

“This is just between you and me,” Ben winked at Mary who was pottering around cleaning up the office space.

Mary grinned back at him, having listened to many woes about Elijah’s management style from the others who had stayed late or quit over the last year. “I know nothing!” she laughed, fully prepared to close her eyes and ears to everything that was about to take place.

The system login on Elijah’s computer was easily overcome. The boss had boasted to Ben weeks earlier that he used the remarkable time from his last marathon run as his password; a time that he had repeated to Ben over and over again as he saw him popping backwards and forwards to the vending machine.

And just like that, Ben was in. Elijah’s whole computer opened up to him like a picture book. In fact, it hadn’t even been shut down correctly. There were so many pages and tabs open all at once. But, what was that? Ben had to go back, caught by the most striking image.

“Everything okay, dear?” asked Mary, popping her head inside the office.

“YES! Fine!” Ben exclaimed, eyes wide and startled. He couldn’t begin to explain what he had just seen, even if he had tried.

A couple of weeks later, Ben was enjoying that blissful period between Christmas and New Year when he didn’t have to think in the slightest about work. He sat around a table with his housemates, Gray and Eddie, alongside their friend Joe; all equally as nerdy as each other, engrossed in a complex board game, surrounded by the tastiest sweet and savory snacks.

“Did you guys know that there are some folks who are really into larger guys?” Ben asked the three others; all of them significantly larger and heavier than himself.

“Of course there are,” chuckled Gray, looking at Ben like he was simple.

“No…” Ben clarified, trying to rephrase what he was saying. “I mean… did you know that there are some people who really get off to the whole weight gain thing; seeing someone going from slim to really, really fat?”

“Oh, like a feeder, you mean?” Eddie asked him. “Yeah, I’ve had a few girls approach me on dating apps who were into that,” he nodded knowledgeably.

“And me,” Joe agreed. “They get off on wanting to feed you.”

Ben looked at the pair of them, both large and round, weighing no less than 350 lbs each. “And what did you say to them?”

“Depends on how hot they are,” Gray shrugged, chuckling as both Joe and Eddie fully agreed with him. “Why? Have you come across one?” he asked curiously. “You’ve definitely packed on a good few pounds this year,” he chuckled, looking daringly at the others, like he had just said something they had all wanted to mention for weeks.

“You’re getting tits like mine,” Gray laughed, reaching his hand out to poke the softer chest.

“Shut up!” Ben laughed back, snapping away the hands that reached out to him. “I’m not that…” he began, before deciding to refocus the conversation. “It’s just this guy in work,” he began. “He’s vile. I thought he found my weight completely repulsive but… now I think he could actually be into it. Not me, specifically,” he clarified. “But, bigger guys in general.”

“Your first chubby chaser!” laughed Gray, throwing back his beer.

“Yeah,” chuckled Joe, seeming genuinely pleased for Ben. “Chasers are pretty rare!”

Ben shook his head. They’d all seriously misunderstood the point he was trying to make. However, he was at least pleased that he had some friends with some experience in this area. He’d felt like he was going insane for a couple of days after he had seen the pictures of the enormously obese guys on Elijah’s computer screen. Some of them would make even Gray look slender. Then he’d gasped in surprise as he’d read the kinky chat log his boss had been having as he encouraged an already very obese guy from another state to stuff himself with the pizzas; pizzas that Elijah had apparently ordered online and sent over himself. “Like I said…” he mumbled to the other guys. “I hate the guy’s guts. I’d never go there with him. It’s just… interesting.”

Discovering Elijah’s kinky preferences could not have come at a worse time for Ben. The revelation had sent him into a period of complete thoughtlessness about his eating as he was utterly determined to enjoy himself over the holidays with his large housemates. More dessert? Why not? Another beer? Sure! Ben looked at himself in the mirror, having stepped on the scales to discover that he had gained no less than twenty pounds in a single month. He hadn’t even known that such a gain was even possible. However, it was all there, clearly visible on his 260lb body: the advanced swathe of belly fat that had rounded out into a pot belly, with nipples sagging and resting above. His love handles felt intrusive as they pushed out from the sides and gis glutes and thighs appeared as if they had been pumped with blubber. Even at 6’2, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was a fat guy now. His jawline was non-existent and his double chin had been commented on by several family members on Christmas Day itself. The work pants were tight; far too tight. His shirt clung unflatteringly around his stomach, straining the buttons like it wanted to highlight to everyone just how much more of a gut he had on him this year; the collar almost choking him.

Ben huffed as he further investigated his reflection in the mirror; that shocking side profile with his protrusive stomach and widened rear, exaggerated even more by the tightness of the fabric. His tie would need to be extra long today to try and mask the straining of the buttons. He was turning into a fat fucking monster, he thought, grumbling to himself as he rubbed the arching shape of his stomach.

All he needed to do was make it through to lunchtime, Ben thought, parking his butt down on his desk chair. Then he could head out and buy a shirt that could help him blend in better, and some pants that didn’t make him panic each time he took a longer stride.

“Is Annie in today?” Ben asked aloud to his colleagues as he saw the empty chair.

“We just assumed that you’d eaten her,” came Elijah’s sarcastic tone, suddenly springing up from nowhere and walking across the room towards the main office.

A rolling chuckle sounded around the office, like the boss had just said exactly what they were all thinking. So, everyone had noticed his extra weight then? And he’d been trying so hard to suck it all in as well. He rolled his eyes, knowing that there was so much he could say about Elijah to embarrass him in return. He wondered what everyone would think if he told them all about the things he’d found on Elijah’s computer. Perhaps he would have told them all already, but for the email threatening immediate dismissal to the unknown culprit the day after Ben’s devious computer hack, once the sabotage had been discovered.

Sitting at his desk, Ben's stomach was rumbling and growling. For two whole weeks he had been eating and drinking whatever and whenever he wanted. Now, forced back into the mundane, lunchtime couldn’t come fast enough. Given that he’d fooled no one with his techniques to try and mask the extra pounds, Ben treated himself to one of the giant burritos from the place down the street. His shirt buttons straining, he could see the glances he was getting. Perhaps he should have been more embarrassed, but his mind was still whirring, wondering how many other people were actually secretly into this fat bellied look. Was that person staring because they thought he was gross? Or was it because they wanted to rip his shirt off and see the glorious gut that was under construction? He gasped in realisation as he thought about his Uncle Leon and Aunt Pam over in Detroit. Uncle Leon had been so lean and muscular when he’d got married, yet he’d rapidly packed on an incredible amount of fat in the following years. So much so that he’d had to give up his job in construction and skinny Aunt Pam had been working two jobs for years in order to support them both. So why was it that everyone in the family still hated Aunt Pam? They all knew about this sort of stuff, didn’t they? They knew that Aunt Pam liked him larger and had most likely enabled him to his easily 500lb state. There were others too: his friend Tom from school, with his giant mother and slender father who was always constantly bringing treats home for his wife. What about Bob and Helen in his old neighborhoo? Bob was the only super obese guy in town to be dating a former beauty queen, ten years younger than him.

Ben’s burrito was gone in a flash as he chewed and mulled over everything. His sweet tooth was driving him crazy and he popped next door to the doughnut place to pick up some treats as well as a large bottle of soda to take back into the office with him. It was only when he made it back to his desk that he’d remembered his intention to pick up a new shirt. He shrugged, noting that there were only four hours left until the end of the day anyway.

“Listen up, people!” Elijah called out. He looked at Ben, frowning at the little stain of burrito filling that had landed on his shirt over the lunch period. “How did you miss that giant mouth of yours?” he grumbled, clearly unimpressed by Ben's unprofessional presentation. “You’ve clearly had plenty of practice getting stuff in there.”

Again, there was a little rolling chuckle amongst the staff. Every month there were more and more new faces as Elijah gradually replaced the old staff with people who were more suited to him.

“Annie’s handed in her notice and won’t be returning,” the boss explained calmly, despite the immediate groans of frustration from everyone else. “I know it’s tough when this happens, but we’re all going to have to pick up the slack. Especially you, Ben,” he nodded. “You’re the only one who’s dealt with her contacts before she left. They're going to be some late nights for the next three weeks until we can hire someone to replace her.”

Ben looked around at everyone else. Was he really the only one who could deal with Annie’s clients? Why did this have to fall to him?

“It’s time to prove yourself,” Elijah nodded. “I know you’re desperate to get to the gym this evening, but that’ll have to wait,” he teased, unable to resist having another joke at Ben’s expense.

Ben rolled his eyes. It wasn’t fair. Still, the overtime would come in handy if he was going to take a vacation that summer, he thought to himself, always keen for a silver lining. He just hoped that Elijah wouldn’t be working later each night as well.

“So, how come I haven’t received an application from you for Annie’s position?” Elijah asked a few weeks later, popping back to the office late to send a few more emails. Dressed in his workout gear, Ben could never help himself from admiring the dedication it must have taken for the guy to build such large, strong arms. The tight compression shirt displayed the fullness of his pecs, lacking even an ounce of fat around his waist and allowing the stomach muscles to really pop out.

Ben shrugged at his boss’ question. “Because I’m not really qualified for it,” he answered simply.

“And yet, you’ve been doing the job, as well as your own, since the start of January,” Elijah shot back.

“That’s only because you reject every application that’s been sent in for the role.”

“Well, maybe I’m holding out for the right person,” Elijah smiled, almost flirtatiously. He looked around at the take out boxes on Ben’s table. Although Ben described his workload as ‘stressful’ at the moment, in reality, it was simply just time consuming. So what if he treated himself to something tasty as he sat at his desk each evening? And what did it matter if all he wanted to do in his sparse downtime was sit on his butt and play video games? Even so, to an image conscious Elijah, the sight of it all still seemed to cause him much amusement. “Apply for the job,” he stated candidly, starting to tidy up Ben’s take out containers and give him more room on his desk without a single snarky comment. “I think you may be pleasantly surprised.”

Ben did as he was told, reasoning that a position, such as Annie's old job, could actually launch him on a proper career. Whilst he was earning a good amount of overtime at the moment, the added income each month could help him save for his own place. With Elijah’s admission that he was happy to promote him, Ben suddenly felt like he had at last entered the guy’s inner circle of those deemed ‘worthy’. Under Elijah, status was granted not by job title, but by how much favor you carried with the boss.

It was exactly the reason why Carol stood beaming beside her new desk chair the following week. “Elijah ordered it for me because of all the back problems I’ve been having,” she boasted, knowing that there were few others that their boss would willingly blow company funds on like this.

Starved of any other entertainment, one by one, the others in their office space lined up to have a go at sitting in the smart, innovative desk chair, until Ben was the only one still sitting disinterestedly at his own desk. He huffed, knowing that it would be the polite thing to at least try the chair and complement Carol on her good fortune. He lined up his rear, surprised that everyone in the office still seemed so interested. He’d known instantly that he was in trouble, given how tightly the firm arms of the chair had brushed against his hips as he carelessly dropped his entire body weight into it. He could tell by how tightly his love handles were pressed against the sides that he was thoroughly wedged into it.

“It’s nice,” Ben mumbled, trying not to show his surprise at how far back the chair had tipped now his weight was inside it. He turned and swivelled himself, hoping that the performance may be enough to satisfy everyone, shifting their attention to other things before he had to try and climb out of the damn thing.

However, that was all before Elijah came out, resting his large hands on his strong hips and gazing down at Ben with a bemused expression; a quiet grinning as if he sensed the whirring panic in Ben’s brain as he tried to think about how to get out. “Ben, could I see you for a second?” he called out whilst everyone was still looking.

“Sure,” Ben nodded.”I’ll be there in a second,” he replied casually, already suspecting that Eliah’s timing was anything but coincidental.

“No,” Elijah shot back sternly, folding his arms. “I need to see you right now,” he beamed, perching himself on a desk as if ready for a show.

Ben knew he’d have to get himself out as quickly and undramatically as possible. He placed the palms of his hands on the end of the armrests, shifting his body weight as straight as possible. He shuffled his feet, giving himself as wide a stance as he could, then paused for a moment, summoning all the energy needed to haul his body upwards. Three… two… one…

To everyone else in the room, all they heard was a loud, unattractive and unintentional grunt coming from Ben. They saw the fat boy straining to lift himself upwards, held back by the obvious wedging of his rear against the sides. Led by their boss, the laughter from those around him was almost instantaneous. Someone came closer to try and help, although Elijah quickly told them to retreat, too busy enjoying the spectacle himself.

His face pumped with blood, Ben lowered himself again, bouncing back up with even greater force. This time, the entire chair came up with him, despite still being stuck around his wider rear. He wriggled his hips and tried to push the chair back. Finally, he could feel some progress, if all far too slowly. His legs were burning, holding himself up in this strange half bent position.

At last, the chair slipped away, clattering to the floor and tipping over onto its side. Carol immediately picked it back up, checking it over for damage as she frowned in annoyance. Ben tucked his shirt back in tidily and straightened his tie, trying his best to ignore the ongoing laughter. He stepped over to Eliah. “Are we going into your office?” he asked, trying to ignore them all.

Eliah continued laughing. “No, buddy. I was just fucking with you,” he replied, as if Ben had been the dumbest person alive to have believed his false urgency to see him in the first place. “Just get that report to me by six,” he stated, turning and walking back, despite his ongoing laughter.

Sitting back down at his own desk, Ben grumbled to himself. What the hell was he doing putting up with this shit? He should just quit and find a job where he wasn’t treated like this just because he was obese. He looked up and saw Elijah still laughing in his office. That was the moment the revelation struck him. Perhaps Carol’s new chair had never been about correcting her posture. Perhaps it had always been intended as a trap for Ben. Had Ben just played perfectly into his boss’ hands?

Back at home, Gray was dating a new girl, shifting the dynamic in the share-house considerably. Ben and Eddie’s jaws had dropped when they’d seen her; Marie, the stunning blonde girl with such a tight waist and big chest. The pairing with Gray couldn’t have been any more mismatched. Likewise, Eddie’s jealousy couldn’t have been more obvious, biting back at Gray whenever he tried to impart some dating advice on him so that he could one day be as blissfully happy as he was.

“Why does Gray suddenly believe he’s the universe’s gift to women?” Eddie grumbled. “It’s not like Marie is going to stick with a guy like him for long.”

Ben mumbled awkwardly. “I’m not so sure, y’know. She seems pretty serious about him. I heard them discussing pretty much everything: houses, marriage… the lot.”

Eddie huffed. “It’s just not fair, is it?” he complained. “Gray gets to live out his perfect life, whilst fatties like us remain permanently single.”

Ben bit his tongue, resisting the urge to call out Eddie for lumping him in the same category as him. Sure, he’d put on a lot of weight, but he wasn’t in the same league as Eddie, Gray, or even Joe. Yes, he had quite a gut on him now. And, yeah, maybe his chest was pretty flabby since he’d crossed three hundred pounds. But, he still was still pretty skinny compared to the others. Wasn’t he? The more Ben looked at himself in the mirror and assessed the situation, the less he seemed to believe in the differences between his own shape and that of the other guys. His problem had become his sheer width. As much as his stomach appeared to be pushing firmly outwards in one direction, his chunky butt seemed to be swelling outwards in the opposite direction. There was so much fat resting around his neck; his jawline completely swallowed. The cheeks of his face had puffed and broadened to such an extent that he actually found it hard to see his old self hidden underneath it all.

Whilst the promotion at work had granted him many benefits, Ben found the guaranteed extra income made his impulses harder to contain. Take out could arrive at ten in the evening; those premium doughnuts were hardly going to make a dent on his bank balance. But with so many bad habits ingrained in him now, Ben struggled to imagine anyone willing to put up with him in a romantic relationship. He didn’t really want to be active and go out an awful lot. The warmer late Spring days brought him annoyance and impatience as he sweated lethargically in his new office. Although he knew he shouldn’t, he kept a drawer full of candy and snacks, failing every single attempt of his to eat more healthily in the last two years. What difference was there between his own lifestyle and that of Joe or Eddie? Maybe this was something he wouldn’t ever be able to stop, even if he tried.

Being higher up the food chain at work gave Ben a new perspective on how well Elijah had turned the company around in under two years. From losing money each week, to acquiring multi million dollar contracts on a monthly basis, Elijah’s record was as perfect as could be. However, despite his success, there was always something about the guy that meant Ben couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Perhaps it was the fact that work seemed to consume so much of his life. Being a workaholic was fine if the person enjoyed it but, at times, it didn’t always seem like Elijah did.

“Don’t tell anyone this,” Elijah confided in Ben one evening after everyone else had left. “I’ve been offered a job elsewhere,” he whispered, as if, even now, he had to keep it under wraps. He wouldn’t say where, nor give away much more information other than the fact that the pay increase was to be life-changing.

“But, what would we do without you here?” Ben asked. He’d disliked Elijah as a boss for so much of his time here that he’d never actually considered how awful it would be trying to manage things without him.

“I imagine they’d give the role to Keira,” Elijah pondered.

“Oh, not Keira!” Ben groaned, already picturing the disordered chaos that would inevitably ensue.

“Or, you could come with me?” Elijah suggested next. “I could easily get you on-board. I couldn’t guarantee you the salary you have now; at least, not right away. But, once you’re in, there are so many more opportunities for you there.”

“You want to take me with you?” Ben asked, dumbfounded by the idea that Elijah would want such a thing.

“Of course. You’re the best we’ve got here!” Elijah beamed.

Ben frowned, knowing that not to be true in the slightest. The whole thing didn’t make any sense. Had he secretly been Elijah’s favorite this entire time?

As negotiation between Elijah and his potential new company got more intense, the man seemed to become more intent on getting Ben to make a decision about coming with him. In some ways, the pressure felt unfair and it almost seemed to Ben as if Elijah was quite prepared to turn down the offer were he to refuse to move with him.

“You seem a bit distracted,” Gray nodded to Ben as the pair of them stacked a few boxes ready for Gray’s moving out day tomorrow. With Gray and Marie moving in together, Joe was soon to take the room, saving them all from having to advertise the space. Helping Gray pack up had been a good distraction for Ben, as well as quite lucrative, inheriting plenty of clothes items from the back of Gray’s closet that the guy had outgrown months before. “Is everything okay at work?” Gray probed further, having always been the most intuitive of all the larger guys Ben lived with.

Ben sighed, explaining the entire situation.

“You know, Marie used to come into my workplace pretty much every day,” Gray began afterwards. “She’d make excuse after excuse for her being there but, in the end, it was me who had to ask her out.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?” Ben asked, chuckling at the sudden change of subject.

“What I mean is…” Gray sighed, rolling his eyes. “I remember what you told us about your boss. Sometimes, chasers are no different to the rest of us. Sometimes everyone needs a little help asking for what they really want.”

All at once, Ben knew exactly what he needed to do. He felt confident as he strode into Elijah’s office the next day. The blinds had been drawn and Elijah pulled him in as if he wanted to discuss a top secret bank heist that must not be overheard. “Well, what’s your decision?” he asked, as if every second counted.

Sighing, Ben took a seat, looking up at the handsome guy earnestly. “I’m staying here,” he explained simply, cutting Elijah off the moment the man burst into his sales pitch, trying to convince him once more. “Listen, you don’t need me!” he smiled. “You’re going to be awesome.”

“But you’re the best I’ve got!” Elijah countered.

“I’m average at best!” Ben laughed. !And you know it!” He could see Elijah trying to redouble his efforts to counter his remark, yet he continued, talking over Elijah as he began to speak. “I’m just a chubby, overfed, under-exercised, nerdy accountant. And… I think I’m also the guy you’ve secretly had a crush on for quite some time…”

Elijah immediately halted trying to speak over him. The man’s eyes widened. He started mumbling, immediately flustered. “I… I’m…” he tried, looking like he had been outmanoeuvred for the first time in his life. “How did you know?” he finally asked.

“I didn’t,” Ben laughed. “That was the problem. I just thought you were being an asshole most of the time! You’re actually not that good when it comes to approaching people you’re genuinely attracted to, are you?”

Elijah shook his head.

“If I came with you, you’d still be my boss and we could never explore whatever this could be between us,” Ben reasoned. “Whereas, if you hand in your notice today… Well, you and I could be out for dinner this evening, with no nasty fallout from HR.”

With a beaming smile, Elijah was soon announcing his departure to the entire office. Ben was sitting, slouched in his own office, picking at a couple of doughnuts and not really paying attention to what was going on outside. He was hardly going to go out there, pretending to be surprised. Besides, it was fairly common knowledge that he didn’t even really like Elijah, which made it even more bizarre when he was sitting across from the man at a very fancy restaurant only a few short hours later. It was so obvious when someone really was making an effort on a date; Elijah received top marks for his charming manner and attentiveness. He thoroughly deserved the kiss he was granted during the cab ride back to his place.

“You’ll know he’s definitely a chaser when you get to kiss him for the first time,” Gray had warned him. “If he’s anything like Marie, his hands will go straight to your belly!”

Ben had found the idea strangely arousing when Gray had said that. However, it was nothing compared to how horny he felt with Elijah’s hands exploring his body with a lust Ben had never before experienced. Arousal leached from every pore of the guy’s body and, when they went inside Elijah’s apartment, Ben felt like he was almost being worshipped. Even so, nothing was ever rushed. The build up was always perfect; the crescendo, always sublime. Despite the stunning physique of Elijah, it always felt as though it was Ben’s rounded, bloated form that was the star attraction. After a couple of weeks, Elijah was permitted to fuck him properly for the first time. Each thrust into Ben’s hefty rear seemed to give the man absolute pleasure. Nothing was ever done hastily, even as Elijah moaned softly and breathed steadily, as if trying to hold back an orgasm that he could summon at any moment.

Of course Ben continued to pack on weight once he’d got together with Elijah. It was yet another thing that Gray had warned him about when dating a chaser. Elijah was kinky, without a doubt. He took pleasure in taking a can of whipped cream into the bedroom with them and encouraging Ben to lick it all off his muscular body at any opportunity. It wasn’t unusual for them to deplete an entire can in almost no time at all.

However, just like Marie and Gray, Ben’s relationship with Elijah seemed equally as controversial. Despite the almost fifteen year age gap, folks just couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around why a man as stunning and successful as Elijah was so captivated by such a fat man as Ben; the looks and stares only getting worse as Ben’s weight continued to climb; his body getting more expansive and jigglier; fat building upon already well established fat. Perhaps it didn’t help how ‘touch’ was always Elijah's best love language when they were out and about. Ben was well used to having the man’s large hand attached to his wide rear, or cupping a bulge of back fat. It was obvious how distasteful some appeared to find it; especially some of Elijah’s more refined friends. Not that it ever stopped him. Elijah was simply being himself for the first time in his life.

“She’s a real kinky little thing, y’know,” Elijah had chuckled one evening after Gray and Marie had left, not long after Ben had moved in with his lover.

Ben, who had spent most of the night discussing video games with Gray in the lounge, had almost forgotten that Elijah would have had so much time to get to know the pretty little thing that had ensnared his best friend so completely. “Oh, yeah?” he smirked, feeling like he knew so much more about what it was like to date a chaser these days. “Gray’s certainly looking a lot heftier these days.”

“He sure is! But he’s all belly. Unlike you with that big, cute butt…” Elijah grinned, swooping in for a kiss. “But there’s plenty more to come if you listen to Marie! Gray is going all out for her, trying to get his weight up before their wedding.”

Ben laughed. He’d always assumed that Marie had driven Gray’s ongoing weight gain but, now that Elijah had said it, the amount that Gray had been gorging on the snacks that evening seemed to make perfect sense. “No wonder I feel so full!” Ben laughed, rubbing his bloated stomach. He’d always been easily influenced by those around him and, if he could pinpoint the moment his weight truly began to run away from him, it had been when he’d moved in with the larger guys, Gray and Eddie; being surrounded by such frequent overeating and carefree attitudes towards food. Just like tonight, watching someone else eating so much always made Ben feel naturally hungrier himself. “So, does that mean you were telling Marie how much weight I’ve packed on since we started dating?” he asked, knowing that such questions always brought out the kinky, teasing side of Elijah that Ben had always found rather unattractive; that was, until they had started dating and it’d become funnier, more laid back and always tinged with kinkiness.

“Of course I did,” Elijah smiled back, his hands exploring the pounds and pounds of pure lard that had made Ben’s stomach so large and spherical since he had broken four hundred pounds. “And I told her about your plans to cut down your hours at work,” the man continued to explain, unbuttoning Ben’s shirt to unleash the enormous torso that he got so much pleasure from. His hands grabbed underneath and bounced the giant belly that had amassed. “I think she’s quite jealous of how well I’m doing with my big boy!” he teased.

Ben chuckled back, enjoying the attention. Dating a chaser had been quite a learning curve for him, but the more he had leaned into it, the more pleasure he had gained from it. He’d wanted Elijah to be open about his kinks, which had simultaneously opened up a whole new world to Ben. There were so many people out there getting enjoyment from this. He’d asked Elijah to use his contacts in these communities to find girls for his friends, Joe and Eddie. On the whole, he’d been pleased to see his friends so happy, despite how rapidly Joe’s secretly kinky girlfriend had swollen up the guy’s face and butt to the point where some people no longer recognised him. Similarly, Elijah delighted in having any of the guys over at their place, splashing his cash by ordering mountains of take out for them all and simultaneously messaging their girlfriends to quietly update them on how well they’d all eaten.

“What’s my calorie count tonight?” Ben asked, seeing the pure lust in his lover’s eyes.

“I counted about five thousand since Marie and Gray arrived at six o’clock,” Elijah speedily replied, full of admiration for him.

“Shit! No way?” Ben chuckled back, rubbing his tight stomach. “I didn’t even notice I was eating that much.”

“You never have,” Elijah smiled wickedly.”I saw that greedy appetite and knew there’d never be anyone I’d want more than you!” He wrapped his arms around Ben’s hips, rubbing the broad glutes. “You’re perfect!”

Ben accepted the sweet kiss from his lover. He could already feel Elijah’s hardness rubbing against him, just as it always did whenever the guy had watched him eat so much in one go. Despite all the dirty dishes, they were heading into the bedroom; clothes rapidly disappearing. “Go on, then!” Ben chuckled, already knowing exactly what horny Elijah wanted to ask him.

The man beamed, bounding away briefly and returning with a fresh can of whipped cream. He lay himself down on the bed, squirting furiously around his hardness.

Ben licked his lips, gazing down at the beautiful physique of his lover; kind, sporty, intelligent and successful. He couldn’t have found anyone better. As for this kinky streak of his… Well, that was something Ben would never want to be without. It was the part of Elijah that Ben had come to love more than any other. Despite his own monstrous, growing form, Ben knew that there would never be anyone Elijah craved more.

He was, and always would be, Elijah’s dream boy.

#gayfeeder #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainer story #gainerstories #gainer fic #gainerstory #gainer stories #gay feedee #gainer fiction

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ladyloveandjustice · 3 hours ago

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I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

#writing #book talk #sorry...sometimes the tone of a thing gets to me even if i also don't care for the subject

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dpspcehntr · 2 days ago

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💝 Valentines Day Special 💝

Paring: LADS OT4 x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: MC and her four boyfriends, voyerism (if you squint), group sex, P in V, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), double penetration, squirting, over stimulation, cream pie, cum eating ,masturbation, pure filth, not beta read

A/N: Hello all! Happy Valentine's Day to all who celebrate 💖. This request was too fun not to turn into a full fic. I worked on this instead of doing my homework so I hope you enjoy! It's all of them and its me going ham as usual. I tried my best but oh man writing for five people is HARD! I hope you enjoy and remember that reblogs are deeply appreciated and help me out lots. Lots of love! Byeee!

It was unusual to not hear anything from either of them for an entire day let alone on such an important holiday to you. You didn't think much of it as you went along with your work day, which of course was mostly just paper work. When you finally look up from your screen the time read 6pm and it was time to head home. You sigh, get up to stretch your limbs and check your phone. There was only one message from Sylus saying they had a surprise in store for you once you reached your apartment. Again you shrug it off and pack up your belongings for the day. Once you made it home you see a note placed on your door.

Open Me

You chuckle as you put your key in the lock and open the door. To your surprise you walk in to see all four of them waiting for you. The place is decorated with hearts and flowers with a designated spot on the couch for you to sit. Once seated you put the pieces together on what the "surprise" is. You shudder with excitement as you look each of them in the eyes. Zayne places a hand on your thigh and pulls you in for a kiss. Xavier lingers over your neck, letting you feel his breath over you. Rafayel sits at your feet, watching and waiting. Sylus is no where to be seen as of yet. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter as they become more assertive with their touches.

Zayne slips a hand down underneath your skirt. His finger drags along the wet fabric as you bite your lip. Xavier groans in your ear as he kisses down your jaw and neck. Rafayel sits on the floor humping your leg and waiting his turn. Sylus sits across the room watching it all with a smirk on his face. It was much too early in the night to feel overwhelmed but you didn't know how much longer you could last. Zayne slips a finger underneath your underwear as Xavier pulls your legs open wider. You throw your head back as a moan escapes your lips. When you open your eyes you find Sylus leaning down before pulling your lips in you’re a searing kiss. You felt gluttonous as you whined into his mouth begging for him to touch you. So many hands and lips on your skin and you still wanted more. He pulls away from you with a chuckle and once again takes in the scene in front of him. Zayne curls his fingers inside you as Rafayel leaves a bite mark on the inside of your thigh. You wanted so much more but you were too enwrapped in extasy to voice it. Xavier grips your chin and plants a fierce kiss onto your lips as his tongue slips into your mouth. His tongue grazes yours as he moans into your mouth. Your hand grips him through his pants and strokes his hard on. The other is snaked into Zayne's hair pulling just enough for him to pant next to you. Zayne pulls his fingers from inside you and holds them up to Sylus for a taste. Xavier takes your chin to make sure you can see. Sylus takes the digits into his mouth with a hum. He makes a show of licking and sucking every drop of your wetness from his fingers before releasing them with a pop. Your face erupts into heat as you watch, the fantasies of your late nights only becoming more real as the night goes on. Rafayel continues to leave bites and hickeys on your thighs as he continues to hump your leg, oblivious to what is happening above him. You tear your eyes away from the three men and look down at him. You take his chin in your hand and pull him into a kiss. He greedily accepts you and licks the inside if your mouth. He moans into your mouth and slows his humping. A string of spit follows you as you pull away from his mouth. Your shirt is lifted over your head by Xavier as Rafayel undoes the buttons on your skirt. You lift your hips as he pulls your skirt and underwear from you. You're left naked and under the lustful gaze of their watching eyes. You waited for someone to make the next move as the anticipation made you drip onto the couch. Each of them takes their time ridding themselves of their clothes and surrounding you once again. Zayne takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom.

"Wait here."

Without another word he leaves the room. You lay down on the bed waiting for somethings. Overwhelmed with desire you slide a hand down your body and lightly trace circles on your clit. You sigh as you arch into your touch as you take one of your breasts in your other hand. You twist and twirl your nipple in your fingers as you increase pressure on your clit. You're so engrossed in your pleasure you don't hear them enter the room. You feel Xavier grip your wrist and pull your fingers away from your throbbing clit.

"Impatient are we? Don't worry you'll get what you want soon."

He climbs into the bed and settles by the headboard. You crawl over to him and pull him in for a desperate kiss. You grip his face as you moan into the kiss. You feel someone grip your hips and line himself up with your hole. You groan into Xavier's mouth as they thrust into you fully. He presses down onto your back and whispers into your ear.

"I've been waiting for this."

Rafayel kisses the base of your neck before pulling out of you and thrusting fully back into you. You pull away from Xavier's lips to take him in your mouth. He hisses as you close around the head and suck. Rafayel pounds into your harder making you take more of Xavier in your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating as you moan around him. He grips your hair and thrusts deeper into your throat. Rafayel continues his brutal pace, fucking Xavier deeper into your throat. Xavier pulls you off of him and into another searing kiss. He moans at the taste on himself on your tongue as you lick into his mouth. Rafayel scoops you up and presses your back onto his body, continuing to fuck into you. In Rafayel's grip you watch as Xavier gets closer to you. He kneels to pull you into another kiss as he lines up with your entrance. Rafayel pauses so Xavier can push into you with him. The stretch of this makes your head spin as Xavier settles into you. Your brain goes blank as they thrust deeper into you. You clench down on both of them as your orgasm crashes over you, squirting as they continue to fuck into you.

"Fuck!"

Rafayel's hips stutters as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and releases his load deep inside of you. Xavier continues to pump into you as Rafayel pulls out of you. You hold onto Xavier as another orgasm washes over you, the mix of your juices and cum going sticky on your thighs. Xavier pulls out briefly to lay down with you on top of him. Once situated he lines himself back up with your entrance and thrusts in. You scream as he picks up his pace chasing after his own high. The sound of skin on skin fills up the room as he thrusts faster into you. You feel the pressure of your release building up inside of you as Xavier reaches his own high. He paints your walls with his cum as he continues to thrust into you bringing you to completion. You clench down on his, milking every last drop of cum before he pulls out of you completely. He slides out from underneath you and places a kiss on your forehead. Before long you feel another pair of hands grip your hips into position. You feel the head run up and down your dripping slit as you let out a shutter. Zayne rubs the tip onto your clit coating it in the precum leaking from his hard on.

"I'm not going to last much longer.

He pushes deep into your dripping core with a hiss. You squeeze him for dear mercy, begging to cum again. You grip the sheets as he begins to pick up the pace, plowing into you like a madman. You thrust back into him, meeting his hips. Your voice hoarse from yelling as you cry out for him to keep going. You were so close, teetering on the edge. He continues his pace, too lost in the feeling of your clenching around him. He thrusts in as far as he can before blowing his load deep inside you. You clench around him as you leak all over him and the sheets below. The mix of your juices and cum leaking onto the bed below. You collapse onto the mattress as he goes soft inside you. You wanted more, so much more. You whimper at the lost of him as you clench around nothing. He plans a soothing kiss on your lips as Sylus takes his place behind you. Xavier and Rafayel climb onto the bed while lazily jerking themselves off. With his other hand Rafayel and Xavier reach under you to play with your nipples and stroke your clit. You feel Sylus line himself up with your entrance and push in. He takes his time, letting you feel every single inch of him inside you. Xavier continues to play with your clit, rubbing and pinching it lightly. Rafayel finds a way to take one of your nipples in his mouth as he lightly swirls his tongue over the bud. Their touch was overwhelming but it just wasn't enough to reach your high. You whine and moan as they each take their time with you. Once Sylus bottoms out he stays there to let you adjust to his size before pulling out and thrusting back in completely. You can only lie there and take what they are giving, over stimulated and blissed out beyond your imagination. The feeling of Sylus pounding into you has your head spinning. Just a little bit more and you'll reach your peak again. Rafayel switches to the other nipple while Xavier increases his speed on your clit. You let out a silent scream as your release takes you by surprise. You clench down on Sylus as he groans at your tightness. Xavier and Rafayel leave the bed soon after, letting Sylus have his way with you. He grips your hips harder as he fucks you onto him. His rhythm growing more erratic and his own release is coming up. Your grip the sheets underneath you for dear life as your another orgasm washes over you. He thrusts deeper into you, kissing your cervix as he begins to cum. He fills your dripping hole with yet another load of cum. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you and a feeling of exhaustion settles in your limbs. Yet you still crave more, you want more of them, your cravings only growing stronger with each release. He pulls out of you with a squelch and sits back on the bed. You lay there for a moment before you feel a set of hands on your hips. The grip of Zayne was undeniable as you feel his face linger closely to your abused hole. You shutter at the thought of what is to come.

"May I?"

You look back to him, his pupils are blown wide as he watches and waits for you. You choke out a yes and wait for him. His tongue is instantly on you, licking and sucking as the sting of over stimulation settles in. You beg and plead for him to let you cum just one more time. His tongue expertly licking into you and slurping up the taste of all of you on his tongue. He hums into you as the cum coats him tongue, he was addicted to it. You cling onto the bed sheets as another orgasm runs through you, leaking over his lips and jaw. He grows more desperate as he sucks harder on your clit extending your release. He unlatches with a pop as he takes a look at you covered in hickeys and bite marks. You shutter under his gaze as you roll over onto your back. All of their eyes watch you in desperation as you settle into your new position.

"Whose next? "

You muse as you wait for round two to begin.

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v6quewrlds · 2 days ago

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V-DAY HEADCANONS, VARIOUS.

featuring⠀⁎⠀joe burrow, justin herbert, tee higgins, jalen hurts, andrei iosivas, mathew barzal, lewis hamilton, & mason mount.

summary⠀⁎⠀how they like to show/receive love.

author's note⠀⁎⠀not proofread bc fuck that. this is the most random assortment of people, but i hope you find some you'd like to read. moral of the story is that athletes have praise kinks. please remember this is just my opinion lmao. happy valentine's day <333

&.⠀⠀JOE BURROW⠀⋆⠀#9.

‎⸻⠀there's nothing he loves more than coming home to know that you're there. doesn't matter if you're cuddling in silence, building a lego set, or just being a comforting presence when he's watching film. he loves giving you quality time.

‎⸻⠀he can feel his heart flutter when he hears those soft words of affirmation fall from your lips. it's always reassuring to know that he's doing well both professionally and privately.

&.⠀⠀JUSTIN HERBERT⠀⋆⠀#10.

‎⸻⠀though he recognizes that the special dinners and the short vacations are special and have their place, there's nothing that brings him more joy than to see the way your face lights up for the small gifts. a new charm for your necklace, pastries from the bakery you love, a new pack of gum because he saw you were running low.

‎⸻⠀long walks on the beach, his hand in yours. during those moments nothing else matters but the inconsequential conversation you're having about the squeaky guest room door, the new candle scent you picked up at the farmer's market, the quality time is everything to him.

&.⠀⠀TEE HIGGINS⠀⋆⠀#5.

‎⸻⠀he's at his most romantic when it's just the two of you. he's rambling softly about how lucky he is, how much he missed you before he knew you, and how he'll do everything in his power for you. he's an active listener, gentle encouragement when you need it, words of affirmation even before you realize you need them.

‎⸻⠀scratch his back when he's drifting off to sleep and he's yours. it's not sexual in nature necessarily. he just needs the physical touch, the closeness, the warmth, your attention on soothing him.

&.⠀⠀JALEN HURTS⠀⋆⠀#1.

‎⸻⠀it's always when you least expect it. he's busy often, and you understand. so, the acts of service mean that much more to you. taking the trash on his way out, trimming the wicks on your candles, replacing your seasonings when they run low before you've noticed.

‎⸻⠀it always helps to know that you see him. you see the work he puts in. your words of affirmation echo in his mind whenever he feels himself wondering if he's enough. you make sure he knows he is, screenshots of random messages in a special folder in his camera roll.

&.⠀⠀ANDREI IOSIVAS⠀⋆⠀#80.

‎⸻⠀he doesn't want you to stray too far from him. he likes providing you with the knowledge that he's there, physically. his wants you to find comfort in his presence, your heartbeat stilling, your breathing evening out.

‎⸻⠀he's an athlete so he thrives off words of affirmation. he really can't help the rush of heat to his face, the way his shoulders relax, the way his eyes sparkle at your words.

&.⠀⠀MATHEW BARZAL⠀⋆⠀#13.

‎⸻⠀he knows he's not always the most perceptive. that sometimes you have to remind him to pick up his socks or make sure his underwear actually makes it into the hamper. but he does try to do those little acts of service for you. offering his help before you can ask for it, going out of his way to make your life even just 5% easier.

‎⸻⠀at the end of the day, mat just needs you. doesn't have to be fancy. he doesn't need the extravagant date nights or the fancy wines. even if it's just the two of you, a shitty romcom, and greasy takeout, the quality time spent with you is really all that matters.

&.⠀⠀LEWIS HAMILTON⠀⋆⠀#44.

⸻⠀he never makes a big deal out of it. it's always deceptively casual, almost as if he hopes you don't even notice. the gifts are near constant. a new bottle of almave that wasn't there before, your checking account altering you of a transfer. it even extends to the other people you care about. a new baseball cap for your dad, a spa day for your mother.

⸻⠀rich bitch hamilton will always find a way to get you alone. he'll whisk you away for a day or two to float on the mediterranean, eager to have that one-on-one quality time together.

&.⠀⠀MASON MOUNT⠀⋆⠀#7.

⸻⠀it's a priority for him to make sure that you can lean on him, especially literally. nothing makes his heart pulse quite like seeing you so physically comfortable with him. seeking out his touch, softly telling him he's too far, how could he say no?

⸻⠀he loves knowing that you love existing with him. that you're comfortable enough to enter his space so willingly. from cleaning his training bag to confirming his physical therapy appointments, the little acts of service just reaffirm for him that you see him, love him, and casually view taking care of him as part of your routine.

#&. cassie writes.#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #justin herbert #justin herbert x reader #tee higgins #tee higgins x reader #jalen hurts #jalen hurts x reader #andrei iosivas #andrei iosivas x reader #mathew barzal #mat barzal #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #mason mount #mason mount x reader

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gangstalkerbarbie · 8 hours ago

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You can do this. You know how. This isn't your first run-in with the Inquisition, and it's not going to be the last. Your hands are wet — you think of your children, of your reputation, of your man. But look at her — look at her, she's a child, she's a child too. The Inquisition is stealing children. Their children first, yes, witches' children, whoever the witches are now, but it never ends there, does it? And in the meantime here she is, here she is. Where you once were.

"Be quiet." Good Ecclesian girls aren't afraid of beadles or city watchmen or paladins. They don't quail from the amulets that purport to detect spiritual evil. Good Ecclesian girls exhale sparkles and sweat rosewater, they want to marry Inquisitors and give them ten babies, they want Inquisitors to like them more than anything in the world. You could fake that, once. You faked it to get here, didn't you?

But she doesn't have it in her. Kids don't know what you know: how to glide when you walk like you belong on these streets, how to look distracted and coquettish as a kirkmouse for public consumption, how to swallow every urge you have to say anything, do anything that might give you away. Kids think maybe now is a good time to grow up, maybe now is a good time to resist, little flowers fighting for sun in a wheelrut. They have to do it like that; there has not been invented another way to be a child.

And this is a child, and what a child — a child like you were, an almond-eyed little horned Azara. Ishkuzi, unlike you, or maybe a daughter of wildshade slaves from the Tavrida. In your day they disbudded children hoping to hide them; you remember the cold of that winter night, and the bitter anesthetic herbs, and the pain. Do they not do it anymore? Did she have no one to do it for her?

You remember why you had it done, though you were born too rich to need to. And then you tricked your father out of your mother's wedding ring and of his livelihood and of his soul; you ran away to marry a good Ecclesian boy, Isca, you stupid whore... (He had money, he had ships, so did the pirates, woe to you. We all do what we can for ourselves.)

Are her parents anti-assimilationists? Maybe her father is a sage, a dreadnought, maybe he's horned, like they should be, despite it all. Maybe she never knew they do this in cities. She looks country. She has wild-tiefling eyes, Ishkuzi eyes. She knows to be quiet, but not how to be quiet, not here. That's why she looks at you like that, already half betrayed.

But she listens. She lets you decide what to do for her, and what you decide is this: not here. She can't stay with you. She has to find somewhere they have no reason to come back to, and if Renzo's house on High Street in this beautiful city that is not, cannot be your city, was ever a place like that, it's not anymore.

Two female figures drift like unhurried black swans to the quay. You are a citizen, wife of a citizen, and this is your daughter, see? You slipped out the servants' door with her while your husband's footman spoke to the Inquisitors, yes, and you didn't know her until an hour ago, but now you are two respectable city ladies off to go and watch the ships come in. Perhaps one of them is yours? Yes, if one of them is yours then you must be an Ecclesian merchant goodwife who's taken in a dirty horned rat to save her soul. (You will be her intentionally and quietly and as hard as you can, now.)

There's a ship bound for somewhere-anywhere-not-here, one ship whose captain you can trust, and from there she can pawn your jewels until she's wherever she wants to be. Or not — mingle with the pirates, the dead know they don't care about horns or anything.

It's a risk, but the captain of that ship is a ducal family's retainer who used to look at you exactly like you look at her. He helped you once, for no reason but his kirkmouse sense of good, and it is an insane thing to ask in this climate but maybe it isn't, you know? You don't know what else to do. Even you in your townhouse are eating the same soup as your maids now, and everyone knows how expensive tickets out have become.

You can't keep her safe, but he can, and from there...

You had a fiancé once, who gave you his greatest treasure — a key to a house in Astiga, from before the Inquisition took root there. ("Someday we'll go home together.") He might know her by it, he might know she's yours now, he might take her in. Maybe he's gone on homecoming, maybe whoever flies the halfmoon flag over that land has let him be a dreadnought there, maybe he's not going to be there to see — you have no idea. You have no time to send letters and verify, and you're not sure the Postmen's Guild wouldn't open them anyway, whether you're a(n admittedly impoverished) contessa or not.

And then —

"Listen," you say to her, slipping the key to the old house around her neck on a length of twine from your chatelaine. "This is all I can do. Be brave, be cunning, don't listen to any man who promises you riches in the New World." That's an old lure for enslaving prostitutes. A country girl wouldn't know that.

"This key once opened a door to a house I was promised. The man who gave it to me will recognize it. If you ever chance to meet Hasdai Twoflower, show him."

She looks at you silent and wide-eyed as an owl. Behind you the regular watch carries on its business, but you can already see that she'll fight not to startle at the sound of hobnail boots and sabatons for a long time.

"Twoflower," she echoes.

"Yes."

Her eyes crinkle with amusement, despite it all. She doesn't know if she should believe you. Why?

"You know the Great Dreadnought in Ergetz?"

Is that where he is, now? Is that what he became? And you are a kirkgoing merchant's wife in a city that made you mutilate yourself to stay out of its ghetto, in the light, where the people are. You could have undone that, unmade the choice, at any time before you had little horned children, also mutilated, under your hand. You don't even remember how to pray, anymore. How to read. Still...

"I do." She has no recourse but to believe you. "I used to. It's a long story."

Ergetz. Not a true island but a demiplane in the Avid North, called into being by wild shades and the secret lore of your mothers and the mystic arithmetic known to dreadnoughts. They keep trying to find it, trying to invade it, wondering if there's anyplace to put a colony — you were not even sure until now that it really existed.

It may be that he helped it come to exist. It's too late for you now, anyways, but if that's so, then maybe your key is an amulet, and maybe it will see someone to some home somewhere. Not that one, not you. This child. You don't even know her name.

The ship (you don't recall her name either) pulls into port. You make your arrangement; they'll hide her until they go, and she's for Ergetz if they can find it, Vasco and his crew of oars for hire, and if they can't, then they owe it to you to find someplace else. Someplace else that is free, is safe, that will find the girl a husband. What else can you do?

You want to turn and go home, but — "Wait," she says, that little girl in your daughter's veil, in your dead daughter's veil, who died of the ash plague, which your kind are not supposed to get, seven years ago. "How shall I pray for you?"

What a hell of a question. Do you deserve prayer? "My name is Isolda," you begin to say, and she looks at you like a liar, a liar, you know? So you have to admit it. "Isca, Leia's daughter."

"Dolça, Isca's daughter," she says, before she turns to go. You can't tell if this is an endorsement of you or if her mother is your namesake, someone you could have been if you hadn't been what you are. You'll never know. It's time.

"It was good to know you. Next year in the Twilit City."

You never help another one — the soul could not survive it, but also they just do not fall into noblewomen's lives that often.

You never see her again.

This time next year, you are still in this city, not in that one, and your oldest son leaves home to become an Inquisitor. You wave your handkerchief from the balcony, like any good woman would.

All other available moves have been made. There's nothing else you can do.

Not now, not anymore.

"P-please. Don't let them take me…" A witch, a young girl pleaded as she hides in your shed. You see the fear in her eyes as you hear the armored footsteps of the inquisition approached your home. Your heart thumps. They don't take heretics lightly nor one that shields them from their hold.

#writeblr #writing prompts #what the hell why not #this is what happens to dungeonmasters whose players evaporate btw #end dm cruelty today #im just gonna tag this dolçaverse because this character might come up again #dolçaverse #and you know what fuck it let me also show jumblr it may be cathartic in this climate #jumblr #cw jewish tieflings also i GUESS lol #i like them but i know theyre ~controversial on here~#im jewish though i can engage with the trope that wigs people out about that all i want

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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

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Hexed Hearts (Part 1)

Pilot

Agatha Harkness is the ruthless executive producer for the reality dating show Hexed Hearts, where you've been a PA for two years, but you want more

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: none yet

“Alright, people, thirty minutes to showtime! Season thirteen! I need our suitress out front, makeup on, and a smile on her face. I need the limos—where the fuck is limo three?—I need Billy out there, and who the fuck changed the lights in the pool to be green? Do we want it to look like an algae breeding ground? Come on, everyone, this isn’t amateur hour!” Agatha Harkness barks at the production team, sending them scrambling in different directions like a flock of chickens.

“Um, Agatha,” one of the producers says timidly, visibly wincing when Agatha turns to her, annoyance radiating, “Limo three ran out of gas. I just got off the phone with the driver.”

Agatha scoffs and you see the vein in her forehead bulge. “Why the fuck are you telling me that? Do you want me to fucking walk to them with a can of gas? Figure it out, Carol!”

Carol just stares blankly at her and you silently will her to do anything but stand there. Even you could tell her that she should take a company van to go get all the contestants from the limo. Problem solved.

“Look, Carol,” Agatha sighs and moves her black glasses from her face to resting on the top of her head. You want to look away, knowing what’s coming, but you can’t. “This isn’t going to work if I have to hold your hand. You’ve been here for what? Three years now? I need you to be a producer, not a child who needs a babysitter. Get out. You’re fired.”

Carol splutters out something in disbelief, but Agatha is already walking away and waving her hand to get your attention. As if you aren’t always watching her.

“Get me a coffee,” she says, tone still laced with some exasperation and you purse your lips before running to get her one.

Agatha Harkness, the executive producer for the reality dating show, Hexed Hearts, is known for her ruthless and no-nonsense style of leadership. She practically wrote the book on manipulation and knows exactly how to get anyone to do whatever she wants.

You heard that once on the show, seven of the contestants got into a literal fist fight all because Agatha suggested that the suitor liked women who weren’t afraid to go for what they wanted.

It’s honestly inspiring.

You’ve been a personal assistant for the show for two years, going into your third now.

The first season you worked here, it was a total bust. Agatha had thought it would be a good idea to do a Winter Wonderland, except have it set in Greenland where it was actually freezing. It was the first time a season had ever taken place not at the mansion in California, where it would’ve been practical and budget-friendly and fake snow definitely would’ve been better than real snow.

You still have calluses from all the shoveling you had to do and three of the contestants got hypothermia because Agatha insisted that they take off their parkas and film in bikinis in the below zero temperature.

“It’s just for like two seconds,” she had said. “Think of the ratings for the hard nipples. People will go wild.”

Luckily she had the foresight to put in their contracts that they couldn’t sue due to weather-sustained injuries, and the girls were completely fine. The network told her that the show could never be filmed anywhere but the mansion ever again.

So the next season, Agatha had to get creative—and she did. Season Twelve: Double Trouble.

One suitress. Sixteen sets of twins.

No one could tell anyone apart. The suitress called her date by his brother’s name more often than not. Brothers got into fights with each other. Some of them leaned more into it than others; you remember one of the producers asking you to go get Frank and finding him fucking the suitress, Lilith, while she gave his twin brother a blowjob.

Twitter had a field day after that was revealed—once again, a well placed tip to the rest of the men courtesy of Agatha led to a huge blow up on set, and even better, on camera.

As the season went on, it became clear that Lilith had a favorite, Adam. And no one was more upset about this than Adam’s twin brother, who decided that he would lock Adam in the bedroom closet and impersonate him.

It took about a week before anyone noticed and that week’s episode had the highest rating in seven years.

Growing up, you never cared for reality television, always finding it trashy and immature, but behind the scenes, there is so much more to what meets the eye. You were never able to tell how much of it was real or scripted.

Almost none of it is scripted. But most, if not all, is orchestrated.

Producers stir the pot, use clips that paint the contestants a certain way, exploit and mold however they want—whatever it takes to get the best ratings for the network. Your end goal is to become one, and you might have the perfect opportunity right now, with Carol fired.

This year, Agatha decided that she wanted to have the first season of reality television that was all queer women. The network had been incredibly reluctant to greenlight the idea, but when Agatha revealed that she had gotten Rio Vidal to sign on to be the suitress, they couldn’t say no.

Rio Vidal, the heiress to the Vidal Oil Company, is known for her bad-boy reputation and the trail of broken hearts she leaves in her path. She desperately needs to work on her public image before taking over the company, so her parents paid a fortune to get her on the show. Even you had to admit she was easy on the eyes so you figured there would be no problem getting thirty-two women to fall in love with her.

The problem would be getting her to pick one. You have no doubt that this season is going to be filled with scandal after scandal, which brings in the best ratings.

Your phone starts to buzz and you swear, setting down the full cup of coffee to pull it out of your pocket. You roll your eyes—it’s your mom.

“Hey, mom, I can’t really talk right now,” you say, raising it to your ear quickly. “Is something wrong?”

She sighs heavily. “Just wanted to check in on my only daughter, I didn’t realize that was a crime.”

Of course she’s pulling that card. “It’s not, mom, it’s just not really a great time, we’re about to start shooting.”

“Still on that show?” She makes a disapproving sound, even though she knows full-well that you are indeed still working for Hexed Hearts. “When are you going to get a real job? I mean, a personal assistant? Sweetie, you are so much better than that, and so much better than reality TV in general. Why don’t I give my friend at the school a call, see if she can—”

“Got to go, mom, talk to you later,” you interrupt abruptly before furiously pressing the disconnect button and shoving your phone back into your pocket after putting it on silent. Taking a deep breath, you unclench your fists and pick up the cup of coffee.

It always goes that way with your mom. It feels like no matter what you do, she’s never satisfied with anything.

“Has someone rescued limo three yet?” Agatha yells from inside her office and your hand holding her cup jolts, spilling burning liquid on your skin.

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing some napkins and wincing.

One of the producers, Marie, jogs to Agatha's door to open it slightly. “Hey, yeah, Alice went to go get them. They should be here in about ten minutes. We’ve got Rio outside by the gates with Billy, the other vans are outside, we’re thinking we just go in order of one, two, four, and then hopefully three should be here by then.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, we just need to get all the introductions done by midnight so we can get about six hours of B-roll and interviews before the sun rises,” Agatha says dismissively and you awkwardly hover behind Marie, who’s still blocking the entrance to her office. “Is there something else?”

Marie shifts and looks down at her feet. “Um, who do you want to take over Carol’s girls? I’m not sure Alice, Lilia, and I can take anymore. I can call Carol though, I don’t even think she’s left—”

“Oh, fuck that,” Agatha snaps. Each producer gets eight contestants to handle, but usually by the end of the first night, they only have four to six left, given how well they produce their people. “Do not call Carol. I’ll figure it out. Where is my coffee?”

“I have it,” you say, finally pushing past Marie and walking to set it down on her desk. Agatha is dressed in a maroon pantsuit, her hair in a bun held together by two pens. She’s scribbling on a piece of paper while glancing between her open laptop screen and the television on the wall. You pause to look at what she’s watching.

Agatha’s own TV inside her office are directly connected to the cameras that show Rio getting some last minute touch ups on hair and makeup. She’s wearing an earthy green dress that pairs nicely with her flawless pale skin and dark hair that falls a little past her shoulders. Her lipstick is a muted pink and she has on minimal eyeliner that accentuates her hazel eyes.

“What do you think?” Agatha asks, watching you carefully.

You look at her, surprised. It’s not often she asks you for your opinion. “I think she’s good, yeah. Everyone will be all over her.”

Agatha nods, musing on it. “I think you’re right. I’m going to need you to do a bit more around here tonight, with Carol gone. I’m going to have to step in and take over her eight so I need you near me at all times, ready to do whatever I need.”

“Well, I mean…” you trail off. Are you really about to do this? Agatha raises an eyebrow at you, urging you on, and you swallow roughly. “I could produce.”

She laughs like she’s actually taken aback. “Honey, are you asking me for a promotion right now? The body isn’t even cold yet—Carol hasn’t even left the building!” She leans back in her chair and her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek while she regards you with something akin to amusement. “Well, let’s hear your pitch.”

You take a deep breath. “This is my third year on this show now, and I’ve really learned a lot about what goes on behind the scenes and I have ideas for this season. I’ve watched the way you manipulate and create situations and get results, and I know I can do it too. I’m a hard worker, I’m responsible, I know how to work with these people—I know people. I understand what they want, how they think, how to get them to think that they want something. I really want this job, Agatha, and I know I can do it.”

“Bravo, honey,” she says with a hint of sarcasm and slowly claps. Your stomach squirms under her scrutinizing gaze. “How long have you been practicing that little speech?”

You shrug and take a sudden interest in your shoes.

“How badly do you want this?”

Brows furrowing, you meet her blue eyes again. Is she asking what you would do for it? “I want it really badly, I mean, I’ll get on my knees and—”

“Sleeping your way to the top?” she coos condescendingly and your cheeks heat up, maybe at the implication that she’d think you would do that, but also at the thought of sleeping with her. “That’s so ten years ago of you.”

“—beg. I’d get on my knees and beg,” you finish and wipe your palms on your jeans. This is not going the way you wanted, and now you’re probably going to be fired. You can only imagine what your mom is going to say.

But Agatha jerks her head to the bulletin boards with thirty-three headshots on it: Rio and the contestants. There’s a few bullet points written under each picture with the most important information about them. You made flashcards out of them once the roster was released so you could memorize them all.

“You said you have ideas?” Agatha prompts.

You could go through this in your sleep so you walk over to the boards and point at Rio. “Our suitress is a player, there’s no way around that. So we get her to play. She keeps five, six people on her line at all times, head over heels, but Rio’s telling them all the same thing: ‘Oh, baby, can’t wait to take you home to share my fortune with; whatever you want? It’s yours. You’re so perfect.’ Audiences can’t decide if they love or hate her, because she’s so charming.”

Agatha doesn’t look impressed. “That’s the whole point of the show.”

It doesn’t even falter you. “Yes, but while Rio is off doing that, we introduce another lead. Someone much more real, someone who isn’t just looking at everyone as toys. Helen Troywick.” You point at the picture of the blonde with warm brown eyes and a crooked smile. “Pretty in an unsuspecting way, works with animals, donates to charity. Only been in one relationship her whole life.”

“A foil to our bad boy,” Agatha says, nodding like she sees the vision. “You want Helen to—what? Steal the other contestants?”

“I think a main part of this season could be the rivalry between Rio and Helen. Rio sees how authentic Helen is, and how easily she can win over everyone, so Rio has to change. Or, they get into a big fight. Either way, it’s a win for America.”

“And what happens if Rio just eliminates her?”

You shake your head. “She won’t. Because Helen is the one who’s going to win. Think about it. Helen is the perfect girl to help rehash your image, the perfect girl to bring home to mommy and daddy to get their approval. Rio won’t cut her because she knows that she needs her. And if she doesn’t see that, then we just have to make sure we do.”

Agatha’s eyes narrow. “You know, I’m almost impressed, honey. And villains?”

Every good season of reality television needs someone to root against. “I’ve picked out a few, but I think Wanda Maximoff could be a good one, or Cassandra Infidelis. Wanda is the token milf with twins, control freak, perfectionist but I sense some anger under all that. Start to take away her control? I bet she goes crazy. And Cassandra has had a lot of issues in her past so I don’t think it would be too hard to get her to the point where she snaps.”

She chews on her bottom lip and then stands up out of her chair and walks over until she’s a foot in front of you. You’re completely frozen to the ground and you can feel her hot breath on your lips.

It takes everything in you not to look at her mouth.

“I can do it,” you whisper. “I know I don’t have any experience, but I want to learn. I want you to teach me—produce me.”

Agatha smirks knowingly and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Well done, honey. Looks like you just got yourself a promotion. Now get out there and do everything I say, exactly how I say.”

“I will, I promise.” Tension crackles between you and electricity pulses under your skin. It feels like you just got everything you wanted while simultaneously selling your soul to the devil.

Her voice lowers and her eyes rake over your body with a heat in them. “I’ll make something out of you, don’t worry.”

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